Russian Romances

Misha Myznikov, baritone
Natalya Ageyeva, piano

Mikhail Glinka

Somnenije
(Nestor Kukol’nik)

Doubt

Ujmites’, volnenija strasti!
Zasni, beznadezhnoje serdce!
Ja plachu, ja strazhdu, –
Dusha utomilas’ v razluke;
Ja strazhdu, ja plachu, –
Ne vyplakat’ gorja v slezakh.
Naprasno nadezhdu mne schast’e gadajet,
Ne verju, ne verju obetam kovarnym!
Razluka unosit ljubov’.
Kak son neotstupnyj i groznyj,
Mne snitsja sopernik schastlivyj,
I tajno i zlobno
Kipjashchaja revnost’ pylajet,
I tajno i zlobno
Oruzhija ishchet ruka.
Naprasno izmenu mne revnost’ gadajet,
Ne verju, ne verju kovarnym navetam.
Ja schastliv, ty snova moja.
Minujet pechal’noje vremja, –
My snova obnimem drug druga,
I strastno i zharko zab’etsja voskressheje
serdce,
I strastno i zharko s ustami sol’jutsja usta.

Ya pomnyu chudnoe mgnovene
(Alexander Pushkin)
Ya pomnyu chudnoe mgnovene:
Peredo mnoi yavilas ty,
Kak mimolyotnoe videne,
Kak genii chistoi krasoty.
V tomlene grusti beznadezhnoi,
V trevogakh shumnoi suyety,
Zvuchal mne dolgo golos nezhnyi,
I snilis milye cherty. Shli gody.
Bur poryv myatezhnyi
Rasseyal prezhnie mechty,
I ya zabyl tvoi golos nezhnyi,
Tvoi nebesnye cherty.
V glushi, vo mrake zatochenya
Tyanulis tikho dni moi
Bez bozhestva, bez vdokhnovenya,
Bez slyoz, bez zhizni, bez lyubvi.
Dushe nastalo probushdene:
I vot opyat yavilas ty,
Kak mimolyotnoe videne,
Kak genii chistoi krasoty.
I serdtse byotsa v upoyene,
I dlya nego voskresil vnov
I bozhestvo, i vdokhnovene,
I zhizn, i slyozy, i lyubov.

Be stopped, restlestness of passion!
Fall asleep, hopeless heart!
I weep, I suffer,
The soul is tired of separation;
I suffer, I weep,
Not to sob the grief into tears.
In vain hope to me happiness looks,
I do not believe, I do not believe insidious
vows!
Separation takes away love.
Like a sleep persistent and terrible,
I dream of my happy rival,
And secretly and maliciously
boiling jealousy blazes,
And secretly and maliciously
my hand searches for a weapon.
In vain jealousy brings treason to me,
I do not believe, I do not believe the
insidious slander.
I am happy: you are mine again.
Sadly the time passes,
we again embrace each other,
And passionately and hotly my happy heart throbs again,
And passionately and hotly our lips melt together.

I remember a wondrous moment
(Trans, Philip Ross Bullock)
I remember a wondrous moment:
You appeared before me,
Like some fleeing vision,
Like a genius of pure beauty.
Amidst the yearning of hopeless dejection,
And the agitation of strident vanity,
Your tender voice called out to me,
And I dreamt of your tender features.
Year passed by. The rebellious gust of storms
Scattered my former dreams,
And I forgot your tender voice,
And your heavenly features.
In solitude and gloomy isolation
My days quietly stretched out,
Deprived of divinity and inspiration,
Of tears and live and love itself.
But once again my soul awoke:
And once again you appeared,
Like some fleeing vision,
Like a genius of pure beauty.
And my heart beats in intoxication,
And divinity and inspiration,
And life and tears and love itself
Are once again returned to life.

