Modest Mussorgsky Songs

Sung texts

CD1 ENGLISH TRANSLATION

Pesni i Plaski Smerti Songs and Dances of Death Texts: Golenischev‐Kutusov Texts: Golenischev‐Kutusov 1. Kolïbel'neya 1. Lullaby Stonet rebyonok, svecha, nagoraya, A child moans, a candle burns low, Tusklo mertsayet krugom. And casts a dim flicker around. Tseluyu noch, kolybel'ku kachaya, All through the night, her cradle rocking, Mat' ne zabylasa snom. The mother has not slumbered. Ranym‐ranyokhonko v dver ostorozhno Early in the morning, at the door so gently Smert' serdobol'naya stuk! Death, the compassionate, knocks! Vzdrognula mat', oglyanulas trevozhno... The mother gives a start, and looks round in fear... "Polno pugat'sa, moy drug! “Be not afraid, my dear! Blednoe utro uzh smotrit v okoshko, The pale light of morn now peeps through the window, Placha, toskuya, lyublya, weeping, in longing, in love, Ty utomilas, vzdremni‐ka nemnozhko, Thou hast worn thyself out, now rest thee awhile, Ya posizhu za tebya. and I will sit here by his side. Ugomonit' ty ditya ne sumela; Thou hast not been able to soothe the poor child, Slashche tebya ya spoyu." Sweeter than thou shall I sing." "Tishe! Rebyonok moy mechetsa, byotsa, “Softly! My child is tossing and restless, Dushu terzayet moyu!" It grieves my heart thus to see him!" "Nu, da so mnoyu on skoro uymyotsa, “Come now, he soon will listen to me. Bayushki, bayu, bayu." Hush‐a‐bye, baby, my own." "Shchochki bledneyut, slabeyet dykhan'ye... “His dear cheeks are pale, his breath is failing... Da zamolchi zhe, molyu!" Be silent now, do, I beseech thee!" "Dobroye znamen'e: stikhnet stradan'e. “That's a good sign: soon his suffering will end. Bayushki, bayu, bayu." Hush‐a‐bye, baby, my own." "Proch ty, proklyataya! Laskoy svoyeyu “Get thee away, O accursed one! Thy caresses Sgubish ty radost' moyu." The joy of my heart will destroy." "Net, mirny son ya mladentsu naveyu: “Nay, the sleep of peace will I breathe on the infant: Bayushki, bayu, bayu." Hush‐a‐bye, baby, my own." "Szhal'sa, pozhdi dopevat', khot' mnogoven'ye Have mercy! O tarry, if just for a moment, Strashnuyu pesnyu tvoyu!" Ere ending that dread song of thine!" "Vidish, usnul on pod tikhoe pen'ye. “See now, he sleeps to the singing so gentle. Bayushki, bayu, bayu." Hush‐a‐bye, baby, my own."

Composed 14 April 1875 in St. Petersburg, dedicated to Anna J. V. Petrou

2. Serenade 2. Serenade Nega vol'shebnaya, noch golubaya, The magical languor, the blue of the night, Trepetny sumrak vesny... The trembling twilight of spring... Vnemlet, poniknuv golovkoy, bol'naya She listens, the invalid, hanging her head, Shopot nochnoy tishiny. To the whisper of night's silent words. Son ne smykayet blestyashchie ochi, Her eyes, wide and burning, are not dosed in slumber, Zhizn k naslazhdenyu zovyot! Life to its joys calls her still! A pod okoshkom v molchaniy polnochi Yet under her window in the silence of midnight Smert' serenadu poyot: Death sings his soft serenade: "V mrake nevoli, surovoy i tesnoy, “In the dark gloom of prison, severe and confining, Molodost' vyanet tvoya, Thy youth will fade quite away, Rytsar nevedomy, siloy chudesnoy But I, thy unknown knight, with my wondrous power, Osvobozhu ya tebya. Will set thee free. Vstan, posmotri na sebya: krasotoyu Rise, look on thyself: with what beauty Lik tvoy prozrachny blestit, Thy face in radiance doth shine, Shchoki rumyany, volnistoy kosoyu Thy cheeks so rosy, thy rippling tresses Stan tvoy kak tuchey obvit. Veiling thy form like a cloud. Pristal'nykh glaz goluboye siyan'e The blue radiance of thine eyes so intense Yarche nebes i ognya... Is brighter than the skies or fire... Znoyem poludennym veyet dykhan'e… With midday's heat thy breath bloweth o'er me... Ty obol'stila menya. Thou hast bewitched me, my love. Slukh tvoy plenilsa moyey serenadoy, Thine ear is captivated by my soft serenade, Rystsarya shopot tvoy zval. Thy whispered words summoned thy knight.

94928 Mussorgsky: Songs 1

Rytsar prishol za posledney nagradoy: Thy knight has come for his final reward: Chas upoyen'ya nastal. The hour of rapture is near. Nezhen tvoy stan, upoitelen trepet, Fair is thy form, thy tremor enthralling, O, zadushu ya tebya O, I will clasp thee, my own, V krepkikh ob'yat'yakh; lyubovny moy lepet In strongest embraces; to my lays of love Slushay... molchi...Ty moya! Harken... be still... Thou art mine!"

Composed 11 May 1875 in St. Petersburg, dedicated to Ludmilla I. Shestakova‐Glinka

3. Trepak 3. Trepak (Russian Dance) Les da polyany, bezlyud'e krugom... In the forest and glades not a soul is in sight... Vyuga i plachet i stonet... The blizzard doth wail and howl... Chuyetsa, budto vo mrake nochnom It feels as if in the gloom of the night Zlaya kovo‐to khoronit. The cruel snow is burying some poor man. Glyad', tak i yest'! v temnote muzhika Look ‐ so it is! In the darkness a peasant Smert' obnimayet, laskayet; By Death is embraced and caressed; S pyanenkim plyashet vdvoyom trepaka, With a drunkard Death dances a trepak together, Na ukho pesn napevayet: And sings in his ear a sweet song: "Okh, muzhichok, starichok ubogy, "Hey, poor peasant, thou wretched old man, Pyan napilsa, poplyolsa dorogoy; Thou hast drunk thyself silly and wandered astray; A metel‐to, ved'ma, podnyalas, vzygrala, But the blizzard, like a witch, rose and played with thee, S polya v les dremuchy nevznachay zagnala, From the glades to the forest dense chanced to drive thee, Gorem, toskoy, da nuzhdoy tomimy, Through sorrow and grief and want grown weary, Lyag, prikorni da usni, rodimy, Lie down, rest and sleep, my friend, Ya tebya, golubchik moy, snezhkom sogreyu, And I shall warm thee, my dear, with a cover of snow, Vdrug tebya velikuyu igru zateyu. Around thee a fine game will I start. Vzbey‐ka posteI' ty, metel' lebyodka! Shake up the bed, thou swan‐like snow! Hey, nachinay, zapevay, pogodka, Hey there, begin, start up a song, wild weather, Skazku da takuyu, shtob vsyu noch tyanulas, A song to last the whole night through, Shtob pyanchuge krepko pod neyo zasnulas. That this drunkard may sink into sleep to its strains. Oy vy, lesa, nebesa da tuchi, O you forests, heavens and clouds, Tem, veterok da snezhok letuchy, Darkness, breeze and sweeping snow, Sveytes pelenoyu snezhnoy pukhovoyu, Wrap him in a shroud of softest snow, Yeyu kak mladentsa starichka prikroyu. And in it like a babe the old man I'll shelter. Spi, moy druzhok, muzhichok schastlivy, Sleep, my friend, my peasant so happy, Leto prishlo, rastsvelo! Summer has come, and all is in bloom! Nad nivoy solnyshko smeyotsa da serpy gulyayut, O'er the cornfields the sun doth smile and the sickles are swinging, Pesenka nesyotsa, golubki letayut!... " The song rises up, and the doves are flying!... "

Composed 17 February 1875 in St. Petersburg, dedicated to Ossip A. Petrov, a famous bass

4. Polkovodets 4. The Field‐Marshal Grokhochet bitva, bleshchut broni, The battle thunders, the armour flashes, Orud'ya mednyye revut, The cannons of bronze do roar, Begut polki, nesutsa koni, The regiments charge, the horses rush by, I reki krasnyye tekut, And red rivers of blood do flow. Pylayet polden, lyudi bytusa! Noon burns fierce, the people fight on! Sklonilos sontse, boy sil'ney! When the sun has sunk low, the battle rages fiercer! Zakat bledneyet, no derutsa Sunset pales, yet the enemies fight on Vragi vsyo yarostney i zley! More furiously still and savagely! I pala noch na pole brani, And night doth fall on the field of battle. Druzhiny v mrake razoshlis... In the gloom the legions disperse... Vsyo stikhlo, i v nochnom tumane All is quiet, and in the darkness of night Stenan'ya k nebu podnyalis. Groans rise up to the sky, Togda, ozarena lunoyu, Then, illumined by the light of the moon, Na boevom svoyom kone, On his battle horse astride, Kostey sverkaya beliznoyu, His white bones gleaming in the pale light, Yavilos smert'. I v tishine, Comes the figure of Death. And in the quiet, Vnimaya vopli i molitvy, He hears the groans and prayers, Dovol'stva gordovo polna, And filled with pride and satisfaction, Kak polkovodets, mesto bitvy Like a warrior chief, he circles around Krugom ob'yekhala ona. The place of battle. Na kholm podnyavshis, oglyanulas, Up to a hill he climbs, and looks about, Ostanovilos, ulybnulas... Stops, and gives a smile... I nad ravninoy boyevoy And o'er the battle plain Pronyossya golos rokovoy: The voice of doom is heard: "Konchena bitva! Ya vsekh pobedila! "The fight is ended! I have conquered all!

94928 Mussorgsky: Songs 2

Vse predo mnoy vy smirilis, boytsy! Before me you have yielded, warriors all! Zhizn vas possorila, ya pomirila! Life set you at odds, but I joined you in peace! Druzhno vstavayte na smotr, mertvetsy! Rise up together for the roll‐call of Death! Marshem torzhestvennym mimo proydite, March in a solemn file all of you before me, Voysko moyo ya khochu soschitat'. My troops I do wish to record. V zemlyu potom svoi kosti slozhite, Then later your bones in the earth you may lay, Sladko ot zhizni v zemle otdykhat'! Sweetly to rest from life's toils in the earth! Gody nezrimo proydut za godami, Year after year will pass by unheeded, V lyudyakh ischeznet i pamyat' O vas. And amongst men no memory of you shall remain. Ya ne zabudu! I gromko nad vami But I'll not forget! And over your bones here Pir budu pravit' v polunochny chas! I'll have a loud feast at midnight's hour! Plyaskoy tyazholoyu zemlyu syruyu In the dance's heavy tread upon the damp earth Ya pritopchu, shtoby sen grobovuyu I'll stamp, so the shades of the grave Kosti pokinut' vovek ne smogli, Your bones will never, no never escape, Shtob nikogda vam ne vstat' iz zemli!" And you'll never rise out of the earth again!"

Composed 5 June 1877 in Tsarskoye‐Syelo, dedicated to Prince Arsenyi Golenistchev‐Kutosov. For this song Mussorgsky made use of the theme of the Polish revolutionary march "Z dymen pozarow" The manuscript is in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

Detskaya The Nursery Vocal Suite of 5 songs on texts by Mussorgsky. First edition 1872, illustrated by Repin. The Besse edition of 1908 contains two additional new songs.

5. S nyaney 5. With Nurse Rasskazhi mne, nyanyushka, Tell me, Nanny, Rasskazhi mne, milaya, Tell me, dear Nanny, Pro tovo pro buku strashnovo: The story of the dreadful bogey‐man, Kak tot buka po lesam brodil, And how he used to roam through the forests, Kak tot buka vies detey nosil And how he carried off children into the wood, I kak gryz on belyye kostochki, And devoured their white bones, I ka deti te krichali, plakali! And how the children cried out and wept! Nyanyushka! Nanny dear! Ved' zato ikh, detey‐to, buka syel, Was that why the bogey‐man ate up the children, Shto obideli nyanyu staruyu, Because they had upset their old Nanny, Papu 5 mamoy ne poslushali, And disobeyed their father and mother? Ved' zato on syel ikh, nyanyushka? Was that why he ate them up, Nanny dear?

Ili vot shto: No, wait: Rasskazhi mne luchshe pro tsarya s tsaritsey, Teil me instead about the Tsar and the Tsaritsa, Shto za morem zhili v teremu bogatom. Who lived by the sea in a rich palace. Yeshcho tsar vsyo na nogu khromal, The Tsar was always limping, Kak spotknyotsa tak grib vyrastit. And where he stumbled, a mushroom grew up. U tsaritsy ta vsyo nasmork byl, The Tsaritsa always had a cold, Kak chikhnyot styokla v drebezgi! And when she sneezed, it made the windows crack! Znayesh, nyanyushka: Listen, Nanny dear, Ty pro buku to uzh ne rasskazyvay! Don't tell me about the boogey‐man again! Bog s nim, s bukoy! Let's leave him alone! Rasskazhi mne, nyanya, tu, smeshnuyu‐to! Tell me the other story, the funny one!

Composed 26 April 1868 in St. Petersburg, dedicated to A.S. Dargomizhky. The manuscript is in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

6. V uglu 6. In the Corner Akh ty, prokaznik! Oh, you naughty boy! Klubok razmotal, prutki rasteryal, You've tangled my wool, and messed up my needles. Akhti! vse petli spustil! Really! You've made me drop all my stitches! Chulok ves zabryzgal chernilami! This sock is all splattered with ink! V ugol! V ugol! Go into the corner! Into the corner! Poshol v ugol! Off with you into the corner! Prokaznik! You naughty boy!

Ya nichevo ne sdelal, nyanyushka, I didn't do anything, Nanny dear, Ya chulochek ne trogal, nyanyushka! I never touched your sock, Nanny dear! Klubochek razmotal kotyonochek, The kitten tangled up your wool,

94928 Mussorgsky: Songs 3

I prutochki razbrosal kotyonochek, It was the kitten who messed up your needles; A Mishen'ka byl payn'ka, Misha was a good boy, Mishen'ka byl umnitsa. , Misha was a clever boy. A nyanya zlaya, staraya, u nyani nosik zapachkanny. But Nanny is wicked and old, Nanny has a dirty nose. Misha chisten'ky, prichosanny, Misha is nice and clean, and his hair is properly brushed, A u nyani chepchik na boku. But Nanny's cap is all crooked. Nyanya Mishen'ku obidela, naprasno v ugol postavila Nanny has upset Misha, and put him in the corner Misha bol'she ne budet lyubit' svoyu nyanyushku, vot shto! for no reason at all: Misha won't love his Nanny any more, so there!

