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Untitled Document
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TCHAIKOVSKY, P.I.: Songs (Complete), Vol. 2 |
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Composer: |
Pyotr Il'yich Tchaikovsky |
Artist: |
Ljuba Kazarnovskaya, Ljuba Orefenova |
Lyricist: |
J. Surikov, Aleksey Nikolayevich Pleshcheyev, Daniil Rathaus |
Label: |
Naxos |
Catalogue No.: |
8.554358 |
Format: |
CD |
Barcode: |
0636943435823 |
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Pyotr Il'yich
Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)
Songs, Volume 2
Russia's contribution to European song during the second half of the
nineteenth century and the early years of the twentieth is of considerable
importance and interest With little or no tradition of their own, apart from a
very distinctive folk-song literature, Russian composers inevitably turned to
other Continental models – to Germany in particular, and to Italy – but quickly
evolved a national school that may be said to have produced some of their country's
finest music. The greatest Russian song composer of the nineteenth century is,
without doubt, Mussorgsky, closely followed by Balakirev and Borodin, but close
behind them comes Tchaikovsky, whose qualities as a lyricist are understandably
overshadowed by his stature as an opera composer (just as his many pieces for
solo piano are by his concertos).
Between 1869 and 1893 Tchaikovsky composed just over a hundred songs,
most of them published in sets of six and settings of words by second-rate
Russian poets. A change from the pervading drawing-room sentiment is offered by
the group of sixteen Children's Songs, Op. 54, which were composed
between 1881 and 1883. Like the Schumannesque Children's Album, Op. 39
for piano of 1878, the collection reflects his spontaneous love of children; he
had none of his own, of course, since his disastrous marriage of 1877 was never
consummated and lasted barely three months, but his nephews, nieces and their
offspring gave him great joy.
The words of all but two of the Children's Songs are by Alexey
Nikolayevich Pleshcheyev (1825-1893), a minor poet whom Tchaikovsky had known
since he first went to Moscow in 1866, and two of whose lyrics he used for the Romances
composed in 1869 (Op. 6 No. 2) and 1872-3 (Op. 16 No. 4). In January 1881
he had made a setting of Konstantin Sergeyevich Axakov's A Little Children's
Song, and it was apparently the appearance of this some weeks later in the
monthly periodical Recreation for Children that prompted Pleshcheyev to
send Tchaikovsky a copy of his anthology for children The Snowdrop, inscribed
'as a mark of affection and gratitude for his beautiful music to my poor
words'. On 5th November 1881 Tchaikovsky wrote to his brother Modest: 'I have
set about composing children's songs and am writing one regularly every day…
this is very light and pleasant labour, for as my text I am taking
Pleshcheyev's The Snowdrop, where there are many delightful things'. On
15th November he sent fifteen songs to his publisher Jurgenson, saying 'If you
like, you can add A Little Children's Song to it' – which Jurgenson did.
Most of the songs last less than three minutes, and nearly all of them
are technically undemanding; Nos. 6, 14 and 16 are strophic. Children naturally
feature prominently, most touchingly in A Legend (No. 5), where the
Christ-child is crowned with thorns by children who have picked all the roses
in his garden (the theme, based on a well-known carol, was used in 1894, the
year after Tchaikovsky's death, by Arensky as the basis for a set of variations
for string quartet and for string orchestra) No. 1 is a dialogue between a
small boy and his grandmother (each in a different key); On the River-bank (No.
6) is about a fisherman's anxious family; A Winter's Evening (No. 7)
depicts a mother telling her children a story and playing the piano for them to
dance; and No. 10 is a lullaby. Animals feature in The Little Bird (No.
2), in which God's bird intercedes with the Almighty on behalf of the poor
ploughman; in My Little Garden (No. 4), with its buzzing bees; in the
hilarious The Cuckoo (No. 8); and in The Swallow (No. 15, to
words by Ivan Zakharovich Surikov). Seasons are referred to in Nos. 3, 9 and 13
(Spring), 14 (Autumn), and 7 and 12 (Winter); and flowers and gardens in Nos.
4, 5, 11 and 13. A Little Children's Song (No. 16), a delightful piece
of nonsense verse, which started the whole process, appears as a gentle
epilogue.
In August 1892 an amateur versifier, Danil Maximovich Rathaus
(1868-1937) sent Tchaikovsky six of his poems, and having immediately sketched
the voice-part of the first verse of We Sat Together and part of The
Sun Has Set, Tchaikovsky promised to set the whole group. He did not begin
work in earnest on them until 5th May 1893, however, finishing them on 17th.
The cycle (if that is not too grand a word) was Tchaikovsky's last completed
work; he dedicated it to Nikolay Figner, the tenor who had created the part of
Herman in The Queen of Spades in 1890. In the words of Tchaikovsky's
biographer David Brown, 'Rathaus offered simply schemed verses, descriptions
based on stock imagery but prettily picturesque, and feelings uncomplicated and
familiar Sentimentality reigned supreme and pointed a clear expressive path
through verse which never encumbered the music.' In the slow-moving We Sat
Together (No. 1) a couple sit sadly by a river, unable to resolve their
unhappiness by talking; in the closing bars the voice and the piano quote one
of Tchaikovsky's familiar 'Fate' motifs. Similarly, the melancholy descending
phrases in Night (No. 2) recall the closing bars of his Symphony No. 6.
