Recital: Jaeeun Shin '23 GD, Soprano

NEC: Williams Hall | Directions

290 Huntington Ave.
Boston, MA
United States

NEC's students meet one-on-one each week with a faculty artist to perfect their craft. As each one leaves NEC to make their mark in the performance world, they present a full, professional recital that is free and open to the public. It's your first look at the artists of tomorrow.

Jaeeun Shin '23 GD studies Voice with Lorraine Nubar and is the recipient of a scholarship made possible by the Richard M. and Priscilla Hunt Fund for Opera Students.

This performance is open to in-person audiences, and can also be viewed via livestream. 

Watch Williams Hall Livestream

Artists
  1. Ernst Krenek | Ô Lacrimosa, op. 48

    O, Tränenvolle
    Nicht als ein Atemzug
    Aber die Winter!

     

    Texts

    O, Tränenvolle

    O Tränenvolle, die, verhaltner Himmel
    Über der Landschaft ihres Schmerzes schwer wird
    Und wenn sie weint, so weht ein weicher Schauer
    Schräglichen Regens an des Herzens Sandschicht


    O Tränenschwere. Waage aller Tränen!
    Die sich nicht Himmel fühlte, da sie klar war
    Und Himmel sein muß um der Wolken willen

    Wie wird es deutlich und wie nah, dein  Schmerzland
    Unter des strengen Himmels Einheit. Wie ein
    In seinem Liegen langsam waches Antlitz
    Das waagrecht denkt, Welttiefe gegenüber



    Nicht als ein Atemzug

    Nichts als ein Atemzug ist das Leere, und jenes
    Grüne Gefülltsein der schönen
    Bäume: ein Atemzug!
    Wir, die Angeatmeten noch
    Heute noch Angeatmeten, zählen
    Diese, der Erde, langsame Atmung
    Deren Eile wir sind.


    Aber die Winter!

    Aber die Winter! O diese heimliche
    Einkehr der Erde. Da um die Toten
    In dem reinen Rückfall der Säfte
    Kühnheit sich sammelt
    Künftiger Frühlinge Kühnheit
    Wo das Erdenken geschieht
    Unter der Starre; wo das von den großen
    Sommern abgetragene Grün
    Wieder zum neuen
    Einfall wird und zum Spiegel des Vorgefühls;
    Wo die Farben der Blumen
    Jenes Verweilen unserer Augen vergißt


    Rainer Maria Rilke
    O, Tears

    O tearful ones, like the sky held back,
    it becomes heavy over the landscape of her sorrow
    And when she cries, soft raindrops fall,
    she was leaning obliquely on the sandy bottom of her 
         heart.

    Oh heaviness of tears. Scale to weigh all tears!
    Who felt herself not sky, since she was   shining
    and the sky exists only for the formation of clouds.

    How clear, how close, your land of sorrow
    beneath the stern sky's oneness. As a
    face, which lies there, waking up slowly and thinking
    horizontally, to endless depth.  



    Nothing but a breath

    Nothing but a breath, emptiness, and that
    green stuffing of the beautiful
    trees: a breath!
    We are still living, breathing beings.
    Still breathing today, count

    this slow breath of the earth,
    whose hurry we are.


    But the winters!

    But the winters! Oh the mystery of the earth
    around the dead, turning inward,
    in the pure retreat of the sap
    with boldness gathered,
    the boldness of the coming spring
    Place where imagination occurs
    under the rigidity; where all the green
    worn thin by the vast summers
    again to the new
    idea becomes and the mirror of anticipation;
    where the colors of the flowers
    that lingering of our eyes forgets.

    Translations by Jaeeun Shin

     

  2. Louis Beydts | Chansons pour les oiseaux

    La colombe poignardée
    Le petit pigeon bleu

    L’oiseau bleu
    Le petit serin en cage

     

    Texts

    La colombe poignardée

    Si Dieu n'avait pas fait le soleil et les mondes,
    Il n'y aurait pas eu les douleurs, ni ma blonde.
    Pas de coups, de sang rouge et ni ma bien-aimée . . .

