Frauenliebe und Leben, Op. 42

(In English, "A Woman's Love and Life.")

Robert Schumann presented this exquisite song cycle as a wedding gift to his bride, Clara Wieck, in 1840. Apart from its historical significance (with the piano accompaniment breaking away from the Schubertian model, becoming quite independent from the vocal part), the cycle is remarkable in the composer's sensitivity in the musical setting of Chamisso's poetry, and in its beauty enhanced by its simplicity.

Fraunliebe und Leben remains very popular among female voice majors in CMu, and for good reason. Quite simply, it is one of the most beautiful song cycles ever composed! :) I myself sang this during my first recital nearly two years ago (it was Sir Eudy who suggested it, and oh! How grateful I am to him for introducing it to me) . Up to now, I can sing it word for word. It is both my panacea and my catharsis for heart ache.

Fraunliebe's simple melodies are deceptive. On paper, they look easy to sing. But ask any soprano who has studied it, and they will tell you how difficult it is to have a modicum of success in interpreting the cycle's songs. For each one has a distinct mood, and although the persona remains the same all throughout, the performer has to convey the growing sense of maturity of the child-bride as she progresses from a state of innocence to that of a beloved wife, a joyful mother, and (the most difficult) a widow nearly deranged from grief.

They say that one has to fully experience Life in order to give justice to the rendering of all music. Using this mindset, Frauenliebe would have to be the most demanding of all song cycles! For it fully encompasses all the stages of a woman's life.

I have long known the pangs of infatuation, whose childishness does not in any way detract from its heartfelt sincerity. This could be my high school self singing:

I.     Since I saw him
       I believe myself to be blind,
       where I but cast my gaze,
       I see him alone.
       as in waking dreams
       his image floats before me,
       dipped from deepest darkness,
       brighter in ascent.

       All else dark and colorless
       everywhere around me,
       for the games of my sisters
       I no longer yearn,
       I would rather weep,
       silently in my little chamber,
       since I saw him,
       I believe myself to be blind.

In Edna Vincent St. Millay's words: "And what are you, that wanting you, I should be kept awake as many nights are there are days with weeping for your sake?"

In college, I came to have a taste of what love is (or at the very least, the closest thing to it, in my experience). I was not wholely unexperienced when I sang:

II.  He, the most glorious of all,
       O how mild, so good!
       lovely lips, clear eyes,
       bright mind and steadfast courage.

       Just as yonder in the blue depths,
       bright and glorious, that star,
       so he is in my heavens,
       bright and glorious, lofty and distant.

       Meander, meander thy paths,
       but to observe thy gleam,
       but to observe in meekness,
       but to be blissful and sad!

       Hear not my silent prayer,
       consecrated only to thy happiness,
       thou mays't not know me, lowly maid,
       lofty star of glory!

       Only the worthiest of all
       may make happy thy choice,
       and I will bless her, the lofty one,
       many thousand times.

       I will rejoice then and weep,
       blissful, blissful I'll be then;
       if my heart should also break,
       break, O heart, what of it?

Someday, I will be able to sincerely sing this ode to joy, speaking of happiness at having one's love requited:

III. I can't grasp it, nor believe it,
       a dream has bewitched me,
       how should he, among all the others,
       lift up and make happy poor me?

       It seemed to me, as if he spoke,
       "I am thine eternally",
       It seemed - I dream on and on,
       It could never be so.

       O let me die in this dream,
       cradled on his breast,
       let the most blessed death drink me up
       in tears of infinite bliss.

The fourth song remains my favorite. All the songs in the cycle are beautiful in their own right, but Du Ring an meinem Finger is incandescent... it is the crowning glory of a superb set of songs. Words fail me to describe the beauty of the melody, and of the piano part!!! (To give you an idea of how much I love this song, I painstakingly set out to study its piano part. Yup... slow note-reader that I am, I undertook this because I desperately wanted to be able to sing this while accompanying myself so I could have the pleasure of performing this and not have to bribe/coerce a pianist into accompanying me, tee hee)

IV. Thou ring on my finger,
      my little golden ring,
      I press thee piously upon my lips
     piously upon my heart.

