1. family and parenting
2. children

Barbara Liberasky-Nowicki, soprano
Carol Ann Aicher, piano
PROGRAM
I
Zyczenie
The Wish
Piosnka Litewska
Lithuanian Song
Melodia
Melody
Moja piesczotka
My Sweetheart
Fryderyk Chopin
(1810-1849)
II
Wezwanie do Neapolu: Znasz-li ten kraj?
Call to Naples: Do You Know That Land?
Polna rozyczka
The Little Wild Rose
O Zosia sierocie
About the Orphaned Zosia
Sen
A Dream
Piesn wieczorna
Evening Song
Prasniczka
The Spinner
Stanislaw Moniuszko
(1819-1872)
III
Nocturne, A-flat Major
Stanislaw Moniuszko
IV
Miedzy nami nic nie było
Poranek
There Was Nothing Between Us
Dawn
Piosnka Dudarza
A Piper’s Song
INTERMISSION
Stanislaw Niewiadomski
(1859-1936)
Eugeniusz Pankiewicz
(1857-1898)
Ignacy Jan Paderewski
(1860-1941)
V
Zaczarowana krolewna
The Enchanted Princess
Mieczyslaw Karlowicz
Skad pierwsze gwiazdy
Whence The First Stars
(1876-1909)
Pamietam ciche jasne zlote dnie
I Remember Those Quiet Golden Days
Idzie na pola
It Goes Over Fields
VI
7 Songs, Op. 54, Nos. 1-4
Gentle Lady
Sleep Now
Lean out of the Window
My Dove, My Beautiful One
Karol Szymanowski
(1882-1937)
VII
Four Studies Op. 4, No. 3 in B-flat Minor
Karol Szymanowski
VIII
Piesni Kurpiowskie, Set 1, Op. 38
From The Kurpie Songs
1. Lecioly zorasie
Cranes Flew By
2. Wysla burzycka
A Storm is upon the Land
3. Uwoz mamo Mind, Mother
4. U jeziorecka
At the Lakelet
Karol Szymanowski
IX
Folk Songs
Ulani, ulani, malowane dzieci
Oj, Magdalino!
Koraliki
arr. Karol Szymanowski
arr.Stanislaw Niewiadomski
arr.Stanislaw Niewiadomski
The audience is respectfully requested to hold any
applause until the end of each set.
Song Text Translations and Poets
Zycienie (The Wish)
Stephan Witwicki (1800-1847)
If I were the sun in the sky, I would shine only for you. I would not even shine on the water or the forest. But, I would spend
all my time under your window, if I could change myself into the sun!
If I were a bird in the grove, I would not sing in any strange country. I would not even sing on the water or in the forest. But, I
would spend all my time under your window and sing only for you!
Piosnka Litewska (A Lithuanian Song)
Ludwik Osinski (1775-1838)
Very early one morning as the sun was just rising, by her window a mother was sitting. “From where are you returning, little
daughter?” she asked. “And why is your garland so wet?” “When one must go so early in the morning to fetch water, it is no
wonder that one’s garland gets wet.” “Oh, that is a fairytale, child! That is a fairytale, child! I am certain that you that you
went into the fields to prattle with your young man.” “Yes, it is true, Mother, it is true. In the fields, I met the boy I love. And, I
spoke to him for only a moment in conversation. Meanwhile.... glistening dewdrops fell upon my garland. Dew fell upon my
garland!”
Melodia (Melody)
Zygmunt Krasinski (1798-1855)
From the hills, where they carried the burden of their nightmarish crosses, they saw, from a distance, the Promised Land. They
saw the rays of the heavenly light, towards which, in the valley, their ancestral people were dragging their burden, though
some of them will not enter those infinite spaces! To the comforts of life, they will never sit down; and even, perhaps, be forgotten.
Moja pieszczotka (My Sweetheart)
Adam Mickiewicz (1798-1855)
When my sweetheart is in a cheerful mood, she chirps and chatters and coos like a bird. She is so full of joy! I love listening to
her and I don’t want to miss even single word that she speaks. She is such a delight! I dare not interrupt or answer, and only
want to listen, and listen and listen. But, when the fervor of her words light up her flashing eyes, and her cheeks glow like the
color of dark red berries, and her pearly white teeth sparkle among her coral beads......ah! At that time, I look boldly into her
glamorous eyes, and our lips rush together and I do not want to listen anymore, but only to kiss her, to kiss her, to kiss her!
