Lakmé   

Léo Delibes (1836-1891)   

Lakmé: Viens, Mallika, les lianes en fleurs
Jettent déjà leur ombre
Sur le ruisseau sacré
qui coule, calme et sombre,
Eveillé par le chant des oiseaux tapageurs.

Mallika: Oh! maîtresse, c'est l'heure
où je te vois sourire,
L'heure bénie où je puis lire
Dans le coeur toujours fermé
De Lakmé!

Lakmé: Dôme épais le jasmin
Mallika: Sous le dôme épais où le blanc jasmin

À la rose s'assemble,
À la rose s'assemble,

Rive en fleurs, frais matin, 

Sur la rive en fleurs, riant au matin,

Nous appellent ensemble.
Viens, descendons ensemble.

Ah! glissons en suivant
Doucement glissons; De son flot charmant
 

Le courant fuyant; 

Suivons le courant fuyant;

Dans l'onde frémissante,
Dans l’onde frémissante,

D'une main nonchalante,
D’une main nonchalante,

Gagnons le bord,
Viens, gagnons le bord

Où l'oiseau chante,
Où la source dort.

l'oiseau, l'oiseau chante.
Et l’oiseau, l’oiseau chante.

Dôme épais, blanc jasmin, 

Sous le dôme épais, Sous le blanc jasmin,

Nous appellent ensemble!
Ah! descendons ensemble!
 

Mais, je ne sais quelle crainte subite
s’empare de moi.
Quand mon père va seul à leur ville maudite,
Je tremble, je tremble d'effroi!

Pour que le Dieu Ganeça le protège,
Jusqu'à l'étang où s'ébattent joyeux
Les cygnes aux ailes de neige,
Allons cueillir les lotus bleus.

Oui, près des cygnes aux ailes de neige,
Allons cueillir les lotus bleus.

Dôme épais le jasmin
Sous le dôme épais où le blanc jasmin

À la rose s'assemble,
À la rose s'assemble,

Rive en fleurs, frais matin,
Sur la rive en fleurs, riant au matin,

Nous appellent ensemble.
Viens, descendons ensemble.

Ah! glissons en suivant
Doucement glissons; De son flot charmant

Le courant fuyant;
Suivons le courant fuyant;
 

Dans l'onde frémissante, 

Dans l’onde frémissante,

D'une main nonchalante, 

D’une main nonchalante,

Gagnons le bord,
Viens, gagnons le bord

Où l'oiseau chante,
Où la source dort.

l'oiseau, l'oiseau chante.
Et l’oiseau, l’oiseau chante.

Dôme épais, blanc jasmin,
Sous le dôme épais, où le blanc jasmin

Nous appellent ensemble!
Ah! descendons ensemble! 

No puede ser   

Pablo Sorozábal (1897-1988)  

¡No puede ser! Esa mujer es buena. 

¡No puede ser una mujer malvada!  

En su mirar, como una luz singular, he visto que esa mujer es una desventurada.  

No puede ser una vulgar sirena que envenenó las horas de mi vida.  

¡No puede ser! Porque la vi rezar,  

porque la vi querer,  

porque la vi llorar. 

Los ojos que lloran no saben mentir;  

las malas mujeres no miran así. 

Temblando en sus ojos dos lágrimas vi y a 

mí me ilusiona que tiemblen por mí,  

que tiemblen por mí.  

Viva luz de mi ilusión,  

sé piadosa con mi amor,  

porque no sé fingir, porque no sé callar, 

porque no sé vivir. 

Nani, nani, nani  

Manuel Garcia Morante (b. 1937) 

Nani, nani, nani  

Quere el hijo  

El hijo de la madres,  

Di chico se haga grande  

Ay! Ay duermite mi alma   

Que tu padre viene   

Con muncha alegría.  

Ven y verás  

Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco (1895-1968)  

Ven y verás, viaremos lo amor que tenemos los dos.  

Ven, lo gustaremos lo amor que tenemos.  

Árboles lloran por lluvia y montañas por aire.  Así lloran mis ojos por ti, querida amante.  

Lluvia se hizo y se mojó la calle y la corteja.  

Ande y diga a mi amor que es de los ojos mios.  

Una noche  

Una noche yo me armí por ver vuestros recintados.  

Déjame la puerta abierta y candil amatado.  

Tu me quieres, yo te quiero;  

Tu madre no nos quiere.  

Esta noche rogo al dios en la cama que ruede.  

Ni blanca soy ni morena, Ni cosa de alabaros por las hechas  

Que a mi me haces, 

Y en alma mi a entrates. 

Seguidilla murciano 

Cualquiera que el tejado 

tenga de vidrio, 

no debe tirar piedras 

al del vecino. 

Arrierios semos; 

¡puede que en el camino, 

nos encontremos! 

Por tu mucha inconstancia, 

yo te comparo 

con peseta que corre 

de mano en mano; 

Que al fin se borra, 

Y créyendola falsa 

nadie la toma! 