A livelier musical note is struck in This Moonlit Night (No. 3), but
although the song expresses a declaration of love it is tinged with sadness and
resignation. In The Sun Has Set (No. 4) the mood is one of unclouded
rapture, matched by a lilting accompaniment, but unrest returns in On Gloomy
Days (No. 5), with its memories of happier times underpinned by the
agitated piano part; and the peace achieved in Once More, As Before (No.
6) is that of resignation and solitude.
Robin Golding
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Shestnadtsat pesen
dlya detey, Oр. 54
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Sixteen Songs for
Children
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[1]
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Babushka i vnuchek
Pod oknom chulok
starushka
Vyazhet v komnate
uyutnoy
I v ochki svoi
bolshiye
Smotrit v ugol
pominutno.
А v uglu kudpyavïy malchik
Molcha k stenke
prislonilsya.
Na litse evo
zabota,
Vzglyad
па chto-to ustremilsya.
«Chto sidish vse
doma, vnuchek?
Shyol bï v sad,
kopal bï gryadki,
Ili kliknul bï
sestryonku,
Pograd bï s
пеу v loshadki.»
Podoshyol k
starushke vnuchek
I golovkoyu
kurchavoy
K
пеу pripal.
Оп
molchit, glaza bolshiye
Na
пеуо glyadyat lukavo...
«Znat, gostintsu
zakhotelos? –
Govorit
ети starushka. –
Vinnïkh yagod,
vinogradu,
Il
tеbе nuzhna igrushka?»
«Net, gostintsev
тпе пе nado!
U
тепуа igrushek mnogo.
Sumku tï kupi, da
v shkolu
Pokazhi-ka
тпе dorogu.»
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Grandmother and Grandson
Under the window an old woman
Is knitting a stocking in the cosy room
And through her big spectacles
Looks every now and then into the corner.
And in the corner a curly-headed lad
Leans silently against the wall.
Concern upon his face,
His eyes gazing at something.
"Why do you always sit indoors, grandson?
You should go out into the garden, dig the beds,
Or call your little sister,
And play at horses with her."
The grandson goes towards the old woman
And lays his little curly head
Against her.
He says nothing, but his big eyes
Look at her archly…
"I suppose you'd like a sweetie?"
Says the old woman to him.
"Some figs, or grapes,
Or do you want a toy?"
"No, I don't need sweeties!
I have lots of toys.
Just buy a satchel
And show me the way to school."
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[2]
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Ptichka
Ptichka bozhiya
prosnulasya s zareyu,
A uzh pakharya
zastala za sokhoyu.
Poletit
опа k lazurnïm nebesam
I, chto vidit v
syolakh, vse rasskazhet tат.
Skazhet ptichka Bogu,
chto bednyak stradaet,
Chto krovavïm
potom nivu oroshaet.
Ne mila, kak
ptichke, pakharyu vesna:
Ne nesyot s
soboyu radostey опа…
Vstretil bï
оп solntse pesenkoy veseloy,
Da molchat
zastavit gnet nuzhdï tyazhelïy.
Na serdtse
zabotï, kak svinets lezhat,
Poпevole
pesnya пе poydyot па lad.
Skazhet ptichka
Bogu, chtab eva ruka
Padderzhala v
gorkoy dole bednyaka.
Chtob
ети nesti svoy krest dostalo silï:
Chtob bez ropota
dobryol oп do mogilï:
Chtob bez ropota
dobryol oп do mogilï...
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The Little Bird
God's little bird awakens with the dawn,
But already the ploughman is at his plough.
She flies forth towards the azure heavens
And up there recounts what she has seen in the villages.
The little bird tells God that the poor peasant suffers,
That he's washing the cornfield with blood.
For the ploughman spring is not sweet, as it is for the bird:
It does not bring joy…
He would greet the
sun with merry song,
But is reduced to
silence by need's heavy yoke.
Care lies on his
heart like lead,
Like it or not, his
song grows no more tuneful.
The little bird tells God its tale, so that His hand
May support the peasant in his cruel lot
So that his strength may suffice to bear his cross,
So that without complaint he may come to his grave,
So that without complaint he may come to his grave.
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[3]
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Vesna
Travka zeleneyet,
Salnïshka
blestit,
Lasktochka s
уепoуи
v seni k
пат letit.
S
пеуи solntse yarche
I vesna miley…
Proshchebech s
dorogi
Nam privet
skarey,
Proshchebech s
dorogi
Nam privet
skorey.
Dam
tеbе уа zyaren,
А tï pesnyu
spoy,
Chto iz stran
dalyokikh
Prinesla s soboy…
Dam tеЬе
уа zeren,
А tï pesnyu
spoy,
Travka zeleneyet,
Solnïshko
blestit,
Lastochka s
vesnoyu
V seni k
пат letit.
S
пеуи solntse yarche
I vesna miley…
Proshchebech s
dorogi
Nam privet
skorey,
Proshchebech s
dorogi
Nam privet
skarey.
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Spring
The grass grows
green,
The sun is shining,
In spring the
swallow
Journeys towards us.
With her come a brighter sun
And a sweeter spring…
Twittering on her way,
She hastens to greet us.