Wezwanie do Neapolu:“Znasz-li ten kraj?” (Do you know that land?)
Goethe (1749-1842) Adapt. Adam Mickiewicz
Mignon’s song Goethe (1749-1842) “Wilhelm Meister” (1798-1855)
Do you know the land where the lemons bloom in the dark forest, where the gold oranges glow, where the ivy wreaths decorate the ancient ruins, and where the laurel towers and the cypress calmly stands? Ah, there, my darling, I was in paradise, and
it would be so again, as long as you were with me!
Do you know the edifice where there are hundreds of arched entrances, where there is a row of columns and a crowd of monuments, whose faces welcome me, inquiring, “Our dear pilgrim, what has become of you?” Ah, there, my darling, I was in paradise, and it would be so again, as long as you were with me!
Polna rozyczka (The Little Wild Rose) Goethe (1749-1842)
Adapt. Josef Grajnert (19th Century)
From a hilltop in the field, a young boy spotted a little rose in the rye; it was young, and glowing in the dawn’s light. He ran
swiftly to it and gave it a warm welcome. “Oh rose! Oh, red rose! Oh, little red rose in the rye!”
The boy exclaimed, “I’ll pick you, little red rose in the rye!” And the rose replied, “No, oh, no! My thorns are sharp! Beware!
Nobody wants to catch a rose.” “Oh, rose! Oh, red rose! Oh, little red rose in the rye!”
The boy was moved with such great pity for the rose in the rye, that he bent his knee and plucked her from the wild fields,
took her home, and gave her a royal welcome! “Oh, rose! Oh, red rose! Oh, little red rose in the rye!”
O Zosi Sierocie (About the Orphaned Zosia)
In the cottage, little Sophie, sits and weeps,
She keeps crying in winter and in summer.
In the corner of the dark bed
Where her mother has parted with the world.
She sits there with sorrow-darkened eyes,
She sits in the cold, hunger and darkness.
“Alas! My mother is gone! I am alone! Alas!
Poor me, a little orphan girl!”
Sophie had been crying for three years
And for three months and three days …
Until one day, in her dream, her mother came to her,
Rising from the grave in response to her child’s crying.
Then, little Sophie raised her hands
And cried to her lovingly:
“Why are you so sad, my saintly mother?
Why are you so doleful?
Sen (A Dream)
Joseph Szujski (1835-1883)
Why do you carry those two buckets full of water
That, mother, with their weight pull you down to the
ground?
Did you not have enough work here on earth
That you must pull this weight in the other world?
And that in the other world you must pull so much!
“Oh, my little girl, o my sweet daughter,
My dear Sophie with blackened eyes,
You caused this with your tears.
I am carrying your tears in the buckets.
Your tears I carry in the buckets, my daughter!
All your tears I carry in these buckets.
M.Desbordes-Valmore Adapt. M.Radzizewski (1786-1859)
I saw him in my dream.
His voice was trembling when he uttered these words:
“Be happy and be well!..”
And saying this he ran away.
He is flying into the empty space
And from the distance he points to the flowers.
And I feel faint; my legs are trembling beneath me
My voice is silenced, smothered by sorrow!...
My heart is trembling from terrible pain,
The road is turning into waves of water
In vain I want to call out to him,
My voice turns to moaning from sorrow…. and effort!
He is looking at me …..shedding tears…..stops running….
“It is your order, he said, I obey you!”
I feel the rustle of wings over my head,
He was an angel and he left me!
Piesn wieczorna (Evening Song)
Through the evening dew a ringing voice flows.
Let the echo carry you to our home
Where our aging mother is preparing supper.
Tomorrow is a holiday; crops have not been harvested,
Let them ripen through tomorrow.
Let the playful wind, the little grasshopper
And the lark sing there.
Ludwik Kondratowicz (1822-1862)
The hearth in the cottage is near.
It brings joy to a tired heart.
When I arrive, my hard-working mother will ask,
“How much did you harvest?”
I will answer, Mother, I am young!
I am saving my hands, and I am saving my face from the
heat!
