Inga, this is one of my favourites. The words of the song are so simple but I bet nobody could say better about a girl, flowers and a bicycle. Rubtsov - is a magnificent poet.
Thanks, Inga, for posting another poem of Rubtsov! :) Here is the Russian translation of it.
В МИНУТЫ МУЗЫКИ
В минуты музыки печальной
Я представляю желтый плес,
И голос женщины прощальный,
И шум порывистых берез,
И первый снег под небом серым
Среди погаснувших полей,
И путь без солнца, путь без веры
Гонимых снегом журавлей...
Давно душа блуждать устала
В былой любви, в былом хмелю,
Давно понять пора настала,
Что слишком призраки люблю.
Но все равно в жилищах зыбких -
Попробуй их останови! -
Перекликаясь, плачут скрипки
О желтом плесе, о любви.
И все равно под небом низким
Я вижу явственно, до слез,
И желтый плес, и голос близкий,
И шум порывистых берез.
Как будто вечен час прощальный,
Как будто время ни при чем...
В минуты музыки печальной
Не говорите ни о чем.
Hello, dear Natasha!
Thank you very much for your new video! I know, that a famous Russian singer is dead to myocardial infarction. I'm sorry! He was a good singer and composer! I very like his song "Buket" - The Bouquet (The Bounch of Flowers) in English.
Natasha, I send you a tranlation of poem by Rubtsov "At moments of Music". I hope, you like it (I'm sorry, I didn't find English text of "The Bouquet").
Nikolai Rubtsov
At moments of music
At moments of so sad an air
When for a yellow shore I wish
A lady's voice bids, "May you fare
Well" as impulsive birch trees swish;
Below the gray sky, first are snows
To lie on fields where flames have lain,
The sunless, faithless flyway goes
For many a snow driven crane...
It's been long since my soul was all in
To range through bygone love and sprees,
Long since it's time I saw this palling
With too much love for ghosts I'm seized.
But after all in mean abodes —
To stop these short is hard enough —
The violins in swapping modes
Wail for the yellow shore, for love.
It's under the low sky where I
Still see the yellow shoreline squish,
Voice dear enough to make me cry,
And those impulsive birch trees swish.
This farewell hour will wind up ne'er,
Of time, there's nothing to be heard...
At moments of so sad an air
Pray do say nothing; mum's the word
Comments
Hi GregShel,
Thanks for watching and listening. It seems like you're a former Russian, aren't you?
Inga, this is one of my favourites. The words of the song are so simple but I bet nobody could say better about a girl, flowers and a bicycle. Rubtsov - is a magnificent poet.
Thanks, Inga, for posting another poem of Rubtsov! :) Here is the Russian translation of it.
В МИНУТЫ МУЗЫКИ
В минуты музыки печальной
Я представляю желтый плес,
И голос женщины прощальный,
И шум порывистых берез,
И первый снег под небом серым
Среди погаснувших полей,
И путь без солнца, путь без веры
Гонимых снегом журавлей...
Давно душа блуждать устала
В былой любви, в былом хмелю,
Давно понять пора настала,
Что слишком призраки люблю.
Но все равно в жилищах зыбких -
Попробуй их останови! -
Перекликаясь, плачут скрипки
О желтом плесе, о любви.
И все равно под небом низким
Я вижу явственно, до слез,
И желтый плес, и голос близкий,
И шум порывистых берез.
Как будто вечен час прощальный,
Как будто время ни при чем...
В минуты музыки печальной
Не говорите ни о чем.
Thank you very much for your new video! I know, that a famous Russian singer is dead to myocardial infarction. I'm sorry! He was a good singer and composer! I very like his song "Buket" - The Bouquet (The Bounch of Flowers) in English.
Natasha, I send you a tranlation of poem by Rubtsov "At moments of Music". I hope, you like it (I'm sorry, I didn't find English text of "The Bouquet").
Nikolai Rubtsov
At moments of music
At moments of so sad an air
When for a yellow shore I wish
A lady's voice bids, "May you fare
Well" as impulsive birch trees swish;
Below the gray sky, first are snows
To lie on fields where flames have lain,
The sunless, faithless flyway goes
For many a snow driven crane...
It's been long since my soul was all in
To range through bygone love and sprees,
Long since it's time I saw this palling
With too much love for ghosts I'm seized.
But after all in mean abodes —
To stop these short is hard enough —
The violins in swapping modes
Wail for the yellow shore, for love.
It's under the low sky where I
Still see the yellow shoreline squish,
Voice dear enough to make me cry,
And those impulsive birch trees swish.
This farewell hour will wind up ne'er,
Of time, there's nothing to be heard...
At moments of so sad an air
Pray do say nothing; mum's the word