    Il n'y aurait sur terre colombe poignardée.

    Si Dieu n'avait pas fait la lune et les orages,
    Il n'y aurait pas eu de pleurs aux doux visages,
    Ni de couteau farouche et ni ma bien-aimée . . .
    Il n'y aurait sur terre colombe poignardée. . .

    Si Dieu n'avait pas fait les jours après le jour,
    Il n'y aurait pas eu d'amour, ni mon amour!
    Il n'y aurait sur terre colombe poignardée.
    Et ni, Seigneur ! ma bien-aimée.



    Le petit pigeon bleu

    Je voudrais être petit pigeon bleu
    Sur le toit de ta chaumière
    Pour t’écouter remuer les assiettes
    et mettre des pommes de pin au feu.


    J’écouterais aussi la belle histoire
    Que tes enfants écoutent chaque soir.
    C’est toi qui la contes, je serais heureux
    Tout comme un ange écoutant le bon Dieu.

    Oui la belle histoire du paradis,
    Quand les oiseaux s’aimaient entre eux,
    Les arbres aussi, les poissons aussi,
    Les chênes, les carpes, les hochequeues,
    Les pins parasols, les écureuils,
    Les zéphyrs, les roseaux, les roses,
    Les arcs-en-ciel sur les eaux,
    Les gouttes de rosée et deux personnes.


    Sur le toit de ta chaumière,
    Je voudrais être petit pigeon bleu.
    J'écouterais entre les pailles, heureux,
    Tout comme un ange écoutant le bon Dieu!



    L’oiseau bleu

    Aliénor, Eléonor, Genièvre,
    Ilse, Nausicaa, Viviane,
    Eve, Blancheflor, Urgèle et Gwendoloéna,
    Carotte, Céphise, Amalthée,
    Rosalys, Rosalinde rose,
    Eunice, Eione, Galatée,
    Sylphes, nymphes, apothéose,
    Muses, Musette, Mélusine,
    Musidora, Muse adorée,
    Germaine Tourangelle,
    Ondine, Calliope, Clio dorée,
    Vénus Anadyomède, Irène, Roxane, Io,
    reines, impératrices, fées, voix heureuses d'être fées,


    Ah, Nourdjebane, Badoulboudour,
    la Sulamite et la Sultane,
    Yseut, Isoline, Peau d’Ane,
    Amour.



    Le petit serine en cage

    Il était un p’tit jaune tout habillé de gris, canari,
    Qui demandait l'aumône aux chats et aux souris,
    canari, toto canaro, canari.

    Compère, Mistigri, le lairras-tu, le lairras-tu souffri?

    Le chat d’la Mèr’ Michel, canari,
    ses moustach’s comme un gril, canari,
    A fait la courte échelle aux rats et aux souris, canari,
    toto canaro, canari!
    Ah! Père Mistigri, me lairras-tu mouri?

    Tu t’en iras au ciel, canari,
    croqué par les souris, canari,
    les rats, (c’est rationnel) te croqu’ront bien aussi,
    canari, toto canaro, canari.

    Et Mistigri chéri croqu’ra le tout, miaou!

    Le chaton, qui l’eut cru?
    C’est le père Lustucru,
    ce vieux monstre malotru,
    qui l’a croqué tout cru.


    Paul Fort

    The wounded dove

    If God had not made the sun and the worlds,
    There wouldn't have been the pains, nor my girlfriend.
    No beatings, red blood and neither my beloved. . .
    There wouldn't be a stabbed dove on earth.

    If God had not made the moon and the storms,

    There would have been no weeping on sweet faces,
    Neither a fierce knife nor my beloved. . .
    There wouldn't be a stabbed dove on earth. . .

    If God had not made day after day,
    There would have been no love, nor my love!
    There wouldn't be a stabbed dove on earth.
    And neither, Lord! my beloved.



    The little blue pigeon

    I would like to be a little blue pigeon
    On the roof of your cottage
    To listen to you stir the plates
    and put pine cones on the fire.

    I would also listen to the beautiful story
    That your children listen to every evening.
    You're the one telling it, I'd be happy
    Just like an angel listening to the good Lord.

