Nour Darwish & Jonathan Zak

JONATHAN ZAK, PIANIST Jonathan Zak was born in Israel and has graduated from the Juilliard School of Music, New-York. He has appeared as soloist with all of Israel major orchestras and has performed extensively in Israel, Europe, the USA and South America where he gave solo recitals and also appeared as instrumental and vocal accompanist. In 1969 he was one of the founders of the world renowned “Yuval” trio. The Trio has appeared all over the world and has recorded for “Deutsche Gramophone”, “CBS Masterworks” and others, including 2 CD’s for “Romeo Records”.
Mr. Zak has also recorded often for the Israel radio and for various radio stations in Europe. His recordings with Irena Friedland as a Piano-Duo team for “Romeo Records” received rave reviews in some of the most prestigious music periodicals in the U.S. and Europe. He has recorded with singer Sivan Rotem for “Romeo” Spanish music and for “Naxos” songs by Meyerbeer, and with Ayelet Amotz-Avramson songs by Brahms, Mahler and Berg, also for “Romeo”. His recording with Sharon Rostorf-Zamir for “Romeo” of Schumann Lieder was chosen by “Fanfare” as one of the year’s five best recordings.
Mr. Zak served on the jury of several international music competitions such as the Arthur Rubinstein international Piano Competition (2008),
The ARD chamber music competition in Munich (twice), the Shubert and 20th Century Music competition in Graz, the International Harp competition in Israel, etc. He is a full professor (Emeritus) after a long career of teaching piano, chamber music and accompanying vocal literature at the Buchman-Mehta Music School of the Tel aviv Universiy .
Mr. Zak received in 2013 the prize for best musical performance from the board of trustees of the culture ministry in Israel.

Nour Darwish is a renowned Palestinian Soprano. She took part in interdisciplinary performances around the world, performing Operatic repertoire as well as Arabic music.
Darwish received her Bachelor in Music performance from the Buchmann- Mehta School of Music in Tel Aviv University as well as a Masters of Music from the Conservatory of Music in Brooklyn College, New York.
Recently, Darwish’s main focus is on contemporary Palestinian art songs that combine Arabic poems and classical western music by Palestinian composers.

Play all Schubert

Play all Berlioz

Play all Rodrigo

Play all Korngold

Franz Schubert

An die Musik

Franz von Schober
Du holde Kunst, in wieviel grauen Stunden,
Wo mich des Lebens wilder Kreis umstrickt,
Hast du mein Herz zu warmer Lieb entzunden,
Hast mich in eine bessre Welt entrückt!
Oft hat ein Seufzer, deiner Harf entflossen,
Ein süsser, heiliger Akkord von dir
Den Himmel bessrer Zeiten mir erschlossen,
Du holde Kunst, ich danke dir dafür!

To Music

English Translation © Richard Wigmore
Beloved art, in how many a bleak hour,
when I am enmeshed in life’s tumultuous round,
have you kindled my heart to the warmth of love,
and borne me away to a better world!
Often a sigh, escaping from your harp,
a sweet, celestial chord
has revealed to me a heaven of happier times.
Beloved art, for this I thank you!

Im Frühling

Ernst Schulze
Still sitz ich an des Hügels Hang,
Der Himmel ist so klar,
Das Lüftchen spielt im grünen Tal,
Wo ich beim ersten Frühlingsstrahl
Einst, ach, so glücklich war.
Wo ich an ihrer Seite ging
So traulich und so nah,
Und tief im dunkeln elsenquell
Den schönen Himmel blau und hell,
Und sie im Himmel sah.
Sieh, wie der bunte Frühling schon
Aus Knosp’ und Blüte blickt!
Nicht alle Blüten sind mir gleich,
Am liebsten pflückt’ ich von dem Zweig,
Von welchem sie gepflückt.
Denn alles ist wie damals noch,
Die Blumen, das Gefild;
Die Sonne scheint nicht minder hell,
Nicht minder freundlich schwimmt im Quell
Das blaue Himmelsbild.
Es wandeln nur sich Will und Wahn,
Es wechseln Lust und Streit,
Vorüber flieht der Liebe Glück,
Und nur die Liebe bleibt zurück,
Die Lieb’ und ach, das Leid!
O wär ich doch ein Vöglein nur
Dort an dem Wiesenhang!
Dann blieb’ ich auf den Zweigen hier,
Und säng ein süsses Lied von ihr,
Den ganzen Sommer lang.