Composed 30 September 1870 in St. Petersburg, dedicated to V.A. Hartmann

7. Zhuk 7. The Beetle Nyanya, nyanyushka! shto sluchilos, nyanya dushen'ka! Nanny, Nanny dear! Listen what's happened, Nanny darling! Ya igral tam na pesochke, za besedkoy, gde beryozki, I was playing there on the sand, behind the Stroil domik iz luchinochek klenovykh, summer‐house, by the birch‐trees, Tekh, shto mne mama, sama mama nashchepala. Building a little house out of maple twigs, Domik uzh sovsem postroil, Those which Mama had cut for me. Domik s kryshoy, nastoyashchy domik, Vdrug! I'd already finished building the little house, Na samoy kryshke zhuk sidit, A little house with a roof, a proper little house, when suddenly... ! Ogromny, chorny, tolsty takoy, usami shevelit strashno tak, There, right on the roof, a beetle was sitting, I pryamo na menya vsyo smotrit! A huge, black one, with his whiskers bristling so fearfully, Ispugalsa ya! A zhuk gudit, zlitsa, And staring straight at me! Kryl'ya rastopyril, skhvatit' menya khochet!... I was terrified! Then he started buzzing and getting angry, I naletel, v visochek menya udaril! He opened his wings wide, and wanted to grab hold of me... ! Ya pritailsa, nyanyushka, prisel, boyus poshevel'nut'sa! Then he flew at me and hit me on the forehead! Tol'ko glazok odin chut'‐chut' otkryl, I hid myself, Nanny dear, and crouched down; I was afraid to I shto‐zhe, poslushay, nyanyushka: move! Zhuk lezhit, slozhivshi lapki, kverkhu nosikom, na spinke, I just peeped out of one eye, I uzh ne zlitsa, i usami ne shevelit, And listen, Nanny, what do you think, I ne gudit uzh, tol'ko krylyshki drozhat. The beetle lay there on his back, with his feet folded and his nose Shto‐zh, on umer, il' pritvorilsa? in the air, Shto‐zh eto, shto‐zh, skazhi mne, nyanya, s zhukom‐to stalos? And he wasn't angry any more, and his whiskers weren't bristling. Menya udaril, a sam svalilsa! Do you think he was dead, or just pretending? Shto‐zh eto s nim stalos, s zhukom‐to! What do you think, Nanny, what was up with the beetle? He hit me, and then fell down! What was he up to, that beetle?

Composed 18 October 1870 in St. Petersburg, dedicated to V. V. Stassov

8. S kukloy 8. With the Doll Tyapa, bay, bay, Tyapa, spi, usni, Dolly, bye, bye, Dolly, sleep, go to sleep, Ugomon tebya vozmi! Tyapa! spat' nado! Lie down quietly! Dolly! It's time to go to sleep! Tyapa, spi, usni, Tyapa buka syest, sery volk vozmyot, Dolly, sleep, go to sleep, or the boogey‐man will eat V tyomny les snesyot. you up, the big bad wolf will get you, Tyapa, spi, usni! And take you away into the dark forest. Shto vo sne uvidish, mne pro to rasskazhesh: Dolly, sleep, go to sleep! Pro ostrov chudny, gde ni zhnut ni seyut, Tell me about your dreams: Gde tsvetut i zreyut grushi nalivnyye, About the wonderful island where they don't reap or sow, Den i noch poyut ptichki zolotyye! And where luscious pear‐trees blossom and ripen, Bay, bay, bayu bay, bay, bay, Tyapa! And where all day and night golden birds sing! Bye, bye, lullaby, bye, bye, Dolly!

Composed 18 December 1870 in St. Petersburg, dedicated to Tania and Giorgio Mussorgsky, the children of the composer's brother.

9. Na son gryadushchiy 9. Going to Sleep Gospodi pomiluy papu i mamu i spasi ikh, Gospodi! "God bless Mummy and Daddy, and keep them safe, O Lord! Gospodi pomiluy brattsa Vasen'ku i brattsa Mishen'ku! God bless my brothers Vasenka and Mishenka! Gospodi pomiluy babushku staren'kuyu, God bless my old granny, Poshli ty yey dobroye zdorovitse, Give her good health, Babushke dobren'koy, babushke staren'koy, Gospodi! She's such a good granny, a dear old granny, Lord! I spasi, Bozhe nash, tyotyu Katyu, tyotyu Natashu, And protect, O God, my aunties Katya, Natasha, tyotyu Mashu, tyotyu Parashu, Masha, Parasha, Tyotyey Lyubu, Varyu, i Sashu, i Olyu, i Tanyu, i Nadyu, And my aunties Lyuba, Varya, Sasha, Olya, Tanya and Nadya,

94928 Mussorgsky: Songs 4

Dyadey Petyu i Kolyu, dyadey Volodyu i Grishu, i Sashu, i vsekh ikh, And my uncles Petya and Kolya, my uncles Volodya and Grisha and Gospodi, spasi i pomiluy, i Filyu, i Vanyu, i Mityu, i Petyu, i Dashu, Sasha, and all of them, O Lord, protect and bless them all, and Pashu, Sonyu, Dunyushku... Philya and Vanya and Mitya and Petya and Dasha, And Pasha, Nyanya! a nyanya! Kak dal'she, nyanya? Sonya, Dunyusha... Vish ty, prokaznitsa kakaya! Nanny, O Nanny! How does it go next?" Uzh skol'ko raz uchila: Gospodi pomiluy i menya greshnuyu! "Really, what a scatterbrain! Gospodi pomiluy i menya greshnuyu! How many times have I told you: 'God bless me and forgive my Tak, nyanyushka? sins!'" "God bless me and forgive my sins! Is that right, Nanny dear?"

Composed 18 December 1870 in St. Petersburg, dedicated to Sasha Cui (Cesar Cui's son)

10. Poyekhal na palochke 10. On the Hobbyhorse "Hey! Hop, hop! Hop! "Gee up! Trot, trot! Trot! Hop, hop! Hey, podi! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Trot, trot! Gee up, faster! Gee up! Hey! podi! Hop, hop, hop! Hop, hop!... etc. Gee up, faster! Trot, trot, trot! Trot, trot! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Gee up, gee up, gee up, gee up, gee up, Ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, hey! Ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, gee up! Ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, podi! Ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, faster! Tpru!... Stoy! Vasya, a Vasya! Whoa!... Stop! Vasya, hi Vasya! Slushay, prikhodi igrat' sevodnya! Tol'ko ne pozdno! Listen, come and play today! Don't be late! Nu ty, hop! Hop! Proshchay, Vasya! Ya v Yukki poyekhal... Get on now! Trot! Trot! Goodbye, Vasya! I'm off to Yukki... Tol'ko k vecheru nepremenno budu, But I'll definitely be back by evening, My ved rano, ochen rano spat' lozhimsa... You know we go to bed very early... Prikhodi, smotri! Just come and see! Ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, hey! Ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, gee up! Ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, podi! Ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, faster! Hop! Hey, podi! Hey, hey podi! Hey, hey! Trot! Gee up, faster! Gee up, gee up, faster! Gee Razdavlyu! up, gee up! I'll make you go faster! Oy, bol'no! Oy, nogu! Oy, bol'no! Oy, nogu!... Oh, it hurts! Oh, my leg! Oh, it hurts! Oh, my leg!... "Serzhenika, moy mal'chik, shto za gore? Nu, polno plakat'! "My darling boy, what's the matter? Stop crying! Proidyot, moy drug! Postoy‐ka, vstan na nozhki pryamo: It'll soon get better, my love! Come, stand up properly: Vot‐tak, ditya! Posmotri, kakaya prelest'! Vidish? there, my child! Look, isn't that lovely! Can you see? V kustakh nalevo! Akh, shto za ptichka divnaya! In the bushes on the left! Oh, what a wonderful little Shto za pyoryshki! bird! Look at his feathers! Vidish?... Nu shto? Proshlo?" Can you see it? ... So, is it better now?" "Proshlo! Ya v Yukki syezdil, mama! "Yes, it is! I've been to Yukki, mama! Teper domoy toropit'sa nado... Now I must hurry back home... Hop! hop! Gosti budut... Hop! Toropit'sa nado!...” Trot! Trot! We have guests coming... Trot! We must hurry..."

Composed 14 September 1872 in St. Petersburg. The manuscript is in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

11. Kot Matros 11. The Cat Sailor Ay, ay, ay, ay, mama, milaya mama! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, Mama, darling Mama! Pobezhala ya za zontikom, mama, ochen ved zharko, I just ran to get my sunshade, mama, it's so hot, Sharila v komode i v stole iskala: net, kak nalrochno! I hunted through the cupboard, and I looked in the table drawer: Ya v toropyakh k oknu podbezhala, mozhet byt' no luck! zontik tarn pozabyla... Hurriedly I ran to the window, maybe I'd left the sunshade there... Vdrug vizhu, na okne‐to, kot nash Matros, Then suddenly I saw, on the window‐sill, our cat 'Sailor', zabravshis na kIetku, skrebyot! He'd crept up to the cage, and was scratching at it! Snigir drozhit, zabilsa v ugol, pishchit. The little finch was trembling, and hid in the corner, chirping. Zlo menya vzyalo! I got so angry! "E, brat, do ptichek ty lakom! "So, Puss, you like eating birdies, don't you? Net, postoy, popalsa. Vish‐ty, kot!" Stop it! I've got you. Just you look out, Pussy!” Kak ni v chom ne byvalo stoyu ya, smotryu v storonku, I stood quite calmly and peeped, Tol'ko glazom odnim podmechayu: stranno shto‐to! I kept one eye on him: what a strange thing! Kot spokoyno v glaza mne smotrit, The cat looked me coolly straight in the eye, A sam uzh lapu v kIetku zanosit: And was just about to grab the bird, when I slapped him! Tol'ko shto dumal skhvatit' snigirya, a ya yevo Mama, what a hard cage it was! It hurt my fingers so, mama! khlop! Mama, kakaya tvyordaya kIetka! pal'tsam tak Mama! Here, right at the tips, bol'no, mama! It's such an awful pain, an awful pain '" Mama, vot v samykh konchikakh, vot tut, Oh, what a nasty cat, mama, isn't he?" Tak noyet, noyet tak... Net! kakov kot‐to, mama, a? Composed 15 August 1872 in St. Petersburg. First published 1873, Bessel. The manuscript was until 1917 in the collection of the Russian Musical Gazette.

94928 Mussorgsky: Songs 5

12. Rayok 12. The Gallery Ey, pochtenny gospoda, zakhvatite‐ko glaza, Come, honourable gentlemen, look this way, Podkhodite, poglyadite, povidites, polyubuytes Walk up, come and see, wonder and admire Ne velikikh na gospod, muzykal'nykh voyevod! These great gentlemen, our lords of music! Vse zdes! They're all here! Razlivalas rechen'ka na tri rukava: Once a river overflowed into three streams: Odin rukav leskom proshol, One stream ran through the forest, A drugoy rukav po pesochku povernulo, Another got lost in a bed of sand, A tretiy rukav‐to pod mel'nitsu, And the third passed by the mill, Pod iz vyaza koleso, pod samy zhemov, By the mill‐wheel made of elm, right by the millstone. Oy, vertitsa koleso, oy, meli zhemov, Oh, turn, you wheel, oh, grind, you stone, Vsyu pravdu meli pro etikh molodtsov, Grind out the whole truth about these fine fellows, Muzykal'nykh udal'tsov! These brave musicians. Pokazyvayut! The show is beginning! Vot, sorvavshis s oblakov, See, breaking away from the clouds, Tumanov vechnykh zhitel', A dweller in the enteral realms Smertnym otkryvat' idyot Comes to show to mortals Smysl tainstvenny veshchey obyknovennykh, The secret mystery of simple things. S pomoshchu Bozhiyey! He comes with God's help! Uchit, shto minomy ton grekh praroditel'sky, He tells us that the minor key is a sin of our forefathers, I shto mazhomy ton grekha iskupeniye. And that the major key is the atonement for our sins. Tak‐to, vitaya v oblakakh s ptitsami nebesnymi, And so, hovering in the clouds with the birds of the sky, Rastochayet smertnym on glagoly neponyatnyye, He pours on mortals words too deep for understanding, S pomoshchu Boziyey! And God helps him! Za nim bezhit v pripryzhku Fif vechno yuny, After him, running and skipping, comes Fif, ever young, Fif neugomonny, Fif primiritel', Fif vsestoronniy, Fif the undaunted, Fif the peace‐maker, Fif the clever one, Vsyu zhizn on vertelsa, nu i zavertelsa; All his life he's been in the midst of things, now he's Nichemu ne vnemlet, i vnimat' ne v silakh, losing his head: Vnemlet tol'ko Patti, He doesn't heed anyone, he can't hear anything, Patti obozhayet, Patti vospevayet. He heeds only Patti, O Patti, Patti, O Pa‐Pa‐Patti, He adores Patti, he sings only of Patti Chudnaya Patti, divnaya Patti! O Patti, Patti, O Pa‐Pa Patti, O Patti, Patti, O Pa‐Pa‐Patti, Wonderful Patti, divine Patti, Chudnaya Patti, divnaya Patti, O Patti, Patti, O Pa‐Pa Patti, No zachem parik‐rik belokury? Wonderful Patti, divine Patti! Patti parik‐rik‐rik belokury? parik!... But why that blonde wig? Parik‐rik! Patti's blonde wig? A wig!... Patti, Patti, O Pa‐Pa‐Patti, A wig! Chudnaya Patti, divnaya Patti, Patti, Patti, O Pa‐Pa Patti, O Patti, Patti, O Pa‐Pa‐Patti, Wonderful Patti, divine Patti, Chudnaya Patti, divnaya Patti, O Patti, Patti, O Pa‐Pa Patti, Chudnaya, milaya, slavnaya, divnaya, Wonderful Patti, divine Patti, Pa‐Pa..., Pa‐Pa..., Pa‐Pa..., Pa‐Pa..., Wonderful, darling, divine, exquisite, Ti‐ti, ti‐ti, ti‐ti, ti‐ti, Ha‐ha... Ha‐ha... Ha‐ha... Ha‐ha, Pa‐Pa Patti, Pa‐Pa ti‐ti, Ti‐ti, ti‐ti, ti‐ti, ti‐ti, O ‐ O ‐ Pa‐Pa Patti, Pa‐Pa ti‐ti! Pa‐Pa‐Pa‐Patti, O ‐ O ‐ O diva Patti! Pa‐Pa‐Pa Patti, Vot pletyotsa shag za shagom O divine Patti! Tyazhko ranen mladenets, Here comes a youth staggering, step by step, Bledny, mrachny, istomlyonny, His wounds gaping; Smyt' pyatno s sebya molyashchiy, He is pale, gloomy and weary, Neprilichnoye pyatno. He pleads for the stain to be washed away, A bylo vremya, on byl nevinen The shameful stain. I poslushan'yem starshikh plenyal, There was a time when he was blameless Lepetom milym, detski stydlivym And charmed everyone by obeying his elders, Mnogikh, mnogikh serdtsa obol'shchal. And with his delightful chatter, so shy and child‐like, No proshlo to vremya. Captivated many, many hearts. Pochuya vdrug sebya polnym voli velikoy, But that time has passed. Vraga uzrel, s nim v boy vstupil Suddenly sensing within himself a mighty power I pogib. He caught sight of the enemy, engaged him in battle, Udar moral'ny ponyos bednyazhka, And was slain. Voli velikoy udar! The poor fellow suffered a moral blow, Vot on, Titan! A blow of mighty force! Titan, Titan! Here he is, Titan! Vot on mchitsa, nesyotsa, myatyolsa, Titan, Titan! Rvyot i mechet, zlitsa, grozit, See how he races and tears along in a fury, Sheklaty, strashny! How he roars and rages, storms and threatens, Na tevtonskom bukefale, How terrible and fearsome he is! Zamoryonnom tsukunftistom; On his teutonic Bucephalus, S pachkoyu gromov pod myshkoy, His hardworked steed of the future,

