Petersburg

Georgy Vasilevich Sviridov [1915-1998] Petersburg – vocal poem with text by Alexander Blok [1995] Translation by Levon Akopjan1. Flyuger (The Pennant – The Weathercock) 19052. Zolotoe Veslo (The Golden Oar) 19023. Nevesta (The Bride) 19084. Golos Iz Hora (A Voice from the Chorus) 1910-19145. Ya Prigvozhdyon K Traktirnoj Stojke (I am nailed to the tavern counter) 19086. Veter Prinyos Iz Dalyoka (The breeze has brought from far away) 19017. Petersburgskaya Pesenka (Petersburg Song) 19068. Rozhdyonnye V Goda Gluhie (Those born in obscure years) 19149. Bogomater’ V Gorode (The Virgin in the City) 19051. Flyuger (The Weathercock) 1905Tiho. I budet vsyo tishe. – It is calm. And will be more calmFlag bespoleznyj opushchen. – The useless flag is lowered.Tol’ko flyugarka na kryshe – The little weathercock on the roof, alone,Sladko poyot o gryadushchem. – is singing a sweet song about the future.Vetrom v polnebe raskinut, – The wind has spread the poor enchanted cockerelDymom i solncem vzvolnovan, – over the half-sky;Bednyj petuh ocharovan, – agitated by the smoke and the sun,V sinyuyu glub’ oprokinut. – the thing is overturned in the blue deep.Smoly pahuchie zharki, – The fragrant pitch is burning,Dali izvechno tumanny… – the horizons are misty, from time immemorial.Sladki mne pesni flyugarki: – The weathercock’s songs seem sweet to me;Poj, petushok olovyannyj! – sing, my little tin cockerel.2. Zolotoe Veslo (The Golden Oar) 1902My vstrechalis’ s toboj na zakate – We would meet at daybreak,Ty veslom rassekala zaliv. – You would cleave the bay with your oar,Ya lyubil tvoyo beloe plat’e, – I was fond of your white dress,Utonchyonnost’ mechty razlyubiv. – since I had lost my passion for subtle reverie…Byli stranny bezmolvnye vstrechi. – Our chance meetings were strange…Vperedi – na peschanoj kose – Just ahead, on the spit of sand,Zagoralis’ vechernie svechi. – the evening candles were flaming,Kto-to dumal o blednoj krase. – and someone was weeping for the pale beauty…Priblizhenij, sblizhenij, sgoranij – But the sky, azure and serene, rejectsNe priemlet lazurnaya tish’… – every approaching, every merging, every flaming…My vstrechalis’ v vechernem tumane, – We would meet in the evening mistsGde u berega ryab’ i kamysh. – on the ruby shore, where the waves are rippling…Ni toski, ni lyubvi, ni obidy, – Neither yearning, nor love, nor resentment;Vsyo pomerklo, proshlo, otoshlo… – they have faded, have gone by, are over…Belyj stan, golosa panihidy – Your white figure, the voices of the Requiem,I tvoyo zolotoe veslo. – and your golden oar.3. Nevesta (The Bride) 1908Bozh’ya mater’ Utoli moya pechali – Our Lady Soothe-my-sorrowPered grobom shla, svetla, tiha. – was before the coffin, bright and serene,A za grobom – v traurnoj vuali – and behind the coffin, in a black veil,SHla nevesta, provozhaya zheniha… – the bride walked, she was bidding farewell to her bridegroom…Byl on tol’ko literator modnyj – He was but a fashionable man of letters,Tol’ko slov koshchunstvennyh tvorec… – a creater of blasphemous words…No mertvec – rodnoj dushe narodnoj: – yet every dead man is dear to the people’s soul,Vsyakij svyato chtit ona konec. – for the people revere every death.I navstrechu klanyalis’, krestili – And those who met the procession bowed theirMnogodumnyj, mnogotrudnyj lob. – heads, and crossed themselvesA druz’ya i blizkie pylili – Heavy with thought and work,Na ikonu, na neyo, na grob… – while the friends and relatives scattered dust on the icon, on her, on the coffin…I s kakoyu beskonechnoj grust’yu – And with what infinite sadness(Ne o nyom – Bog vest’ o kom?) – she was accepting the word of condolencePrinyala ona slova sochuvstvij – and the casual wreaths, one after another,I venok sluchajnyj za venkom… – though she was grieving not for himEHtih fraz izbityh povtoren’ya, – (God knows for whom she was grieving)Nikomu ne nuzhnye slova – These repeated, standard phrases,Vozvela ona v venec tvoren’ya, – these words which nobody needs -V tajnuyu ulybku bozhestva… – she has transformed them to the acme of into a secret divine smile…Slovno zdes’, gde peli i kadili, – As if there, where people were singing and burning incense,Gde i smert’ ne mozhet byt’ tiha, – where even death cannot be silentUbralas’ ona fatoj ot pyli – she was waiting for another bridegroom,I zhdala Inogo ZHeniha… – dressed in a bridal veil against the dust4. Golos Iz Hora (A Voice from the Chorus) 1910-1914Kak chasto plachem – vy i ya – How often do we weep, you and I,Nad zhalkoj zhizniyu svoej! – over our wretched lives!O, esli b znali vy, druz’ya, – Oh, my friends, if you only knew,Holod i mrak gryadushchih dnej! – the cold darkness to come!Teper’ ty miloj ruku zhmyosh’, – Today you press your beloved’s hand,Igraesh’ s neyu, shutya, – you make merry with her,I plachesh’ ty, zametiv lozh’, – you weep only for a lie,Ili v ruke lyubimoj nozh, – or else for a knife in her hand,Ditya, ditya! – Poor child, poor child!Lzhi i kovarstvu mery net, – Lies and perfidies are infinite,A smert’ – daleka. – and death is distant…Vsyo budet chernee strashnyj svet, – The fearful world will grow yet darker,I vsyo bezumnej vihr’ planet – the whirl of the planets will grow yet wilder,Eshchyo veka, veka! – and this will last for an age…I vek poslednij, uzhasnej vsekh, – And both you and I will see the last age,Uvidim i vy i ya. – the most fearful age.Vsyo nebo skroet gnusnyj grekh, – The heavens will be clouded by repulsive sin,Na vsekh ustah zastynet smekh, – laughter will freeze on all lips,Toska nebytiya… – everyone will yearn for annihilationVesny, ditya, ty budesh’ zhdat’ – Oh child, you will wait for spring, Vesna obmanet. – but spring will deceive you;Ty budesh’ solnce na nebo zvat’ – you will call for the sun to rise,Solnce ne vstanet. – but the sun will not rise.I krik (tvoj),  kogda ty nachnyosh’ krichat’, – and when you start crying, your cry willKak kamen’, kanet… – disappear in the depths, like a stone…Bud’te zh dovol’ny zhizn’yu svoej, – So, children, be content with your livesTishe vody, nizhe travy! – more silent than water, lower than grass!O, esli b znali, deti, vy, – If only you knewHolod i mrak gryadushchih dnej! – the cold and darkness of the days to come5. Ya Prigvozhdyon K Traktirnoj Stojke (I am nailed to the tavern counter) 1908YA prigvozhdyon k traktirnoj stojke – I am nailed to a tavern counterYA p’yan davno. Mne vsyo – ravno. – I have been drunk for a long time, I am indifferent to everything.Von schastie moyo – na trojke – My happiness is there, on a troika,V srebristyj dym uneseno… – Taken away into a silver haze…Letit na trojke, potonulo – It flies on the troika, it vanishesV snegu vremen, v dali vekov… – in snows of time, in centuries…I tol’ko dushu zahlestnulo – only the soul is overflowingSrebristoj mgloj iz-pod podkov… – with the silver haze from under the horseshoes…V gluhuyu temen’ iskry mechet, – The sparks fly in the blind darknessOt iskr vsyu noch’, vsyu noch’ svetlo… – because of them, it is light all night.Bubenchik pod dugoj lepechet – The sleighbells murmur over the shaft-bowO tom, chto schastie proshlo… – of the happiness now gone…I tol’ko sbruya zolotaya – And only the golden harnessVsyu noch’ vidna… Vsyu noch’ slyshna… – is seen all night, is heard all night.A ty, dusha… dusha gluhaya… – and you, my soul, my blind soul,P’yanym p’yana… p’yanym p’yana… – you’re drunk, you’re dead drunk.6. Veter Prinyos Iz Dalyoka (The breeze has brought from far away)1901Veter prinyos izdalyoka – The breeze has brought from far awayPesni vesennej namyok, – a motif of spring’s song;Gde-to svetlo i gluboko – somewhere, bright and deep,Neba otkrylsya klochok. – a piece of heaven has been revealed.V ehtoj bezdonnoj lazuri, – In that fathomless blue sky,V sumerkah blizkoj vesny – at the dawn of the approaching spring,Plakali zimnie buri, – the winter storms were weeping,Reyali zvyozdnye sny. – the starry dreams were floating.Robko, temno i gluboko – My strings were weeping,Plakali struny moi. – timidly, darkly and deeply;Veter prinyos izdalyoka – the breeze has brought from far awayZvuchnye pesni tvoi. – the ringing motif of your song.7. Petersburgskaya Pesenka (Petersburg Song) 1906Hozhu, brozhu ponuryj, – I’m wandering, depressed,Odin v svoej nore. – in my lonely lair;Pridyot sharmanshchik hmuryj, – the dismal organ grinderZaplachet na dvore… – will come and lament outsideO toj svobodnoj dole, – about the free lifeCHto mne ne suzhdena, – which I will never share,O tom, chto veter v pole, – about the steppe windA na dvore – vesna. – about the new-blown spring.A mne – kakoj delo? – Yet what does it matter?Brozhu odin, zabyt. – I wander alone and lost.I svechka dogorela, – The candle has burnt down,I mayatnik stuchit. – and the pendulum ticks.Odna, odna nadezhda – My one and only hopeVon tam, v eyo okne. – is there, at her window,Svetla eyo odezhda, – she whose clothes are brightOna pridyot ko mne. – will