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И дрогнули враги от дружного напора, Средь окровавленных, истоптанных полей Разнёсся грозный клич ликующих вождей, И груды мёртвых тел, и шум последний спора... Считая выбывших, как мёртвые листы, Солдаты гневный взор печально устремляют Туда, где сонм стрелков Фраата исчезает; Горячий пот кропит их смуглые черты. Осыпан стрелами и ранами покрытый И жаркой кровью с ног до головы залитый, Под рокот труб с челом надменным выезжает Антоний на своём измученном коне... Багровым заревом небесный свод пылает.
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Note on TransliterationsText Authorship:
- by Lev L'vovich Kobylinsky (1889 - 1947), as Ellis [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by José-María de Hérédia (1842 - 1905), "Soir de bataille", appears in Les Trophées
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 Ivanovich Taneyev (1856 - 1915), "И дрогнули враги", op. 26 no. 8 (1908), published 1909 [ voice and piano ], from 10 Стихотворений из сборника Эллисъ «Иммортели» (10 Stikhotvorenij iz sbornika Ellis 'Immorteli') = 10 Poems from Ellis's Immortelles, no. 8, Berlin : Russischer Musikverlag [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Aleksey Berg) , "And the foes trembled", copyright © 2019, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) [singable] (Hedwig Lachmann) , "Die Feinde erzitterten. (Sonette.)"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2003-11-03
Line count: 13
Word count: 75
And the foes trembled under the collective push, And through the bloody, stomped-out fields, Was heard a terrible cry of the triumphant chieftains And piles of dead bodies, and last snatches of an argument... Counting those who perished, like dead leaves, The soldiers mournfully direct their angry gaze there Where a company of Phraates’ archers disappears; Hot sweat smears their swarthy faces. Marc Antony, pierced by arrows and covered by wounds, Drenched in blood from head to toe, Rides out arrogantly to the blare of trumpets, Antony, on his exhausted stallion... The firmament is ablaze in crimson red.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from Russian (Русский) to English copyright © 2019 by Aleksey Berg, (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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Based on:
- a text in Russian (Русский) by Lev L'vovich Kobylinsky (1889 - 1947), as Ellis
Based on:
- a text in French (Français) by José-María de Hérédia (1842 - 1905), "Soir de bataille", appears in Les Trophées
This text was added to the website: 2019-07-21
Line count: 13
Word count: 98