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Izgotovlennykh v pechatiye. With armfuls of thunderbolts Kreslo geniyu skorey! Prepared for printing. Negde geniyu prisesi'. Quick, a seat for the genius! Na obed yevo zovite! The genius has nowhere to sit. Geniy ochen lyubit spich! Call him to dinner! Vsekh direktorov doloy! The genius loves a speech! On odin iz vsekh zamenit! Banish all directors! Vot, vskipel!... He'll take everyone's place! I poshol, i poshol, i poshol, poshol, poshol, See how he rages!... Pryamo k nim, pryamo k nim, On he comes, on he comes, K voyevodam udalym, Straight at them, straight at them, Sey titan, sey titan, At the bold lords, S titanicheskoy gordyney, This Titan, this Titan, O skandal, O skandal, With his titanic arrogance. K nim v kompaniyu popal! Oh, what a scandal, what a scandal, I totchas‐zhe oserchal, To mix in such a company! S yarosi'yu na nikh napal And immediately he blazed with anger, I zhestoko otrepal. And fell on them in fury, Uzh on ikh trepal, trepal, trepal, trepal, trepal, And mercilessly overrode them. Trepal, trepal, trepal, trepal... And he pushed and pulled No gryanul grom!... I t'ma nastala, And thumped and bumped them... Gustaya mgla zatrepetala, But the thunder rolled!... And darkness descended, I pali nits v svyashchennom strakhe And a thick mist began to gather, Tumanov zhitel', Fif mladenets And headlong they fell in holy terror, I gordy sey titan! That cloud‐dweller, young Fif I v venke iz roz i liliy, And that proud Titan! I kameliy belosnezhnykh And in a crown of roses and lilies Predstala muza! And snow‐white camelias I polilisa aromaty, The Muse approached! Voyevody prismireli And perfumes filled the air, I zapeli gimn molebny: And the heroes grew calm "O preslavnaya Evterpa, And sang the hymn of prayer: O velikaya boginya, “O most glorious Euterpe, Nisposhli nam vdokhnoven'e, O mighty goddess, Ozhivi ty nemoshch nashu. Grant us inspiration, I zlatym dozhdyom s Olimpa Quicken our feeble strength. Orosi ty nivy nashi, And with a golden shower from Olympus Svetlorusaya boginya, Water our cornfields; Nebozhitel'nitsa muza, Goddess of the golden tresses, My tebya vovek proslavim, Heaven‐born muse, Vospoyom na zvonkikh tsitrakh!" We praise thee eternally, And raise songs to thee on the sounding zithers!"

Musical satire for bass or baritone, with piano accompaniment. Composed 15 June 1870 in St. Petersburg to Mussorsgsky's own text, dedicated to V. Stassov. First edition by Bessel. The original manuscript in the National Library, St. Petersburg.

13. Zabïtïy 13. Forgotten (Ballad) On smert' nashol v krayu chuzhom, v krayu He met his death in a foreign land, in a foreign land, in battle with chuzhom, v boyu s vragom, the foe, No vrag druzyami pobezhdyon, druzya likuyut, tol'ko on But the foe was conquered by his troops, and the troops rejoice. Na pole bitvy pozabyt, odin lezhit. Only he I mezhdu tem kak zhadny vran pyot krov yevo iz svezhikh ran abandoned on the battlefield, lies alone. I tochit nezakryty glaz, grozivshiy smert'yu v smerti chas, and a greedy crow drinks the blood from his fresh wounds I nasladivshis, pyan i syt, doloy letit... And pecks at the staring eye, the eye which Dalyoko tam, v krayu rodnom, threatened death when all were dying, Mat' kormit syna pod oknom: And now, replete and satisfied, he flies off to distant lands... Agu... agu! ne plach, synok, vemyotsa tyatya! Far away in his homeland pirozhok A mother feeds her child by the window: Togda na radostyakh druzhku ya ispeku... “There, there! Don't cry, my son, your daddy's coming! And a pie A tot zabyt, odin lezhit. I’II bake for him in celebration... " But he, forsaken, lies alone.

Ballad for voice and orchestra with piano accompaniment. Composed autumn 1874 on a text by Count Golenistchev‐Kutusov, dedicated to Vassili V. Verestchagin. First publishd by Gutheil, 1887.

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14. Seminarist 14. The Seminarist Panis, piscis, crinis, finis, ignis, lapis, pulvis, cinis... Panis, piscis, crinis, finis, ignis, lapis, pulvis, cinis... Akh ty gore, moyo gore! Oh, you're the cause of all my trouble! Orbis, amnis et canalis, orbis, amnis et canalis... Orbis, amnis et canalis, orbis, amnis et canalis... Vot tak zadal pop mne tasku, That's how the priest gave me a dressing‐down, Za zagrivok da po sheye on blagoslovil And blessed me by the scruff of the neck I desnitseyu svyatoyu pamyati lishil. And with his holy right hand deprived me of my reason. Fascis, axis, funis, ensis, fustis, vestis, vermis, mensis... Fascis, axis, funis, ensis, fustis, vestis, vermis, mensis... U popa Semonya dochka znataya takaya, Father Semyon has such a splendid daughter, Schochki, shto tvoy makov tsvet, glazki s povolokoy, With ruddy cheeks and languishing eyes, Grud' lebyazhaya da pokataya pod rubashechkoy vskolykhnulasa. Her breast like a swan's, stirring and swelling beneath her bodice. Fascis, axis, funis, ensis, fustis, vestis, vermis, mensis... Fascis, axis, funis, ensis, fustis, vestis, vermis, mensis... Akh ty Stesha, moya Stesha, tak tebya rastseloval by, O Styosha, my Styosha, would I could kiss you, Krepko, krepko k serdtsu prizhal‐by! And press you firmly to my heart! Postis, follis, cucumis, atque pollis... Atque pollis Postis, follis, cucumis, atque pollis... Atque pollis...... cucumis, cucumis... cucumis, cucumis... A namednis za molebnom presvyatoy i The other day at the service for the most holy and prepodobnoy i preslavnoy Mitrodore venerable and renowned Mitrodora Ya chital prokimen, glas shesty, I was reading part of the Scriptures, A na Steshu levym glazom vsyo posmatrival, But I was peeping at Styosha all the time, A na levy kIiros vsyo zaglyadival, da podmargival. And glancing at the left choir‐stall, and giving her a wink. Chortov bat'ka vsyo provedal, But that devil of a Father saw everything, Menya v knizhitsu pometil, And wrote it down in his little book, I blagoslovil vladyko po sheyam menya trikraty, And his worship gave me a threefold blessing on the ears, I dolbil izo vsey mochi mne v bashku latyn ukazkoy: And with all his force beat me on the head with his Latin grammar: Orbis, amnis et canalis, et canalis, sanguis, unguis et annalis, et Orbis, amnis et canalis, et canalis, sanguis, unguis et annalis, et annalis... annalis... Tak ot besa iskushen'ye dovelos prinyat' mne v khrame Bozhem. Thus I was tempted by the devil but succeeded in being accepted Amnis et annalis, sanguis, unguis et canalis, et canalis, et canalis. into the holy temple. Amnis et annalis, sanguis, unguis et canalis, et canalis, et canalis.

For bass or baritone, with piano accompaniment. Composed 27 September 1867 to Mussorgsky's own text and dedicated to Ludmilla I. Shestakova. Manuscript in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

15. Svetik Savishna 15. Darling Savishna Svet moy, Savishna, sokol yasnen'ky, Radiant Savishna, my bright falcon, Polyubi menya ne razumnova, Love me, witless as I am; Prigolub menya goremychnova! Come, caress this luckless fellow! Oy‐li, sokol moy, sokol yasnen'ky, Oh, my falcon, my bright falcon, Svetik Savishna, svet Ivanovna, Darling Savishna, radiant Ivanovna, Ne pobrezgay ty gol'yu goluyu, Do not spurn this poor destitute fellow, Bestalannoyu moyey doleyu! Though ill‐fortune be his lot! Urodilsa vish na smekh lyudyam ya, From birth I've caused folk much merriment, Pro zabavu da na potekhi im! They get fun and amusement out of me! Klichut: Savishna, skorbnym razumom They say, Savishna, I'm feeble‐minded, Velichayut, slysh, Vaney Bozhiim, call me ‐listen ‐ 'Holy Vanya', Svetik Savishna, svet Ivanovna, Darling Savishna, radiant Ivanovna, I dayut pin'kov Vane Bozhemu, They kick holy Vanya, Kormyat chestvuyut podzatyl'nikom. They give me food and then honour me with a clout on the head. A pod prazdnichek kak razryadyatsa, But festivals when they dress in their finery, Uberutsa vish v lenty alyye, And deck themselves in scarlet ribbons, Dadut khlebushka Vane skorbnomu, They give poor Vanya only a crust of bread, Ne zabyt'shtoby Vanyu Bozhevo. So as not to forget holy Vanya. Svetik Savishna, yasny sokol moy, Darling Savishna, my bright falcon, Polyubi‐zh menya neprigozheva, Love me, for all my ugliness; Prigolub menya odinokova! Come, caress this lonely fellow! Kak lyublyu tebya, mochi net skazat' , I love you more than I can say, Svetik Savishna, ver men, ver ne ver, Darling Savishna, believe me or not, Radiant Savishna! Svet Ivanovna! For voice and piano. Composed 2 September at Minkino St. Petersburg) Text by Mussorgsky. Dedicated to Cesar Cui. First published 1867 by Jurgenson. The manuscript was presented to Cesar Cui, who gave it to the Cavalry School in St. Petersburg.

94928 Mussorgsky: Songs 8

16. Kozyol: svetskaya skazochka 16. A Society Tale: The goat Shla devitsa progulyatsa, na luzhok pokrasovatsa, A maiden went walking through the meadow, to Vdrug navstrechu yey kozyol! show off her beauty, Stary, gryazny, borodaty, When suddenly she met a goat! Strashny, zloy i ves mokhnaty, sushchy chort! An old, grimy, bearded goat, Fearful, threatening, shaggy, a real devil! I devitsa ispugalas, Ot kozla begom pomchalas pryamo v kust, The maiden was frightened, I pritailas, And ran away from the goat straight into a bush, Yele dyshet, chut' zhiva. And hid herself, Hardly daring to breathe, and scarce alive. Shla devitsa pod venets, Znat' prishla pora yey zamuzh, nu i vyshla! The maiden went to church, Muzh i stary i gorbaty, For it was time to wed, so she got married! Lysy, zloy i borodaty, sushchy chort. Her husband was old and hunchbacked, Bald, evil‐looking and bearded, a real devil. Shto‐zh, devitsa ispugalas? Gm! Kakzhe! So was the maiden frightened? Ona k muzhu prilaskalas, Certainly not! She caressed her husband, Uveryala, shto vema, gm! shto v muzha vlyublena, And assured him she'd be faithful, hm! and that she loved him, Shto primernaya zhena. And that she'd be a model wife.

"A little anecdote of polite society" for voice and piano. Composed 23 December 1867 in St. Petersburg, to an adapted text. Dedicated to A.P. Borodin. First published 1868 by Jurgenson. The manuscript is in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

17. Pesnya Mefistofelya O blokhe 17. Mephistopheles' Song in Auerbach’s Cellar Zhil byl korol' kogda‐to, There was once a king Pri nyom blokha zhila, Who kept a flea, Blokha... blokha! A flea... a flea! Miley rodnovo brata ona yemu byla; It was dearer to him than his own son; Blokha... ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! blokha? ha, ha, ha, A flea... ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! A flea? Ha, ha, ha, ha, A flea! ha, ha! Blokha! The king summoned his tailor: "Listen, you blockhead! Zovyot korol' portnovo: "Poslushay ty, churban! For this dear friend of mine Dlya druga dorogovo Sew a velvet doublet!" Shey barkhatny kaftan!" A doublet for a flea? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! For a flea? Blokhe kaftan? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Blokhe? Ha, ha, Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! A doublet? Ha, ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Kaftan? Ha, ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! A doublet for a flea? Blokhe kaftan? And so in gold and velvet Vot v zoloto i barkhat The flea was arrayed, Blokha naryazhena, And he enjoyed complete freedom at court. Ha, ha! I polnaya svoboda yey pri dvore dana, Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! For a flea! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Ha, Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Blokhe! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! For a flea! ha, ha, ha, ha! Blokhe! The king made him a minister, Korol'yey san ministra And awarded him a star as well, I s nim zvezdu dayot, And all his relations got the same. Ha, ha! Za neyu i drugie poshli vsye blokhi v khod. Ha, ha! But the queen I samoy koroleve, And all the ladies I freylinam yeyo, Couldn't stand the fleas, Ot blokh ne stalo mochi, Who made their lives impossible. Ha, ha! Ne stalo i zhit'ya, Ha, ha! They were afraid to touch them, I tronut'‐to boyatsa, Let alone kill them. Ne to shtoby ikh bit'. But if one starts to bite us, A my, kto stal kusat'sa, We'll soon take a swipe at him! Totchas davay dushit'! Ha, ha,... etc. Ha, ha ... etc. Composed on a journey in 1879 to Strougovtschikov's translation of Goethe's Faust. Dedicated to the singer D. M. Leonova

94928 Mussorgsky: Songs 9

CD2

1. Nadgrabnoye pis'mo 1. Cruel death: Epitaph Zlaya smert', kak korshun khishchny, vpilas yam v serdtse i ubila; Cruel death, like some predatory vulture, stabbed your Palach ot bytiya vekov proklyaty, ona pokhitila i vas! heart with his claws, and killed you; O, yesli‐by mogli postignut' vashu dushu vse te, Accursed executioner from time immemorial, he carried Komu, ya znayu, Iik moy vopI' bezumy! even you away! O, yesli‐b yam vnimali... V besede, v zharkom spore, Oh, if all those for whom my very appearance betokens Mechtoy, byt' mozhet smeloy, ya nachertal‐by lyudyam one long cry of despair Vash obraz svetly, lyubovyu pravdy ozaryonny, Could but comprehend the depths of your soul! Vash um pytlivy, spokoyno na lyudey vziravshy. If they had only listened to you... in conversation or in Vy vo‐vremya porvali "s bleskom sveta" svyaz privychki, the heat of a quarrel, Rasstalis s nim bez gneva Then I would draw, for all men to see, though it were I dumoy neustannoy poznali zhizn inuyu. perhaps but an audacious dream, Zhizn mysli dlya truda svyatovo Your bright image, lit by the love of truth, Kogda konchinoy materi lyubimoy, vsyakoyu zhiteyskoyu And your searching mind, gazing serenely upon mortals. nevzgodoy In time you broke that habit of 'vain worldly thoughts', Otbroshenny ot ochaga rodnovo, razbity, zloy, izmuchenny, And abandoned it calmly, Ya robko, trevozhno, kak puganny rebyonok, v vashu And your unwearying mind sought a different life, svyatuyu dushu postuchalsa... A life of contemplating holy labours. Iskal spasen'ya... When my dear mother died, all life's cruel blows fell upon me: I was turned out of my home, cast away, vengeful and tormented; then, trembling and fearful as a frightened child, I turned to your sacred spirit, And sought salvation...

