“Voice and the Violin”: Joshua Bell, violin & Larisa Martínez, soprano - The 92nd Street Y, New York
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“Voice and the Violin”: Joshua Bell, violin & Larisa Martínez, soprano

Oct 20, 2022


Superstar violinist Joshua Bell, internationally acclaimed soprano Larisa Martínez, and renowned multi-genre pianist Peter Dugan open our season with a sparkling program of arias, solos, and duets – specially arranged for these extraordinary artists – and including a brilliant West Side Story medley.

MENDELSSOHN: “Ah, ritorna, età dell’oro” from Infelice
BLOCH: “Nigun” from Baal Shem
MASSENET: “Je suis encore tout étourdie” from Manon
HÉROLD: “Jours de mon enfance” from Le pré aux clercs
CHOPIN: Nocturne in E-flat Major, Op. 9, No. 2 (arr. Bell/Wallace)
DELIBES: “Les Filles des Cadix”
R. STRAUSS, “Morgen!”
WIENAWSKI: Scherzo-Tarantelle, Op. 16
GIMENEZ: “Zapateado”
NARCISO FIGUEROA: “Mi Rancho”
BERNSTEIN: West Side Story Suite (arr. Brohn/Czarnecki)

Joshua Bell, violin
Larisa Martínez, soprano
Peter Dugan, piano

View the translations

Mendelssohn (Italian) Mendelssohn (English)
I. Aria (Cavatina)
Ah ritorna, età dell’oro
alla terra abbandonata,
se non fosti immaginata
nel sognar felicità.
Fu il mondo allor felice
che un tenero arboscello,
un limpido ruscello
le genti alimentó.
ah ritorna, bell’età.

II. Cabaletta
D’amor nel regno
non v’è contento
che del tormento
non sia minor.
Si scorge appena
felice speme
che nuova pena
la turba ancor.
Ah ritorna, bell’età.		 I. Aria (Cavatina)
Ah come back, golden age
to the abandoned land,
if you weren’t imagined
in dreams of happiness.
The world was happy then
a tender sapling,
a clear stream
people fed.
ah come back to me, better days.

II. Cabaletta
There is no happiness
Or love in the kingdom
No minor torments.
You can hardly see
happy hope:
a new pain
disturbs her.
Ah come back to me, better days.
Massenet (French) Massenet (English)
Je suis encor tout étourdie,
je suis encor tout engourdie!
Ah! mon cousin ! Excusez-moi!
Excusez un moment d’émoi!
Je suis encor tout étourdie!
Pardonnez à mon bavardage,
j’en suis à mon premier voyage!
Le coche s’éloignait à peine,
que j’admirais de tous mes yeux,
les hameaux, les grands bois, la plaine,
les voyageurs jeunes et vieux.
Ah! mon cousin, excusez-moi,
c’est mon premier voyage!
Je regardais fuir, curieuse,
les arbres frissonnant au vent!
Et j’oubliais toute joyeuse,
que je partais pour le couvent!
Devant tant de choses nouvelles,
ne riez pas, si je vous dis
que je croyais avoir des ailes
et m’envoler en paradis!
Oui, mon cousin!
Puis, j’eus un moment de tristesse,
je pleurais, je ne sais pourquoi.
L’instant d’après, je le confesse,
je riais, ah, ah, ah, etc.
Je riais, mais sans savoir pourquoi!
Ah, mon cousin, excusez-moi,
ah, mon cousin, pardon!
Je suis encor tout étourdie		 I’m still completely dizzy,
I feel numb all over!
Cousin, forgive me!
Excuse an emotional moment!
I’m dizzy!
Forgive my chattering,
this is the first trip I’ve ever taken!
The coach had scarcely started to move
when I opened my eyes wide, watching
the little villages, the forest, the plain,
the passengers, both young and old.
Cousin, forgive me,
it’s the first time I’ve travelled!
I watched the trees as they rushed by,
trembling in the wind.
And was overwhelmed with delight
I was forgetting that I was leaving for the convent!
Faced with so many new things,
don’t laugh when I tell you
that I thought I had wings
and was flying to paradise!
Yes, cousin!
Then, I felt a moment of sadness,
I cried, I don’t know what about.
Then the very next minute, I confess
I was laughing, ha, ha, ha, etc.
I was laughing, but without knowing why!
Cousin, excuse me,
cousin, forgive me,
I’m still dizzy!
Hérold (French) Hérold (English)
Jours de mon enfance,
Ô jours d’innocence!
Votre souvenance
Est pour moi le bonheur.
Malgré la cour et malgré le roi,
Mergy, je veux n’être qu’à toi.
Oui, Marguerite en qui j’espère
Protège une pauvre étrangère
Elle m’a dit en souriant
Rassurez vous ma pauvre enfant
Oui, malgré la cour
Malgré le Roi
Mergy, je veux n’être qu’à toi.
Ô Dieu du jeune âge
Par un doux presage
Soutiens mon courage inspire moi j’espère en toi
Par un doux presage
Soutiens mon courage protège moi
J’espère en toi
Rassure toi pauvre Isabelle
L’amitié te sera fidèle.		 Days of my childhood,
O days of innocence!
Your memory
Is happiness to me,
Despite the court and despite the king,
Mergy, I want to be only yours.
Yes, Marguerite, in whom I hope,
Protect a poor stranger,
She told me smiling
Don’t worry my poor child
Yes, despite the court
Despite the King
Mergy, I want to be only yours.
O God of youth
By a sweet omen
Support my courage, inspire me, I hope in you
By a sweet omen
Support my courage, protect me.
I hope in you
Don’t worry poor Isabelle
Friendship will be faithful to you.
Delibes (French) Delibes (English)
Nous venions de voir le taureau
Trois garçons, trois fillettes
Sur la pelouse il faisait beau,
Et nous dansions un boléro
Au son des castagnettes;
Dites-moi, voisin,
Si j’ai bonne mine,
Et si ma basquine
Va bien, ce matin,
Vous me trouvez la taille fine?
Vous me trouvez la taille fine?
Ah! ah!
Ah! ah!
Les filles de Cadix aiment assez cela,
Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!
Les filles de Cadix aiment assez cela...
Et nous dansions un boléro,
Un soir c’était dimanche,
Vers nous s’en vint un hidalgo
Cousu d’or, la plume au chapeau,
Et la poing sur la hanche.
Si tu veux de moi,
Brune au doux sourire,
Tu n’as qu’a le dire,
Cette or est à toi.
Passez votre chemin, beau sire (x2)
Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!
Les filles de Cadix n’entendent pas cela.
Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!
Les filles de Cadix n’entendent pas cela!		 Three youths and maidens, we did go
To see the bulls a-fighting,
The sky was blue, the breeze did blow,
We danced the joyous bolero,
In mirth our hearts delighting
Neighbor, tell me pray,
If my face is fair,
Does this dress I wear
Become me well today?
My waist you say is lithe and slender?
My waist you say is lithe and slender?
Ah! ah!
Ah! ah!
We maidens of Cadiz like to hear such words,
Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!
We maidens of Cadiz like to hear such words...
But while we danced another day,
A bolero together,
There came a cavalier that way,
With lace of gold his cloak was gay,
And in his hat a feather.
If thou wilt be mine,
Lovely dark-eyed maiden,
Soon with jewels laiden,
Shall thy fingers shine.
Nay, go your way, O gallant suitor (x2)
Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!
The maidens of Cadiz don’t understand such words.
Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!
The maidens of Cadiz don’t understand such words!
Strauss (German) Strauss (English)
“Morgen!”
Und morgen wird die Sonne wieder scheinen
Und auf dem Wege, den ich gehen werde,
Wird uns, die Glücklichen, sie wieder einen
Inmitten dieser sonnenatmenden Erde ...
Und zu dem Strand, dem weiten, wogenblauen,
Werden wir still und langsam niedersteigen,
Stumm werden wir uns in die Augen schauen,
Und auf uns sinkt des Glückes stummes Schweigen…		 “Tomorrow!”
And tomorrow the sun will shine again
And on the path that I shall take,
It will unite us, happy ones, again,
Amid this same sun-breathing earth ...
And to the shore, broad, blue-waved,
We shall quietly and slowly descend,
Speechless we shall gaze into each other’s eyes,
And the speechless silence of bliss shall fall on us ...
Giménez (Spanish) Giménez (English)
La tarántula é un bicho mú malo;
No se mata con piera ni palo;
Que juye y se mete por tós los rincones
Y son mú malinas sus picazones.

