"I messed up," Calvin Newton lamented, after losing thirty years and doing time in either kingdom and federal prisons for robbery, counterfeiting, and drug violations. "These have been years of my existence that i may were making a song gospel song. " in the course of his best, he was once super-handsome, athletic, and charged with sexual air of secrecy that attracted girls to him like flies to honey.
Zoe C. Sherinian indicates how Christian Dalits (once often called untouchables or outcastes) in southern India have hired song to protest social oppression and as a car of liberation. Her concentration is at the lifestyles and theology of a charismatic composer and chief, Reverend J. Theophilus Appavoo, who drew on Tamil folks song to create a particular type of indigenized Christian tune.
Extra resources for A Masked Ball (Opera Classics Library)
I’m an unfortunate victim. At least save my good name. Don’t destroy my honor. Don’t ruin my life. Gustavo: Io lasciarti? No, giammai: non poss’io che m’arde in petto immortal di te l’affetto. Gustavus: Leave you? Never! I cannot, because my heart burns with eternal love for you. Amelia: Sire, abbiatemi pietà. Amelia: Sire, have pity on me. Gustavo: Così parli a chi t’adora? Pietà chiedi e tremi ancora? Il tuo nome intemerato, l’onor tuo sempre sarà. Gustavus: Is that how speak to the man who adores you?
What will be left in my poor soul once love is gone? Oh! Chi piange? Qual forza m’arretra? M’attraversa la squallida via? Su coraggio. E tu, fatti di pietra, non tradirmi, dal pianto ristà: O finisci di battere e muor. T’annïenta mio povero cor! Oh! Why do I cry? What force restrains me? What force stops me? Have courage and maintain your resolve, or you will die, your poor heart no longer beating! A clock strikes midnight Mezzanotte! Ah! Che veggio? Una testa di sotterra si leva, e sospira! Ha negli occhi il baleno dell’ ira e m’affisa e terribile sta!
Della città all’occaso, là dove al tetro lato batte la luna pallida sul campo abbominato. Abbarbica gli stami a quelle pietre infami, ove la colpa scontasi coll’ultimo sospir! Mlle. Arvidson: Then listen. Leave the city, and walk toward the west. The moon will be shining on an executioner’s site. There, where the guilty pay for their crimes, you’ll find the herb! Amelia: Mio Dio! Qual loco! Amelia: My God! What a place! Opera Classics Library Series Page 48 Mlle. Arvidson: Attonita e già tremante siete?
A Masked Ball (Opera Classics Library) by Burton D. Fisher