Asturiana  

Por ver si me consolaba 

Arrimeme a un pino verde, 

Por verme llorar, lloraba. 

Y el pino como era verde, 

Por verme llorar, lloraba! 

Fair house of joy  

Roger Quilter (1877-1953)  

Fain would I change that note 

To which fond Love hath charm’d me 

Long, long to sing by rote, 

Fancying that that harm’d me: 

Yet when this thought doth come 

‘Love is the perfect sum 

Of all delight’ 

I have no other choice 

Either for pen or voice 

To sing or write. 

O Love! They wrong thee much  

That say thy sweet is bitter, 

When thy rich fruit is such  

as nothing can be sweeter. 

Fair house of joy and bliss, 

Where truest pleasure is, 

I do adore thee: 

I know thee what thou art, 

I serve thee with my heart, 

And fall before thee. 

Silent Noon  

Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958)   

Dante Gabriel Rossetti 

Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass, —

The finger-points look through like rosy blooms: 

Your eyes smile peace. The pasture 

gleams and glooms 

‘Neath billowing skies that scatter and 

amass. 

All round our nest, far as the eye can pass, 

Are golden kingcup fields with silver edge 

Where the cow-parsely skirts the hawthorn hedge. 

‘Tis visible silence, still as the hour glass. 

Deep in the sunsearched growths the dragon-fly 

Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky:— 

So this winged hour is dropt to us from above. 

Oh! Clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower, 

This close-companioned inarticulate hour 

When twofold silence was the song of love. 

Songs for the People  

Rosephanye Powell (b.1962)  

Text by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper 

Let me make the songs for the people, 

Songs for the old and young; 

Songs to stir like a battle-cry 

Wherever they are sung. 

Not for the clashing of sabres, 

For carnage nor for strife; 

But songs to thrill the hearts of men 

With more abundant life. 

Let me make the songs for the weary, 

Amid life’s fever and fret, 

Till hearts shall relax their tension, 

And careworn brows forget. 

Let me sing for little children, 

Before their footsteps stray, 

Sweet anthems of love and duty, 

To float o’er life’s highway. 

I would sing for the poor and aged, 

When shadows dim their sight; 

Of the bright and restful mansions, 

Where there shall be no night. 

Our world, so worn and weary, 

Needs music, pure and strong, 

To hush the jangle and discords 

Of sorrow, pain, and wrong. 

Music to soothe all its sorrow, 

Till war and crime shall cease;  

And the hearts of men grown tender 

Girdle the world with peace. 

What lips my lips have kissed 

Composed by Margaret Bonds

Text by Edna St. Vincent Millay

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,

I have forgotten, and what arms have lain

Under my head till morning; but the rain

Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

Upon the glass and listen for reply,

And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain

For unremembered lads that not again

Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,

Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,

Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:

I cannot say what loves have come and gone,

I only know that summer sang in me

A little while, that in me sings no more.

Oh Bob, can’t I make you understand?  

William Grant Still (1895-1978)

Libretto by Verna Arvey

Oh Bob, can’t I make you understand?

It’s you I love, not Nate.

Whatever you want I’d give you

Wherever you go, I go too

But Nate? Nate means nothing to me.

He’s kept you slaving all your life!

What you’ve needed you could not have,

Things I’ve wanted never came,

The money had to go to him

Sometimes I wonder whether you love Nate more than me.

Oh Bob, won’t you understand?

I’ve wanted to be pretty for you;

To wear nice clothes; to have a real home.

Oh Bob, can’t I make you understand?

I’ve wanted you to rise in the world,

You, whom everyone likes and trusts,

You, who so richly deserve success,

You, whom I love!!!

Oh Bob, won’t you understand?

What does he know of dreams 

What does he know of dreams?

How can he talk of success?

The honk of a horn gives him his greatest thrill!

Bob thinks well of the coin they bring,

those mechanical goose sounds!

They form the beginning, the middle, and the end of Bob’s world.

He knows naught of worlds to conquer,

And yet he refuses to learn.

My brother has no thought for tomorrow,

And yet he will not take the counsel of those who do.

What does he know of dreams?

How can he talk of success?

Prayer  

Leslie Adams (1932-2024) 

Text by Lanston Hughes

I ask you this:

Which way to go?

I ask you this:

Which sin to bear?

Which crown to put

Upon my hair?

I do not know,

Lord God,

I do not know.

L’alba separa dalla luce l’ombra  

Paolo Tosti (1846 - 1916)  

L'alba sepàra dalla luce l'ombra,

E la mia voluttà dal mio desire.

O dolce stelle, è l'ora di morire.

Un più divino amor dal ciel vi sgombra.

Pupille ardenti, O voi senza ritorno

Stelle tristi, spegnetevi incorrotte!

Morir debbo. Veder non voglio il giorno,

Per amor del mio sogno e della notte.

Chiudimi, O Notte, nel tuo sen materno,

Mentre la terra pallida s'irrora.

Ma che dal sangue mio nasca l'aurora

E dal sogno mio breve il sole eterno!