In Spring

English Translation © Richard Wigmore
I sit silently on the hillside.
The sky is so clear,
the breezes play in the green valley
where once, in the first rays of spring,
I was, oh, so happy.
Where I walked by her side,
so tender, so close,
and saw deep in the dark rocky stream
the fair sky, blue and bright,
and her reflected in that sky.
See how the colourful spring
already peeps from bud and blossom.
Not all the blossoms are the same to me:
I like most of all to pluck them from the branch
from which she has plucked.
For all is still as it was then,
the flowers, the fields;
the sun shines no less brightly,
and no less cheerfully,
the sky’s blue image bathes in the stream.
Only will and delusion change,
and joy alternates with strife;
the happiness of love flies past,
and only love remains;
love and, alas, sorrow.
Oh, if only I were a bird,
there on the sloping meadow!
Then I would stay on these branches here,
and sing a sweet song about her
all summer long.

Hector Berlioz - Les nuits dété

1. Villanelle

Théophile Gautier
Quand viendra la saison nouvelle,
Quand auront disparu les froids,
Tous les deux nous irons, ma belle,
Pour cueillir le muguet aux bois;
Sous nos pieds égrenant les perles
Que l’on voit au matin trembler,
Nous irons écouter les merles
Siffler!
Le printemps est venu, ma belle;
C’est le mois des amants béni,
Et l’oiseau, satinant son aile,
Dit ses vers au rebord du nid.
Oh! viens donc sur ce banc de mousse,
Pour parler de nos beaux amours,
Et dis-moi de ta voix si douce:
Toujours!
Loin, bien loin, égarant nos courses,
Faisons fuir le lapin caché,
Et le daim au miroir des sources
Admirant son grand bois penché;
Puis, chez nous, tout heureux, tout aises,
En paniers enlaçant nos doigts,
Revenons rapportant des fraises
Des bois!

Villanelle

English Translation © Richard Stokes
When the new season comes,
When the cold has gone,
We two will go, my sweet,
To gather lilies-of-the-valley in the woods;
Scattering as we tread the pearls of dew
We see quivering each morn,
We’ll go and hear the blackbirds
Sing!
Spring has come, my sweet;
It is the season lovers bless,
And the birds, preening their wings,
Sing songs from the edge of their nests.
Ah! Come, then, to this mossy bank
To talk of our beautiful love,
And tell me in your gentle voice:
Forever!
Far, far away we’ll stray from our path,
Startling the rabbit from his hiding-place
And the deer reflected in the spring,
Admiring his great lowered antlers;
Then home we’ll go, serene and at ease,
And entwining our fingers basket-like,
We’ll bring back home wild
Strawberries!
Translations by Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000)

2. Le spectre de la rose

Théophile Gautier
Soulève ta paupière close
Qu’effleure un songe virginal;
Je suis le spectre d’une rose
Que tu portais hier au bal.
Tu me pris encore emperlée
Des pleurs d’argent de l’arrosoir,
Et parmi le fête étoilée
Tu me promenas tout le soir.
Ô toi, qui de ma mort fus cause,
Sans que tu puisses le chasser,
Toutes les nuits mon spectre rose
À ton chevet viendra danser.
Mais ne crains rien, je ne réclame
Ni messe ni De profundis;
Ce léger parfum est mon âme,
Et j’arrive du paradis.
Mon destin fut digne d’envie:
Et pour avoir un sort si beau,
Plus d’un aurait donné sa vie,
Car sur ton sein j’ai mon tombeau,
Et sur l’albâtre où je repose
Un poëte avec un baiser
Écrivit: Ci-gît une rose
Que tous les rois vont jalouser.

