The Song to the Bride Awake, awake, my darling partridge, Open to the morning your wings. Three beauty marks; My heart is on fire!

Transcription

1 Five Greek Folk Songs- Maurice Ravel The Song to the Bride Awake, awake, my darling partridge, Open to the morning your wings. Three beauty marks; My heart is on fire! See the ribbon of gold that I bring To tie around your hair. If you want, my beauty, we shall marry! In our two families, everyone is related!

2 Yonder by the Church Yonder, by the church, By the church of Ayio Sidero, The church, o blessed Virgin, The church of Ayio Costanndino, There are gathered, Assembled in numbers infinite, The world's, o blessed Virgin, All the world's most decent folk!

3 What Gallant Compares with Me? What gallant compares with me, Among those one sees passing by? Tell me, lady Vassiliki! See, hanging on my belt, My pistols and my curved sword. And it is you whom I love!

4 The Song of the Girls Collecting Mastic O joy of my soul, Joy of my heart, Treasure which is so dear to me, Joy of my soul and heart, you whom I love ardently, you are more handsome than an angel. O when you appear, angel so sweet, Before our eyes, Like a fine, blond angel, under the bright sun, Alas! All of our poor hearts sigh!

5 Everyone is Joyous! Everyone is joyous, joyous! Beautiful legs, tireli, which dance, Beautiful legs; even the dishes are dancing! Tra la la, la la la!

6 Les Berceaux (The Cradles) Along the wharf the tall vessels Gently sway in silence Have no regard for the cradles Of the women balancing. But coming are the days of farewell And to come are the women crying As the men are drawn To the distant horizon s calling. Yet in that day the tall vessels Drifting from the port that diminishes Feel their great masses Held beneath the sway of Their homes with their small cradles.

7 Nun wandra Maria Go forth now, Mary, go forth, without fear, The roosters are crowing, the village is near. Go forth now, my treasured one, We ll soon be coming to Bethlehem. You ll find rest, and sleep there. The roosters are crowing, the village is near. You are weary, my dear lady, your strength is waning,

8 But though you suffer, Ah! You re not complaining. Take hope, we ll surely find shelter there, The roosters are crowing, the village is near. After your travail is over, Mary, As a grateful token, (but had we more), The donkey we ll give, he is our best. The roosters are crowing, the village is near.

9 Gebet - Prayer Lord, send us what you will, be it joy or sorrow. I await both from Thy hands. Whether Thou willist gladness or sorrow I receive without complaining. For midway rather, lies the greatest treasure.

10 Trois Chansons de Bilitis Claude Debussy THE FLUTE OF PAN For the day of Hyacinthies, He gave me a panpipe made of carefully assembled reeds, united with a white wax that is sweet to my lips as honey. He teaches me to play, I am seated on his lap; but I am a little nervous. He plays after me, so softly that I strain to hear him.

11 We have nothing to say, so close we are to each other; but our songs answer each other, and little but little our mouths unite on the flute. It is late. There is the song of the green frogs that begins with the night. My mother will never believe that I stayed so long searching for my lost sash.

12 THE HAIR He said to me: Last night, I dreamed. I had your hair around of my neck. I had your hair like a black yoke around my neck, and across my chest. I caressed it, and it was my own; and we were bound together forever, by that hair, mouth on mouth, as two laurels will have only one root.

13 And little by little, it seemed to me, that our limbs were so entwined, that I became you, that you entered into me as my thoughts. When he had finished, he softly placed his hands on my shoulders, and he looked at me with a look so tender, that I lowered my eyes with a shiver.

14 THE TOMB OF THE NAIADES Along the forest covered with frost, I walked; my hair in front of my mouth was covered in tiny icicles, and my sandals were heavy with snow, miry and compact He said to me: What are you searching for? I am the tracker of the satyr.

15 It s little cloven hooves alternate like the wholes in a white coat. He said to me: The satyrs are dead. The satyrs and the nymphs also. For thirty years there has not been a winter so terrible. The tracks that you see are those of a goat. But remain here, where is there tomb.

16 And with the iron of his hoe he shattered the ice of the spring where once laughed the naiads. He took one of the large, cold pieces and raised it to the pale sky, he examined it to the breadth.

17 Madamina, il catalogo e' questo My lady, this is the list of the beauties that my master has loved; a list that I made myself; Look here and read with me. In Italy six hundred and forty;

18 In Germany two hundred and thirty-one; One hundred in France, in Turkey ninetyone; But in Spain there are already a thousand and three.

19 There are among these peasant girls, Servants, townspeople, There are countesses, baronesses, Marquises, princesses. And there are women of every class,

20 Of every shape, of every age. With the blondes he usually praises their gentleness, With the brunettes their faithfulness, With the grayhaired ones their sweetness.

21 In the winter he wants the heavy ones, In the summer he wants the slim ones; The big ones are majestic, the little ones are charming, He goes after the old ones for the pleasure of

22 putting them on the list; His prevailing passion are the young adolescents. He doesn't care if a woman is rich if she's ugly, if she's pretty; as long as she wears a skirt you know what he does.