The Tucson Winter Chamber Music Festival
Jennifer Foster, Soprano Cover art: Brenda Semanick Program notes: Nancy Monsman Design and art direction: GroundZero Producer and Recording Engineer: Matthew Snyder |
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Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco (1895-1968)
Three Sephardic Songs Jennifer Foster, Soprano Katerina Englichova, Harp |
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Montañas altas
Montañas altas y marinadas Llevame donde el mi amor Llevame donde el mi querido Que con el tengo l'amor O Ama me segun yo t'amo, Mira que me va morir; Lleva tiempo y viene tiempo, Mira que por ti me va morir O Por la calle ja aqui yo paso Mi solumbre no te veràs Llorando y sufriendo Deonde viene el dolor O |
High Mountains
High mountains near the seas Carry me to where my love is Carry me to where my desired one is For with him I have love Oh Love me like I love you See that I am going to die Time comes and goes, See that for you I am going to die Oh In the street I have already passed by here You don't see my shadow Crying and suffering From where the pain comes Oh |
Ven y veràs
Ven y verás, viaremos Lo amor que tenemos los dos ven lo gustaremos Arboles lloran por lluvia y montañas por aire Asi lloran mis ojos por ti querida amante Lluvia se hizo y se mojo la calle y la corteja, Onde y diga a mi amore que es de los ojos mios. |
Come and See
Come and you will see, we'll see The love that we two have we will enjoy Trees cry for rain and mountains for air So my eyes cry for you, dear beloved Rain fell and made the street and courtyard wet, It ripples out and tells my love that it is from my eyes. |
Una noche
Una noche yo me armi por ver vuestros recintados Detame la puerta abierta y candil amatado Tarala y la y hop tarala layla hoppa! Tu me quieres, yo te quiero; Tu madre no nos quiere Esta noche arogo al dios en la cama rue ruede Tarala y la . . . Ni blanca soy ni morena Ni cosa de la varvos Por la gerve que a mi me haces Y en alma mia entrates Tarala y la . . . |
One Night
One night I prepare myself to see your bedroom Leave the door open and the candle extinguished You love me, I love you; Your mother doesn't love us Tonight I beg God she'll stay in bed and sleep Neither white nor brown am I Neither have I anything of value For you to boast of me And yet into my soul you have entered |