Lucia Di Lammermoor
The sweet sound
Of his voice I hear!
That voice
So deeply embedded in my heart!...
Ester! I'm yours again;
Ester! Ah! My Ester!
Yes, I'm yours again!
I've escaped from your enemies.
.Friendship
(duet of Vitas and his grandfather)
My friend, when you caress me
With a simple and tender look,
An uncommon colored pattern
Flashes across the ground and the sky.
I’m always ready to share the joy time
And the pain of parting with you.
Let’s squeeze our hands
And set for years.
We are so close friends
That need no words to retell to each
other
That our tenderness and our friendship
Are stronger than passion
And are greater than love.
The joy time will come to us again,
You will come back,
And then we’ll pledge honor to each
other
To be together forever
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My Swan (Lebed' moy)
Music and lyrics by Lyubasha
Swan of mine, he was just mine
He was in winter with me, swan of
mine
And in spring he turned sad
I let him go... Fly!
He is flying above the clouds...
A stranger among human beings...
Don't touch love with your hands
And never shoot at swans!
Swan of mine, he was tamed
He was earthly with me, swan of mine
The last golden snow...
Fly for all of us, fly!
He is flying above the clouds...
A stranger among human beings...
Don't touch love with your hands
And never shoot at swans!
Stop, time! It's the last circle...
My last friend is leaving, swan of
mine
Loving you with all my soul
I am asking you: Fly!
He is flying above the clouds...
A stranger among human beings...
Don't touch love with your hands
And never shoot at swans!
He is flying above the clouds...
A stranger among human beings...
Don't touch love with your hands
And never shoot at swans!
And never shoot at swans
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I Ask All Saints
What's up with me? I am out of
strength, out of tears
Where are you, Lord? Save me please
Don't leave me alone in mundane fuss
What's up with me? I am out of
strength, out of tears
Where are you, Lord? Save me please
At the sacred icons I burn candles for
love
Let every song have its wings
Let birds fly up in the sky
Let our hearts warm up
Waiting again for the coming of spring
I request all the saints
For my near and dear and strangers
too
At the crossroads every step is so hard
If only I could know, Lord
Who is my friend and who is my enemy
But in the shade of speechless stars
Don't you forget about us
Let every song have its wings
Let birds fly up in the sky
Let our hearts warm up
Waiting again for the coming of spring
I request all the saints
For my near and dear and strangers
too
Let every song have its wings
Let birds fly up in the sky
Let our hearts warm up
Waiting again for the coming of spring
I request all the saints
For my near and dear and strangers
too
I request all the saints
For my near and dear and strangers
too
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Where Are These Winters?
Both in heat and in cold,
I come back to my old town
As to my youth.
Everything that was here earlier
And everything that remained
Is dear to me,
I love all this.
Where are those winters? Where are
those springs?
Where are that garden with a bench
And that house in the meadow?..
Where are that chamomile field with
early dew
And my mother’s smile that I cannot
forget?
The long flocks of credulous birds
Slowly flow away into the skies.
Many kind people live in my town
today.
It’s a pity that I meet less and less my
familiars
Each time I come here.
Where are those winters? Where are
those springs?
Where are that garden with a bench
And that house in the meadow?..
Where are that chamomile field with
early dew
And my mother’s smile that I cannot
forget?
The land of dear clear dawns,
The land of the first passing love,
Of many riddles and many solutions...
My dear Motherland, I wish you would
live forever!
Where are those winters? Where are
those springs?
Where are that garden with a bench
And that house in the meadow?..
Where are that chamomile field with
early dew
And my mother’s smile that I cannot
forget?
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Shores of Russia
An old orchard missing me at daybreak
Is dropping tears of golden dew.
I'm returning to my home
And I don't want to live otherwise
Getting tired of a foreign land
Incomprehensible and unfamiliar
I'm returning to my home
As always, I feel good at home
In the morning sky a new day breaks
You are my home and my shore, my
Russia
Wherever I go, I believe, as the Earth
spins:
You, Russia, is my shore and my home
In the morning sky a new day breaks
You are my home and my shore, my
Russia
Wherever I go, I believe, as the Earth
spins:
You, Russia, is my shore and my home
If someone leaving his shelter
Finds happiness in a foreign land
I would send him my greetings
But I can't make my heart feel this way
In the morning sky a new day breaks
You are my home and my shore, my
Russia
Wherever I go, I believe, as the Earth
spins:
You, Russia, is my shore and my home
In the morning sky a new day breaks
You are my home and my shore, my
Russia
Wherever I go, I believe, as the Earth
spins:
You, Russia, is my shore and my home
In the morning sky a new day breaks
You are my home and my shore, my
Russia
Wherever I go, I believe, as the Earth
spins:
You, Russia, is my shore and my home
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Hello My Dear Native Land
The long-awaited shore has finally
heaved in sight,
The far seas have been left behind.
