Renée Fleming, soprano
Renée Fleming is one of the most acclaimed singers of our time, performing on the stages of the world’s greatest opera houses and concert halls. Honored with five GRAMMY® awards and the US National Medal of Arts, she has sung for momentous occasions from the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony to the Super Bowl. In 2023, the World Health Organization appointed her as a Goodwill Ambassador for Arts and Health. Renée’s anthology, Music and Mind: Harnessing the Arts for Health and Wellness, was published in 2024. A leading advocate for research at the intersection of arts and health, Fleming launched the first ongoing collaboration between The Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and the National Institutes of Health. Renée’s 2023 Grammy Award-winning album Voice of Nature: The Anthropocene inspired a current concert tour with a film by the National Geographic Society. She recently starred in the world premiere staging of The Hours, a new opera based on the award-winning novel and film, at the Metropolitan Opera. Other awards include the Fulbright Lifetime Achievement Medal, Germany’s Cross of the Order of Merit, France’s Chevalier de la Légion d’Honneur, and honorary doctorates from 10 major universities.
Renée Fleming appears by arrangement with IMG Artists, www.imgartists.com.
Ms. Fleming is an exclusive recording artist for Decca and Mercury Records (UK).
Ms. Fleming's jewelry is by Ann Ziff for Tamsen Z.
www.reneefleming.com
Vocal Translations & Texts
GEORGE FRIDERIC HANDEL
“To fleeting pleasures” from Samson
To fleeting pleasures make your court,
no moment lose, for life is short!
The present now’s our only time,
the missing that our only crime.
GEORGE FRIDERIC HANDEL
“Calm Thou My Soul” from Alexander Balus
Calm thou my soul, kind Isis,
with a noble scorn of life,
ideal joys, and momentary pains,
that flatter, or disturb this waking dream.
Convey me to some peaceful shore,
where no tumultuous billows roar,
where life, though joyless, still is calm,
and sweet content is sorrow’s balm.
There, free from pomp and care to wait,
forgetting and forgot, the will of fate.
RUGGERO LEONCAVALLO
“Musette svaria sulla bocca viva” from La bohème
Musette svaria sulla bocca viva
le canzonette belle:
rompe la voce come da sorgiva
per mille fontanelle.
Canta i vent'anni e al fresco tintinnire
il piè muove alla danza;
la scorge Amor dall'ultimo gioire
alla nuova speranza.
Brilla ne l'ombra dei suoi lunghi cigli
un riso civettuolo;
e i desideri con aperti artigli
levanle intorno il volo!
Ah! Ella consente, nega e rinnamora
come le parli il core:
non vezzi ed ori seguita:
ella adora un tesoro -
l'amor!
The sweetest of songs
are on Musette’s lips:
her voice flows as if from a spring
into a thousand little fountains.
She sings of youth and the silvery sound
invites everyone to dance;
Love leads her from her latest delight
toward a new hope.
In the shadow of her long eyelashes
there sparkles a flirtatious laugh;
and desires with talons showing
take flight around her!
Ah! She yields, rejects and loves again
according to her heart’s desire:
charms and wealth mean nothing to her:
there’s only one treasure she adores -
love!
GIACOMO PUCCINI
“O mio babbino caro” from Gianni Schicchi
O mio babbino caro,
mi piace è bello, bello;
vo'andare in Porta Rossa
a comperar l'anello!
Sì, sì, ci voglio andare!
e se l'amassi indarno,
andrei sul Ponte Vecchio,
ma per buttarmi in Arno!
Mi struggo e mi tormento!
O Dio, vorrei morir!
Babbo, pietà, pietà!
Oh, dear papa,
I like him, he’s handsome, he’s handsome;
I want to go to Porta Rossa
to buy the ring!
Yes, yes, I want to go!
And if it’s useless to love him,
I’ll go to the Ponte Vecchio
and throw myself into the Arno!
I am pining, I am tortured!
O God, I could die!
Papa, have pity, have pity!
JOHN KANDER
A Letter from Sullivan Ballou
The last letter from Major Sullivan Ballou, written to his wife
My very dear Sarah:
The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days — perhaps tomorrow.
Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may
fall upon your eye when I am no more.
I have no misgivings about or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged,
and my courage does not halt or falter.
I know how strongly American civilization now leans on the triumph of the government
and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us
through the blood and suffering of the revolution.
And I am willing, perfectly willing to lay down all my joys in this life
to help maintain this government and to pay that debt . . .
Sarah, my love for you is deathless.
It seems to bind me with mighty cables
that nothing but omnipotence could break;
and yet my love of country comes over me
like a strong wind and bears me unresistably on with all these chains to the battlefield.
The mem’ries of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me,
and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long.
And hard it is for me to give them up
and burn to ashes the hopes of future years when, God willing,
we might still have lived and loved together,
and seen our sons grown up to honorable manhood around us.
I have, I know, but a few and small claims upon divine providence,
but something whispers to me, perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar,
that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed.
If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you,
and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.
Forgive my faults and the many pains I have caused you.
How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been!
How gladly would I wash out with my tears ev’ry little spot upon your happiness . . .
But, oh, Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth
and flit unseen around those they loved,
I shall always be near you;
in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights, always, always.
And if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek,
it shall be my breath,
as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.
Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee,
for we shall meet again . . .
My very dear Sarah:
The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days — perhaps tomorrow.
Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may
fall upon your eye when I am no more.
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