come and visit me.Lico moyo belee, – My face is palerCHem belaya stena… – than a white wall…Opyat’, opyat’ srobeyu, – Yet again I will fee shyKogda pridyot ona… – when she comes…Zachem ona prihodit – Why does she comeSo mnoyu govorit’? – to talk to me?Zachem v iglu provodit – Why does she pass through the needle’seyeVesyolen’kuyu nit’? – that merry thread?Zachem ona ronyaet – Why does she shedVesyolye slova? – those merry words?Zachem lico sklonyaet – Why does she bow her headI pryachet v kruzheva? – and hide her face in the laces?Ved’ nechego boyat’sya – There is nothing to fearI nechego teryat’… – and nothing to lose…No nado li skazat’sya? – Must I confess my feelings?No mozhno li skazat’? – May I say all?I chto ej molvit’ – nezhnoj? – But what can I tell this tender creature?CHto serdce rascvelo? – That my heart is in bloom?CHto veter veet snezhnyj? – That the wind brings snowflakes?CHto v komnate svetlo? – That my room is full of light?8. Rozhdyonnye V Goda Gluhie (Those born in obscure years) 1914Rozhdyonnye v goda gluhie – Those born in obscure yearsPuti ne pomnyat svoego. – do not remember their way,My – deti strashnyh let Rossii – – and we, children of Russia’s dreadful yearsZabyt’ ne v silah nichego. – can forget nothing.Ispepelyayushchie gody! – Oh, years which have reduced us to ashes!Bezum’ya l’ v vas, nadezhdy l’ vest’? – Have you brought madness or a ray of hope?Ot dnej vojny, ot dnej svobody – – In the days of war and freedomKrovavyj otsvet v licah est’. – a blood-red shimmer appeared on our faces.Est’ nemota – to gul nabata – We have grown dumb; the alarm bellZastavil zagradit’ usta. – has forced us to close our lips.V serdcah, vostorzhennyh kogda-to, – In hearts, once full of eagerness,Est’ rokovaya pustota. – now there is a fateful void…I pust’ nad nashim smertnym lozhem – And let the cawing ravens fly upVzov’yotsya s krikom voron’yo, – above our death-bed – Te, kto dostojnej, Bozhe, Bozhe, – may those more worthy, God, oh God,Da uzryat carstvie tvoyo! – behold Thy Kingdom!9. Bogomater’ V Gorode (The Virgin in the City) 1905Ty prohodish’ bez ulybki, – You are passing by without a smile,Opustivshaya resnicy, – your eyes are cast down,I vo mrake nad soborom – and in the darkness above the CathedralZolotyatsya kupola. – the golden domes are shining.Kak lico tvoyo pohozhe – Your face resembles so vividlyNa vechernih bogorodic, – the evening Virgins,Opuskayushchih resnicy, – who cast down their eyes,Propadayushchih vo mgle… – who disappear in the darkness…No s toboj idyot kudryavyj – But there is a little boy with you,Krotkij mal’chik v beloj shapke, – a curly-haired, gentle boy, wearing a white cap.Ty vedyosh’ ego za ruchku, – You are leading him by the hand,Ne dayosh’ emu upast’. – you do not allow him to fall.YA stoyu v teni portala, – I am in the shade of the portal,Tam, gde duet rezkij veter, – where the sharp wind blows,Zastilayushchij slezami – and my strained eyesNapryazhyonnye glaza. – are clouded with tears.YA hochu vnezapno vyjti – I would like to spring up before your eyesI voskliknut’: «Bogomater’! – and to exclaim “Oh, Virgin!Dlya chego v moj chyornyj gorod – Why have you brought the InfantTy Mladenca privela?» – to my black city?”No yazyk bessilen kriknut’. – But my tongue is powerless to shout;Ty prohodish’. Za toboyu – you are passing by, and, behind you,Nad svyashchennymi sledami – above the blessed footprints,Pochivaet sinij mrak. – the blue darkness slumbers.I smotryu ya, vspominaya, – And I remain, watching, rememberingKak opushcheny resnicy, – your downcast eyes,Kak tvoj mal’chik v beloj shapke – and how your little boy with a white capUlybnulsya na tebya. – smiled at you.______________________________________________________________________________________________________Sviridov
worked on the vocal poem Petersburg
for some twenty years. He completed it in 1995, especially for Dmitri
Hvorostovsky and Mikhail Arkadiev. The work comprises nine short poems by
Alexander Blok, which date from the period January 1901 to September 1914. Blok
was one of the poets from the Silver Age of Russian history that saw an
incredible cultural Renaissance in all the arts, poetry, music, painting,
architecture, philosophy and patronage of the arts. This was all swept away by
the War and the Revolution – we grew a
hundred years older in an hour. The poetry of Blok, one of the greatest of
Russian poets, was full of Cassandra-like premonitions of catastrophe.