Twittering on her way,
She hastens to greet us,
I'll give you grain,
But sing the song
You've brought with you
From distant lands.
I'll give you grain,
But sing the song.
The grass grows green,
The sun is shining,
In spring the swallow
Journeys towards us.
With her comes a brighter sun
And a sweeter spring…
Twittering on her way,
She hastens to greet us.
Twittering on her way,
She hastens to greet us.
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[4]
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Моу
sadik
Kak
тoу sadik svezh i zelen!
Raspustilas v
пуoт siren;
Ot cheryomukhi
dushistoy
I ot lip
kudryavïkh tеп…
Pravda, net v
пет blednïkh liliy,
Gordelivïkh georgin,
I lish pyostrïe
golovki
Vozvïshaet mak
odin.
Da podsolnechnik
u vkhoda,
Slovno vernïy
chasovoy,
Slorozhil sebe
dorozhku,
Vsyu porosshuyu
travoy…
No lyublyu ya
sadik skromnïy:
On dushi moyey
miley
Gorodskikh sadov
unïlïkh,
S set'yu
pravilnïkh alley.
I ves den, v
trave vïsokoy
Lyozha, slushat
bï ya rad,
Kak zabotlivïye
pchyolï
Vkrug cheryomukhi
zhuzhzhat.
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My Little Garden
How fresh and green my garden is!
There the lilac blossoms,
From the bird-cherry trees comes fragrance,
And from the limes curly shade…
There are no pale
lilies
Or haughty dahlias,
And only one poppy
Raises its motley
heads.
But the sunflower by
the gate,
Like a faithful
sentinel,
Keeps watch over the
path,
All overgrown with
grass
But I love this
modest garden:
It is dearer to my
soul
Than cheerless town
gardens,
Criss-crossed by
regular paths.
I'd be happy to lie
all day.
In the tall grass,
and listen
To the diligent bees
Buzzing around the
bird-cherry trees.
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[5]
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Legenda
BÏl u Khrista
mladenlsa sad,
I mnogo roz
vzrastil on v nyom.
On trizhdï v den
ikh polival,
Chtob splest
venok sebe potom.
Kogda zhe rozï
rastsveli,
Detey evreyskikh
sozval on;
Oni sorvali po
tsvetku
I sad bïl ves
opustoshyon.
«Kak tï splelesh
teper venok?
V tvoyom sadu net
bolshe roz!»
«Vi pozabïli,
chto shipï
Ostalis mne»,
skazal Khristos.
I iz shipov oni
spleli
Venok kolyuchiy
dlya nevo,
I kapli krovi,
vmeslo roz,
Chelo ukrasili
evo.
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A Legend
The infant Christ
had a garden
Where He grew lots
of roses.
He watered them
thrice daily,
To weave garlands
for himself later.
When the roses were
blooming,
He invited the
Hebrew children;
They levelled all
the flowers to the ground
And the whole garden
was devastated.
"How can you
weave garlands now?
There are no roses
left in your garden!"
"You've
forgotten that I still have
The thorns,"
said Christ.
And from the thorns
they wove
For Him a spiny
wreath,
And drops of blood,
instead of roses,
Adorned His brow
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[6]
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Na beregu
Domik nad rekoyu,
V oknakh ogonyok,
Svetloy polosoyu
Na vodu on lyog.
V dome ne dozhdutsya
S lovli rïbaka:
Obeshchal
vernutsya
Cherez dva denka.
No proshol i
tretiy,
A evo vsyo net.
Zhdul naprasno
deti,
Zhdyot i stariy
ded.
Vsekh
neterpelivey
Zhdyot evo zhena,
Nochi molchalivey
I kak kholst
bledna...
Vot za uzhni
seli,
Ey ne do edï:
«Kak bï v samom
dele
Ne bïlo bedï»
Vdol reki
nesetsya
Lodochka; na ney
Pesnya
razdayotsya
Vsyo slïshney,
slïshney.
Zvuki toy
znakomoy
Pesni uslïkhav,
Deti von iz doma
Brosilis
stremglav.
Veselo vskochila
Iz-za pryalki
mot,
U i deda cilï
Vdrug nashlos
bezhat.
Pesnyu zaglushaet
Zvonkiy krik
rebyat
Tshchetno unimaet
Starïy ded
vnuchat.
Vot i vorotilsya
Tot chas pro
ulov.
Dolgo razdavalsya
Smekh ikh nad
rekoy,
Imi lyubovalsya
Mesyats zolotoy
Laskovo mertsali
Zvyozdï s
vïshinï;
Detyam obeshchali
Radostnïye snï.
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On the River-Bank
There's a little
house
above the river.
Through its windows
There shone on the
water
Bright bands of
light.
In the house they
waited impatiently
For the fisherman to
return with his catch:
He had promised to
be back in two days,
But the third had
passed
And he still was not
back.
The children waited
in vain,
And the old
grandfather.
Most impatiently of
all,
Waited the wife,
More silent than
night,
And as pale as
linen…
They sat at supper,
She could not eat:
"But he really
can't
Have come to any
harm."
Along the river
drifted
A little boat; from
it
A song was heard,
More and more
clearly.
Hearing those
familiar sounds
Of singing,
The children rushed
headlong
Out of the house.
From behind the
spinning-wheel, mother
Leapt gaily,
And suddenly
grandfather found
The strength to run.