     I had dreamt it,
    the tranquil, lovely dream of childhood,
    I found myself alone and lost
    in barren, infinite space.

    Thou ring on my finger,
    thou hast taught me for the first time,
    hast opened my gaze unto
    the endless, deep value of life.

    I want to serve him, live for him,
    belong to him entire,
    Give myself and find myself
    transfigured in his radiance.

    Thou ring on my finger,
    my little golden ring,
    I press thee piously upon lips,
    piously upon my heart.

One can distinctly hear the pealing of the wedding bells in the piano prelude of the next song. Listen to the postlude as well and catch the first few bars of a wedding march. :)

V.     Help me, ye sisters,
       friendly, adorn me,
       serve me, today's fortunate one,
       busily wind
       about my brow
       the adornment of blooming myrtle.

       Otherwise, gratified,
       of joyful heart,
       I would have lain in the arms of the beloved,
       so he called ever out,
       yearning in his heart,
       impatient for the present day.

       Help me, ye sisters,
       help me to banish
       a foolish anxiety,
       so that I may with clear
       eyes receive him,
       him, the source of joyfulness.

       Dost, my beloved,
       thou appear to me,
       givest thou, sun, thy shine to me?
       Let me with devotion,
       let me in meekness,
       let me curtsy before my lord.

       Strew him, sisters,
       strew him with flowers,
       bring him budding roses,
       but ye, sisters,
       I greet with melancholy,
       joyfully departing from your midst.

*Dirty minds depart!*

The next song's piano part is extremely minimalist, in order to highlight the pure emotion of the singer's voice as she sings of her deep joy at being truly beloved, at the celestial bliss of being ONE with her husband.

VI.  Sweet friend, thou gazest
       upon me in wonderment,
       thou cannst not grasp it,
       why I can weep;
       Let the moist pearls'
       unaccustomed adornment
       tremble, joyful-bright,
       in my eyes.

       How anxious my bosom,
       how rapturous!
       If I only knew, with words,
       how I should say it;
       come and bury thy visage
       here in my breast,
       I want to whisper in thy ear
       all my happiness.

     About the signs
     I have already asked Mother;
     my good mother has
     told me everything..
     She has assured me that
     by all appearances,
     soon a cradle
     will be needed.

       Knowest thou the tears,
       that I can weep?
       Shouldst thou not see them,
       thou beloved man?
       Stay by my heart,
       feel its beat,
       that I may, fast and faster,
       hold thee.

       Here, at my bed,
       the cradle shall have room,
       where it silently conceals
       my lovely dream;
       the morning will come
       where the dream awakes,
       and from there thy image
       shall smile at me.

They say that a girl fully becomes a woman only when she has given birth. :) My stint as a pre-school teacher has made me anticipate Motherhood all the more! Here the persona sings to her child, her first love:

VII. At my heart, at my breast,
     thou my rapture, my happiness!

     The joy is the love, the love is the joy,
     I have said it, and won't take it back.

     I've thought myself rapturous,
     but now I'm happy beyond that.

     Only she that suckles, only she that loves
     the child, to whom she gives nourishment;

     Only a mother knows alone
     what it is to love and be happy.

     O how I pity then the man
     who cannot feel a mother's joy!

     Thou dear, dear angel thou,
     thou lookst at me and smiles!

     At my heart, at my breast,
     thou my rapture, my happiness!

After such rapturous joy comes such tragedy, such sorrow, that I pray none of us gets to experience in real life. T.T

VIII. Now thou hast given me, for the first time, pain,
         how it struck me.
        Thou sleepst, thou hard, merciless man,
        the sleep of death.

        The abandoned one gazes straight ahead, 
        the world is void.
       I have loved and lived, I am 
       no longer living.

       I withdraw silently into myself,
       the veil falls, 
       there I have thee and my lost happiness,
      O thou my world!

Thank goodness for the Internet! You can download the score here.

Now if only I can find the Anne Sofie von Otter/ Bengt Forsberg rendition...