    Yes the beautiful story of paradise,
    When the birds loved each other,
    The trees too, the fishes too,
    The oaks, the carps, the wagtails,
    The umbrella pines, the squirrels,
    Zephyrs, reeds, roses,
    The rainbows on the waters,
    dew drops and two people.

    On the roof of your cottage,
    I would like to be a little blue pigeon.
    I would listen between the straws, happy,
    Just like an angel listening to the good Lord!



    Blue bird

    Aliénor, Eléonor, Juniper,
    Ilse, Nausicaa, Viviane,
    Eve, Blancheflor, Urgèle and Gwendoloéna,
    Carotte, Céphise, Amalthée,
    Rosalys, Rosalinde rose,
    Eunice, Eione, Galatée,
    Sylphs, nymphs, apotheosis,
    Muses, Musette, Mélusine,
    Musidora, adored Muse,
    Germaine Tourangelle,
    Ondine, Calliope, Golden Clio,
    Venus Anadyomède, Irène, Roxane, Io,
    queens, empresses, fairies, voices happy to be fairies,

    Ah, Nourdjebane, Badoulboudour,
    the Shulamite and the Sultana,
    Yseut, Isoline, Peau d’Ane,
    Love.



    The little canary in the cage

    He was a little yellow all dressed in gray, canary,
    Who begged alms from cats and mice,
    canary, toto canaro, canary.

    Gossip, Mistigri, will you let him go, will you let him suffer?

    Mèr’ Michel’s cat, canary,
    his whiskers like a grill, canary,
    Made the short ladder to rats and mice, canary,
    toto canaro, canary!
    Ah! Father Mistigri, will you let me die?

    You will go to heaven, canary,
    bitten by mice, canary,
    the rats, (it's rational) will eat you well too,
    canary, toto canaro, canary.

    And darling Mistigri will take it all in, meow!

    The kitten, who would have believed it?
    It's Father Lustucru,
    that clumsy old monster,
    who chewed it raw.

    Translations by Jaeeun Shin

  3. Samuel Barber

    Nuvoletta, op. 25

    Nocturne, op. 13 no. 4

     

    Texts

    Nuvoletta

    Nuvoletta in her light dress,
    spunn of sisteen shimmers,
    was looking down on them,
    leaning over the bannistars
    and listening all she childishly could…

    She was alone.
    All her nubied companions
    were asleeping with the squir'ls…
    She tried all the winsome wonsome ways
    her four winds had taught her.
    She tossed her sfumastelliacinous hair
    like la princesse de la Petite Bretagne
    and she rounded her mignons arms
    like Missis CornwallisWest
    and she smiled over herself
    like the image of the pose of the daughter
    of the Emperour of Irelande
    And she sighed after herself
    as were she born to bride with Tristis
    Tristior Tristissimus.
    But, sweet madonine, she might fair as well
    have carried her daisy's worth to Florida...

    Oh, how it was dusk!
    From Vallee Maraia to Grasyaplaina,
    dormimust echo!
    Ah dew! Ah dew! It was so duusk
    that the tears of night began to fall,
    first by ones and twos,
    then by threes and fours,
    at last by fives and sixes of sevens, f
    or the tired ones were wecking;
    as we weep now with them.
    O! O! O! Par la pluie!...

    Then Nuvoletta reflected for the last time
    in her little long life
    and she made up all her myriads
    of drifting minds in one.
    She cancelled all her engauzements.
    She climbed over the bannistars;
    she gave a childy cloudy cry:
    Nuée! Nuée!
    A light dress fluttered.
    She was gone.

    James Joyce



    Nocturne

    Close my darling both your eyes,
    Let your arms lie still at last.
    Calm the lake of falsehood lies
    And the wind of lust has passed,
    Waves across these hopeless sands
    Fill my heart and end my day,
    Underneath your moving hands
    All my aching flows away.


    Even the human pyramids
    Blaze with such a longing now:
    Close, my love, your trembling lids,
    Let the midnight heal your brow,
    Northward flames Orion’s horn,
    Westward th’ Egyptian light.
    None to watch us, none to warn
    But the blind eternal night.

