Song from "The Irony of Fate" - "I Have Asked the Ash Tree"

The following song comes from The Irony of Fate, or "Enjoy Your Bath!" - the quintessential Russian Christmas movie. Well, New Year movie. Winter Holiday movie, if you prefer. 

Other sites, will give better summaries and overviews. For us, it will suffice to know that the film's songs remain one of its distinguishing characteristics - words of top-notch Russian poets set to the music of Mikael Tariverdiyev (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mikael_Tariverdiev): definitely worth your while. 

The singer performing the one below is the same Sergei Nikitin who performs my favorite version of he poem "Every Man Chooses for Himself" by Yury Levitansky  (see previous post). Here it is to music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0YtojZT2Xs

Of course, as a result of this film, few can immediately name the poet. Vladimir Kirshon was a Soviet playwright, but I personally know none of his other works. 

Thanks to the following site for the Russian words: 
http://romance.ru/cgi-bin/index.cgi?page=140&item=54

And so:  

I Have Asked the Ash Tree...
by Vladimir Kirshon
translated from Russian

I had asked the ash tree - 
"Where has my beloved gone?"
The ash tree didn't answer me,
But merely shook its head.

I had asked the poplar tree - 
"Where has my beloved gone?"
It gave no answer, pelting me
With autumn leaves instead.

So I asked the autumn - 
"Where has my beloved gone?"
But rain and thunder were the only
Answer I could hear;

 And the rain I also asked - 
"Where has my beloved gone?"
Long outside my window then
The rain had shed its tears.

I had asked the crescent moon - 
"Where has my beloved gone?"
The crescent hid behind a cloud
Rather than reply. 

And so I asked it of the could - 
"Where has my beloved gone?"
The cloud melted in the blue
Of the open sky.

My one, my true, my only friend - 
Where has my beloved gone?
To where could she have disappeared
So wholly from my life?

My friend responded faithfully; 
My friend responded truthfully -   
"The one you called beloved once
Has since become my wife." 


Я спросил у ясеня
Владимир Киршон

Я спросил у ясеня,
Где моя любимая.
Ясень не ответил мне,
Качая головой.

Я спросил у тополя,
Где моя любимая.
Тополь забросал меня
Осеннею листвой.

Я спросил у осени,
Где моя любимая.
Осень мне ответила
Проливным дождем.

У дождя я спрашивал,
Где моя любимая.
Долго дождик слезы лил
За моим окном.

Я спросил у месяца,
Где моя любимая.
Месяц скрылся в облаке.
Не ответил мне.

Я спросил у облака,
Где моя любимая.
Облако растаяло
В небесной синеве.

Друг ты мой единственный,
Где моя любимая?
Ты скажи, где скрылася?
Знаешь, где ока?

Друг ответил преданный,
Друг ответил искренний:
— Была тебе любимая,
А стала мне жена.

Every Man Chooses for Himself

Yury Levitansky, this next poem's author, enjoys little recognition in English - indeed, I know of no major translations - and Google searches have not yielded many either. And yet they contain a particular outlook on life which can be traced across many of his poems, one which I greatly admire. I plan to translate more of his work. 

The original text, given below my own translation, may be found at the following link - together with several of the poet's other pieces, all in the original Russian. 

http://yro.narod.ru/pressa/21/stixi.htm

The poem exists as a song as well, in multiple versions. It is Sergey Nikitin who sings my favorite one: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ygkr-Iw6Mb8

And so: 

Every Man Chooses for Himself

by Yury Levitansky

Every man chooses for himself 

His woman, his path, and his religion,

The god to which he pledges his allegiance - 

Every man chooses for himself.

Every man chooses on his own

Words to say in prayer, and in passion,

His weapons. in defense and in aggression -

Every man chooses on his own.

Every man elects what suits him best - 

Shield and armor, or tatters and privations - 

The measure of his final expiation -

Every man elects what suits him best.

Every man chooses for himself,

And I choose also, one way, or another -

Making no reproach to any other - 

Every man chooses for himself. 

Каждый выбирает для себя

Юрий Левитанский

Каждый выбирает для себя

Женщину, религию, дорогу.

Дьяволу служить или пророку -

Каждый выбирает для себя.

Каждый выбирает по себе

Слово для любви и для молитвы.

Шпагу для дуэли, меч для битвы

Каждый выбирает по себе.

Каждый выбирает по себе

Щит и латы, посох и заплаты.

