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Silvie Jensen | Who Is Silvie?

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Classical: Art songs Classical: Twentieth Century Moods: Mood: Dreamy
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Who Is Silvie?

by Silvie Jensen

Beautiful debut collection of both well-known and undiscovered gems from the world of art song. These songs celebrate love and loss, beauty and mystery. Songs by Schubert, Satie, Faure, Mussorgsky, Barber, and more.
Genre: Classical: Art songs
Release Date: 

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  Song Share Time Download
1. Who Is Silvie?
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
1:34 $0.99
2. An Sylvia in A Major, Op. 106 No. 4, D. 891
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
3:08 $0.99
3. Let Us Garlands Bring, Op. 18: II. Who Is Silvia?
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
1:22 $0.99
4. Se Tu M'ami
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
2:42 $0.99
5. 3 Mélodies, Op. 20: III. Sylvie
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
2:29 $0.99
6. 3 Songs, Op. 6: III. Sylvie
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
2:39 $0.99
7. 2 Songs, Op. 76: II. Arpège
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
2:18 $0.99
8. 3 Songs, Op. 7: I. Après un rêve
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
2:46 $0.99
9. 3 Songs, Op. 23: I. Les berceaux
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
2:40 $0.99
10. 2 Songs, Op. 46: II. Clair de lune
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
2:51 $0.99
11. 2 Songs, Op. 43: II. Nocturne
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
2:34 $0.99
12. 2 Songs, Op. 27: I. Chanson d'amour
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
1:51 $0.99
13. Songs and Dances of Death: I. Lullaby
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
4:27 $0.99
14. Songs and Dances of Death: II. Serenade
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
4:57 $0.99
15. Songs and Dances of Death: III. Trepak
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
4:24 $0.99
16. Songs and Dances of Death: IV. The Field Marshall
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
5:31 $0.99
17. 6 Romances, Op. 38: II. It Was in the Early Spring'
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
3:17 $0.99
18. 6 Romances, Op. 38: III. Amid the Din of the Ball
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
2:19 $0.99
19. Despite and Still, Op. 41: III. In the Wilderness
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
2:34 $0.99
20. Three Songs, Op. 10: II. Sleep Now
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
2:25 $0.99
21. Four Songs, Op. 13: IV. Nocturne
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
3:14 $0.99
22. Four Songs, Op. 13: III. Sure on This Shining Night
Silvie Jensen & Kevin Korth
2:07 $0.99
Downloads are available as MP3-320 files.


Album Notes
Song Lyrics and Translations

1. Who Is Silvie?
Who is Silvie? what is she,
That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair and wise is she,
The heavens such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.

Is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives in kindness:
Love doth to her eyes repair,
To help him of his blindness;
And being help'd, inhabits there.

Then to Silvie let us sing,
That Silvie is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling.
To her let us garlands bring.
To her let us garlands bring.
--William Shakespeare from Two Gentlemen of Verona

2. An Silvia
(see above)

3. Who is Silvia?
(see above)

4. Se Tu M’ami (If You Love Me)
If you love me, if you sigh
Only for me, dear shepherd,
I am sorry for your suffering;
I delight in your love.
But if you think that
I must love only you in return,
My shepherd, you are
Easily deceived!

The beautiful purple rose
Is the one Silvia will choose today;
But, because of its thorns,
Tomorrow, she will despise it.
I will not follow men’s advice;
Just because the lily pleases me,
It doesn’t mean I have to hate the other flowers.
—trans. Silvie Jensen

5. Sylvie
She is so beautiful,
My Sylvie
That the angels are jealous;
On her delighted lips, Love
Left its sweetest kiss.
Her eyes are stars,
Her mouth made of rubies.
Her soul is the highest and clearest,
And her heart is my paradise.
Her hair is as dark as shadow,
Her voice sweeter than honey.
Her sadness is twilight,
And her smile a rainbow.
She is so beautiful,
My Sylvie
That the angels are jealous;
On her delighted lips, Love
Left its sweetest kiss.
—J.P. Contamine de Latour, trans. Silvie Jensen

6. Sylvie
If you want to know, my beauty,
whither flies swiftly on the wing
the bird that sang on the elm?
I will tell you, my beauty,
he flies toward one who calls him,
to the one who will love him!