Good day, my beloved singed saint
Motherland!
You were always a boundless ocean,
A quiet river that I have remembered
since my childhood,
Lermontov’s sail in a fog,
And Pushkin’s selected verses.
I have seen all kingdoms and states
And I have passed through all lands
and seas
In order to say you today:
“Hello, hello,
My beloved Motherland!”
You were like the only girl all over
the world,
With a golden blond plait
And in a fine dress made of the sun
light
And sprinkled with an early dew in
the meadow.
I have seen all kingdoms and states
And I have passed through all lands
and seas
In order to say you today:
“Hello, hello,
My beloved Motherland!”
Chorus:
He has seen all kingdoms and states
And he has passed through all
lands and seas
In order to say you today:
“Hello, hello,
My beloved Motherland!”
(the refrain is repeated several
times)
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Forgive, God
I shall wash myself with the holy water
And stand praying at the icon.
I ask God to absolve Russia from sins.
I’m looking at a silver cross
But see crucified old Russia,
And I’m praying with penitence and a
bow to God
In the hope of forgiveness.
God, please forgive us for everything:
For the crosses that were pulled off
the churches,
For the killed tzar,
And for the burnt icons...
God, please forgive us for everything!
I’m feeding pigeons near the temple
And looking in hope at the sky.
Great God, please grant us absolution
And take Russia off the crucifix.
Let us restore the defiled temples,
And their domes will shine at down.
Just give us the hope of forgiveness,
And our country will become powerful
again.
God, please forgive us for everything:
For the crosses that were pulled off
the churches,
For the killed Czar,
And for the burnt icons...
God, please forgive us for everything!
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Cherry Orchard
A cherry orchard... Everything is white
like brides.
The cherry orchard... The curtains
tremble in the wind.
The cherry orchard... The final ball of
Ranevskaya*.
The abandoned orchard of our love,
the sold orchard...
And I dreamed of saving my tenement,
And I whispered faintly: “Don’t fell the
trees!”
And I whispered faintly: “Save us!
Please save us!
Save the abandoned dance hall of our
love, the sold-out ball...”
The cruel age... Other birds fly...
The cruel age... Whom we must pray
today?
The cruel age... You eyelashes
tremble...
The abandoned age of our love, the
sold age...
Please forgive me for the overthrown
saints.
Please forgive me that we are
different today.
Please forgive me for the naked
orchards,
For my home without me, my home
without fire, and the light without fire...
But our souls are still with us, and they
remained the same.
Our souls are still alive and gentle.
Life still exists in the remotest
boundless steppe,
And it is so good even today!
The cruel age... Other birds fly...
The cruel age... Whom we must pray
today?
The cruel age... You eyelashes
tremble...
The abandoned age of our love, the
sold age...
The cherry orchard... – a genius of ill
nature.
The cherry orchard... - the last deep
breath of spring.
The cherry orchard of my verses...
The abandoned orchard of our love,
the sold orchard...
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Alms
Winter... A snow-storm...
The snow is falling in large flakes,
And a strong wind is blowing.
A ragged beggarly old woman is
standing at the temple entrance.
She is standing with a crutch, waiting for
alms.
She is barefooted both in summer and in
winter.
Please give her alms.
You know, twenty years ago
This old woman was a poet’s dream,
And the fame twined a wreath for her.
When she was singing on the stage,
Paris was enchanted with her.
She was unrivalled.
Please give her alms.
It often happened that the crowd
Didn’t let her go after the performance.
And the delighted young people shouted
loudly “Bravo!”
As she passed by.
The circle of her guests praised her
generously –
In happiness everybody is our friend,
But in trouble these friends disappear...
The saint will of Providence:
The artist became ill
And lost her voice and eyesight.
Today she lives by begging.
Earlier, beggars often used to come to
her
For asking for alms.
And today she is ashamed of begging
you...
Please give her alms
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