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Брожу ли я вдоль улиц шумных, Вхожу ль во многолюдный храм, Сижу ль меж юношей безумных, Я предаюсь моим мечтам. Я говорю: промчатся годы, И сколько здесь не видно нас, Мы все сойдём под вечны своды - И чей-нибудь уж близок час. Гляжу ль на дуб уединенный, Я мыслю: патриарх лесов Переживёт мой век забвенный, Как пережил он век отцов. Младенца ль милого ласкаю, Уже я думаю: прости! Тебе я место уступаю: Мне время тлеть, тебе цвести. День каждый, каждую годину Привык я думой провождать, Грядущей смерти годовщину Меж них стараясь угадать. И где мне смерть пошлёт судьбина? В бою ли, в странствии, в волнах? Или соседняя долина Мой примет охладелый прах? И хоть бесчувственному телу Равно повсюду истлевать Но ближе к милому пределу Мне всё б хотелось почивать. И пусть у гробового входа Младая будет жизнь играть И равнодушная природа Красою вечною сиять.
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Note on TransliterationsAuthorship:
- by Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin (1799 - 1837) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Anatoly Nikolayevich Aleksandrov (1888 - 1982), "Брожу ли я вдоль улиц шумных", 1936, published 1938 [ voice and piano ], from Шесть романсов Пушкина (Shest' romansov Pushkina) = Seven Romances of Pushkin, no. 5 [sung text not yet checked]
- by Dmitri Dmitriyevich Shostakovich (1906 - 1975), "Станцы", op. 46 no. 4 (1936) [ bass and piano ] [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Tom Kennedy) , "Stanzas", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Stances", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 32
Word count: 144
Whether I am wandering along noisy streets, Or entering a crowded church If I am sitting among boisterous young men I fall into my revery I say: The years will rush by, And how many I know not We will all come down under eternal domes And someone's hour is already at hand. When I look at the solitary oak I think: the patriarch of the woods Will outlive my forgotten century As it has outlived those of my forefathers If I am holding a sweet infant, already I think; Goodbye! To you I offer my place: For me it is time to decay, for you to bloom Each day, each year, I have become accustomed to think ahead Trying to guess which of them would be the year of my death And where will fate send death to me? Will it be in battle, in the waves? Or will my neighbouring valley accept my cold ashes? And although for the unfeeling corpse It is all the same wherever it is to be reduced to dust, yet closer to my sweet homeland Would I like to sleep And at my grave entrance, may young life play and indifferent nature with eternal beauty shine.
Authorship:
- Translation from Russian (Русский) to English copyright © 2008 by Tom Kennedy, (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.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in Russian (Русский) by Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin (1799 - 1837)
This text was added to the website: 2008-02-25
Line count: 32
Word count: 203