The song was drowned
By children's
ringing shouts,
Old grandfather
tried in vain
To calm his
grandchildren.
He had returned
safe and sound!
For a long time
their laughter
Was heard above the
river.
A golden moon
Looked down on them.
Twinkling gently
From on high, the
stars
Promised the
children
Happy dreams.
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[7]
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Zimniy vecher
Khorosho vam,
detki
Zimnim vecherkom:
V komnate uyutnoy
Seli vï ryadkam,
Plamya ot kamina,
Osveshchaet vas…
Slushaete zhadno
Mamï vï rasskaz.
Radost,
lyubopitstvo
Na litse u vsekh,
Chasto nprerivaet
Mamu zvonkiy
smekh.
Vot rasskaz
okonchen,
Vse pustilis v
zal…
«Poigray nam,
mama»,
Kto-to
propishchal.
«Khot uzh devyat
bilo,
Otkazat vam
zhal…»
I poslushno sela
Mama za royal.
I poshlo
vesel'ye!
Nachalas voznya,
Plyaska, pesni,
khokhot,
Vizg i begotnya.
Pust gudit
serdito
V'yuga pod oknom.
Khorosho vam,
detki,
V gnyozdïshke
svoyom!
No ne vsem takoe
Schast'ye Bog
dayot.
Est na svete
mnogo
Bednïkh i sirot.
U odnikh mogila
Rano mat vzyala;
U drugikh net v
zimu
Tyoplovo ugla.
Esli privedyotsya
Vstretit vam
takikh,
Vï; kak brat'yev,
detki,
Prigolubte ikh.
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A Winter's Evening
It is pleasant for you, children,
Of a winter's evening:
In a cosy room
You sit side by side,
The flame from the chimney-corner
Illuminates you...
You listen avidly
To mamma's stories.
Joy and curiosity
On all your faces,
Your ringing
laughter
Often interrupts
mamma.
Then, the story
ended,
You all rush into
the parlour…
"Play for us,
mamma,"
Somebody squeals.
“Though it's already
struck nine,
It would be a shame
to refuse.”
And, dutifully,
mamma
Sits down at the
piano
And the merriment
begins!
The bustle starts –
Dancing, singing,
laughing,
Squealing and
running about.
Let the blizzard at
the window
Angrily shriek.
You are fine,
children,
In your cosy home!
But God does not
grant
Such good fortune to
everyone.
There are many in
the world
Poor and orphaned.
The grave claims
early
Some people's
mothers;
Others, in winter,
do not have
A warm corner.
Should you,
perchance,
Meet with such as
these,
You, like brothers,
children,
Take tender care of
them.
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[8]
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Kukushka
«Tï priletel iz
goroda, kakiye
Skazhi, tam
slukhi nosyatsya o nas?»
(Skvortsa
kukushka sprashivala raz).
«Chto zhiteli
tolkuyut gorodskiye,
Khot, naprimer, o
pesnyakh solov'ya?
Interesuyus etim
ochen ya».
«Ves gorod on
privodit v voskhishchen'ye,
Kogda v sadu evo
razdastsya trel».
«A zhavoronok?»
«I zhavoronka pen'ye
Plenyaet ochen
mnogikh». «Neuzhel?»
Nu, a kakov ikh
otzïv o drozde?»
«Da khvalyat i
evo, khot ne vezde».
«Eshcho khochu
sprosit ya, mozhet statsya,
I obo mne tï
slïshal koye-chto?»
«Vot pro tebya,
sestritsa, tak priznatsya,
Ne govorit
reshitelno nikto!»
«A! Esli tak», –
kukushku vozopila, –
«To o sebe, chtob
lyudyam otomstit,
Sama ves vek,
pokuda khvatit silï;
Ne perestanu ya
tverdit:
Ku – ku, ku – ku,
ku – ku, ku – ku, ku – ku, ku – ku,
Ku – ku, ku – ku,
ku – ku, ku – ku, ku – ku, ku – ku,
Ku – ku, ku – ku,
ku – ku, ku – ku, ku – ku, ku – ku,
Ku – ku, ku – ku,
ku – ku, ku – ku, ku – ku, ku – ku!»
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The Cuckoo
"You have flown
in from the town.
What stories do they
tell of us there?"
(The cuckoo once
asked a starling).
"What do the
city-dwellers say,
For instance, of the
nightingale's songs?
I'm very interested
in such things."
"The whole town goes into raptures
When his warbling is heard in the garden."
"And the lark?" "And the lark's song
Many find enchanting." "Really?
Now what is their
opinion of the thrush?"
"They praise
him too, though not everywhere."
"Yet I wish to
ask, could it be
That you have heard
anything about me?"
"About you,
little sister, in tribute to you,
Nobody at all says
anything!"
"Ah! If that is
what they think of me," cried the cuckoo,
To take vengeance on
the people
All my days, while I
have strength,
I will not cease
repeating over and over again:
Cuck-oo, cuck-oo,
cuck-oo, cuck-oo, cuck-oo, cuck-oo,
Cuck-oo, cuck-oo,
cuck-oo, cuck-oo, cuck-oo, cuck-oo,
Cuck-oo, cuck-oo,
cuck-oo, cuck-oo, cuck-oo, cuck-oo!