¡Ay mare!, no zé que tengo

Que ayé pazé por la era
Y ha principiaito a entrarme
Er má de la temblaera.
Zerá q’a mí me ha picáo
La tarántula dañina
Y estoy toitico enfermáo.
Por su sangre tan endina.
¡Te coman los mengues
Mardita la araña
Que tié en la barriga
Pintá una guitarra!
Bailando se cura tan jondo doló.

¡Ay! ¡Mal haya la araña que a mí me picó!

No le temo á los rayos ni balas
Ni le temo á otra cosa más mala
Que me hizo mi pare;
Más guapo que er gayo

Pero á ese bichito lo parta un rayo.

¡Ay mare! yo estoy malito.
Me está entrando unos suores
Que me han dejaito seco
Y comío de picores.
Zerá que á mí me ha picáo
La tarántula dañina,
Por eso me he quedao
Más dergao que una sardina.
¡Te coman los mengues,
Mardita la araña
Que tié la barriga
Pintá una guitarra!
Bailando se cura tan jondo doló.

¡Ay! ¡Mal haya la araña que a mí me picó!		 The tarantula’s an evil little critter
You can’t kill it with sticks or with stones
For it runs off and hides in corners
And its sting is wicked

Ay mother! I don’t know what’s up with me

Only yesterday
I went into the threshing barn
And now I’m shaking all over.
I must have been stung
By the nasty tarantula
And now I’m really ill.
Their blood is so bad
May the devils eat one another!
To hell with the spider
That on its stomach
Has a painted guitar!
Dancing is the only cure for this terrible pain.

Ay! Curse the spider that stung me!

I’m not afraid of thunderbolts or bullets
I’m not afraid of the worse things
My dad’s made me tougher;
More courageous than a cockerel

But may that critter be struck by a bolt.

Ay mother, I’ve got it bad.
I’m getting into one of those sweats
That dries you up
And gets you all scabby
I must have been stung
By the nasty tarantula
And that’s why I’m getting
Thinner than a sardine.
May the devils eat one another!
To hell with the spider
That on its stomach
Has a painted guitar!
Dancing is the only cure for this terrible pain.

Ay! Curse the spider that stung me!
Figueroa (Spanish) Figueroa (English)
En el cafetal mi rancho
Nido de pajaros parece,
Que a viento y lluvia se mece
Cual colgara de un gancho.

Con la hija del viejo
Pancho las lluvias son placenteras.
Porque al caer las goteras
ella se acuesta conmigo,
y me echa encima el abrigo
de su seno y sus caderas.		 From the coffee plantation my ranch
Seems like a birds nest,
That rocks with the wind and rain
Like hanging from a hook.

With old Pancho’s daughter
the rains are pleasant.
Because when the rain starts
she lays with me,
and covers me with the coat
of her breasts and her hips.
This program is part of The Tisch Center for the Arts.


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