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Уж ты, нива моя, нивушка, Не скосить тебя с маху единого, Не связать тебя всю во единый сноп! Уж вы, думы мои, думушки, Не стряхнуть вас разом с плеч долой, Одной речью-то вас не высказать! По тебе-ль, нива, ветер разгуливал, Гнул колосья твои до-земли, Зрелы зерна-все разметывал! Широко вы, думы, порассыпались, Куда пала какая думушка. Там всходила люта печаль-трава, Выростало горе горючее.
About the headline (FAQ)
Confirmed with Новѣйшіе русскіе писатели: опыт христоматіи періода русской словесности после Гоголя, составил А. Цветков, С.-Петерсбург, Издание Ф. Павленкова, 1883.
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Note on TransliterationsAuthorship
- by Aleksei Konstantinovich Tolstoy, Count (1817 - 1875), no title [author's text checked 1 time 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 Sergei Vasil'yevich Rachmaninov (1873 - 1943), "Уж ты, нива моя!", op. 4 (Шесть романсов = Shest' romansov (Six songs) ) no. 5 [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Lyle Neff) , no title, copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) [singable] (Guy Laffaille) , "Ô toi, mon champ de blé !", copyright © 2015, (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: 13
Word count: 62
O you, my grain-field, little grain-field, one cannot mow you with a single stroke, one cannot tie you all up into a single sheaf! O you, my thoughts, little thoughts, one cannot all at once get rid of you, one cannot express you with one utterance! The wind would stroll through you, grain-field, would bend your ears [of grain] to the earth, and toss all the mature grains! You, [my] thoughts, would scatter yourselves far and wide, to where some little thought would fall. In that place a cruel grass of sadness would sprout, a burning grief would spring up.
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Authorship
- Translation from Russian (Русский) to English copyright © 2015 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 Aleksei Konstantinovich Tolstoy, Count (1817 - 1875), no title
This text was added to the website: 2015-04-06
Line count: 13
Word count: 100