'Epitaph’ for voice and piano. Composed in 1875 in St. Petersburg to a text by Mussorgsky 'For the death of N. P. O...ci...noi: (Opochinina), First edition 1912, Bessel. Manuscript in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

2. Neponyatnaya 2. The Misunderstood One Tikha i molchaliva. She is quiet and breathes no word, Molchaniye pugayet vas, Yet her silence alarms you, Kromeshniki tolpy vseyadnoy! Worthless dregs ofthe ravenous crowd! Skromna, nasmeshliva, pozhaluy? She is modest and mocking, maybe? Pozhaluy, da nu shto‐zhe? Maybe she is, but what of it?

Ne slishkom uzh gorda‐li, polno? You don't mean she is too proud, then? I vy, lukavtsy zhalkiye, And you, you pitiful hypocrites, Vy smeyete podnyatsa You dare to rise up I brosit' obvinen ye! And cast accusations on her!

Molchite! Ya skazal: Be silent! I said: Molchite, kak ona molchit, Be silent, as she is silent, I slushayte stuk molota And listen to those hammer blows Po vashey sovesti okameneloy! Falling on your hearts ofstone!

For voice and piano. Composed 21 December 1875 in St. Petersburg to a text by Mussorgsky, and dedicated to Maria Ism. Kostyurina. First edition, Bessel, 1911. Manuscript was until 1917 in the possession of A. A. Makarov.

3. Ne Bozhiim gromom gore udarilo 3. Not like Thunder, trouble struck Ne Bozhiim gromom gore udarilo, Misfortune struck, not with a single thunder‐clap, Ne tyazheloy skaloy navalilosa, Nor like the falling of a heavy rock; Sobiralos ono malymi tuchkami, It came as light clouds Zatyanuli tuchki nebo yasnoye, That cover the clear sky; Poseyalo gore melkim dozhdichkom, Misfortune was scattered everywhere like gentle rain, Melkim dozhdichkom osenniim. Like the gentle rain ofautumn.

A i seyet ono davnym‐davno, Misfortune has long been scattered wide, I sechyot ono bez umolku, And it beats unceasingly, Bez umolku, bez ustali, Unceasingly, tirelessly, Bez kontsa sechyot, bez otdykha. Endlessly it beats, without respite. Uzhe polno gore dub lomat' po prutikam, Enough of chopping the oak tree to pieces, Shchipati po listikam! And plucking off the leaves!

94928 Mussorgsky: Songs 10

A i byvalo zhe drugim schast' itse: Others had a better fate: Naletalo gore vikhrem bureyu, Misfortune overtook them with the fury of a storm, Vorochalo gore duby s kornem von. And tore up the oaks by the roots.

For voice and piano. Composed 5 March 1877 in St. Petersburg to a text by Count A. Tolstoy, and dedicated to F. Andalion. Manuscript in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

4. Gomimi tikho IeteIa dusha nebesami 4. Softly The Spirit flew up to Heaven Gornimi tikho lete1a dusha nebesami, The Spirit roamed quietly through the lofty heavens, Grustnyye dolu ona opuskala resnitsy, And downwards bent her sorrow‐laden eyes Slyozy v prostranstvo ot nikh udalaya zvyezdami, Tears fell from them into space like stars, Svetloy i dlinnoy vilisya za ney verenitsey. And twisted and turned after her in a long bright trail.

Vstrechnyye tikho yeyo voproshali svetila: Heavenly bodies in her path questioned her gently: "Shto tak grustna i o chom eti slyozy vo vzore?" 'Why so sad, and wherefore these tears in your eyes?" Im otrechala ona: "ya zemli ne zabyla. She answered them: "I cannot forget the earth, Mnogo ostavila tarn ya stradan' ya i gorya. For I left there much suffering and sorrow.

Zdes ya lish likam blazhenstva i radosti vnemlyu, Now I can hear only cries of joy and bliss; Pravednykh dushi ne znayut ni skorbi, ni zloby. The souls of the righteous know neither sorrow nor evil. O, otpusti menya snova, sozdatel', na zemlyu, Oh, let me return again, my Maker, to the earth, Bylo‐b o kom pozhalet' i uteshit' kovo‐by!" Let me bring consolation and comfort to those in need!"

For voice and piano. Composed 9 March 1877 in St. Petersburg, to a text by Count A. Tofstoy. The manuscript is in the State Library of St. Petersburg.

5. Spes 5. Pride Khodit spes naduvayuchis, Pride goes along all puffed‐up, S boku na bok perevalivayas. Swaggering from side to side. Rostom spes arshin s chetvert'yu, Pride is but three feet tall, Shapka‐to na nyom vo tselu sazhen. Yet his hat's seven feet. A i zashol by spes k otsu k materi, Pride would gladly visit his father and mother, Da vorota ne krasheny! But their gate isn't painted! A i pomolilsa b spes vo tserkvi Bozhiyey, He'd like to go to church to say a prayer, Da pol ne metyon! But the floor hasn't been swept! Idyot spes,vidit na nebe radugu; Pride was Walking along when he saw a rainbow; Povernul spes vo druguyu storonu: He turned and ran in the opposite direction: Ne prigozhe‐de mne nagibatisa! "It's not right I should bow down before that!"

For voice and piano. Composed 16 May 1877 in St. Petersburg to a text by Count A. Tolstoy. Dedicated to A. E. Palchikov. First edition, Bessel, 1882. The manuscript is in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

6. Oy, chest'li to molodtsu lyon pryasti? 6. Is spinning man's work? Oy, chest'li to molodtsu lyon pryasti? Is spinning man's work? A i khvala‐li boyarinu kichku nosit', Should a boyar wear a woman's headdress, Voyevode povodu khodit'? And should a monarch have to fetch water? Guslyaru‐pevunu vo prikaze sidet', Should a minstrel be told to sit and wait, Vo prikaze sidet', potolok koptit'? To sit and wait, and idle his life away?

Oy, konya‐b yemu, gusli zvonkiye, Rather give him a horse and strings to play, Oy, v luga‐b yemu, vo zelyony bor, Let him make for the meadows and the green wood, Cherez rechenku da v tyomny sad, And cross the river to the shady garden, Gde solovushko na cheryomushke Where the nightingale in the cherry‐tree Tselu nochenku na prolyot poyot! Sings as she flies the whole night long!

Romance for voice and piano. Composed 20 March 1877 in St. Petersburg, to a text of Count A. Tolstoy. First edition, Bessel, 1882. The manuscript is in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

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7. Ya videI noch 7. The Vision Ya videl noch; ona peredo mnoy, I saw the night; she passed before me, Vsya v chornom shla, zhivaya, molodaya All clothed in black, a spirited, young Volshebnitsa, s poniksey golovoy, Enchantress with bent head, Zarnitsami, kak vzglyadami sverkaya. Her eyes flashing like lightning.

Prozrachen byl yeyo vozdushny stan; Her ethereal form seemed transparent; No chuyal ya dykhan'ya znoyny trepet. But I felt the trembling ardour ofher breath, I v tishine, kak laskovy obman, And in the stillness, like a tender illusion, the murmur Nezrimykh ust prizvny nyossya lepet: from unseen lips lured me on:

Kazalos mne, shto chudnaya zovyot It seemed the fair one was calling me Menya s soboy k lyubvi i naslazhden'yu. To the delights oflove. I ya vsyo shol, vsyo shol za ney vperyod, And still I followed, followed her, Ob'yaty ves ognyom yeyo i ten'yu. Enveloped in her fire and in her shadow

For voice and piano. Composed 7 April 1877 in St. Petersburg to a text by Prince A. Golenistchev‐Kutusov and dedicated to E. A. Goulevitch. First edition, Bessel, 1882. The manuscript is in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

8. Rassevayetsa, rasstupayetsa 8. It scatters and breaks Rassevavyetsa, rasstupayetsa It fades and disperses, Grust' pod dumami, pod moguchimi, This sorrow, under the mighty power of reason, Vdushu tyomnuyu probivayetsa And into my dark soul light breaks through, Slovno solnyshko mezhdu tuchami. As the sun through the clouds.

Oy‐li, molodets, ne rasstupitsa, Ah, my friend, this autumn night Ne rasseyetsa noch osennyaya; Will neither fade nor disperse; Skoro svedayesh, chem iskupitsa All too soon you will know the price you must pay Nepokazanny mig veseliya. For this unaccountable moment of joy.

Prikachnulasa, privalilasa It has returned to my heart again, K serdtsu syznova grust' obychnaya. All the old sorrow, swirling around me, I golovushka vnov sklonilasa, And once again my head is bowed Bestalannaya, goremychnaya As adversity and misfortune pursue me.

Romance for voice and piano. Composed 21 March 1877 in St. Petersburg to a text by Count A. Tolstoy, dedicated to Olga Golenistchev‐Kutusov. First edition, Bessel, 1882. The manuscript is in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

9. Na Dnepre 9. On the Dnieper Stoy, Dnepr! Stay, O Dnieper! Slushay, Dnepr! Hear me, O Dnieper! Dnepr ty may shiroky, goy ty, Dnepr gluboky! You wide Dnieper, hail, deep river!

Mnogo ty krovi kazachey Much Cossack blood V dal'neye more dal'ney dorogoy nosil, Have you borne on the long journey to the distant sea, Tol'ko‐tol'ko ty morya ne spoil, ty ne spoil! Yet you have not satisfied the thirsty ocean! Sevodnya umyosha, sevodnya dozhdyoshsa, shiroky moy Today your waters will abate, your waiting will end, O wide Dnepr! Dnieper! Sevodnya at Boga Ukraynu zhdyot prazdnik, Today God has ordered a feast for Ukraine, I prazdnik tot strashny, i mnogo‐mnogo prol'yot ana krovi, It will be a feast full of horror, and the blood will flow in torrents, Kazak ozhivyot: And the Cossacks will come to life again: I vstanut Getmany v odezhdakh parchovykh And Hetmans will rise in garments ofbrocade,

I budet kak prezhde And Ukraine will live Ukrayna zhiva; As before;

I vdal' po stepi, nad kurganami brat'yev, And far over the steppes, on the graves of our brothers, Na strakh vragam zablestit bulava; The mace will flash and strike fear in the enemy; I snova kazak spoyot ne potayno, And again the Cossacks will chant songs out aloud, Privol'no i likho spoyot pro Ukraynu: They will sing freely and proudly of Ukraine: Svobodna do morya, net lyakhov s zhidami. A free land as far as the sea, where there are no Poles or Jews. Dnepr unyos ikh kosti, kosti vrazhi, krovyu shlyakhetskoy, The Dnieper has borne their bones away, the enemy's bones, Krovyu zhidovskoy dal'neye more on spoil. And slaked the distant sea's thirst with the blood of noblemen and Jews.

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Stoy, Dnepr! Slushay, Dnepr! Stay, O Dnieper! Hear me, Dnieper! Skoro ty dozhdyoshsa, skoro ty umyoshsa! Soon your waiting will end, soon your waters will abate, Stoy, Dnepr! Stay, O Dnieper! Stoy, gluboky Dnepr! Stay, deep river!

For voice and piano . Composed 23 December 1879 to a text by Chevchenko, drawn from the poem Gaidamaki. The manuscript is in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

10. Kolybel'naya yryomushki 10. Yeryomushka'a Lullaby Bayu, bay, bay, Lulla, lullaby, Bayu, bay, bay. Lulla, lullaby, Nizhe tonenkoy bylinochki Lower than the slenderest stem Nado golovu klonití, Must you bend your head, Shtoby bednoy sirotinushke So the poor orphan child Bespechal'no vek prozhit'. May have a life free from care. Bayu, bay, bay, Lulla, lullaby, Bayu, bay, bay. Lulla, lullaby.

Sila lomit i solomushku, Strong winds can break the slightest stalk, Poklonis ponizhe yey, So bend your head lower, Shtoby starshiye Yeryomushku Then his elders can help Yeryomushka V lyudi vyveli skorey. To get on in life the better. Bayu, bay, bay, Lulla, lullaby, Bayu, bay, bay. Lulla, lullaby.

V lyudi vyydyesh, vsyo s vel'mozhami You will enjoy success, and strike up friendships Stanesh druzhestvo vodit', With the great and mighty, S molodymi da s prigozhimi And you will plan many an escapade Budesh s barami shalit'. With fine young men about town. I vesyolaya, i privol'naya Thus happy and carefree Zhizn pokatitsa shutya. You will enjoy life to the full. Bayu, bay, bay, Lulla, lullaby, Bayu, bay, bay. Lulla, lullaby.

For voice and piano. Composed 16 March 1868 in St. Petersburg to a text by Nekrassov, and dedicated to A. S. Dargomizhky. First edition, Bessel, 1871.