The work was not good.
The rain hindered my work
And my maiden song.
Prasniczka (The Spinner)
Jan Czeczot (1796-1847)
At the spinning wheel the girls all sit like angels,
Spinning and spinning, with silk threads.
Spin, spin, the spinning wheel! Weave!
The one who remembers best is the one whose thread is the
longest.
The thread moves smoothly: the girl is happy!
For three days she has remembered the faithful boy.
Spin, spin, the spinning wheel! Weave!
The one who remembers best is the one whose thread is the
longest.
One girl’s young man went to Krolewiec and enlisted
His tears were great at parting with the girl.
Spin, spin, the spinning wheel! Weave!
The one who remembers best is the one whose thread is the
longest.
Soon another boy woos the girl,
And she eagerly enjoys his attention.
Spin, spin, the spinning wheel! The flimsy thread snaps!
The girl burns with shame. Shame, shame on you girl!
Miedzy nami nic nie bylo (There was nothing between us)
Adam Asnyk (1838-1897)
There was nothing between us:
No secrets or confessions, nothing ever connected us,
Aside from the betraying dreams of spring.
Aside from the scents and colors that wafted in the open air,
Aside from the groves murmuring with song, and the fresh and fair meadows.
Aside from the cascading waterfalls, and streams sparkling their fine mists,
Aside form rainbow garlands and clouds, and nature’s magical charm,
Aside from clear, life-giving springs from which our hears drank rapturously,
Aside from primroses and morning glories, aside from primroses and morning glories,
There was nothing between us. There was nothing between us. There was nothing!
Poranek (Dawn)
It was a wonderful early dawn
As the charming sun rubbed its eyes clear of rain
And shone its golden rays,
Smiling on an awakening land.
On such a morning, a fair-haired young lady
Looked out her window,
And in a friendly manner,
Beckoned to me with her head,
And bid me good day.
And on this fragrant morning, my soul was so enlightened
From her glance that even after that lucky moment,
My heart aches.
But, I would suffer again as much
To have one such moment.
Ah! Just one.
Michal Balucki (1837-1901)
Piosnka Dudarza (A Piper’s Song)
Adam Mickiewicz (1789-1855)
I am wandering along the long Niemen River,
Going from hamlet to hamlet,
From grove to grove, from meadow to meadow,
Singing my songs.
People gather around me, everyone listens to me,
But, no one understands me.
So I stifle a sigh and wipe away a tear,
And I continue farther and farther on my journey.
When I finally meet one who understands me,
He will sympathize, clasp my hand and shed a tear.
And I also will shed a tear,
And wander no further. No further.
I will go no further. No!
INTERMISSION
Zaczarowana krolewna (The Enchanted Princess)
Mieczyslaw Karlowicz (1876-1909)
An enchanted princess fell asleep in the myrtle forest; her tuneful lute had slipped to the ground near her foot, her song
unfinished. A smile was still gleaming on her face and her lips were trembling. She was dreaming of something wonderful.
She was dreaming of a knight who is going through the depths struggling to reach her, when she suddenly awakes from
her enchanted dream. In that same moment, the knight who struggled for her, overrated his bravery, lost hope, got lost in
the abyss, and turned to stone.
Skad pierwsze gwiazdy (Whence The First Stars)
Juliusz Slowacki (1809-1949)
Whence comes the first shining stars in the sky, there I am going to the dark rocks. I will look at the flying cranes in the sky,
and I will fly where they are flying. Because here, and there, across the sea and everywhere, wherever I think of wandering I will feel the same, always sad and lonely.... I know it will always be the same. Everywhere I turn, I will feel badly.
Pamietam ciche, jasne, zlote dnie (I remember the quiet, clear, golden days)
Kazimierz Tetmajer (1865-1940)
I remember the quiet, clear, golden days,
Which today seem to me like a wonderful dream,
Because in my childhood
Paradise was opened to me.
And I sometimes wonder if all my life was a dream…
And that one day I will awaken to find the paradise of my childhood.
Idzie na pola (It’s Going Outside)
Adam Asnyk (1838-1897)
It’s going outside, it’s going into the woods, into the meadow and the orchard,
On silver waters to the snowy hills, over the pale moon; it goes through the immense abyss of the cosmos, whence the light
of the milky way spreads, it goes through the blue sky quietly, as if it had wings: the music of my soul.