If you want to know, my blonde one,
why, on land and over the waves
at night everything comes to life and unites?
I will tell you, my blonde one,
There is an hour
when, far from the day, love awakens!

If you want to know, Sylvie,
why I love so madly
your eyes, sparkling and languid?
I will tell you, Sylvie,
without you in my life,
everything is, to my heart, only suffering!
—Paul de Choudens, trans. Silvie Jensen

7. Arpège (Arpeggio)
The soul of a flute is sighing
at the bottom of the melodious park;
limpid is the shadow where one breathes
your silent poem,

Night of languor, night of lies,
which, with an undulating gesture, places
the moon, jewel of the Orient,
in you hair of dreams.

Sylva, Sylvie and Sylvanire,
fair ones with changing blue eyes,
the star mirrors itself in the fountains,
Let’s go by the silver paths,

go quickly—the hour is so brief—
to gather, in the garden of vows,
the hearts which are dying of the dream
of dying amidst your hair...
—Albert Samain, trans. Silvie Jensen

8. Après un rêve (After a dream)
In a slumber which held your image spellbound
I dreamt of happiness, passionate mirage,
Your eyes were softer, your voice pure and sonorous,
You shone like a sky lit up by the dawn;

You called me and I left the earth
To run away with you towards the light,
The skies opened their clouds for us,
Unknown splendours, divine flashes glimpsed,

Alas! Alas! sad awakening from dreams
I call you, O night, give me back your lies,
Return, return radiant,
Return, O mysterious night.
—Romain Bussine, trans. David K. Smythe

9. Les Berceaux (The Cradles)
Way down the quay the great vessels lie,
Silently swaying on the tide;
They do not notice the cradles there,
Rocked by women’s hands.
But the day of goodbyes will come,
And the women will cry,
For the men must go, restlessly seeking
Tempting horizons which lure them!
And on that day, the great ships,
Leaving the port which fades from view,
Will feel their massive sides held back,
By the spirit of those faraway cradles,
By the spirit of those faraway cradles. 
—Rene François Prudhomme, trans. Silvie Jensen

10. Clair de Lune (Moonlight)
Your soul is as a moonlit landscape fair,
Peopled with maskers delicate and dim,
That play on lutes and dance and have an air
Of being sad in their fantastic trim.

The while they celebrate in minor strain
Triumphant love, effective enterprise,
They have an air of knowing all is vain,—
And through the quiet moonlight their songs rise,

The melancholy moonlight, sweet and lone,
That makes to dream the birds upon the tree,
And in their polished basins of white stone
The fountains tall to sob with ecstasy
—Paul Verlaine, trans. anonymous

11. Nocturne
Night, in her great mystery,
Opens her blue vaults:
There are as many flowers on earth
As there are stars in the sky!

One sees her sleeping shadows
Illuminated in these moments,
as much by the lovely flowers
As by the charming stars.

But for me, my dark-veiled night
Has in its charm and clarity
But one flower and one star:
My love and her beauty!
—Auguste, Comte de Villiers de L'isle-Adam , trans. Silvie Jensen

12. Chanson d’Amour (Song of Love)
I love your eyes, I love your forehead,
oh my rebel, oh my fierce one.
I love your eyes, I love your mouth
Where my kisses will exhaust themselves.

I love your voice, I love the strange
grace of everything you say,
oh my rebel, my dear angel,
my hell and my paradise!

I love all that makes you beautiful,
from your feet up to your hair,
oh you, my desires ascend to you,
oh my fierce and rebellious one!

