Dominique Sears

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Publication Date

3-4-2018

Year of Release

2018

Note(s)

Dominique Sears, Soprano

Mark Smith, pianist

Ryan Phipps, cellist


Translations

V'adoro, pupille from Giulio Cesare

I adore you, eyes,

arrows of love

Your sparkles

are pleasing in my breast.

Have pity on

my sad heart

That at every hour calls

the lover your beloved.


E pur così un giorno ... Piangerò

And yet thus in a single day

do I lose splendour and greatness? Ah wicked fate!

Ceasar, my beloved idol is probably dead.

Cornelia and Sesto are defenseless,

nor do they know how to give me assistance.

Oh God, there doesn't remain any hope for my life

I shall lament my fate,

so cruel and so wicked,

as long as I have life in [my] breast.

But when I am dead and become a ghost,

I will haunt the tyrant, both night and day.


Nacbt und Träume

Holy night, you sink down

The dreams flow down, too

Like your moonlight through the rooms

Through the people's silent chests

They listen softly with desire

They call, when day awakens

Come back, holy night

Sweet dreams, come back!


Suleika l

What does the motion mean?

Does the East wind bring glad tidings?

The refreshing movement of its wings

Chills the heart's deep wound.

It plays gently with the dust,

Chasing it into light clouds.

And drives the happy insect people

to the security of the vine-leaves.

It softly tempers the sun's incandescence,

and chills my hot cheeks,

As it flees it kisses the vines

which are prominent on the fields and hills.

And its soft whispering brings me

A thousand greetings from my friend

Before these hills dim,

I will be greeted by a thousand kisses.

So, as you go on your way

And serve friends and the saddened.

There where high walls glow,

I shall soon find my dearly beloved.

Oh, the true message of his heart,

Loves-breath, refreshing life

Comes only from his mouth,

Can be given to me only by his breath.


Ah, je ris de me voir si belle from Faust

Ah, I laugh to see myself

so beautiful in this mirror,

Ah, I laugh to see myself

so beautiful in this mirror,

Is it you, Marguerite, it is you?

Answer me, answer me,

Respond, respond, respond quickly!

No No! it's no longer you!

No ... no, it's no longer your face;

It's the daughter of a king,

It's no longer you, etc.

One must bow to her as she passes!

Ah if only he were here!

If he should see me thus

Like a lady

He would find me so beautiful, Ah!

Like a lady,

He would find me beautiful!

Let's complete the metamorphosis,

I am late yet in trying on

The bracelet and the necklace!

God! it's like a hand

Which is placed on my arm! Ah, ah!

Ah, I laugh

to see myself so beautiful in this mirror!


Les Chemins de l'amour

The paths that lead to the sea

have kept, of our passing-by,

flowers with fallen petals

and the echo, beneath their trees,

of both our bright laughters.

Alas! of the days of happiness,

radiant joys now flown,

I wander without finding their trace again

in my heart.

Paths of my love,

I still seek you,

lost paths, you are no more

and your echos are hollow.

Paths of despair,

paths of memory,

paths of the first day,

divine paths of love.

If one day I have to forget him,

life effacing everything,

I wish, in my heart, that one memory should remain,

stronger than the other love.

The memory of the path,

where trembling and utterly bewildered

one day, upon me, I felt

your hands burning.


C

I have crossed the bridges of Cé,

It is there that it all began

A song of bygone days

Tells the tale of a wounded knight

Of a rose on the carriageway

And an unlaced bodice.

Of the castle of a mad duke

And swans on the moats

Of the meadow where comes dancing

An eternal betrothed love.

And I drank like iced milk

The long lay of false glories.

The Loire carries my thoughts away with the

Overturned cars

And the unprimed weapons

And the ill-dried tears.

Oh my France Oh my forsaken France

I have crossed the bridges of Cé.


Noël des enfants qui n'ont plus de maison

Our houses are gone!

The enemy has taken everything,

even our little beds!

They burned the school and the schoolmaster.

They burned the church and the Lord Jesus!

And the poor old man who couldn't get away!

Our houses are gone!

The enemy has taken everything,

even our little beds!

Of course, Papa has gone to war.

Poor Mama died

before she saw all this.

What are we going to do?

Christmas! Little Christmas!

Don't go to their houses, never go there again.

Punish them!

Avenge the children of France!

The little Belgians, the little Serbs

and the little Poles, too!

If we've forgotten anyone, forgive us.

Christmas! Christmas! Above all no toys.

Try to give us our daily bread again.

Our houses are gone!

The enemy has taken everything,

even our little beds!

They burned the school and the schoolmaster.

They burned the church and the Lord Jesus!

And the poor old man who couldn't get away!

Christmas, listen to us. Our wooden shoes are gone,

but grant victory to the children of France!

This recital is presented in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Bachelor of Arts degree in Music Education. Ms. Sears is a student in the studio of Professor Linda Dobbs.

Note

Smith Recital Hall

Disciplines

Arts and Humanities | Fine Arts | Music | Music Performance

Marshall University Music Department Presents a Senior Recital, Dominique Sears, Soprano

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