Было время, процветала

Было время, процветала
В мире наша сторона:
В воскресение бывала
Церковь божия полна;
Наших деток в шумной школе
Раздавались голоса,
И сверкали в светлом поле
Серп и быстрая коса.

Ныне церковь опустела;
Школа глухо заперта;
Нива праздно перезрела;
Роща темная пуста;
И селенье, как жилище
Погорелое, стоит, —
Тихо все. Одно кладбище
Не пустеет, не молчит.

Поминутно мертвых носят,
И стенания живых
Боязливо бога просят
Упокоить души их!
Поминутно места надо,
И могилы меж собой,
Как испуганное стадо,
Жмутся тесной чередой!

Если ранняя могила
Суждена моей весне —
Ты, кого я так любила,
Чья любовь отрада мне, —
Я молю: не приближайся
К телу Дженни ты своей,
Уст умерших не касайся,
Следуй издали за ней.

И потом оставь селенье!
Уходи куда-нибудь,
Где б ты мог души мученье
Усладить и отдохнуть.
И когда зараза минет,
Посети мой бедный прах;
А Эдмонда не покинет
Дженни даже в небесах!

Translation(s): ENG

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Authorship

• by Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin (1799 - 1837), no title [ author's text checked 1 time]

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

• by César Antonovich Cui (1835 - 1918), "Песня Мэри", op. 55 (Восемь романсов = Vosem' romansov (Eight romances)) no. 2 [voice and piano], Leipzig, Belaieff [
   text not verified 
  ]

Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):

• ENG English [singable] (Lyle Neff) , title 1: "Mary's song", copyright © 1997, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Text added to the website: 2014-06-27.
Last modified: 2015-03-06 21:26:54
Line count: 40
Word count: 146

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Mary's song

Once our country, ever growing,
Flourished peacefully before;
Churches filled to overflowing,
Ev'ry Sunday bringing more;
In the schoolhouse, faces beaming,
Children's voices would resound;
Scythe and sickle, brightly gleaming,
Harvested the fertile ground.

Now church gatherings have ended,
Schools are locked and silence keep;
Groves in darkness left untended,
Ripened fields with none to reap.
And the village, like a lonely
Burned-down dwelling place, stands bare.
All is still, the graveyard only
is not silent, growing there.

Ev'ry moment dead are carried
By the living, who with dread
Pray to God, as each is buried,
That His peace may calm the dead.
Ev'ry moment there are places
Needed as each is interred,
Pressing close in narrow spaces,
Gathered like a frightened herd.

If the grave commands me early
That my spring shall never be,
You, whom I have loved so dearly,
And whose love is joy to me,
I implore: from her be hidden,
Far from Jenny's body stay;
Her dead lips are now forbidden,
Follow her from far away.

Leave the village, stay no longer,
Seek another place to dwell;
Let your weary soul grow stronger,
all your torments to dispel.
When the plague has left forever,
Find my lowly grave somehow:
Jenny's love for Edmund never
Falters, though in heaven now!

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Authorship

• Singable translation from Russian (Русский) to English copyright © 1997 by Lyle Neff, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
  
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• a text in Russian (Русский) by Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin (1799 - 1837), no title
• This text was set to music by the following composer(s): César Antonovich Cui. Go to the text.

Text added to the website: 2015-03-06.
Last modified: 2015-03-06 21:34:49
Line count: 40
Word count: 214