Pyotr Tchaikovsky

Sred shumnovo bala
(Aleksei Tolstoy)

Amidst the din of the ball
(Trans, Philip Ross Bullock)

Sred shumnovo bala, sluchaino,
V trevoge mirskoi suety,
Tebya ya uvidel, no taina
Tvoi pokryvala cherty.
Lish ochi pechalno glyadeli,
A golos tak divno zvuchal,
Kak zvon otdalyonnoi svireli,
Kak morya igrayushchyi val.
Mne stan tvoi ponravilsa tonkyi
I ves tvoi zadumchivyi vid,
A smekh tvoy, i grustnyi, i zvonkyi,
S tekh por v moyom serdtse zvuchit.
V chasy odinokie nochi
Lyublyu ya, ustalyi, prilech;
Ya vizhu pechalnye ochi,
Ya slyshu vesyoluyu rech,
I grustno ya, grustno tak zasypayu,
I v gryozakh nevedomykh splyu …
Lyublyu li tebya, ya ne znayu,
No kazhetsa mne, chto lyublyu!

Amidst the din of the ball, by chance,
In the commotion of worldly vanity,
I glimpsed you, but mystery
Covered your features.
Only your eyes looked sad,
But the divine sound of your voice
Was like the of far-off pipes,
Or the dancing waves of the sea.
I fell for your delicate form,
And all of your pensiveness,
And your laughter, both sad and sonorous,
Still rings in my heart.
In the lonely hours of night,
I love to lie down, tired;
I see your sad eyes,
I hear your joyful words.
And wistful, so wistfully falling asleep,
I drift into mysterious dreams…
I don’t know whether I love you,
But I think I probably do!

Snova, kak prezhde
(Daniil Rathaus)
Snova, kak prezhde, odin,
Snova ob”jat ja toskoj
Smotritsja topol’ v okno,
Ves’ ozarjonnyj lunoj
Smotritsja topol’ v okno
Shepchut o chem to listy
V zvezdakh gorjat nebesa
Gde teper’, milaja, ty?
Vsjo, chto tvoritsja so mnoj,
Ja peredat’ ne berus’.
Drug! pomolis’ za menja,
Ja za tebja uzh moljus’!

Again, as before, alone
(Trans, Philip Ross Bullock)
Again, as before, I am alone,
Melancholy once again holds me in its embrace.
Through the window I can see a poplar
Standing in the light of the moon.
Through the window I can see the poplar,
Its leaves whisper about something,
The sky is aflame, full of stars,
Why are you now, my beloved?
I cannot begin to convey
All that is happening to me.
My friend! Pray for me,
As I already pray for you!

Sergei Rachmaninoff

Siren’
(Ekaterina Beketova)
Po utru, na zare,
Po rosistoj trave,
Ja pojdu svezhim utrom dyshat’;
I v dushistuju ten’,
Gde tesnitsja siren’,
Ja pojdu svoje schast’e iskat’…
V zhizni schast’e odno
Mne najti suzhdeno,
I to schast’e v sireni zhivjot;
Na zeljonykh vetvjakh,
Na dushistykh kistjakh
Mojo bednoje schast’e cvetjot…

Lilacs
(Trans, Philip Ross Bullock)
In the morning, at dawn,
Through the dew-clad grass,
I shall walk, breathing in the freshness of morning;
And to the fragrant shade,
Where lilacs cluster,
I shall go in search of my happiness…
In life there is but one happiness
That I am fated to find,
And that happiness lives in the lilacs;
On their green branches,
In their fragrant clusters
My poor happiness blooms…

Ne poi krasavitsa
(A. Pushkin)
Ne poi, krasavitsa, pri mne
Ty pesen Gruzii pechalnoi;
Napominayut mne one
Druguyu zhizn i bereg dalnyi.
Uvy, napominayut mne
Tvoi zhestokie napevy
I step, i noch – i pri lune
Cherty dalyokoy, miloi devï.

Do not sing for me fair maiden
(Trans, Philip Ross Bullock)
Oh do not sing for me, fair maiden,
Those Georgian songs so sad;
The remind me
Of another life and a distant shore.
Alas, your cruel strains
Remind me
Of the steppe and the night,
And the moonlit face of my distant beloved.