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F. Liszt, Tres Sonetos de Petrarca - Pablo Abel Cascallana

Katarina Gurska Hall - End of Degree Recital, 23/06/2021

These three pieces belong to the well-known "Années de Pelerinage II - Italy", a set of pieces Liszt composed between 1837 and 1849 after his trips to this Mediterranean country. The sonnets are based on poems by the great Francesco Petrarca (most of them are built around the concept of love, referring always to a woman named Laura) and were initally thought for voice and piano, although many revision were made. Liszt decided to transcribe them for piano solo and publish them on their own, joining them afterwards to the whole set of Years of Pilgrimage. These works are profoundly lyrical and so rich in their variety of colors. For a pianist it's a true privilege to perform them due to their endless possibilities!

 

 

Sonnet 47:

Blest be the day, and blest the month, the year,
The spring, the hour, the very moment blest,
The lovely scene, the spot, where first oppress'd
I sunk, of two bright eyes the prisoner:

And blest the first soft pang, to me most dear,
Which thrill'd my heart, when Love became its guest;
And blest the bow, the shafts which pierced my breast,
And even the wounds, which bosom'd thence I bear.

Blest too the strains which, pour'd through glade and grove,
Have made the woodlands echo with her name;
The sighs, the tears, the languishment, the love:

And blest those sonnets, sources of my fame;
And blest that thought—Oh! never to remove!
Which turns to her alone, from her alone which came.

  

Sonnet 104:

I fynde no peace and all my warre is done,
I feare and hope, I bourne and freese lyke yse;
I flye above the wynde, yet cannot ryse;
And nought I have, yet all the worlde I season,

That looseth, nor lacketh, holdes me in pryson,
And holdes me not, yet can I escape no wyse.
Nor lets me leeve, nor die at my devyce,
And yet of death it giveth none occasion.

Without eye I see, and without tongue I playne;
I desyre to perishe, yet aske I health;
I love another, and yet I hate my self;

I feede in sorrow and laughe in all my payne,
Lykewyse pleaseth me both death and lyf,
And my delight is cawser of my greif.

  

Sonnet 123:

On earth reveal'd the beauties of the skies,
Angelic features, it was mine to hail;
Features, which wake my mingled joy and wail,
While all besides like dreams or shadows flies.

And fill'd with tears I saw those two bright eyes,
Which oft have turn'd the sun with envy pale;
And from those lips I heard—oh! such a tale,
As might awake brute Nature's sympathies!

Wit, pity, excellence, and grief, and love
With blended plaint so sweet a concert made,
As ne'er was given to mortal ear to prove:

And heaven itself such mute attention paid,
That not a breath disturb'd the listening grove—
Even æther's wildest gales the tuneful charm obey'd.