Richard Strauss. Henry Purcell. Es Gibt ein Reich. Wer hat dies Liedlein erdacht? Gustav Mahler. Robert Schumann. Franz Schubert. Maurice Ravel. American Traditional. L'ile Inconnue. La Vera costanza, opera, H. Dove Fuggo Franz Joseph Haydn. Villanelle Hector Berlioz. Un Giorno di regno, opera Il finto Stanislao.
Schmerzen Richard Wagner. Sexy Trippy All Moods. Drinking Hanging Out In Love. Introspection Late Night Partying. Rainy Day Relaxation Road Trip. Romantic Evening Sex All Themes.
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Track Listing. Act 2. Dove fuggo, ove m'ascondo. Franz Joseph Haydn. Jessye Norman. Hector Berlioz. Act 1. Non san quant'io nel petto Giuseppe Verdi. How bitter is my fate! Without love to sail on the sea! The white creature Lies in a coffin; How in nature Everything seems to me in mourning! The forgotten dove Weeps and dreams of the absent one. My soul weeps and feels That it is deserted! Over me the vast night Spreads like a shroud. I sing my song That only Heaven hears: Ah!
How beautiful she was And how I loved her! I shall never love A woman as much as her The poem is the lament of a Venetian boatman at the loss of his beloved, and the pain of sailing out to sea unloved. Tant d'espace entre nos baisers! Come back, come back, my beloved!
Like a flower far from the sun, The flower of my life is closed Far from your bright red smile! Between our hearts what a distance! So much of space between our kisses! O bitter fate!
O harsh absence! O great desires unappeased! Come back, come back, my beautiful beloved! Between here and there what fields, What towns and hamlets, What valleys and mountains, To tire the hoofs of the horses.
The rhetorical "Absence" pleads for the return of the beloved. Rushton suggests that unlike the other five songs, this one may make use of existing music, written for an abandoned cantata , Erigone , and this possibly explains why in this song alone Berlioz cut and rearranged Gautier's verses.
Do you know the white tomb, Where there floats with a plaintive sound The shadow of a yew tree? On the yew a pale dove Sitting sad and alone at sunset, Sings its song: An air morbidly tender At once charming and deadly, That hurts you And that one would like to hear for ever; An air like the sigh in Heaven Of a loving angel.
One might say that an awakened soul Weeps under the ground in unison With the song, And for the misfortune of being forgotten Complains, cooing Very softly. On the wings of the music One feels slowly returning A memory.
A shadow, an angelic form Passes in a shimmering ray In a white veil. The belle de nuit flowers, half closed, Cast their weak and sweet scent Around you, And the ghost in a gentle pose Murmurs, stretching its arms to you: Will you return?
Never again by the grave Will I go, when evening falls In a black cloak, To hear the pale dove Singing at the top of the yew Its plaintive song. La voile enfle son aile, La brise va souffler. Est-ce dans la Baltique?Vocalise-etude / Ravel () --He's got the whole world in His hands (traditional) () --Les nuits d'été. L'ile inconnue / Berlioz (). Other Titles: Very best of Jessye Norman He's got the whole world in .