11. Pirushka 11. The Feast Vorota tesovy rastvorilisa, The wooden gates are open wide, Na konyakh na sanyakh gosti v'yekhali, And the guests enter on horse or sledge; Im khozyain s zhenoy nizko klanyalis, Their host and his wife greet them kindly, So dvora poveli v svetlu gorenku, And lead them from the entrance to the brightly‐lit chamber, Pered Spasom svyatym gosti molyatsa, Where the guests pray before the holy Saviour Za dubovy stoly za nabranyye, Then they are invited to the laden oak tables Na dubovy skami seli zvanyye. To sit on oak benches. Bakhromoy kiseyoy prinaryazhena, Arrayed in an embroidered muslin gown, Molodaya zhena chernobrovaya, The young black‐browed wife Obkhodila vokrug s potseluyami, Mingles with her friends and embraces them Rasnosila gostyam chashu gorkova, And gives a cup to each guest for the toasts, Sam khozyain za ney bragoy khmel'noyu While the host comes after her with the foaming beer Iz kovshey vyreznykh rodnykh potchuyet, And serves his family guests from carved goblets. A khozyayskaya doch myodom sychenym And the daughter of the house comes round Obnosila vokrug s laskoy devichey. With sweet honey, in her gentle modest way. Gosti pyut i yedyat, zabavlyayutsa The guests drink and eat and make merry Ot vecherney zari do polunochi. From dusk until midnight.

Tale for voice and piano. Composed at the end of September 1867 in Minkino, to a text by Koltzov and dedicated to Ludmilla I. Chestakova. First edition 1868, Jurgenson.

12. Klassik 12. The Classicist Ya prost, ya yasen, ya skromen, vezhliv, ya prekrasen.. My style is simple, clear, modest, polite and elegant, Ya plaven, vazhen, ya v mem strasten, Smooth, lofty, and moderately passionate; Ya chisty klassik, ya stydliv, I am a pure classicist, and retiring, Ya chisty klassik, ya uchtiv. I am a pure classicist, and courteous.

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Ya zleyshy vrag noveyshikh ukhishchreniy, I am violently against all new trends, Zaklyaty vrag vsekh novovvedeniy; A sworn enemy of all innovations; lkh shum i gam, ikh strashny besporyadok The din and hubbub, the fearful commotion, Menya trevozhit i pugayet, v nikh grob iskusstva vizhu ya. Alarm and terrify me, I see in them the death of art. No ya, ya prost, no ya, ya yasen, ya skromen, vezhliv, ya prekrasen. But my style is simple, clear, modest, polite and elegant, Ya chisty klassik, ya stydliv, I am a pure classicist, and retiring, Ya chisty klassik, ya uchtiv. I am a pure classicist, and courteous.

Musical satire on various articles by M. Famintsin on music. Composed 30 December 1867 in St. Petersburg to a text by Mussorgsky, and dedicated to N. P. Opochinin. First edition by the composer set by Bernard, 1870.

13. Iz slyoz moikh 13. From my tears Iz slyoz moikh vyroslo From my tears spring Mnogo dushistikh i yarkikh tsvetov, Bright, fragrant flowers, A vzdokhi moi perelilis And my sighs have become V polunoshchny khor solovyov. A nightingales' chorus.

I yesli menya ty polyubish, And if you love me, my darling, Malyutka, tsvetochki tvoi; The flowers shall be yours, I zvuchnuyu pesn pod okoshom, And beneath your window, dear one, Tebe, moy drug, spoyut solovi. The nightingales shall sing.

Composed 1866 to M. Mikhailov's translation of the poem by Heinrich Heine

Bez solntasa Sunless Song cycle for voice with piano accompaniment. Composed in 1874 in St. Petersburg, to a text of Prince Arsenyi Golenistchev‐Kufusov. First edition, 1874, Bessel.

14. V chetyryokh stenakh 14. Within Four Walls Komnatka tesnaya, tikhaya, milaya, My little room is tiny, peaceful, welcoming, Ten neproglyadnaya, ten bezotvetnaya, The shadows are impenetrable and unanswering, Duma glubokaya, pesnya unylaya, My thoughts are deep and my song is melancholy, V byushchemsya serdtse nadezhda zavetnaya, Yet in my beating heart hope lies hidden.

Bystry polyot za mgnoven'yem mgnoveniya, The moments fly swiftly by, one by one, Vzor nepodvizhny na schast'ye dalyokoye, While my eyes are fIxed on distant happiness; Mnogo somneniya, mnogo terpeniya, Full of doubts, I wait patiently, Vot ona, noch moya, noch odinokaya. Thus it is, this night, my night of Ioneliness.

15. Menya ty v tolpe ne uznala 15. You did not know me in the crowd Menya ty v tolpe ne uznala, You did not see me in the crowd, Tvoy vzglyad ne skazal nichevo. Your glance held no message. No chudno i strashno mne stalo, But I Was filled with wonder and fear, Kogda ulovil ya yevo. When I perceived it.

To bylo odno lish mgnoven'ye, It was just one fleeting moment, No, ver mne, ya v nyom perenyos But I swear that in it I suffered anew Vsey proshloy lyubvi naslazhden'ye, The delights of all our former love, Vsyu gorech zabven'ya i slyoz! And all the grief of oblivion and tears.

16. Okonchen prazdny, shumny den 16. The useless, noisy day is ended Okonchen prazdny, shumny den; An end to the futile, hectic day; Lyudskaya zhizn, umolknuv, dremlet. And human life, now silent, slumbers. Vsyo tikho. Mayskoy nochi ten All is quiet. The May night's shadow Stolitsu spyashchuyu ob'yemlet. Shrouds the sleeping city.

No Son ot glaz moikh bezhit, But sleep is banished from my eyes, I pri luchakh inoy dennitsy And by the light of another dawn Voobrazheniye vertit My imagination turns back the pages Godov utrachennykh stranitsy. Of years gone for ever.

Kak budto vnov, vdykhaya yad And again I breathe in the poison Vesennikh, strastnykh snovideniy, Of those passionate dreams of youth,

94928 Mussorgsky: Songs 14

V dushe ya voskreshayu ryad And in my soul spring to life again Nadezhd, poryvov, zabluzhdeniy... All those hopes, urges and delusions...

Uvy, to prizraki odni! Alas, they are but ghosts! Mne skuchno s myortvoy ikh tolpoyu, Enough of these dead visions, I shum ikh staroy boltovni The noise their chatter used to make Uzhe ne vlasten nado mnoyu. No longer has any power over me.

Lish ten odna iz vsekh teney Of all those shades there is but one Yavilas mne, dysha lyubovyu, Which came to me and breathed of love I, Verny drug minuvshikh dney, A faithful friend of days gone by, Sklonilas tikho k izgolovyu. Who quietly leaned over my pillow.

I smelo otdal yey odnoy To her alone I bravely surrendered Vsyu dushu ya v sleze bezmolvnoy, My soul in silent tears, Nikem nezrimoy, schast'ya polnoy… Tears unseen, filled with happiness, V sleze, davno khranimoy mnoy!... Tears long ago treasured in my heart.

17. Skuchay 17. Be bored Skuchay. Ty sozdana dlya skuki, Ennui. This yearning is your destiny, Bez zhguchikh chuvstv otrady net, Without ardour and passion there is no joy, Kak net vozrata bez razluki Just as there is no return without a parting, Kak bez boren'ya net pobed. And without a battle no victory.

Skuchay. Skuchay, slovam lyubvi vnimaya Ennui. You will languish when hearing love's message V tishi serdechnoy pustoty, In the silence of an empty heart, Privetom lzhivym otvechaya Answering with false words of greeting Na pravdu devstvennoy mechty. The true words of a maiden's dream.

Skuchay. S rozhden'ya do mogily Ennui. From cradle to the grave Zarane put' nachertan tvoy, Your path in life is preordained; Po kaple ty istratish sily, Drop by drop your strength will vanish. Potom umryosh ‐ i Bog s toboy! Then you will die ‐ and God be with you! I Bog s toboy! God be with you!

18. Elegiya 18. Elegy V tumane dremlet noch. Bezmolvnaya zvezda In the darkness night slumbers. A silent star Skvoz dymku oblakov mertsayet odinoko. Twinkles alone through the cloudy mist. Zvenyat bubentsami unylo i dalyoko And mournfuly in the distance ring out Koney pasushchikhsya stada. The bells on the grazing horses.

Kak nochi oblaka, izmenchivyye dumy Like clouds in the night my turbulent thoughts Nesutsa nado mnoy, tevozhny i ugryumy; Swirl above my head, troubled and gloomy; V nikh otbleski nadezhd, kogda‐to dorogikh, And in them are reflected those once fond hopes of mine, Davno poteryannykh, davno uzh ne zhivykh, Long since lost, long since dead; V nikh sozhaleniya... i slyozy. In them are regrets... and tears.

Nesutsa dumy te bez tseli i kontsa. These thoughts swirl around aimlessly, endlessly; To, prevratyas v cherty lyubimovo litsa, Sometimes taking on the features of a beloved face, Zovut, rozhdaya vnov v dushe bylyye gryozy; They call out, re‐creating in my soul dreams of long ago; To, slivshis v chorny mrak, polny nemoy ugrozy, And sometimes, merging into darkness, with silent threats

Gryadushchevo borboy pugayut robky um, Of future strife, they frighten my poor brain, I slyshitsa vdali nestroynoy zhizni shum, And far away I hear the sound of life's discordant bustle, Tolpy bezdushnoy smekh, vrazhdy kovarny ropot, The laughter of the callous crowd, the insidious, hostile murmurs, Zhiteyskoy melochi nezaglushimy shopot, The unmuffled sounds of life's petty trifles.

Unyly Smerti zvon!... Predvestnitsa zvezda, That mournful death‐knell! A prophetic star Kak budto polnaya styda, As though possessed with shame, Slayvayet svetly lik v tumane bezotradnom, Hides its bright face in the cheerless gloom, Kak budushchnost' moya, nemom i neproglyadnom. As do my hopes, in the mute, impenetrable shadow

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19. Nad rekoy 19. On the River Mesyats zadumchivy, zvyozdy dalyokiye The pensive moon and the distant stars S sinevo neba vodami lyubuyutsa. Gaze down from the blue sky in wonder at the waters. Molcha smotryu ya na vody glubokiye: And I look silently at the deep waters: Tayny volshebnyye serdtsem v nikh chuyutsa. I can feel in my heart their magical secrets. Pleshchut, tayatsa, laskatel'no nezhniyye; They splash, then fall back, in their tender caressing; Mnogo v ikh ropote sily charuyushchey: I feel in their murmur a force drawing my soul, Slyshatsa dumy i strasti bezbrezhnyye. And I can hear unending musings and passions. Golos nevedomy, dushu volnuyushchy, A mysterious voice, disturbing my soul, Nezhit, pugayet, navodit somneniye... Soothes, then scares, filling me with doubts... Slushat' velit‐li on? S mesta‐b ne sdvinulsa; Does it bid me listen? Then I would not stir from here; Gonit‐li proch? Ubezhal‐by v smyatenii. Does it bid me be gone?Then I would flee in confusion. V glub‐li zovyot? Bez oglyadki‐b ya kinulsa!... Does it call me to its depths? Then I would plunge in without a backward glance!...

CD3

1. Gde ty, zvyozdochka? 1. Where are you, little star? Gde ty, zvyozdochka, akh, gde ty, yasnaya? Where are you, little star, oh, where are you, bright one? Il' zatmilasa tuchey chornoyu, Have you hidden behind a dark cloud, tuchey chornoyu, tuchey groznoyu? behind a dark, menacing cloud?

Gde ty, devitsa, gde ty, krasnaya? Where are you, maiden, where are you, lovely one? Il' pokinula druga milovo, Have you forsaken your dear lover druga milovo nenaglyadnovo? your dear, handsome lover?

Tucha chornaya skryla zvyozdochku, A dark cloud has obscured the star, zemlya khladnaya vzyala devitsu. and the cold earth has taken the lovely maiden away.

Grekov Ballad for voice and piano. Composed in 1857 at St. Petersburg to a text by Grekov, written in the spirit of popular songs. Dedicated to the singer J.‐L. Gruenberg. First edition 1911, Bessel. The manuscript is in Paris (Library of the Conservatoire).

2. Vesyoly chas 2. The Joyous Hour Dayte bokaly, dayte vina! Hand round the glasses, pour out the wine! Radost' mgnoven'ya vypem do dna! Let's drain our glasses to this joyous moment! Gromkiye pesni gryan'te, druzya! Strike up the songs loudly, my friends! Pust' nas vesyolykh vidit zarya! Let's make merry until dawn!

Nyne piruyem yunost' na chas, Let's celebrate youth for a while with our feasting, nynche vesel'ye radost' u nas, for now we feel merry and joyful; zavtra shto budet, znayu, druzya, I know what tomorrow will bring, my friends, pust' nas vesyolykh vidit zarya! but let's make merry until dawn!

Dayte bokaly, dayte vina! Hand round the glasses, pour out the wine! Radost' mgnoven'ya vypem do dna! Let's drain our glasses to this joyous moment! Gromkiye pesni gryan'te, druzya! Strike up the songs loudly, my friends! Pust' nas vesyolykh vidit zarya! Let's make merry until dawn!

Shumno, razgul'no poyte, druzya, Sing out with loud and cheerful voices, friends, leyte v bokaly bol'she vina! pour more wine into the glasses! Nu‐te vse razom vypem do dna! Let's all drain our glasses at one go! Pust' nas vesyolykh vidit zarya! Let's make merry until dawn!

Dayte‐zh bokaly, dayte vina! Hand round the glasses, pour out the wine! Radost' mgnoven'ya vypem do dna! Let's drain our glasses to this joyous moment! Gromkiye pesni gryan'te, druzya! Strike up the songs loudly, my friends! Pust' nas vesyolykh vidit zarya! Let's make merry until dawn!

Kol'tsov A toast to a text by Kol'tsov, dedicated to Sakharin. Composed in 1858 at St. Petersburg. First edition... ? The manuscript is in Paris (Library of the Conservatoire).

3. List'ya shumeli unylo 3. The leaves rustled sadly List'ya shumeli unylo Sadly rustled the leaves v dubrave nochnoyu poroy; in the groves at night‐time; grob opustili v mogilu, the coffin was lowered into the grave, grob, ozaryonny lunoy. the coffin, lit by the moon.

94928 Mussorgsky: Songs 16

Tikho, bez placha zaryli In silence, without tears, they buried it, i udalilis vse proch, and then everyone departed; tol'ko sklonyas nad mogiloy, only the leaves, bending over the grave, list'ya shumeli vsyu noch. rustled through the night.

Pleshcheyev Musical narration for baritone or bass with piano accompaniment. Composed in 1858 at St. Petersburg to a text of Pleshcheyev, and dedicated to M.O. Mileschin. First edition 1911, Bessel. The manuscript is in Paris.

