Classical Music | Soprano

Richard Strauss

Ophelia-Lieder, op. 67   Play

Alicia Berneche Soprano
Jeffrey Panko Piano

Recorded on 06/02/2004, uploaded on 04/20/2009

Musician's or Publisher's Notes

Richard Strauss was a master of vocal composition, and he had a particular reverence for the soprano voice, in part inspired by his happy marriage to the operatic soprano Pauline de Ahna. On one occasion, he commented, “I thank my Almighty Creator for the gift and inspiration of the female voice.” Strauss began composing lieder in his early years as a composer, and continued to do so right up until his death in 1949. Some of Strauss’s songs, such as the famous “Allerseelen,” have entered the standard repertoire. Yet, despite his superb writing for the voice, and his ability to masterfully handle the dramatic as well as the sentimental, many of his songs are often overlooked.

One such work is the Drei Lieder der Ophelia, the first three songs of his opus 67 collection. Appearing in 1918, the songs are based on texts taken from Shakespeare’s Hamlet and translated into German. Specifically, they come from Act IV, Scene 5. Ophelia, the ill-fated character who ultimately drowns after being rejected by Hamlet, enters the castle singing strange songs, while Gertrude and Horatio blame the death of her father for her odd behavior. The musical language of Strauss’s three settings is certainly removed from the lush Romanticism of his most well-known songs. The harmonies are highly chromatic, stretching any sense of tonality to the breaking point. Yet, the music Strauss provides effectively captures the psychological state of Shakespeare’s character, and provides a dramatic and chilling landscape against which the bard’s lyrics become even more haunting and disturbing.       Joseph DuBose

Wie erkenn ich mein Treulib for andern nun?

Wie erkenn ich mein treulieb

Vor andern nun?

An dem muschelhut und Stab

Und den Sandalschuh'n.

Er ist tot und lange hin.

Tot und hin, Fraülein!

Ihm zu Häupten grünes Gras.

Ihm zu Fuss ein Stein. Oho.

 

Auf seinem Bahrtuch, weiss wie schnee,

Viel liebe Blumen tauern.

Sie gehn zu Grabe nass,

O weh! vor Liebesschauern.

How should I your true love know

   From another one?

By his cockle hat and staff,

   And his sandal shoon.

He is dead and gone, lady,

   He is dead and gone;

At his head a grass-green turf,

   At his heels a stone.

 

White his shroud as the mountain snow,

   Larded with sweet flowers;

Which bewept to the grave did go,

   With true-love showers.

      Guten Morgen, s'ist Sankt Valentintag

 

Guten Morgen, s'ist Sankt Valentinstag

So früh vor Sonnenschein.

Ich junge Maid am Fenstersclag

Will Euer Valentin sein.

Der junge Mann tut Hosen an.

Tät auf die Kammertür.

Liess ein die Maid, die als Maid

Ging nimmermehr herfür.

 

Bei Sankt Niklas und Charitas!

Ein unverschämt Geschlect!

Ein junger Mann tut's wenn er kann,

Fürwahr, das ist nich recht.

Sie sprach: Eh Ihr gescherzt mit mir,

Verspracht Ihr mich zu frein.

Ich Brächt's auch nicht beim Sonnenlicht,

Wärst du nicht kommen herein.

 

Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's day.

   All in the morning betime,

And I a maid at your window,

   To be your Valentine;

Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes,

   And dupp'd the chamber door;

Let in the maid, that out a maid

   Never departed more.

 

By Gis and by Saint Charity,

   Alack, and fie for shame!

Young men will do't. if they come to 't,

   By Cock they are to blame.

Quoth she, before you tumbled me,

   You promised me to wed!

So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,

   An' thou hadst not come to my bed.

      Sie trugen ihn auf der Bahre bloss

Sie trugen ihn auf der Bahre bloss,

Leider, ach leider, den Liebsten!

Manche Träne fiel in des Grabes Schoss-

Fahr wohl, fahr wohl, meine Taube.

Mein junger frisher Hansel ist's,

Der mir gefällt-

 

Und kommt er nimmermehr?

Er ist tot, o weh!

In dein Todbett geh.

Er kommt dir nimmermehr.

Sein Bart war weiss wie Schnee,

Sein Haupt wie Flachs dazu.

Er ist hin, er ist hin,

Kein Trauern bringt Gewinn:

Mit seiner Seele Ruh

Und mit allen Christenseelen!

Darum bet ich! Gott sei mit euch!

They bore him barefac'd on the bier:

Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;

And in his grave rained many a tear;

Fare you well, my dove!

For bonny sweet Robin

Is all my joy.

 

 And will he not come again?

   No, no, he is dead,

   Go to thy death-bed.

He will never come again.

His beard was as white as snow,

All Flaxen was his poll;

He is gone, he is gone,

And we cast away moan,

God ha' mercy on his soul!

And of all Christian souls!

I pray God. God be wi' ye!