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[9]
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Vesna
Uzh taet sneg,
begut ruch'i,
V okno poveyalo
vesnoyu…
Zasvishchut skoro
solov'i,
I les odenetsya
listvoyu!
Chista nebesnaya
lazur.
Tepley i yarche
solntse stalo;
Pora meteley
zlïkh i bur
Opyat nadolgo
minovala.
I serdtse silno
tak v grudi
Stuchit, kak
budto zhdyot chevo-to;
Kak budto
schast'ye vperedi,
I usnesla zima
zabotï!
Vse litsa veselo
glyadyat.
«Vesna!» –
chitaesh v kazhdom vzore
I tot, kak
prazdniku, ey rad,
Ch'ya zhizn –
lish tyazhkiy trud i gore.
No rezbïkh detok
zvonkiy smekh
I bezzabotnïkh
ptichek pen'ye
Mne govoryat –
kto bolshe vsekh
Prirodi lyubit
obnovlen'ye!
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Spring
Already the snow is
melting, the brooks flowing,
At the window a
breath of spring air…
The nightingale will
soon be singing,
And the wood
clothing itself in foliage!
The blue of the sky
is clear.
The sun has become
warmer and brighter;
The season of nasty
blizzards and storms
Once more is over
for a long time.
And the heart beats
strongly in the breast
As if awaiting
someone's arrival,
As if happiness were
ahead of us,
And winter's cares
behind!
There's happiness on
every face.
"Spring!"
may be read in everyone's eyes.
And he whose life is
but hard toil and grief
Becomes glad, as if
on holiday.
But gambolling
children's noisy laughter
And the song of
carefree birds
Tell me who, more
than anyone,
Delights in nature's
renewal!
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[10]
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Kolïbelnaya pesn v
buryn
«Akh! Uymis tï,
burya!
Ne shumite, eli!
Moy malyutka
dremlet
Sladko v
kolïbeli.
Tï, groza
Gospodnya,
Ne budi rebyonka!
Pronesites, tuchi
Chornïye,
storonkoy!
Byor eshcho ne
malo
Vperedi, bït
mozhet,
I ne raz zabota
Son evo
vstrevozhit.
Spi, ditya,
spokoyno…
Vot groza
stikhaet;
Materi molitva
Son tvoy okhranyaet.
Zavtra, kak
prosnyoshsya
I otkroesh
glazki,
Snova vstretish
solntse,
I lyubov, i
laski!»
|
Lullaby in a Storm
"Ah! be still,
you storm!
Make no noise,
fir-trees!
My babe is
slumbering
Sweetly in his
cradle
You, Mistress Storm,
Don't wake the child!
Rush on, dark
clouds,
Away from us!
Rage not yet awhile –
A little later perhaps –
And not once will care
Disturb his sleep.
Sleep peacefully on, my child…
See! The storm abates;
A mother's prayer
Protects your dreams.
Tomorrow, as you awake
And open your little eyes,
Once more you'll meet with the sun,
And love, and caresses!"
|
[11]
|
Tsvetok
Veselo tsvetiku v
pole pestreyut;
Ikh po nocham
osvezhaet rosa,
Dnyom ikh luchi
blagodatnïye greyut,
Laskovo smotryat
na nix nebesa.
S babochkoy pyostroy,
s glyashchey pcheloyu,
S vetrom im lyubo
vesti razgovor.
Veselo tsvetikam
v pole vesnoyu,
Mil im rodimovo
polya prostor!
Vot oni vidyat v
okne, za reshyotkoy,
Tikho kachaetsya
blednïy tsvetok…
Solntsa ne znaya,
pechalnïy i krotkiy,
Vïros on v mrachnïkh
stenakh odinok.
Tsvetikam zhal
evo bednovo stalo,
Khorom oni k sebe
brata zovut:
«Solntse tebya
nikogda ne laskalo,
Bros eti stenï;
zachakhnesh tï tut! »
«Net», otvechol
on, «Khot veselo v pole,
I naryazhaet vas
yarko vesna,
No ne zaviduyu vashey
ya dole,
I ne pokinu
sïrovo okna.
Pishno tsvetite!
Svoyey krasotoyu
Raduyte, brat'ya, schastlivïkh lyudey.
Ya budu tsvest dlya tovo, kto sudboyu
Solntsa lishyon i poley.
Ya budu tsvest
dlya tovo, kto stradaet,
Uznika ya
uteshayu odin.
Pust on, vzglyanuv
na menya, vspominaet
Zelen rodimïkh
dolin!»
|
The Flower
Gaily the little flowers bloom in the field,
By night refreshed by the dew,
By day warmed by the sun's abundant rays.
Heaven looks tenderly upon them.
With colourful butterfly, with buzzing bee,
With the wind, they enjoy pleasant converse.
The flowers revel in the springtime field,
The spaciousness of their native field is dear to them.
Now through the window, behind the grill,
A faded flower gently sways…
Unacquainted with the sun, grieving and meek,
It has grown up in the gloom of lonely walls.
The flowers feel pity for it,
In chorus, they call their brother to them:
"The sun has never caressed you,
Abandon those walls, where you'll wither away!"
"No," he answers, "Though you grow gaily in the field,
And Spring dresses you brightly,
I do not envy you your lot,
And will not leave the damp window
Bloom on magnificently! With your beauty
Gladden, brothers, the fortunate folk.