4. Mnogo yest' u menya teremov i sadov 4. I have many palaces and gardens Mnogo yest' u menya teremov i sadov I have many palaces and gardens i razgol'nykh poley i dremuchikh lesov, and boundless fields and dense forests, dremuchikh, dremuchikh lesov. dark, dense forests.

Mnogo yest' u menya zhemchugov i mekhov, I have many pearls and furs, raznotsvetnykh odezhd, and colourful garments, dragotsennykh kovrov. and precious carpets.

Mnogo yest' u menya dlya pirov serebra, I have much silver for my table, dlya besed krasnykh slov, dlya vesel'ya vina, fine conversation for my guests, and wine for enjoyment, dlya vesel'ya vina, dlya vesel'ya vina! much wine for enjoyment!

No ya znayu, na shto tray volshebnykh, But I know why I need the sorcerer's potions, volshebnykh ishchu, no ya znayu, znayu, o chom the sorcerer's potions, but I know, I know why sam s soboyu grushchu. my heart is grieving.

Kol'tsov Ballad for voice with piano accompaniment. Composed in 1860 at St. Petersburg to words by Kol'tsov, and dedicated to T. Borispolz. First edition... ? The manuscript is in Paris.

5. Molitva 5. Prayer Ya, Mater Bozhiya, nyne s molitvoyu O Mother of God, I offer a prayer pred Tvoim obrazom yarkim siyaniyem before the brightness of your countenance, ne za svoyu molyu dushu pustynnuyu, but I pray not for my desolate soul, za dushu strannika v mire bezrodnovo, the soul of a pilgrim alone in the world, no ya vruchit' khochu dushu nevinnuyu but beg you to grant an innocent maid tyoploy zastupnitse mira kholodnovo. tender protection from this bleak world. Okruzhi schastiyem schast'ya dostoynuyu, Fill her with the happiness she deserves, day yey soputnikov polnykh vnimaniya, grant her attentive companions, molodost' svetluyu, starost' pokoynuyu, a radiant youth, calm old age, serdtsu nezlobnomu mir upovaniya. and to her innocent heart eternal hope.

O, Mater Bozhiya, Tebya molyu! O Mother of God, I beseech you!

Lermontov Ballad for voice with piano accompaniment. Composed 2 February 1865 at St. Petersburg to a text by Lermentov, and dedicated to Julia Ivanovna Mussorgsky (the composer’s mother). First edition: …? The manuscript is in Paris.

6. Otchego, skazhi 6. Tell me why Otchevo, skazhi, dusha‐devitsa, Tell me why, dearest maiden, ty sidish teper prigoryunilas you sit here so sadly, i bezmolvnaya na dorozhenku and, silently sighing, ty, vzdokhnuv, glyadish ne nasmotrishsa? ever look towards distant paths?

Il's toboy pri tebe netu milovo, Can it be that you have no sweetheart, il' ostyla v nyom krov goryachaya, or maybe his passion has cooled, il’ ty yemu uzh naskuchila, or he has grown tired of you, il' zabyl tebya tvoy serdechny drug? or that devoted lover ofyours has left you?

Net, moy mily drug ne zabyl menya No, my lover has not left me, i ne to shchemit serdtse bednoye, it is not that which grieves my poor heart, a ya milovo v dal'nu storonu, but I must send my darling v put'‐dorozhenky provozhayu ya, on a long journey to distant lands,

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a ya milova v dal'nu storonu, I must send my darling, v put'‐dorozhenku snaryazhayu ya. and I must equip him for his journey.

Pleshcheyev Romance for voice and piano. Composed in St. Petersburg, on a text by Pleshcheyev, dedicated to S.A. Burzev. Frstedition 1867, Jurgenson. The manuscript is in Paris.

7. Chto yam slova lyubvi? 7. What are words of love to you? Shto yam slova lyubvi? ‐ Vy bredom nazovyote, What are words oflove to you? ‐ You call them but wanderings. Shto slyozy yam moi? ‐ I slyoz vy ne poymyote. What are my tears to you? ‐ Even tears you do not understand.

Ostavte‐zh mne mechty, ni slovom i ni vzglyadom Leave me my dreams, let neither words nor looks serdechnoy teplyoty ne otravlyayte yadom! from the heart's passion destroy them with their poison!

Lyublyu yeyo odnu, kak zhizn moyu, I love her alone, as I love my life, kak svet lyublyu, lyublyu, kak tishinu as I love the light, I love her as the peace moikh ocharovaniy, which comes from joy; ot zloy lyudskoy tolpy ya v dal' nemuyu rvusa I rush from this wicked world to the fareway silence i k ney na kryl'yakh dum dalyoko unoshusa. and let myself be carried to her on winged thoughts.

Ammosov Romance for voice and piano. Composed in St. Petersburg in 1860 to a text by Ammosov, and dedicated to Maria V. Scilavska. First published…?

8. Duyut vetry, vetry buynyye 8. The winds blow, the wild winds Duyut vetry, vetry buynyye, The wild winds blow, khodyat tuchi, khodyat tuchi tyomnyye. black clouds sweep across the sky, Khodyat tuchi, khodyat tyomnyye, black clouds sweep across, tuchi tyomnyye. black clouds.

Ne vidat' v nikh, ne vidat' sveta belova, No daylight is visible there, ne vidat' v nikh belova, no daylight, ne vidat' v nikh solntsa krasnova. no glowing sun is visible there.

Vo syroy vo mgle, za tumanami, In the damp gloom beyond the mists tol'ko nochka, nochka lish cherneyetsa. shows only the blackness of night. Duyut vetry, duyut buynyye, The wild winds blow, khodyat tuchi, khodyat tyomnyye, black clouds sweep across the sky, black clouds sweep across, khodyat tyomnyye. black clouds.

Kol'tsov Song for baritone or bass with piano accompaniment. Composed 28 March 1864 in St. Petersburg to a text by Kol'tsov and dedicated to Viaslav A. Loginov. First edition 1911, Bessel. The manuscript is in Paris.

9. No yesli‐by s toboyu ya vstretit'sa mogla 9. But if I could meet thee again Romance Rasstalis gordo my ‐ ni slovom, ni slezoyu We parted, and I was too proud to use words or tears ya grusti priznaka tebe ne podala. to give you any sign of my grief. My razoshlis navek! We parted for ever!

No yesli‐by s toboyu ya vstretit'sa mogla! But if! could only meet you again!

Bez slyoz, bez zhalob ya sklonilas Without tears, without complaints I bowed pred sud'boyu. Ne znayu, before my fate. I do not know, sdelav mne tak mnogo v zhizni zla, with all the suffering you caused me, lyubilli ty menya? if you really loved me.

No yesli‐by s toboyu ya vstretit'sa mogla! But if I could only meet you again!

Kurochkin Romance for voice with piano accompaniment. Composed 15 August 1863 at Voloch to a text by Kurochkin, and dedicated to Nadiejda P. Opochinin. The manuscript is in Paris. First edition...?

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10. Malyutka 10. Dear one, why are thine eyes sometimes so cold? Akh, zachem tvoi glazki poroyu Oh, why are your eyes sometimes na menya tak surovo glyadyat? so cold when they look at me? I tomit moyu dushu toskoyu And why is my soul tormented with longing tvoy kholodny, nelaskovy vzglyad? at your chill, unfeeling glance?

Bez ulybki i v gordom molchan'i Unsmiling and in sombre silence ty prokhodish kak ten predo mnoyu, like a shadow you pass before me, i v dushe zataivshi stradan'ye, and I hide the sorrow in my heart ya revnivo slezhu za toboy. as I jealously follow after you.

Ty lyubovyu svoyey ozaryala, Your love illumined kak vesnoy, moi grustnyye dni, my desolate days, like the light of spring; prilaskay‐zhe menya kak byvalo, come, let us kiss as we used to kiss, laskoy proch moyu grust' otgoni. and with your caresses drive this sorrow from me.

Zachem zhe tvoi glazki poroyu Why are your eyes sometimes na menya tak surovo glyadyat? so cold when they look at me?

Pleshcheyev Pleshcheyev. Composed 7 January 1866.

11. Pesn startsa 11. Old Man’s Song Stanu skromno u poroga, I will stand humbly by the doorway, tikho v dveri ya voydu, quietly I'll enter the door, kto podast mne, radi Boga, and if someone will give me alms in the name of God snova daleye poydu. I'll go on my way.

Schastliv, kto pered soboyu Happy is the man who sees uzrit bednovo menya, this poor fellow before him; on poplachet nado mnoyu, he will weep for me, a o chom, ne znayu ya. but I know not why.

Goethe For bass or baritone, with piano accompaniment. Composed 13 August 1863 at Kanistev to a text by Goethe (Wilhelm Meister), and dedicated to A.P. Opochinin. First edition 1911, Bessel.

12. Tsar Saul 12. King Saul O vozhdi! Yesli palo na dolyu moyu O warriors! If it should be my fate, pred gospodnim narodom besslavno before God's people, to fall ingloriously pogibnut' v boyu ‐ ne smushchaytes! in battle ‐ do not falter! V bitvu idite smeley! Go bravely to the fight!

Pust' uznayut vragi silu nashikh mechey, Let the enemy feel the strength of our swords, silu nashikh tyazhkikh mechey. the strength of our mighty swords. Ty, nesushchy za mnoyu moy mech i moy shchit, And you, my follower, who bears my sword and shield, yesli voysko moyo smutny strakh porazit, if you see my forces struck by dreadful fears, yesli drognet ono i ot vraga pobezhit, if they falter, and flee from the enemy, O, ne day perezhit' mne tot mig rokovoy, Oh, may I not survive that fatal moment, pust' umru ya, srazhonny tvoyeyu rukoy! let me die of a blow from your hand!

O moy syn! Moy naslednik, O my son! My heir, uzh k bitve zov po kholmam proletel already the call to battle has resounded through the hills, i pir nam sulit, krovavy pir. and we are promised a feast, a feast of blood. Ty vidish li, v slave nash venets zasiyal Do you see, our crown is lit with a blaze of glory, i nad drognuvshim stanom mech vraga zasverkal. and our enemy's sword flashes over his trembling body. O moy syn, to dlya nas chas posledniy, strashny nastal! O my son, our last fearful hour is at hand!

Byron Composed in 1863 at Voloch to a text by Byron (from Hebrew Melodies) and dedicated to A.P. Opochinin. First edition 1871, Bessel, revised by Rimsky‐Korsakov from Glazounov's orchestration. There are some differences between the Paris orchestral manuscript and the Russian version.

13. Noch 13. Night Tvoy obraz laskovy tak poln ocharovan'ya, Your lovely countenance is so full of delights, tak manit k sebe, tak obol'shchayet, so seductive, so captivating, trevozha son moy tikhy v chas polnochi it disturbs my peaceful sleep at midnight's silent bezmolvnoy... hour...

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I mnitsa, shepchesh ty. Tvoi slova, And I seem to hcar you whisper. Your words slivayas i zhurcha chistoy struykoy, flowing and murmuring like a pure mountain stream, nado mnoyu v nochnoy tishi igrayut, play around me in the silence of the night, polny lyubvi, polny otrady, polny vsey sili full of love, full of delight, full of all the strength char volshebnoy negi i zabven'ya... and magic of bewitching serenity and oblivion.

Vo t'me nochnoy, v polnochny chas, In the gloom of night, at midnight's hour, tvoi glaza blistayut predo mnoy. your eyes shine bright before me. Mne, mne ulybayutsa, i zvuki slyshu ya: They smile at me, at me, and I hear your voice; moy drug, moy nezhny drug! Lyublyu tebya, my friend, my dearest friend! I love you, tvoya, tvoya! I am yours, yours!

Pushkin Composed 10 April 1874 at St. Petersburg on a text by Pushkin. Dedicated to Nadiejda P. Opotchinina

14. Kalistratushka 14. Little Kalistrat Nado mnoy pevala matushka, My mother sang a song to me kolybel' moyu kachayuchi: as she rocked my cradle: budesh schastliv, Kalistratushka, "you shall be happy, Calistratus, budesh zhit' ty pripevayuchi. you shall have a successful life". I sbylos po vole Bozhiyey And by God's decree it happened, predskazan'ye moyey matushki. just as my mother had foretold. Net schastlivey, net prigozhey, There is no‐one more happy, more handsome, net naryadney Kalistratushki, more elegant than Calistratus, okh! Net naryadney Kalistratushki! oh, no! No‐one more elegant than Calistratus! Klyuchevoy voditsey umyvayusa, I wash myself in the spring water, pyaternyoy cheshu volosynki, comb my locks with my fingers, urozhayu dozhidayusa and I await the harvest s nezapakhannoy polosynki, from fields I have not ploughed, s nezaseyennoy. nor sown. A zhena moya zanimayetsa But my wife stands over the tub na nagikh detishek stirkoyu, washing the children's elothes, pushche muzha naryazhayetsa: she is better dressed than her husband, nosit lapti s podkovyrkoyu. but her slippers have no soles. Da, budesh schastliv, Kalistratushka, Yes, you shall be happy, Calistratus, okh, budesh zhit' ty pripevayuchi! you shall have a successful life!

Nekrassov Study in popular style for voice with piano accompaniment, composed 22 May 1864 in St. Petersburg (Novaia Derevnia) to a text by Nekrassov, and dedicated to A.P. Opochinin. The manuscript is in the State Library, St. Petersburg; a variant is in Paris. First edition 1883, Bessel

15. Otverzhennaya 15. The Outcast Ne smotri na neyo ty s prezren'yem, Do not look at her with scorn, ot sebya yeyo proch ne goni, do not drive her away from you, luchshe v dushu yeyo s sozhalen'yem but rather gaze into her heart with pity i s uchastiyem tyoplym vzglyani! and tender sympathy.

Posmotri, skol'ko v ney perezhito See how many fierce storms bur zhestokikh v ugodu sud'be, she has suffered at fate's will, skol'ko, skol'ko sil molodykh v ney ubito how much ofher youthful strength has been destroyed bez sleda v bezyskhodnoy borbe. without trace in the endless struggle.

A i v etoy dushe zacherstveloy But within this hardened soul i v otravlennoy etoy krovi, and this bleeding heart, ver, lyubov by yeshcho zakipela; believe me, love could have been burning still, no ne videt' vzaimoy lyubvi. but it was unrequited.

Vsyudu slyshat' odni lish proklyat'ya, All around were only words of hate, vsyudu vstretit' prezreniya vzglyad all around were looks of scorn; i ne past', kogda zlobno ob'yat'ya How hard to avoid being weak, raskryvayet odin lish razvrat? when only depravity can open the door to love.