I love your eyes, I love your forehead,
oh my rebel, oh my fierce one.
I love your eyes, I love your mouth
Where my kisses will exhaust themselves.
—Armand Silverstre, trans. Silvie Jensen

13. Lullaby
The child is moaning. A candle
Is burning dimly;
For the entire night, guarding the cot,
The mother did not sleep.
Early in the morning kind Death
Gently knocked on the door.
The mother shuddered, and looked around...
Death: ’Do not be afraid, my friend!
Pale morning is already looking into the window. Crying, loving, sorrowful,
You are tired... Sleep a little—
I will look after him for you.
You could not make your child peaceful,
I will sing sweeter than you.’
Mother: Quiet! My child is restless, crying! My soul is tormented!
Death: I will soon make him at peace Hush baby, hush.
Mother: His cheeks are growing paler, his breath weakens... I implore you, stop!
Death: This is a good sign—the suffering is ending. Hush baby, hush.
Mother: Go away, accursed! With your kindness You will kill my happiness!
Death: No, I will bring to your baby a sweet sleep. Hush baby, hush.
Mother: Take pity! At least delay your terrible song For a moment!
Death: You see—he has fallen asleep to my quiet song, Hush baby, hush.
—Arseny Golenishtchev-Kutusov © 2011 Naxos Rights International Ltd.

14. Serenade
Magic bliss, blue night,
Trembling twilight of spring;
With her lowered head, the ill maiden
Is listening to the whisper of the night’s stillness.
Sleep does not close her burning eyes,
Life is calling out to her,
But under her window, in the stillness of the night Death is serenading:
‘Your youth is wilting
In the darkness of suffocating captivity. Like an anonymous knight,
I will free you with my miraculous power.
Get up, have a look at yourself:
Your transparent face glistens with beauty, Your cheeks are rosy, and your wavy plaits
Embrace your body.
The steady gaze of your blue eyes
Is brighter than heavens and fire,
Your breath is as hot as the midday sun— You put a spell on me!
My serenade charmed your ears,
Your whisper called the Knight...
The Knight came to claim his priceless reward; The hour of bliss has arrived!’
The tremor of your body is sweet.
Oh, I will suffocate you in my strong embrace; Listen to my loving words...
Be quiet! You are mine!
—Arseny Golenishtchev-Kutusov © 2011 Naxos Rights International Ltd.

15. Trepak
Forest and meadows. Not a soul is around. The snow-storm is crying and moaning,
As if in the night’s darkness
It is mourning someone.
Look—it is true! In the dark
Death is embracing a man,
He is drunk, and Death dances a trepak with him, Singing a song in his ear.
Oh, little man,
Old man,
You got drunk,
Along the road,
But the snow-storm, the witch,
Played up!
From the field—into the deep forest
It lured you!
You are full of sorrow, suffering,
You are tired of
Lie down, rest,
And sleep,
My dear!
I will, my dear,
Warm you with snow;
I will start a great game Around you.
Fluff up the feather mattress, You, the snow-storm,
The swan!
Well, begin,
The Weather,
A tale—but such a tale, so that it would last The whole night,
So that the drunkard will fall asleep
Oh, you, forests, Heavens
And clouds! Darkness, wind, And flying Snow!
Weave yourselves into a shroud, Snowy, feathery,
And with it, like a child,
Cover the old man.
Sleep, my friend, Old man,
Be happy!
Summer has arrived, It has blossomed! Over the field
The sun is smiling, and the scythes Are walking in the crops,
The song is heard,
The doves are flying…
—Arseny Golenishtchev-Kutusov © 2011 Naxos Rights International Ltd.