I shall blossom for those who by fate
Are deprived of sun and field.
I shall bloom for those who suffer;
Alone, I shall console the prisoner.
May he who looks on me remember
The verdure of his native valleys!"
|
[12]
|
Zima
Ded, podnyavshis
spozaranku,
K vnuchkam v
komnatu speshit.
«Dobroy
vestochkoy uteshit
Vas prishol ya»,
– govorit.
«Vsyo zimï vï
zhdali, delki,
Nadoyela vam
davno
Osen khmuraya s
dozhdyami;
Posmotrite-ka v
okno!
Za noch vïpal
sneg glubokiy,
I moroz, kak v
dekabre.
Uzh vpryagli v
salazki Zhuchku
Rebyatishki na
dvore».
I tormoshit ded
raskrïvshikh
Glazki sonnïye
vnuchat;
No na starovo
plutishki
Nedovyorchivo
glyadyat.
Podnyal shtoru
ded, – i tochno!
Sneg nod
solnechnïm luchom
Brilliantami
sverkaet,
Otlivaet
serebrom.
«Slava Bogu!
Slava Bogu!»,
Detki veselo
krichat,
I v ume ikh
voznikaet
Uzh kartin
znakomïkh ryad:
Na salazkakh s
gor katan'ye,
I katan'ye na
konkakh…
I
rozhdestvenskaya yolka,
Sverkhu donizu
ognyakh!
|
Winter
Grandad, rising very early,
Hurries to his grandchildren's room.
"I have come to cheer you
With some good news," he says.
"All winter you have waited, children,
For a long time; gloomy autumn
Plagued you with its rains;
Just look out of the window!
Overnight deep snow has fallen,
With frost as in December.
Already the children have harnessed
Juchka to the sleigh in the yard."
And grandad pesters the grandchildren
Who have opened sleepy eyes.
But the little rogues look at the old man
With distrust.
Grandad raises the blind, and, indeed!
Beneath the sun's beams
Snow sparkles like diamonds
Shot with silver.
"Thank God! Thank God!"
The children gaily cry,
And in their mind arises
A series of familiar scenes:
Toboganning on the hills,
And skating on the ice…
And the Christmas fir
Ablaze from top to bottom!
|
[13]
|
Vesennyaya pesnya
V starïy sad
vïkhozhu ya. Rosinki,
Kak almazï; na
list'yakh blestyat.
I tsvetï mne
golovkoy kivayut,
Razlivaya krugom
aromat.
Vsyo vlechyot,
veselit moyi vzorï.
Zolotaya pchela
na tsvetke,
Raznotsvetnïye
babochki krïl'ya
I sineyushchiy
les vdaleke.
Kak yarka eta
zelen derev'yev,
Kupol neba kak chist i glubok!
I brozhu ya,
vostorgom obyatïy,
I sleza zastilaet
zrachok!
Kak lyubov'yu i
radost'yu dïshet
Vsya priroda pod
veshnim luchom!
I dusha
blagodarnaya chuyet
Zdes prisutstviye
boga vo vsyom!
|
Spring Song
I go out into the old
garden.
Dewdrops sparkle
like diamonds on the leaves.
And flowers nod
their heads at me,
Spreading fragrance
all around.
Everything attracts
and cheers my eyes
Golden bees on a
flower,
Colourful
butterflies' wings
And the distant
forest tinged with blue.
How bright the
greenery of the trees,
How clear and deep
heaven's dome!
And I wander, filled
with delight,
A tear clouding my
eye.
How lovingly and
joyfully
All nature breathes
beneath the vernal rays,
And a grateful soul
feels here
The presence of God
in everything!
|
[14]
|
Osen
Skuchnaya
kartina!
Tuchi bez kontsa,
Dozhdik tak i
l'yotsya,
Luzhi u krïtsa…
Chakhlaya ryabina
Moknet pod oknom;
Smotrit
derevushka
Serenkim pyatnom.
Chto tï rano v
gosti,
Osen, k nam
prishla?
Eshcho prosit
serdtse
Sveta i tepla!
Vse tebe ne radï!
Tvoy unïlïy vid
Gore da nevzgodï
Bednomu sulit.
A teper navodit
Zholtïkh list'yev
shum
Na dushu bolnuyu
Roy zloveshchikh
dum!
Rano, rano, osen,
V gosti k nam
prishla…
Mnogim ne
dozhdatsya
Sveta i tepla!
|
Autumn
A sad picture!
Endless clouds
And teeming rain,
With puddles on the
porch...
Sickly rowans,
Soaked, beneath the
window;
The village seems
a grey spot.
Why did you come to
us
So early, Autumn?
The heart still begs
For light and
warmth!
There is no gladness
in you!
Your cheerless
aspect
Promises grief and
misfortune
To a poor man.
Now the noise
of yellowed leaves
Brings to the sick
soul
A swarm of ominous
thoughts!
Early, early,
Autumn,
You have come to
visit us…
Many will be
deprived
Of light and warmth!
|
[15]
|
Lastochka
Idyot
devochka-sirotka,
Tyazhelo
vzdïkhayet,
A nad neyu
goremïchnoy
Lastochka
letayet.