    Frederic Prokosch

  4. Wonju Lee (이원주) | 베틀노래 (Loom Song)

     

    Text

    베틀노

    내땀의방울도날줄에스며
    그대영혼감싸기에따뜻하거라
    고즈너기풀어감은고통의실꾸리
    한평생오가는만남의잉아
    우리님생각과실실이짜여
    새벽바람막아줄실비단이거라
    기다리마, 기다리마, 기다리마
    하루에도열두끊기는실이여
    무작정풀리기엔무서운맘이거든
    단번에끝내기엔아쉬운밤이거든
    허천들린사랑가
    평생동안흘린눈물모조리스며
    그대아픔덮어주는비단길이거라
    비단길이거라
    비단길이거라

     고정희  Junghee Ko
    Loom Song

    My heart seeps into the loom's thread
    Be warm to wrap around his soul
    The thread of pain that was quietly unwrapped
    Thread crossing over a lifetime
    The threads will be woven with thoughts toward him
    and will become silk to block the dawn wind
    I will wait, I will wait, I will wait
    Threads breaking twelve times a day
    It's a scary heart to be solved blindly
    It's a sad night to end at once
    An earnest love song
    All the tears I shed all my life seep
    and become a silk road that covers his pain.
    become a silk road
    become a silk road

    Translation by Jaeeun Shin

     

  5. Ambroise Thomas | Mad Scene from ”Hamlet” (À vos jeux, mes amis)

     

    Text

    A vos jeux, mes amis

    A vos jeux, mes amis,
    permettez-moi de grace de prendre part!
    Nul n'a suivi ma trace!
    J'ai quitte le palais
    aux premiers feux du jour...
    Des larmes de la nuit
    la terre etait mouillee:
    Et l'alouette, avant l'aube eveillee,
    planait dans l'air.
    Mais vous, pourquoi vous parler bas?
    Ne me reconnaissez pas?
    Hamlet est mon epoux..
    et je suis Ophelie!
    S'il trahissait sa foi,
    j'en perdrais la raison!

    Partagez-vous mes fleurs!
    A toi cette humble branche de romarin sauvage.
    A toi cette pervenche

    Et maintenant ecoutez ma chanson!

    Pale et blonde dors sous l'eau profonde
    La Willis au regard de feu!
    Que Dieu garde celui
    qui s'attarde dans la nuit,
    au bord du Lac bleu!
    Heureuse l'epouse aux bras de l'epoux!
    Mon ame et jalouse d'un bonheur si doux!
    Nymphe au regard de feu, helas!
    tu dors sous les eaux du Lac bleu!

    Ah, cher epoux, ah, cher amant!
    Ah, doux aveu!, ah, tendre serment!
    Bonheur supreme!
    Ah, cruel, je t'aime!
    Ah, cruel, tu voix mes pleurs!
    Pour toi je meurs!
    At your game, my friends

    At your game, my friends,
    would you permit me to take part!
    No one has followed my path!
    I left the palace
    at the first fires of the day...
    Of the tears of night,
    the earth was damp:
    And the lark, high in the trees,
    hovers in the air.
    But you, why do you speak so softly?
    Do you not recognize me?
    Hamlet is my bridegroom...
    and I am Ophelia!
    If he should betray me now,
    I would lose my reason!

    Share my flowers!
    For you, this humble branch of wild rosemary.
    For your, this periwinkle

    And now, listen to my song!

    Pale and fair, sleeping under the water,
    La Willis, with the fiery gaze!
    May God protect anyone
    who loiters at night
     by the shores of the blue lake!
    Happy wife in the arms of her groom!
    My soul is jealous of such a sweet happiness!
    Nymph with the fiery gaze, alas!
    you sleep under the waters of the blue lake!

    Ah, dearest groom, dearest love!
    Ah, sweet vow, tender oath!
    Happiness supreme!
    Ah, cruel one, I love you!
    Ah, cruel one, you see my tears!
    For you I die!

    Translation by Ilya Speranza, printed with permission (ISperanza@aol.com)