The
title chosen by Sviridov for his cycle alludes to the romantic and
post-romantic myth of St Petersburg: the city of the Bronze Horseman, the Queen
of Spades, the city of the magnificent architecture, the city of the Neva and
the white nights. The title Petersburg also
echoes the famous novel by Andrey Bely of the same name. Sviridov was a
masterful composer, who infused his songs with all the lyricism and emotional
impact of Rachmaninov and Tchaikovsky, while maintaining a distinctly modern
voice. He had an almost Schubertian gift for matching his simple melodic ideas
to the poems he chose. In the hands of two great Russian performers the effect
is devastating.

The
opening song The Weathercock acts as
a prologue. It introduces the idea of continually flowing Time, of infinite and
misty, dangerously captivating Space. The music, pervaded with an unceasing pulse,
gives the little tin cockerel the enchanted life the poem calls for, launched
into the empyrean by the piano’s wonderful postlude.

The Golden Oar introduces the
image of the nameless Beloved. This is a variation on Blok’s famous mystical Stranger, who haunted his poems. The
motifs of the white dress and funeral music, too, play a substantial part: the
theme of the bride is hinted at almost unnoticeably, strangely related to the
theme of death. Sviridov himself had youthful recollections of strolling on the
misty shores of the Gulf of Finland where Blok would meet his Beloved.

The
symbolism of The Golden Oar is
stretched even further in the third song’s funeral procession. In the coffin is
Blok himself, the fashionable but blasphemous man of letters, the black-veiled
Bride is both the Beloved Stranger and the bride of another bridegroom, Christ himself. The symbolism here embraces
both Mary Magdalene and Our Lady herself, who is to reappear with her child in The Virgin in the City.

A Voice from the Chorus is in the same
devastating vein as Gamayun the
Prophesying Bird that Shostakovich set in his Seven Poems by Alexander Blok – a cry of fear and horror at the terrifying
times to come. This poem was completed in 1914. I am nailed to the Tavern Counter is the traditional Russian
solution to loss of happiness – My
happiness is there on a troika, taken away into a silver haze. But the
poems final words sound out as a cry of human solitude in the face of death.

The Breeze Has Brought From Far Away is, except for The Weathercock, the only part of the
cycle written in a major key. It is the cycle’s bright intermezzo and at the
same time, a slow introduction to the Petersburg
Song. Is it only in Russia that the advent of Spring, somewhere bright and
deep, is greeted with a funereal Adagio? Nonetheless the major mode and the
rhythmic ostinato hail the opening of heaven in the St Petersburg sky and
associates this song with the little tin
cockerel. The Petersburg Song, the
only lively one in the cycle, revives
the powerful image of the nameless Beloved as a sign of hope in the midst of
solitude and despair. What can I tell
this tender creature? That my heart is in bloom?

Born in the Years of Trouble is one of Blok’s most
famous poems. Time stops for these words. In
hearts once full of eagerness, now there is a fateful void – another poem
from 1914 that asks if the years have brought madness or a ray of hope. The Virgin in the City pulls all these
strands together – the nameless Beloved, Stranger, Bride embodied in the lonely
image of the Virgin walking through the snow in my black city with the Child holding her hand and smiling at her.