The spectre of the rose

English Translation © Richard Stokes
Open your eyelids,
Brushed by a virginal dream;
I am the spectre of a rose
That yesterday you wore at the dance.
You plucked me still sprinkled
With silver tears of dew,
And amid the glittering feast
You wore me all evening long.
O you who brought about my death,
You shall be powerless to banish me:
The rosy spectre which every night
Will come to dance at your bedside.
But be not afraid – I demand
Neither Mass nor De Profundis;
This faint perfume is my soul,
And I come from Paradise.
My destiny was worthy of envy;
And for such a beautiful fate,
Many would have given their lives –
For my tomb is on your breast,
And on the alabaster where I lie
A poet with a kiss
Has written: Here lies a rose
Which every king will envy.
Translations by Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000)

4. Absence

Théophile Gautier
Reviens, reviens, me bien-aimée;
Comme une fleur loin du soleil,
La fleur de ma vie est fermée
Loin de ton sourire vermeil!
Entre nos cœurs quelle distance!
Tant d’espace entre nos baisers!
Ô sort amer! ô dure absence!
Ô grands désirs inapaisés!
Reviens, reviens, ma bien-aimée.
Comme une fleur loin du soleil,
La fleur de ma vie est fermée
Loin de ton sourire vermeil!
D’ici là-bas, que de campagnes,
Que de villes et de hameaux,
Que de vallons et de montagnes,
À lasser le pied des chevaux.
Reviens, reviens, ma bien-aimée.
Comme une fleur loin du soleil,
La fleur de ma vie est fermée
Loin de ton sourire vermeil!

Absence

English Translation © Richard Stokes
Return, return, my sweetest love!
Like a flower far from the sun,
The flower of my life is closed
Far from your crimson smile!
Such a distance between our hearts!
So great a gulf between our kisses!
O bitter fate! O harsh absence!
O great unassuaged desires!
Return, return, my sweetest love!
Like a flower far from the sun,
The flower of my life is closed
Far from your crimson smile!
So many intervening plains,
So many towns and hamlets,
So many valleys and mountains
To weary the horses’ hooves.
Return, return, my sweetest love!
Like a flower far from the sun,
The flower of my life is closed
Far from your crimson smile!
Translations by Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000)

6. L’île inconnue

Théophile Gautier
Dites, le jeune belle,
Où voulez-vous aller?
La voile ouvre son aile,
La brise va souffler!
L’aviron est d’ivoire,
Le pavillon de moire,
Le gouvernail d’or fin;
J’ai pour lest une orange,
Pour voile une aile d’ange,
Pour mousse un séraphin.
Dites, le jeune belle,
Où voulez-vous aller?
La voile ouvre son aile,
La brise va souffler!
Est-ce dans la Baltique
Dans la mer Pacifique,
Dans l’île de Java?
Ou bien est-ce en Norvège,
Cueillir la fleur de neige
Ou la fleur d’Angsoka?
Dites, le jeune belle,
Où voulez-vous aller?
Menez-moi, dit la belle,
À la rive fidèle
Où l’on aime toujours.
– Cette rive, ma chère,
On ne la connaît guère
Au pays des amours.
Où voulez-vous aller?
La brise va souffler.

The unknowable isle

English Translation © Richard Stokes
Tell me, pretty young maid,
Where is it you would go?
The sail is billowing,
The breeze about to blow!
The oar is of ivory,
The pennant of watered silk,
The rudder of finest gold;
For ballast I’ve an orange,
For sail an angel’s wing,
For cabin-boy a seraph.
Tell me, pretty young maid,
Where is it you would go?
The sail is billowing,
The breeze about to blow!
Perhaps the Baltic,
Or the Pacific
Or the Isle of Java?
Or else to Norway,
To pluck the snow flower
Or the flower of Angsoka?
Tell me, pretty young maid,
Where is it you would go?
Take me, said the pretty maid,
To the shore of faithfulness
Where love endures forever.
– That shore, my sweet,
Is scare known
In the realm of love.
Where is it you would go?
The breeze is about to blow!
Translations by Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000)

Juaquin Rodrigo - Cuatro madrigales amatorios

1. Con qué la lavaré

Anon.
¿Con qué la lavaré
la tez de la mi cara?
¿Con qué la lavaré,
Que vivo mal penada?
Lávanse las casadas
con agua de limones:
lávome yo, cuitada,
con penas y dolores.
¿Con qué la lavaré,
que vivo mal penada?