Gentle Lady
Gentle lady, do not sing
Sad songs about the end of love;
Lay aside sadness and sing how love that passes is enough.
Sing about the long deep sleep
Of lovers that are dead, and how
In the grave all love shall sleep: Love is aweary now.
Sleep Now
Sleep now, O sleep now, O you unquiet heart!
A voice crying “Sleep now”
Is heard in my heart.
The voice of the winter
Is heard at the door.
O sleep, for the winter
Is crying “Sleep no more.”
My kiss will give peace now
And quiet to your heart —
Sleep on in peace now, O you unquiet heart!
Lean Out Of The Window
Lean out of the window, Goldenhair,
I heard you singing, A merry air.
My book is closed;I read no more,
Watching the fire dance, On the floor.
I have left my book, I have left my room,
For I heard you singing through the gloom.
Singing and singing a merry air,
Lean out of the window, Goldenhair. Ah!
My Dove, My Beautiful One
My dove, my beautiful one,
Arise, arise!
The night-dew lies
Upon my lips and eyes.
The odorous winds are weaving
A music of sighs:
Arise, arise,
My dove, my beautiful one!
I wait by the cedar tree,
My sister, my love,
White breast of the dove,
My breast shall be your bed.
The pale dew lies
Like a veil on my head.
My fair one, my fair dove,
Arise, arise!
James Joyce (1882-1941)
Lecioly zurazie (Cranes in Flight)
Kurpie Region
Take wing, cranes, and cry out: My God! Even the cranberry and maple trees united could not be separated; they would
not part. But, I…..I had to part with my Jasiu. Oh, mighty God. I gave him up! Oh, my God, my God!
Wysla burzycka (A Storm is Upon the Land)
A storm is upon the land, the rain is nearing, where will you hide, birdie?
I will fly to the forest under a sycamore branch.
I’ll be safe from the rain there; so will my golden feathers;
I’ll be safe from the rain there; so will my russet feathers.
Uwoz mamo (Mind, Mother)
Mind, Mother, that you don’t give your daughter in marriage to some good-for-nothing-guy, She’s too pretty for that.
For her beauty is in full bloom; her cheeks are red as a wild rose.
For a wild rose blooms once a year - I’m sick at heart when lovers keep apart.
And if someone likes another but doesn’t show it - O God, mighty God, tell me who has a grudge against me!
U jeziorecka (At the Lakelet)
At the lakelet, at the sparkling water, a girl was picking berries.
She picked a jugful and poured it into her apron.
Then young Johnny came: Lass, there are better berries here.
He dismounted from his horse and grasped her hand: Lass, will you follow me?
Oh, but I won’t, gracious God! The sun is low, I’ve got a long way to go.
Oh, but I won’t, I fear betrayal. Don’t be afraid, lass, I’ve got a horse!
Oh, but I won’t, my Johnny, I won’t be wearing a wreath anymore.
Ulani, ulani, malowane dzieci (Soldiers, Soldiers, Like Painted Children)
NOTE: An ulan is a lancer, a member of the gentry who wore a very colorful uniform.
Handsome soldiers, there is not a maiden who will not fly after you! There is not a home or hut in which even married women do not love you!
Oj, Magdalino ! (Oh, Magdalina!)
“Oh, Magdalina, of all fair maidens, you are the fairest. Tell me you love me, that you adore me and my pig from sun to
sun.”
“Oh, yes, Bartosz, I adore you, in my dowry I have for you a sweet mate for your pig, and my own heart and maidenly hand!”
When they got married, they loved each other so much that he kissed her three times a day and she kissed him on Sundays!
But, eventually he did mistreat her. He mistreated her every day. So she decided he was misguided, and mistreated him on
holidays!
Koraliki (Coral Beads)
I was walking by the river when I lost my coral beads. If you find them for me, Jasiu, I will give you a kiss right away!
Tra-la-la.
If you find them Jasiu, I promise, I will give you a kiss right away! (Kisses are cheap, but my coral beads are precious to me!)
Tra-la-la.
My mother gave some people a chicken so I could dance in the front line. They took the chicken, cut off his head, and left
me standing in the hall! Tra-la-la.