Sung
and/or spoken by Kubarikha.... |
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....in
Part 12, the Frosted Rowan, of Doctor Zhivago. |
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A little hare was running over the white world, | ||
Over the white world, aye, over the white snow. | ||
He ran, little flop-ears, past a rowan tree, | ||
He ran, little flop-ears, and complained to the rowan. | ||
Me, I'm a hare, and my heart's all timid, | ||
My heart's all timid, it's so easily frightened. | ||
I'm a hare and I'm scared of the wild beast's track, | ||
Of the wild beast's track, of the hungry wolf's belly. | ||
Have pity on me, rowan bush, | ||
Rowan bush, beautiful rowan tree. | ||
Don't give your beauty to the wicked enemy, | ||
To the wicked enemy, to the wicked raven. | ||
Strew your red berries in handfuls to the wind, | ||
To the wind, over the white world, over the white snow, | ||
Roll them, scatter them to the place I was born in, | ||
To the last house there by the village gate, | ||
To the last window there, aye, in the last room, | ||
Where my little recluse has hidden away, | ||
My dearest one, my longed-for one. | ||
Speak into the ear of the one I long for | ||
A hot word, an ardent word for me. | ||
I languish in chains, a soldier-warrior, | ||
I lose heart, a soldier, in this foreign land. | ||
But I'll escape yet from this bitter bondage, | ||
Escape to my berry, to my beautiful one. | ||
By
Boris Pasternak (1957) |
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It's interesting
to note that most of our knowledge of Doctor Zhivago comes from its Italian translation of the original Russian that was then re-translated into English. |