Ne smotri zh na neyo ty s prezren'yem, Do not look at her with scorn, ot sebya yeyo proch ne goni, do not drive her away from you, luchshe v dushu yeyo s sozhalen'yem but rather gaze into her heart with pity i s uchastiyem tyoplym vzglyani! and tender sympathy.

I. Holz‐Miller "Study in recitative" for voice and piano, composed 22 June 1865 in St. Petersburg to a text by I. Holz‐Miller. The manuscript is in Paris.

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16. Kolybel'naya pesnya 16. Cradle Song Bayu, bayu, mil vnuchonochek, Hush, hush‐a‐bye, my little grandchild, ty spi, usni, usni, krest'yansky syn. sleep in slumber deep, little peasant. Bayu, bayu, doprezh dedy ne zavali bedy, Hush, hush‐a‐bye; our forefathers were not loaded beda prishla, da bedu privela s napastyami, with such misfortunes as are piled upon us now, da s propastyami, s pravezhami, a load of grief and torments, beda vsyo s poboyami! and blows and beatings! Bayu, bayu, mil vnuchonochek, ty spi, usni, Hush, hush‐a‐bye, my little grandchild, sleep soundly, usni, krest'yansky syn. sleep, little peasant. Izzhivyom bedu za rabotushkoy, We shall overcome our misfortunes, we shall work through them, za nemiloy, chuzhoy, nepokladnoyu, vekovechnoyu, we shall conquer these evil, unacceptable, fierce, endless, zloyu, stradnoyu, zloyu, stradnoyu. cruel sufferings, these cruel sufferings.

Belym tel'tsem lezhish v lyulechke, Your small white body lies there in the cradle, tvoya dushenka v nebesakh letit, your soul flies up in the heavens, tvoy tikhy son sam Gospod' khranit. your sleep is guarded by God himself, Po bokam stoyat svetly angely, and by your side stand bright angels, stoyat angely! bright angels!

Ostrovsky For voice and piano. Text drawn from Ostrovskys play, The Voyevode "Sleep, son of peasants...". Composed 5 September 1865 in St. Petersburg and dedicated to the memory of Julia Ivanovna Mussorgsky, the composers mother. First edition 1871, Bessel. There are two original manuscripts of this song: the first in the State Library, St. Petersburg, the second in Paris with the marking: "tableau dramatique".

17. Pesn baleartsa 17. Balearic song V ob'yat'yakh devy molodoy, lobzan'yem zhguchim raspalyonny, When in the arms of my mistress, inflamed by her burning kisses, dykhan'ya zharkovo struyoy v roskoshnoy nege upoyonny, when intoxicated by her ardent breath, I lie sunk in delicious pod shopot sladostnykh rechey ya zabyvayu zvuk mechey. languor, when I hear her whisper sweet words, then I forget the V ob'yat'yakh devy nezhnoy ya zasypayu bezmyatezhno. clang of the swords, and in my loved one's embraces I fall into a peaceful sleep.

Zabudu‐l' obraz devy miloy, zabudu‐l' blesk yeyo ochey, Shall I forget my dear one's face, shall I forget the light in her eyes, i shopot sladostnykh rechey sred' zvukov pirshostva igrivykh? and the whisper of sweet words amongst the merry sounds of the Pod shopot sladostnykh rechey ya zabyvayu zvuk mechey. banquet? When I hear her whisper sweet words I forget the clang V ob'yat'yakh devy nezhnoy ya zasypayu bezmyatezhno, of the swords, and in my loved one's embraces I fall into a peaceful i v sladkom sne, lyubov'yu upoyonny, poyu lyubov, sleep, and in that sweet sleep, intoxicated with love, I sing of love, i devy chudnuyu krasu i devu chudnuyu moyu! and of my mistress' wondrous beauty, of this wonderful girl of mine!

Mussorgsky From the opera "Salammbô" (Liviez) in four acts and seven scenes to a text by Mussorgsky after Flaubert's novel. Of the first act, only the "Balearic song at the feast in the gardens of Hamilcar" was set to music. The manuscript of this song is in Paris, with the autograph date August 1864, Novaia Derevnia, St.Petersburg. CD4

1. Gde ty, zvyozdochka? 1. Where are thou, little star? Gde ty, zvyozdochka? Gde ty, krasnaya? Where are you, little star? Where are you, beauteous one? Il' zatmilasa tuchey chornoyu, Have you hidden behind a black cloud, tuchey mrachnoyu? behind a dark menacing cloud?

Gde ty, devitsa, gde ty, krasnaya? Where are you, maiden, where are you, lovely one? Il' pokinula druga milovo, Have you forsaken your dear lover, nenaglyadnovo? your handsome lover?

I ya s goresti, so lyutoy toski, And I in sorrow, in cruel anguish, poydu vo pole, pole chistoye; will go to the field, the open field; ne uvizhu li yasnoy zvyozdochki, but I shall not see the bright star, ne povstrechu li krasnoy devitsy. nor shall I meet the lovely maiden.

Tucha chornaya skryla zvyozdochku, A dark cloud has obscured the star, zemlya khladnaya nyala devitsu. and the cold earth has claimed the maiden.

Grekov Ballad for voice and piano. Composed in 1857 at St. Petersburg to a text by Grekov, written in the spirit of popular songs. Dedicated to the singer J.‐L. Gruenberg. First edition 1911, Bessel. The manuscript is in Paris (Library of the Conservatoire).

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2. Noch 2. Night Moy golos dlya tebya i laskovy i tomny My voice is for you both tender and languid, trevozhit pozdneye molchan'ye nochi tyomnoy. it disturbs the late silence of night's darkness. Bliz lozha moyevo pechal'naya svecha gorit. Near my couch a sorrowful candle burns. Moi slova slivayas i zhurcha, My words ripple and murmur, tekut, ruchi lyubvi, polny, polny toboy! they flow like streams of love, full of you! Vo t'me nochnoy, tvoi glaza blistayut predo mnoy, In the gloom of night your eyes shine bright before me, mne ulybayutsa i zvuki slyshu ya! they smile at me, and I hear sounds! Moy drug, moy nezhny drug, lyublyu tebya! My friend, my dearest friend, I love you... Tvoya...tvoya! I am yours, yours!

Pushkin Fantasy for voice and piano. Composed 10 April 1864 in St. Petersburg to a text by Pushkin. Dedicated to Nadiejda P. Opochinina. First published 1871.

3. Gopak 3. Hopak Hoy! Hoy, hoy, hopaka! Hey! Hey, hey, hopak! Polyubila kazaka, I fell in love with a Cossack, tol'ko stary da nedyuzhy, but he was old and awkward, tol'ko ryzhy, neuklyuzhy, red‐haired and clumsy, vot i dolya vsya poka! Hoy! but that's fate! Hey! Dolya sledom za toskoyu, My fate is a sad one, a ty stary za vodoyu, but while you, old boy, go to fetch water, a sama to ya v shinok, I'm off to the tavern. da khvachu sebe kryuchok, I'll grab myself a goblet, a potom vsyo chok da chok, then I'll be clinking glasses; vsyo chok da chok. the first cup'll stick in my throat, Charka pervaya kolom, a vtoraya sokolom, but the second will go down better. baba v plyas poshla v konets, The woman has gone off to the dance, a za neyu molodets, and there's a young man after her; stary, ryzhy, babu klichet, the red‐haired husband calls to the woman, tol'ko baba kukish tychet. but she sticks her fingers up at him. Kol' zhenilsa, satana, If you get married, hell, dobyvay‐zhe mne pshena, vot kak! you've got to provide the bread, that's it! Nado detok pozhalet', You have to show some sympathy for the children, nakormit' i priodet'. feed and clothe them. Vot shto! That's what!

Dobyvay, smotri, byt' khudu, Get on then, look here, it'll be the worse for you, a ne to sama dobudu! otherwise I'll do the providing! Slysh ty! Just you listen! Dobyvay zhe, stary, ryzhy, You provide for us, old redhead, dobyvay skorey, besstyzhy! get a move on, shameless creature! Shto, vzyal! What gave you that idea? Tol'ko, stary, ne greshi, But you, old boy, kolybel'ki, kolyshi give up your sinful ways, vot tak! and rock the cradle, like that! Kolybel'ki stary, kolyshi, Rock the cradle, old boy, vot tak! like this! Kak byla ya molodoyu When I was a young girl da ugodnitseyu, and anxious to please, ya povesila perednik I used to hang up my apron nad okonnitseyu, over the window; i v okoshechko kivayu, then I'd beckon out of the window v pyal'tsakh sholkom vyshivayu. as I worked at my silk on the frame. Hoy, semyony vy, Ivany, And I'd call: "Hey, Simon, Ivan, nadevayte‐ka kaftany, put on your kaftans, da so mnoy gulyat' poydyomte! and come walk with me! Da prisyadem, zapoyomte! We'll sit awhile in the tavern and sing!"

Hoy, hoy, hoy, hoy, hoy, hoy, hoy Hey, hey, hop, hop, hoy, hoy, hoy, hoy, hoy, hopaka! hop, hop, hopak! Polyubila kazaka, I fell in love with a Cossack, tol'ko stary da nedyuzhy, but he was old and awkward, tol'ko ryzhy, neuklyuzhy, red‐haired and clumsy, vot i pravda vsya poka. Hoy! and that's the whole truth. Hey!

Mey (iz Schevschenko) Song for voice and piano. Composed 31 August 1866 in Pavlovsk to an Ukrainian text from Schevschenko’s Gaidamaki, translated by Mey. Dedicated to Nicolai Rimsky‐Korsakov. First published 1867 by Jurgenson.

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4. Krapivnaya gora 4. The nettle mountain Mezhdu nebom i zemlyoyu, Between the heavens and the earth, v meste vovse neizvestnom, in a place not known to any mortal, yest' krapivnaya gora. there is a nettle mountain. I na toy gore krapivnoy And on that nettle mountain nichevo, oprich krapivy, nothing but nettles ne rastyot i ne roslo. grows nor has ever grown.

Tol'ko poveyet prokhladoy But when a cool and soothing vecherney dremoyu otradnoy, evening languor has wafted over all, pakhnyot veterok prelestny, there blows a delightful breeze, s gori Krapivnoy dushit krapivoy, and from the nettle mountain comes a scent of nettles, odnoy krapivoy; za ney na toy gore Krapivnoy just of nettles; behind, on that nettle mountain nachinayut otkryvatsa nature begins to open up tayni mrachnyye prirody. her sombre secrets.

Mussorgsky Incomplete; begun in 1874. Words by Mussorgsky.

5. Akh ty, p’yanaya teterya! 5. You drunken sot! Akh ty, pyanaya teterya! Oh, you drunken sot! Gde ty do svetu shatalsa, Where in the world have you been roaming, s kem, besstydnik, ty taskala! who have you been hanging out with, shameless creature? Al' s rodymi pirovali, Have you been living it up among your relations, zhon da detok vspominali? chattering about your wives and children? Al' za rodnikh, shto v mogile, Or have you been asking God's blessing boga gospoda molili? on the ones already in their graves?

Rasskazhi zh, gde byl, Tell us where you've been, go on, pokhvastay, gde, shto pil. boast about your drinking bouts. Eko rylo, vsyo v gryazi‐to, What a snout, all covered in mud, vsyo, serdechnoye, izbito. and all matters of the heart ruined. Ha, ha, ha... Ha, ha, ha... T’fu, ty, pakost'! Be off, you disgusting creature! Nu, shto vypuchil glazishi, Well, what are you staring like that for, shto stoish, kak stolb poverstny! why do you stand there like a milestone? Al' stupit' boishsa, nozhki oslabeli? Are you afraid to move, have your legs gone weak? Al' khmel'noye yazychok tebe otshiblo? Or has your intoxicated tongue failed you? Ty ne boysa! Don't be afraid! Zhonka staraya podmozhet, Your old wife will help, govori smeley! just come out with it! Zhonka yazychok razvyazhet! Your wife will unlock your tongue! Kak nachnu vozit' ukhvatom, When I start beating you up with an oven fork nozhki stanu t tvyordo; your legs'll get so stiff; kak khvachu tebya po lyasam, when I grab you by the jaws yazychokot razvernyotsa: your tongue'll get unfurled; pravdumatku vsyu pokazhet, and reveal the whole truth; pro besstydnika rasskazhet, it'll tell of the shameless creature, pro besstydnika, pro muzha, of the shameless husband, pro starovo potaskukhu! of the old trollop!

Ne molila l' ya tebya, Pakhomych, Didn't I beg you, Pakhomych, ne korila l' ya tebya, rodimy? didn't I reproach you, dear fellow? Pozhaley ty svoikh detok malykh, Have pity on your little children, ne tomi ne much ty zhorlku staruyu. don't torment and torture your old wife. Poklyalsa, besstydnik, obrazom svyatym, Swear, in a holy manner, shameless creature, na tri storony poklon polozhil, and give a triple bow, 'shto ne budesh pit', that you'll give up drinking, stanesh trezvo zhit'. and start living a sober life.

Okh, golovushka bednaya, okhti! Oh, my poor head, oh! Okh ty, dolya gorkaya, okhti! Oh, my bitter fate, oh! Okh vy, detki malyye, kto vas prigolubit, Oh, my little children, who will caress you, bespomoshchnykh prilaskayet? Okhti! who will kiss my little helpless ones? Oh! Po bokam‐to starym ya ukhvattsem pokhodila b I'd have a go at those old limbs with an oven fork, vdol' da po spinke plet'yu, plyorochkoy pyoshpas by. all down his back with a whip and a lash. Sprava, sleva steganula, To right and to left I'd whip him za zagrivok by nagnula. I'd wring his neck. Po shchekam by otkhlestala vazhno! I'd give him a good whipping on the cheeks! Za volosya b ottaskala likho! I'd give his hair a good tug! Ne shataysa po nocham ty, stary, Don't roam around at nights, you old fool,

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ne valyaysa ty v gryazi, besstydnik! don't lie around in the mud, you shameless creature! Na lezhanochke spi lezhi ty chinno, Go and sleep on your stove‐bench in a proper manner, zhonku, detok, steregi po chesti, and look after your wife and children honourably, da po chesti trezvo! yes, honourably and soberly! Akh ty, skaredna teterya, Oh, you miserable sot, al' yeshcho ne otrezvilsa? haven't you sobered up yet? Grekh s toboy odin, da gore, da pozor, It's sinful, it's a shame and a scandal, da posmeyan'ye! it's a mockery! Sgin ty s glaz moikh, proklyaty! Get out of my sight, curse you!

Mussorgsky Composed 1866 to a text by Mussorgsky, dedicated to Vladimir V. Nikolsky. Unpublished; discovered in the St. Petersburg State Library in 1925 by Andrei Rimsky‐Korsakov.

