Songs

Les da poljany, bezljud'e krugom.
Forests and glades, not a soul in sight.
V'juga i plachet i stonet,
A blizzard wails and howls.
Chujetsja, budto vo mrake nochnom,
In the darkness of night,
Zlaja, kogo-to khoronit;
It is as if someone is being buried by some evil force:
Gljad', tak i jest'! V temnote muzhika
Just look – it is so! In the darkness,
Smert' obnimajet, laskajet,
Death tenderly embraces a peasant,
S p'janen'kim pljashet vdvojom trepaka,
Leading the drunken man in a lively dance,
Na ukho pesn' napevajet:
And singing this song in his ear:
Oj, muzhichok, starichok ubogoj,
‘Oh, poor peasant, pitiful old man,
P'jan napilsja, popljolsja dorogoj,
Drunk and stumbling on your way,
A mjatel'-to, ved'ma, podnjalas', vzygrala.
And the blizzard, like a witch, rose up and raged,
S polja v les dremuchij nevznachaj zagnala.
Driving you by chance from the field into the deep woods.
Gorem, toskoj da nuzhdoj tomimyj,
Oppressed by grief and sadness and want,
Ljag, prikorni, da usni, rodimyj!
Lay down, rest and sleep, my dear!
Ja tebja, golubchik moj, snezhkom sogreju,
I will warm you, my friend, with a cover of snow,
Vkrug tebja velikuju igru zateju.
Weaving a great game around you.
Vzbej-ka postel', ty mjatel'-lebjodka!
Whip up a bed, oh swan-like snowstorm!
Gej, nachinaj, zapevaj pogodka!
Hey, you elements, strike up a song,
Skazku, da takuju, chtob vsju noch' tjanulas',
Spin a tale that will last all night,
Chtob p'janchuge krepko pod nejo zasnulos'!
So that that old drunk might sleep soundly to its strains!
Oj, vy lesa, nebesa, da tuchi,
Hey, you woods and heavens and storm clouds,
Tem', veterok, da snezhok letuchij!
Darkness and winds and driving snow!
Svejtes' pelenoju, snezhnoj, pukhovoju;
Spin him a shroud of downy snow,
Jeju, kak mladenca, starichka prikroju...
And I will swathe the old man, like a new-born child…
Spi, moj druzhok, muzhichok schastlivyj,
Sleep, my friend, you fortunate peasant,
Leto prishlo, rascvelo!
Summer has come, all in bloom!
Nad nivoj solnyshko smejotsja da serpy gljajut,
The sun smiles down on the cornfield and the sickles glimmer,
Pesenka nesjotsja, golubki letajut...
A song wafts across the air and the doves are flying…’