Fenesta che lucive is a gorgeous Neapolitan song which is credited to Bellini, because its accompaniment and style is quite similar to Ah! non credea mirarti from his La sonnambula. Some even alleges that the real situation is the reverse, that Bellini copies this song; that the words are from 12th century and the music are from the 15th century, and hence is older than Bellini by at least two centuries!
***
Feneste che lucive e mo nun luce
sign'è ca nénna mia stace malata
S'affaccia la surella e mme lu dice:
Nennélla toja è morta e s'è atterrata.
Chiagneva sempe ca durmeva sola,
mo dorme co' li muorte accompagnata.
Va' dint''a cchiesa, e scuopre lu tavuto:
vide nennélla toja comm'è tornata
Da chella vocca ca n'ascéano sciure,
mo n'esceno li vierme, oh! che piatate!
Zi parrocchiano mio, ábbece cura: na
lampa sempe tienece allummata.
Addio fenesta, rèstate 'nzerrata
ca nénna mia mo nun se pò affacciare
Io cchiù nun passarraggio pe' 'sta strata:
vaco a lo camposanto a passíare!
'Nzino a lo juorno ca la morte 'ngrata,
mme face nénna mia ire a trovare!
The light is no longer in the window:
is my beloved sick?
I ask her sister; she tells me:
"My sister is dead, and she lays in the earth.
She had cried much, alone in her sleep,
and now she lays with the dead."
"Go to the church, she lays in her coffin:
See if she would return for you,
if her breath is sweet, or
if she lies with worms." Oh! mercy!
Dearest Father, look after my beloved,
keep watch, and lit a flame for her.
Farewell window, stay closed
my beloved will not come there anymore.
I will no longer walk by you,
but rather I shall walk by the cemetery!
Until the day when I shall die
and rejoin my beloved in death.
***
It is a very dark and intense song. Originally it was set for high voices, but of course it may also be transposed down for lower voices. Most performances only utilise the first two stanzas of the lyrics. There are several examples of approaches in which this song may be sung.
Fernando de Lucia (1860 - 1925) used a lot of portamenti and rubato. He was not afraid to use the pure head voice (as opposed to voix-mixte); on the other hand his high notes were extremely thrilling when sung in full voice. Sensitive diminuendos abound. I find a few interesting choices of phrasing, for example the hesitancy of sign'è ca nénna mia stace malata, symbolising a lover's doubt and worry. It is hard to ascertain the timbre, but the technical prowess displayed does suggest a musician in full control of his instrument.
Carlo Buti (1902 - 1963) chose a faster tempo, reminiscent of story-telling type of Verdi of arias, e.g. Tacea la notte placida. His reading was more crisp rhythmically, providing a forward drive in the narration. He also approached the phrase Chiagneva sempe ca durmeva sola similar to de Lucia: a voix-mixte durmeva, followed by a staccato-ed sola. Buti provided an interesting choice in the ending: by going up an octave to a beautiful F in mezza-voce.
José Carreras (1946) performed this song in a Berlin recital in 1987. The timbre is undeniably very beautiful, but on ascending the scale a certain harshness creeps in. He did not held the high Fs; in fact the phrases Chiagneva sempe ca durmeva sola (which he repeats twice in place of Zi parrocchiano mio, ábbece cura) sounded rushed. He did however manage a beautiful D in mezza-voce just before the end.
Dmitri Hvorostovsky (1962) performed this song in a Moscow recital in 1990. Apparently this is a bis performance; the audience was so enthralled they demanded Mr. Hvorostovsky to repeat this song! I am quite baffled by his choices in the lyrics: it is in a mixture of the original Neapolitan dialect and standard Italian. He had been upfront about his lack of training in bel canto, so his interpretation is a bit pale in comparison to de Lucia and Buti. Nevertheless, baritones should stick together! His legato is impeccable, and the timbre is so innately attractive you'd forgive a lot of thing. His high Eb was a bit too closed, but perhaps it was to fit with the pall mood of the song.
***
Feneste che lucive e mo nun luce
sign'è ca nénna mia stace malata
S'affaccia la surella e mme lu dice:
Nennélla toja è morta e s'è atterrata.
Chiagneva sempe ca durmeva sola,
mo dorme co' li muorte accompagnata.
Va' dint''a cchiesa, e scuopre lu tavuto:
vide nennélla toja comm'è tornata
Da chella vocca ca n'ascéano sciure,
mo n'esceno li vierme, oh! che piatate!
Zi parrocchiano mio, ábbece cura: na
lampa sempe tienece allummata.
Addio fenesta, rèstate 'nzerrata
ca nénna mia mo nun se pò affacciare
Io cchiù nun passarraggio pe' 'sta strata:
vaco a lo camposanto a passíare!
'Nzino a lo juorno ca la morte 'ngrata,
mme face nénna mia ire a trovare!
The light is no longer in the window:
is my beloved sick?
I ask her sister; she tells me:
"My sister is dead, and she lays in the earth.
She had cried much, alone in her sleep,
and now she lays with the dead."
"Go to the church, she lays in her coffin:
See if she would return for you,
if her breath is sweet, or
if she lies with worms." Oh! mercy!
Dearest Father, look after my beloved,
keep watch, and lit a flame for her.
Farewell window, stay closed
my beloved will not come there anymore.
I will no longer walk by you,
but rather I shall walk by the cemetery!
Until the day when I shall die
and rejoin my beloved in death.
***
It is a very dark and intense song. Originally it was set for high voices, but of course it may also be transposed down for lower voices. Most performances only utilise the first two stanzas of the lyrics. There are several examples of approaches in which this song may be sung.
Fernando de Lucia (1860 - 1925) used a lot of portamenti and rubato. He was not afraid to use the pure head voice (as opposed to voix-mixte); on the other hand his high notes were extremely thrilling when sung in full voice. Sensitive diminuendos abound. I find a few interesting choices of phrasing, for example the hesitancy of sign'è ca nénna mia stace malata, symbolising a lover's doubt and worry. It is hard to ascertain the timbre, but the technical prowess displayed does suggest a musician in full control of his instrument.
Carlo Buti (1902 - 1963) chose a faster tempo, reminiscent of story-telling type of Verdi of arias, e.g. Tacea la notte placida. His reading was more crisp rhythmically, providing a forward drive in the narration. He also approached the phrase Chiagneva sempe ca durmeva sola similar to de Lucia: a voix-mixte durmeva, followed by a staccato-ed sola. Buti provided an interesting choice in the ending: by going up an octave to a beautiful F in mezza-voce.
José Carreras (1946) performed this song in a Berlin recital in 1987. The timbre is undeniably very beautiful, but on ascending the scale a certain harshness creeps in. He did not held the high Fs; in fact the phrases Chiagneva sempe ca durmeva sola (which he repeats twice in place of Zi parrocchiano mio, ábbece cura) sounded rushed. He did however manage a beautiful D in mezza-voce just before the end.
Dmitri Hvorostovsky (1962) performed this song in a Moscow recital in 1990. Apparently this is a bis performance; the audience was so enthralled they demanded Mr. Hvorostovsky to repeat this song! I am quite baffled by his choices in the lyrics: it is in a mixture of the original Neapolitan dialect and standard Italian. He had been upfront about his lack of training in bel canto, so his interpretation is a bit pale in comparison to de Lucia and Buti. Nevertheless, baritones should stick together! His legato is impeccable, and the timbre is so innately attractive you'd forgive a lot of thing. His high Eb was a bit too closed, but perhaps it was to fit with the pall mood of the song.
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