6. Sirotka 6. The Orphan Barin moy milenky, My dear sir, barin moy dobrenky! my kind sir! Szhal'sa nad bednen'kim, Have pity on this poor creature, gorkim, bezdomnym sirotochkoy! this wretched, homeless orphan! Barinushka! Good sir!

Kholodom, golodom greyus, kormlyusa ya, The cold warms me, hunger feeds me, burey da vyugoyu v noch prikryvayusa, storm and tempest give me shelter in the night, branyu, poboyami, strakhom, ugrozoy abuse, blows, fear and threats, dobryye lyudi za ston golodny moy potchuyut! this is how good folk answer my groans of hunger.

V chashu‐l' dremuchuyu ot lyudey spryachus ya, If I hide from the world in the dense glade, golod dokuchlivy iz lesu vytolknet. a tormenting hunger drives me from the wood. Net moyey silushki, I have no strength left, pit', yest' zakhochetsa. and thirst and hunger torment me.

Barin moy milenky, barin moy dobrenky! My dear sir, my kind sir! S golodu smert' strashna, s kholodu stynet krov. Starvation is fearful, and the blood freezes in the cold. Barin moy dobrenky, My kind sir, szhal'sa nad bednen'kim, have pity on this poor creature, szhal'sa nad gorkim sirotochkoy! have pity on this wretched orphan!

Mussorgsky Romance for voice and piano, composed in 1868 in St. Petersburg to a text by Mussorgsky, and dedicated to Ekaterina S. Borodin. First published by Bessel, 1871.

7. Strekotun'ya beloboka 7. The Magpie Strekotun'ya beloboka pod kalitkoyu moyey That white‐winged chatterbox by my gate, skachet pyostraya soroka i prorochit mne gostey. the vivid magpie, goes hopping along, telling of guests arriving. Kolokol'chik nebyvaly u menya zvenit v ushakh, There's a strange sound of bells ringing in my ears, luch zari igrayet aly, serebritsa snezhny prakh. and the red glow of dawn flickers over the silversnowy landscape.

Kolokol'chiki zvenyat, barabanchiki gremyat, The bells ring out, the tambourines clash, a lyudi‐to lyudi oy, lyushenki lyudi! and the people, oh, so many people! A lyudi‐to lyudi na tsyganochku glyadyat. All the people gaze on the gipsy girl. A tsyganochka‐to skachet, v barabanchiki byot, And the gipsy girl twirls as, banging on her tambourine, oy, shirinochkoy‐to mashet, zalivayetsa, poyot: and waving her scarf, she floods the air with song. "Ya pevun'ya, ya pevitsa, ''I'm the songstress, I'm the singer, vorozhit' ya masteritsa!" at telling fortunes I'm a winner!"

Strekotun'ya beloboka pod kalitkoyu moyey That white‐winged chatterbox by my gate, skachet pyostraya soroka i prorochit mne gostey. the vivid magpie, goes hopping along, telling of guests arriving. Kolokol'chik nebyvaly u menya zvenit v ushakh, There's a strange sound of bells ringing in my ears, luch zari igrayet aly, serebritsa snezhny prakh. and the red glow of dawn flickers over the silversnowy landscape.

A tsyganochka vsyo plyashet, oy, shirinochkoy‐to mashet: The gipsy girl dances on, oh, and she waves her scarf. "Ya pevun'ya, ya pevitsa, ''I'm the songstress, I'm the singer, vorozhit' ya masteritsa!" at telling fortunes I'm a winner!"

Pushkin Joke for voice and piano. Composed 26 August 1867 in St. Petersburg to texts by Pushkin, dedicated to A.P and N.P. Opochinina. First published 1872, Bessel. The manuscript is in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

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8. Detskaya pesnya 8. Child's song Vo sadu, akh, vo sadochke In our garden, our tiny garden, vyrosla malinka; a raspberry‐bush has flowered; solnyshko yeyo greyet, the sun warms it, dozhdichek leleyet. and the rain nourishes it.

V svetlom teremochke In our little house, vyrosla Naninka, the maiden Naninka has grown up, tyatya yeyo lyubit, loved by her father, Mamenka golyubit. and cherished by her mother.

Mey For voice and piano. Composed 6 April 1868 in St. Petersburg to a text by Mey (after Russian songs). The manuscript is in the State Library, St. Petetersburg.

9. Ozornik 9. The Ragmuffin Okh, baushka, okh, rodnaya, raskrasavushka, obernis! Hey, my dear, you with the pretty painted face, turn round! Vostronosaya, serebryonaya, pucheglazaya, You with the pointed nose, hair silver‐grey, puffy‐eyed, give me a potseluy! kiss! Stan li tvoy dugoy, podpyortoy klyukoy, Hunch‐backed, leaning on a stick, nozhki kostochki slovno trostochki. your legs just bones, like matchsticks, Khodish seleznem, spotykayeshsa, you walk like a duck waddling along, na chestoy na lyud natykayeshsa. bumping into good honest folk. Oy, podzharaya, baba staraya, Hey, you skinny old woman, oy, s gorbom! hey, you there with the hump! Okh, baushka, okh, rodnaya, krasavushka, ne serchay! Hey, my dear, my pretty one, don't be cross! Po lesam bredyosh, zveri mechutsa, When you wander through the forests, the animals scamper away, po goram polzyosh, dol tryasyotsa ves, when you climb the mountains, the valleys all shake, stanesh pech topir', an izba gorit, if you stoke the fire, then the hut burns down, stanesh khleb kusat', an zub lomitsa, if you take a bite of bread, you break a tooth, po griby l' poydyosh, sginut pod zemlyu, when you go out to pick mushrooms, they all vanish underground, al' po yagodu, v travku spryachetsa. and if it's berries, then they hide in the grass. Za toboy‐zhe vsled, moya rodnaya, vse polnym polny, vse And after you, my dear, with their baskets full to the brim lukoshechki come the pretty maidens following close behind, volokut nesut krasny devushki, sniggering at you, old crone, with your empty basket. da khikhikayut na tebya kargu, szadi glyadyuchi na porozhnyuyu. Oh, my dear, oh, don't beat me! Oy, baushka, oy rodnaya! Oy, You with the pointed nose and painted face, puffy‐eyed, don't beat ne bey! me! Vostronosaya, raskrasavushka, pucheglazaya, oy, ne bey! Hitch your shoulder, raise your stick and clear off, old crone! Razzudis plecho, razmakhnis klynka, raskhodis, karga staraya! Oh, listen to my tale, hear me to the end! Oy, doslushay‐ka moyu skazochku, ty povyslushay do kontsa! Chin and nose meet in a kiss, like love‐birds, S podborodochkom nos tseluyetsa, slovno golubi, oy, oy, ne bey! oh, oh, don't beat me! Na zatylochke tri volosika s polovinochkoy, On your head there are just three hairs, and maybe a half, oy, oy, baushka, oy, oy, rodnaya, oy krasavushka, oh, oh, my dear, oh, my beauty, oy, oy, oy, ne bey, oy! oh, oh, oh, don't beat me, oh!

Mussorgsky For voice and piano. Composed 19 December 1867 in St. Petersburg to words by the composer. Dedicated to V.V. Stassov. First published, Bessel. The mauscript is in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

10. Vechernyaya pesenka 10. Evening Song Vecher otradny An enchanting evening Iyog na kholmakh, lies over the hills, veter prokhladny and a cool breeze duyet v polyakh, blows in the fields; duyet, laskayet it blows and caresses travku, tsvety, the grass and the flowers, tikho kachayet and gently sways rozy, kusty. the roses and the bushes. Roza mladaya A young rose Iyot aromat, gives out its scent, ptichki porkhaya and the birds as they fly about v roshche poyut. in the glade pour forth their song.

? Pleshcheyev Romance for voice and piano. Composed 15 March 1871 in St. Petersburg to a text by (?) Plescheyev, dedicated to Sofia V. Serbin. First published Bessel, 1912. The manuscript is in the State Library, St. Petersburg.

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11. Po griby 11. Gathering Mushrooms Ryzhichkov, volvyanochek, belykh, belyanochek Orange ones, brown ones, white ones, mushrooms of many sorts, naberu skoryoshenko ya mlada mladyoshenka, I will gather quickly, for I am young and able, shto dlya svyokra batyushki, dlya svekrovi‐l' matushki, so that my husband's father and mother perestali‐b skryazhnichat', seli‐by pobrazhnichat'. can stop being so miserly and prepare a feast.

A tebe nemilomu, staromu da khilomu, But for that decrepit, detestable old husband of mine sunu ya v okoshechko tseloye lukoshechko, I'll shove a whole punnet through the window, mukhomora starovo, starovo podzharovo, but they'll all be stunted, shrivelled and poisonous; stary yest, ne spravitsa, mukhomorom the old boy will eat them, they'll disagree with him, and he'll davitsa. choke.

A tebe preklyatomu, belu kudrevatomu But for you, young man with the golden curls, vysmotryu ya travushku, travushku muravushku I'll pluck grasses, a soft sheaf of grasses, na postelyu branuyu, svakhoy nochkoy stlanuyu' to decorate a couch made ready for a wedding night, s pologom dubrovushkoy da so mnoy‐li vdovushkoy. with the shady leaves for curtains, and maybe this widow.

Mey For voice and piano. Composed mid‐August 1867 to a text by L. Mey, and dedicated to Vladimir V. Nikolsky.

12. Strannik 12. The Wanderer Teni gor vysokikh The shadows of the high mountains na vodu legli, have fallen on the water, potyanulis chayki and white seagulls are circling belyye vdali. in the distance.

Net so mnoyu blizkikh, All the dear friends I cherished serdtsu dorogikh, are no longer with me; a teper tak krepko yet I would press them to me obnyal‐by ya nikh. in a close embrace.

Pleshcheyev (iz Rückert) For voice and piano. Composed 1878 to a text by Plescheyev (from Ruckert) First published Bessel, 1883.

13. Po nad Donom sad tsvetyot 13. The garden blooms by the Don Po nad Donom sad tsvetyot, By the Don a garden grows, vo sadu dorozhka, and through the garden runs a path; na neyo ya b vsyo glyadel there I love to gaze, sidya u okoshechko. seated by my window.

Raz po ney pod vecherok Once, towards evening, Masha prokhodila; Masha trod along that path; ne zabyt' mne nikogda, I can never forget kak ona vzdykhala, how she sighed, kak s ulybkoyu lyubvi or how with a smile of love robko otvechala, she shyly answered me, iz kuvshina v zabyt'i while her pitcher lay forgotten vodu prolivala. and the water trickled from it. Po nad Donom sad tsvetyot, By the Don a garden grows, vo sadu dorozhka... and through the garden runs a,path.

Kol'tsov Romance for voice and piano. Composed 23 December 1867 to a text by Kol'tsov, in St. Petersburg. First published 1883, Bessel. Until 1917, the manusctipt belonged to V. V. Jastrebzev.

14.Yevreyskaya pesnya 14. Hebrew Song "Ya tsvetok polevoy, ya lileya dolin!" "I am a flower of the field, a lily of the valleys!" Golubitsa moya belolonnaya, My dove with snowy breast mezhdu yunykh podrug, slovno v ternii krin. among her young companions, is like a rose among thorns, Golubitsa moya belolonnaya! my dove with snowy breast! Slovno mirta v tsvetu blagovornnaya As the fragrant myrtle in bloom mezh besplodnykh derevev lesnykh mily moy, among the barren woodland trees is my love, among his young friends, among his young friends. mezh druzey molodykh, mezh druzey molodykh. Where are you, my love, my handsome darling? Gde ty, mily moy, krasavets moy? For voice and piano. Composed 12 June 1867 at Minkino, to a text Mey by Mey (adapted from The Song of Solomon II, v 1‐3) and dedicated to Mussorgsky's brother and his wife. First edition Jurgenson, 1868. The manusctipt is in the State Libraty, St. Petersburg.

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15. Zhelaniye serdtsa 15. Meines Herzens Sehnsucht (Longing) Lastochke lekho rezvitsa, The swallow can dip v siney vyshine skol'zit'... and glide in the blue heights... Bud' i ya krylatoy ptitsey, If I were a winged bird znal by ya, kuda speshit'. I would know whither to hasten. Nam ne suzhdena s toboyu Fate does not decree that you and I radost' mirnovo gnezda, should know the joy of an earthly nest, vsyo zhe mne dano sud'boyu but fate allows me vernym byt' tebe vsegda. to be true to you always.

Ty v dali, ya eto znayu, You are far away, that I know, no vsyo zhe ty mne blizka. but still you are near to me. V serdtse dumu ya pitayu, In my heart I nurse this thought, o tebe moya toska. and my longing is for you. Akh! Ya znal by schast'ye v zhizni, Oh, I would know life's joy bud' svobodnoy ptashkoy ya. were I a bird of liberty. Pomchalsa by ya k otchizne, I would hasten to your homeland gde ty zhdyosh, lyubov moya. where you wait, my love.

Lastochke lekho rezvitsa, The swallow can dip v siney vyshine skol'zit'... and glide in the blue heights... Bud' i ya krylatoy ptitsey, If I were a winged bird znal by, znal, kuda speshit'. I would know, I'd know whither to hasten. Ya nesu razluki bremya, I bear the burden of parting, i otrady luch poras. and joy's light has died away. Toropis, o vremya, vremya, Speed along, Time, O Time, i uskor zhelanny chas. and hasten the hour I long for.

Anon, tr Usov Composed 1858 to Usov's translation from an anonymous German original

16. Zhelaniye 16. Ich wollt’ meine Schmerzen ergössen Khotel by v yedinoye slovo I should like in a single word ya slit' moyu grust' i pechal' to unite my grief and sorrow i brosit' to slovo na veter, and hurl that word to the wind, shtob veter unyos yevo vdal'. that the wind may bear it away.

I pust' by to slovo pechali And may that word of sorrow po vetru k tebe doneslos, be borne by the wind to you, i pust' by vsegda i povsyudu and may it ever, wherever you are, ono tebe v serdtse lilos! find its way into your heart!

I yesli b ustalyye ochi And if your tired eyelids somknulis pod gryozoy nochnoy, should close in the dreams of night, O pust' by to slovo pechali oh, may that word of sorrow zvuchalo vo sne nad toboy! ring out loud in your sleep over you!

Mey (iz Heine) Romance for voice and piano. Composed in St. Petersburg "in the night of 15‐16 April 1866, at two o'clock" Mussorgsky's manuscript notes. The text is from Heine's Ich wollt' meine Schmerzen ergössen, translated by Mey. Dedicated to Nadiejda P. Opochinina 'In memory of her verdict on me". The manuscript is in the State Library. St. Petersburg. First published 1911, Bessel.

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