With what shall I wash

Spanish Translation © Richard Stokes
With what shall I wash
the skin of my face?
With what shall I wash it?
I live in such sorrow.
Married women wash in lemon water:
in my grief I wash
in pain and sorrow.
With what shall I wash it?
I live in such sorrow.
Translations by Jacqueline Cockburn and Richard Stokes published in the The Spanish Song Companion (Gollancz, 1992)

2. Vos me matasteis

Anon.
Vos me matásteis,
niña en cabello,
vos me habéis muerto.
Riberas de un río
ví moza vírgo,
Niña en cabello,
vos me habéis muerto.
Niña en cabello
vos me matásteis,
vos me habéis muerto

You killed me

Spanish Translation © Richard Stokes
You killed me,
girl with hair hanging loose,
you have slain me.
By the river bank
I saw a young maiden.
Girl with hair hanging loose,
you have slain me.
Girl with hair hanging loose,
you have killed me,
you have slain me.
Translations by Jacqueline Cockburn and
ichard Stokes published in the The Spanish Song Companion (Gollancz, 1992)

3. De dónde venís, amore?

Anon.
¿De dónde venís, amore?
Bien sé yo de dónde.
¿De dónde venís, amigo?
Fuere yo testigo!
¡Ah!
Bien sé yo de dónde.

Where hast thou been, my love?

Spanish Translation © Richard Stokes
Where hast thou been, my love?
I know well where.
Where hast thou been, my friend?
Were I a witness
ah!
I know well where!
Translations by Jacqueline Cockburn and Richard Stokes published in the The Spanish Song Companion (Gollancz, 1992)

4. De los álamos vengo, madre

Anon.
De los álamos vengo, madre,
de ver cómo los menea el aire.
De los álamos de Sevilla,de ver a mi linda amiga,
de ver cómo los menea el aire.
De los álamos vengo, madre,
der ver cómo los menea el aire.

I come from the poplars, mother

Spanish Translation © Richard Stokes
I come from the poplars, mother,
from seeing the breezes stir them.
From the poplars of Seville,
from seeing my sweet love,
from seeing the breezes stir them.
I come from the poplars, mother,
from seeing the breezes stir them.
Translations by Jacqueline Cockburn and Richard Stokes published in the The Spanish Song Companion (Gollancz, 1992)

Erich Wolfgang Korngold - Four Shakespeare songs

Desdemona’s song.

The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree
Sing all a green willow:
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee
Sing willow, willow, willow:
The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur’d her moans;
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften’d the stones;
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Sing all a green willow my garland must be
Sing all a green willow;
Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve
Sing willow, willow, willow
I call’d my love false love; but what said he then?
Sing willow, willow, willow:
If I court moe women, you’ll couch with moe men!
Sing willow, willow, willow

Under the greenwood tree.

Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird’s throat
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather
Who doth ambition shun
And loves to live i’ the sun
Seeking the food he eats
And pleas’d with what he gets
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather
If it do come to pass
That any man turn ass
Leaving his wealth and ease
A stubborn will to please
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame:
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he
An if he will come to me
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me

Blow, blow thou winter wind.

Blow, blow, blow thou winter wind
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen
Because thou art not seen
Although thy breath, they breath be rude
Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh ho! the holly!
his life is most jolly
Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky
Thou dost not bite so high
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember’d not
Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh ho! the holly!
This life is most jolly

When birds do sing.

It was a lover and his lass
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino
That o’er the green corn-field did pass
In the spring time, the spring time, the only pretty ring time
The spring time, the only pretty ring time
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding a ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring
The spring
This carol they began that hour
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino
How that a life was but a flower
In the spring time, the spring time, the only pretty ring time
The spring time, the only pretty ring time
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding a ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring
The spring
And therefore take the present time
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino
For love is crownéd with the prime
In the spring time, the spring time, the only pretty ring time
The spring time, the only pretty ring time
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding a ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring
The spring, the spring
Ding a ding a ding a ding a ding a ding