I letayet, i
shchebechet,
Nad golovkoy
v'yotsya,
V'yotsya,
kroshka, i krïlami
V kosu chut ne
b'yotsya.
«Chto tï
v'yosh'sya nado mnoyu,
Nad sirotkoy,
ptashka?
Akh, ostav menya,
i tak mne
Zhit na svete
tyazhko!»
«Ne ostavlyu, ne
ostavlyu!
Budu ya
kruzhitsya,
Shchebetat tebe
pro brata,
Chto v tyurme
tomitsya.
On prosil menya:
Sletayka,
Ptashka, v kray
rodimïy,
Poklonis moyey
sestritse,
Goryacho
lyubimoy.
Vsyo I menya ona,
golubka,
Dobrom
vspominayet,
vsyo I ona eshcho
o brate
Slyozï
prolivayet?»
|
The Swallow
Here comes a little
orphan girl,
Sighing heavily
Whilst above this
hapless one
There flies a
swallow.
And it flies and sings
And twists and turns
over her head;
The whirling little
creature, with its wings,
Almost strikes her
hair.
"Why do you
whirl above me'
Around an orphan,
little bird?
Ah, leave me alone,
to live
My life in this
painful world!"
"I will not
leave, I will not leave!
I will wheel around,
Singing to you of my
brother
Who languishes in
prison.
He asked me: little
flier,
Little bird,
greet my beloved
sister
Warmly in our
homeland.
Is she, the little
dove,
Always ready to
remember me?
Does she still shed
tears
For her
brother?"
|
[16]
|
Detskaya pesenka
Moy Lizochek tak
uzh mal, tak uzh mal,
Chto iz krïl'yev
komarishki
Sdelal dve sebe
manishki,
I v krakhmal, i v
krakhmal!
Moy Lizochek tak
uzh mal, tak uzh mal,
Chto iz gretskovo
orekha
Sdelal stul, chtob
slushat ekho,
I krichal, i
krichal!
Moy Lizochek tak
uzh mal, tak uzh mal,
Chto iz skorlupï
yaichnoy
Faeton sebe
otlichnïy
Zakazal, zakazal!
Moy Lizochek tak
uzh mal, tak uzh mal,
chto iz skorlupï
rachouka
sshil chetïre
bashmachonka
I na bal, i na bal!
Moy Lizochek tak
uzh mal, tak uzh mal,
chto iz listika
sireni
sdelal zontik on
dlya teni
i gulyal, i
gulyal!
Moy Lizochek tak
uzh mal, tak uzh mal,
Chto, naduvshi
oduvanchik,
Zakazal sebe
divanchik,
Tut i spal, tut i
spal!
Moy Lizochek tak
uzh mal, tak uzh mal,
Chto natkat sebe
kholstinï
Pauku iz pautinï
Zakazal, zakazal!
|
A Little Children's Song
My Lizo is so small, so very, very small,
That from a gnat's wee wing
He made himself a false shirt front,
And starched it, he starched it!
My Lizo is so small,
so very, very small,
That from a walnut
shell
He made a chair, to
hear the echo,
And shouted, he
shouted!
My Lizo is so small,
so very, very small,
That, from the shell
of an egg,
A perfect phaeton
for himself
He ordered, he
ordered!
My Lizo is so small,
so very, very small,
That from a little
crayfish shell
He sewed two pairs
of dancing shoes –
Come dancing; come
dancing!
My Lizo is so small,
so very, very small,
That from a little
lilac leaf
He made himself a
parasol,
And went strolling,
strolling!
My Lizo is so small,
so very, very small,
That, blowing on a
dandelion,
He stuffed himself a
little bed,
And slept there, he
slept there!
My Lizo is so small,
so very, very small,
That, to weave some
linen for him,
From its own cobweb,
a spider
He ordered, he
ordered!
|
|
Shesl romansov, Op.
73
|
Six Romances
|
[17]
|
Mï sideli s toboy
Mï sideli s toboy
u zasnuvshey reki.
S tikhoy pesney
proplïli domoy rïhaki.
Solntsa luch
zolotoy za rekoy dogoral…
I tebe ya togda
nichevo ne skazal.
Zagremelo v
dali…Nadvigalas groza…
Po resnitsam
tvoyim pokatilas sleza…
I s bezumnïm
rïdan'yem k tebe ya pripal…
I tebe nichevo,
nichevo ne skazal.
I teper, v eti
dni, ya, kak prezhcte, odin,
uzh ne zhdu
nichego ot gryactushchikh godin…
V serdtse
zhiznennïy zvuk uzh davno otzvuchal…
Akh zachem, ya
tebe nichevo, nichevo ne skazal!
|
We Sat Together
We sat together by a
sleepy stream.
With a soft song,
fishermen sailed past, heading homeward.
The sun's light
burned out across the water…
And I spoke not a
word to you.
Distant thunder
rolled…the storm drew nearer…
On your lashes a
tear began to pearl…
And with mad sobs I
pressed myself to you
But nothing, nothing
did I say to you.
And now, these days,
as alone as before,
I expect nothing of
the years to come…
In my heart, long
since, that vital voice has ceased…
Oh, why, oh, why did
I say nothing, nothing to you?
|
[18]
|
Noch
Merknet slabïy
svet svechi…
Brodit mrak
unïlïy
I toska szhimayet
grud,
S neponyatnoy
siloy…
Na pechalnïye
glaza
Tikho son
niskhodit…
I s proshedshim v
etot mig
Rech dusha
zavoctit.