16. The Field Marshal
The battle roars, the shields glisten, The hungry weapons cry,
The regiments run, the horses gallop, And the red rivers are flowing.
It is burning at midday, the people fight! The sun has set, the fight grows stronger! The twilight is waning, but the enemies Are fighting even more ferociously.
And the night descends upon the battlefield; The armies disengage in the darkness; Everything grows quiet—and in the night’s mist The moans rise up to the heavens.
Then, lit up by the moon,
Upon its battle stead,
Glistening with the whiteness of its bones, Death appears! And in the quiet, Listening to the cries and pleas,
Full of proud satisfaction,
As a general, it circles
The battlefield;
It climbs a hill, and turns around,
It stops... It smiles...
And above the battle field
The fateful voice is heard:
‘The battle is over—I hold the victory!
All of you now kneel before me.
Life made you quarrel—I give you peace. Stand up for the parade, dead men!
Solemnly march in front of me—
I want to count my army.
Then put your bones into the soil,
It is sweet to rest in the earth from life. Years will follow unnoticed,
People will forget you—
But I will remember you always,
And forever will govern you at the midnight hour! I will flatten the moist earth with my heavy dance So that the bones will forever
Remain trapped under the earth,
And you will never rise again.’
—Arseny Golenishtchev-Kutusov © 2011 Naxos Rights International Ltd.

17. When Spring Was In the Air
It was in early spring
the grass was barely coming up,
brooks were flowing, it was not yet steaming hot,
I peeked through the leafy green trees;

Shepherds’ pipes were not yet
calling loudly through the morning,
and in the forest,
the slender fern was still curled;

It was in early spring,
in the shade of the birches,
when you smiled before me
and lowered your eyes...

It was because of my love, that
you lowered your glance!
O life! O forest! O sunlight!
O youth! O hopes!

And I wept before you,
at the sight of your sweet face;
it was early spring,
in the shade of the birches, it was!

It was in the morning of our lives—
O happiness! O tears!
O forest! O life! O sunlight!
O fresh fragrance of the birches!
—Count Aleksey Tolstoy, trans. Silvie Jensen

18. By Chance in the Ballroom
In the middle of a noisy ball, by chance,
With worldly life clanging all around,
I suddenly saw you, but your face was
Covered in secrets.

Your eyes betrayed your sadness,
But how clearly your voice rang out,
Like the sound of distant pipes,
Or like the dancing waves of the sea.

I was entranced by your slender body,
Your pensive expression;
And your laughter, both sad and resonant,
From that moment on, has echoed in my heart.

In the lonely hours of the night
When I’m worn-out and lying down;
I see those sad eyes,
I hear that joyful laugh,

And sadly, so sadly, I fall asleep,
And sink into dreams yet to come...
I cannot be sure that I love you,
Yet somehow I feel that I do!
—Count Aleksey Tolstoy, trans. Silvie Jensen

19. In the Wilderness
He of His gentleness
Thirsting and hungering,
Walked in the wilderness;
Soft words of grace He spoke
Unto lost desert-folk
That listened wondering.
He heard the bitterns call
From ruined palace-wall,
Answered them brotherly.
He held communion
With the she-pelican
Of lonely piety.
Basilisk, cockatrice,
Flocked to his homilies,
With mail of dread device,
With monstrous barbéd slings,
With eager dragon-eyes;
Great rats on leather wings
And poor blind broken things,
Foul in their miseries.
And ever with Him went,
Of all His wanderings
Comrade, with ragged coat,
Gaunt ribs—poor innocent—
Bleeding foot, burning throat,
The guileless old scapegoat;
For forty nights and days
Followed in Jesus’ ways,
Sure guard behind Him kept,
Tears like a lover wept.
—Robert Graves

20. Sleep Now
Sleep now, O sleep now,
O you unquiet heart!
A voice crying "Sleep now"
Is heard in my heart.

The voice of the winter
Is heard at the door.
O sleep, for the winter
Is crying "Sleep no more."

My kiss will give peace now
And quiet to your heart -- -
Sleep on in peace now,
O you unquiet heart!
—James Joyce

21. 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

22. Sure on this shining night
Sure on this shining night
Of star made shadows round,
Kindness must watch for me
This side the ground.
The late year lies down the north.
All is healed, all is health.
High summer holds the earth.
Hearts all whole.
Sure on this shining night I weep for wonder wand'ring far
Of shadows on the stars.
—James Agee



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