Bartok - Cantata profana, Sz. 94

Béla Bartók (1881-1945)

Cantata profana, Sz. 94
(Die Zauberhirsche)
(The Nine Splendid Stags)

Written in 1930.

György Lehel, conductor
Orchester des Ungarischen Rundfunks und Fernsehens
Chor des Ungarischen Rundfunks und Fernsehens
Jósef Réti, tenor
András Faragó, bass

Released in 1964.

ClassicalRecords is a Youtube channel where I upload some excellent performances from the LPs in my collection. I'm uploading these LPs because they are either not available on CD, out of print on CD, or just difficult to find.

Cantata Profana

Once there was an old man,
One, who treasured nine sons
Fair and sturdy
Seed of his own body,
Nine fair, sturdy fellows
Naught of work he taught them,
Neither trade nor farming,
Ploughing not, nor sowing,
Naught of handling horses
Nor the care of cattle.
Only this he taught them:
Hill and vale to wander
Hunting the noble stag

Through forest aroving, hey-yah!
The bounded ahunting, hey!
All nine sons and sturdy brothers
Through forest aroving hunted.
Farther still they wandered
The hunted on and on
Still longer and longer, until
Deep lay a haunted bridge
Wondrous stags had crossed it,
Heedless on they followed
Not knew where they wandered
Lost in forest shadows,
All were changed to stags
Slender stags, enchanted rowing
Through the forest

Hey, at last the loving father
Could abide no longer
Straight he took his rifle
And set forth to find them
Hey, his nine fair children.
On he roamed to where the bridge lay,
Found where the wondrous stags had crossed it
Nine enchanted stags he passed there
Swiftly then their trail he followed
Reached at last a cooling wellspring,
Nine stags astanding. Falling on one knee,
Hey, he sighted on the leader.

Ai! But the largest stag gave answer
Ai! Of all the sons the dearest,
Ai! Called in answer to his father:
"Dearest, loving father,
Aim not at thy children!
Or surely our antlers
Must pierce thee and pin thee,
Must hammer and hurl thee,
Crashing valley to valley,
And boulder to boulder,
and mountain to mountain,
Will dash thee, smash thee, slash thee
Crashing cliff to crater,
Flesh be paste and bones be powder,
Naught but dust survive thee,

Then the loving father
Called unto his children,
And grieving answered,
pleading called
unto his children:
"Oh, my dearest loved ones,
Oh, my darling children,
Come, oh come,
and follow home now,
Come now,
your sweet mother waits you.
Come with me,
my children,
Your mother stands waiting, lonely,
Loving, grieving,
all to herself alone.
The lanterns are lit.
The tables are set
The glasses are filled
As glasses stand waiting,
So does your mother stand,
As wine in them brimming,
So, too, your mother;s eyes."


Yet again the leader,
Dearest of all children
Called aloud and answered thus
Unto his father:
"Dearest loving father,
Go back, oh, go home now
To our lonely, dear, sweet mother,
But we cannot go!
We shall never return,
Because our antlers
Cannot pass thy doorway,
Only roam the forest groves;
And our slender bodies
Ne'er in clothes can wander,
Only wear the wind and sun;
And our dainty legs can
Never stand the hearthstone,
Nor tread but leafy mold;
And our mouths no longer
Drink from crystal glasses
But only mountain springs."

Once there was an old man,
One, who treasured nine sons
Fair and sturdy
Naught of work he taught them,
Neither trade nor farming,
But only to wander as
Nine huntsman ahunting.
And farther, farther
On and on they wandered.
All were changed to stags then,
There in the forest shadows.
And so their antlers
Cannot pass through doorways,
Only roam the forest groves;
Their slender bodies
Ne'er in clothes can wander
Only wear the wind and sun,
Their dainty legs
Can never stand the hearthstone,
Only tread the leafy mold;
Their mouths no longer
Drink from crystal glasses
Only from clear springs.

(Last line is originally: Only from cooling mountain springs)

Source: http://balazs.multiply.com/journal/it...
Translation: Robert Shaw