Istomilasya ona
gorest'yu
glubokoy.
Poyavis zhe, khot
vo sne,
O, moy drug
dalyokiy!
|
Night
The candle', faint
light grows dimmer…
A cheerless gloom
hovers…
And melancholy
weighs upon the breast
With a strange
force.
On sorrowing eyes
Sleep descends
softly…
And this instant
establishes
A soul's communion
with the past
She is exhausted
By profound
misfortune…
Come forth, then, be
it but in dreams,
Oh, my distant dear
one!
|
[19]
|
V etu lunnuyu uoch
V etu lunnuyu
noch, v etu divnuyu noch,
V etot mig
blagodatnïy svidan'ya,
O, moy drug, ya
ne v silakh lyubvi prevozmoch,
Uderzhat ya ne v
silakh priznan'ya!
V serebre chut
kolïshetsya ozera glad…
Naklonyas,
zasheptalisya ivï…
No bessilnï
slova! Kak tebe peredat
Istomlyonnovo
serdtsa porïvï?
Noch ne zhdyot,
noch letit…Zakatilas luna…
Zaalelo v
tayinstvennoy dali…
Dorogaya, prosti!
Snova zhizni volna
Nam nesyot den
toski i pechali!
|
This Moonlit Night
On this moonlit
night, this moonlit night,
In this rich moment
of our meeting,
Oh, my dear, I am
tillable to vanquish love,
I am unable to hold
back my avowal!
In the silvering,
the glassy surface of the lake rocks a little...
I stoop, in whispers
we begin to talk…
But how weak are
words! How to impart to you
The transports of a
weary heart?
Night is not
patient, the night flies…the moon is setting…
A glow in the
mysterious distance…
Dearest, forgive me!
Once more life's current
Brings to us a day
of gloom and sadness!
|
[20]
|
Zakatilos solntse
Zakatilos'
solntse, zaigra]i kraski
Lyogkoy pozolotoy
v sineve nebes…
V obayan nochi
sladostrastnoy laski
Tikho chto-to
shepchet zadremavshiy les…
I v dushe
trevozhnoy umolkayut muki
I dïshat vsey
grud'yu v etu noch legko…
Nochi divnoy
teni, nochi divnoy zvuki
Nas s toboy
unosyat, drug moy, daleko.
Vsya obyata negoy
etoy nochi strastnoy,
Tï ko mne
sklonilas na plecho glavoy…
Ya bezumno
schastliv, O, moy drug prekrasnïy,
Beskonechno
schastliv v etu noch s toboy!
|
The Sun Has Set
The sun has set, its
colours fading
To a light gilding
in the sky's blue…
In the enchantment
of night's voluptuous caress
The drowsy woods
softly whisper something…
And in a troubled
soul, the pangs abate,
And all breathe
easily on this night,
The shades of
glorious night, the sounds of glorious night
Take you and me, my
dear, far, far away
All bound in bliss
this passionate night,
You have rested your
head on my shoulder…
I'm madly happy, oh,
my beautiful love,
Infinitely happy
with you this night!…
|
[21]
|
Sred mrachnïkh dney
Sred mrachnïkh dney,
pod gnyotom bed,
Iz mglï tumannoy
proshlïkh let,
Kak otblesk
radostnïkh luchey,
Mne svetit vzor
tvoyikh ochey.
Pod obayan'yem
svetlïkh snov
Mne mnitsya, – ya
s toboyu vnov.
Pri svete dnya, v
nochnoy tishi
Delyus vostorgami
dushi.
Ya vnov s tabay!
– moya pechal
Umchalas v
pasmurnuyu dal…
I strastno vnov
khachu ya zhit –
Toboy dïshat,
tebya lyubit!
|
On Gloomy Days
On gloomy days,
beneath misfortune's burden,
Out of the hazy mist
of years past,
Like a reflection of
joyful rays,
The look in your
eyes shines upon me.
Under the spell of
luminous dreams
It seems to me I am
with you once more.
In the bright day,
in the silent night,
I share the delights
of the heart.
I am with you once
more! My sadness
Whirls away into the
cloudy distance…
And again,
passionately, I want to live-
To breathe for you,
to love you!
|
[22]
|
Snova, kak prezhde
Snova, kak
prezhde, odin,
Snova abyat ya
toskoy…
Smotritsya topol
v okno,
Ves ozaryonnïy
lunoy…
Smotritsya topol
v okno…
Shepchut o chyom
to listï…
V zvyozdakh
goryat nebesa…
Gde teper,
milaya, tï?
Vsyo, chto
tvoritsya so mnoy,
Ya peredat ne
berus…
Drug! pomolis za
menya,
Ya za tebya uzh molyus…
|
Once More, As Before
Once more, as
before, alone,
Once more I am
filled with anguish…
A poplar is
reflected in the window,
All illuminated by
the moon…
The poplar is
reflected in the window…
Leaves are
whispering of something…
The sky sparkles
with stars…
Where are you now,
my sweet?
Everything that
happens to me,
I do not mind
telling…
Friend! Pray for me,
I am praying for
you…
|
Translations: Wil
Gowans
|