Меру окончательной расплаты

Каждый выбирает по себе.

Каждый выбирает для себя.

Выбираю тоже - как умею.

Ни к кому претензий не имею.

Каждый выбирает для себя.

Vysotsky Translation - Ballad About Love

The following is a translation of Vladimir Vysotsky's "Ballad About Love", from the Russian film "Ivanoe" (1982). Original text follows. 



Both texts may also be found at a website dedicated to "Vysotsky in different tongues":  http://www.wysotsky.com/1033.htm?1231 - thanks to them for the original text. 



Ballad About Love 

by Vladimir Vysotsky


When forty years of rain and flood were ended,
Earth’s rivers found their long-forsaken shores;
As waterlines receded and descended,
A thing called love came quietly ashore,
And then dissolved, its particles suspended
Throughout the atmosphere forevermore.

And lone eccentrics - such men still exist -
Deeply inhale that sweet and wondrous mix,
Expecting neither punishment nor pleasure,
Suspecting nothing of the love they breathe;
Their breaths grow ragged, their emotions seethe
To match another’s syncopated measure.

Only spirits must, like ships at sea,
Long remain adrift before they see
How "I love" unfailingly implies
That "I breathe", and more, that "I’m alive."

And wanderings will weary their existence:
Love is a broad and formidable land.
Ordeals of pain and solitude and distance
She will of her enamored knights demand;
And ever sterner will be her insistence,
And ever more insistent her command,

But lovers’ fervor will not be deterred:
They plead to fate, their very lives proffered,
In payment every happiness forswearing,
To let their bond invisibly extend,
To guard and to protect and to defend
The magic thread connecting them from tearing.

And the winds will sweep them off their feet,
Intoxicate and resurrect from death.
Else existence would not be complete -
Loveless one has neither life nor breath.

Alas, too many choke on love and perish,
Oblivious to counsel and to sense,
And gossips tell their stories with a relish,
Forgetting blood had charted the events;
But we will mourn, remember them and cherish,
With candles lit in somber reverence.

Their souls will walk in fields beneath the sun;
Their voices come eternally as one;
With gasps of bliss, in one exalted instance,
They finally will meet with bated breath
Upon a shaky bridge or narrow path
Among the fragile crossings fo existence.


Their souls will walk in fields beneath the sun;
Their voices come eternally as one;
With gasps of bliss, in one exalted instance,
They finally will meet with bated breath
Upon a shaky bridge or narrow path
Among the fragile crossings of existence.

Verdant meadows, boundless skies above - 
Such a gift to lovers I would give!
Let them sing with joy and let them love -  
For they who love are those that truly live! 



Баллада о Любви  
Владимир Высоцкий

Когда вода всемирного потопа
Вернулась вновь в границы берегов,
Из пены уходящего потока
На берег тихо выбралась любовь
И растворилась в воздухе до срока,
А срока было сорок сороков.

И чудаки - еще такие есть -
Вдыхают полной грудью эту смесь.
И ни наград не ждут, ни наказанья,
И, думая, что дышат просто так,
Они внезапно попадают в такт
Такого же неровного дыханья...

Только чувству, словно кораблю,
Долго оставаться на плаву,
Прежде чем узнать, что «я люблю», -
То же, что дышу, или живу!
И вдоволь будет странствий и скитаний,
Страна Любви - великая страна!
И с рыцарей своих для испытаний
Всё строже станет спрашивать она.
Потребует разлук и расстояний,
Лишит покоя, отдыха и сна...

Но вспять безумцев не поворотить,
Они уже согласны заплатить.
Любой ценой - и жизнью бы рискнули,
Чтобы не дать порвать, чтоб сохранить
Волшебную невидимую нить,
Которую меж ними протянули...

Свежий ветер избранных пьянил,
С ног сбивал, из мертвых воскрешал,
Потому что, если не любил,
Значит, и не жил, и не дышал!

Но многих захлебнувшихся любовью -
Не докричишься, сколько ни зови...
Им счет ведут молва и пустословье,
Но этот счет замешан на крови.
А мы поставим свечи в изголовье
Погибшим от невиданной любви...

Их голосам дано сливаться в такт,
И душам их дано бродить в цветах,
И встретиться со вздохом на устах 
На хрупких переправах и мостах,
На узких перекрестках мирозданья...

Я поля влюбленным постелю,
Пусть поют во сне и наяву!
Я дышу - и значит, я люблю!
Я люблю - и, значит, я живу!