Dezhurnyi po aprelyu
Bulat Okudzhava
Translated by Tanya Wolfson
Bulat Okudzhava APRIL DUTY But the nights are really absolutely stunning. Only mother's restless worrying has grown: Why must you go wandering, my honey, On your own? On your own? I run from one end of April to the other. Stars above me mellowed down, grew big as apples. Nothing's wrong: I am on duty, mother. I'm responsible for April. But my baby, things have changed since you've been roaming. But my child, your eyes are sad, I don't believe you. Has there been some trouble with a woman? Did she leave you? Did she leave you? I run from one end of April to the other. Stars above me mellowed down, grew big as apples. Please don't worry: I am on duty, mother. I'm responsible for April. Top
Do svidaniya, mal'chiki.
Bulat Okudzhava
Translated by Tanya Wolfson
Bulat Okudzhava GOODBYE BOYS Monster war, take a look at your handiwork: In our courtyards the silence is keen. Our young boys have grown serious suddenly. All at once, much too soon, they are men. We got barely a glimpse of the somber eyes When as soldiers they left, one by one. It's time for goodbye, my boys. Boys, goodbye! You must try, you must try to return. Do not hide, do not crouch, remain proud and tall, Spare no bullets and fight as you've sworn. And do not spare yourselves, my boys, But after all, You must try, you must try to return. Monster war, are you pleased with your handiwork? No more weddings - just loves laid to waste. Our girls' bridal gowns have been handed down To kid sisters who don't reach their waist. Now it's army boots everywhere, all about, And green wings of the new epaulets. Nevermind about gossips, girls. Have no doubt: We will find time to deal with them yet. Let them yap that it's merely a game you play, Waging war without cause, out of turn. It's time for goodbye, my girls. Girls, goodbye! You must try, you must try to return. Top
Chernyi kot
Bulat Okudzhava
Translated by Tanya Wolfson
Bulat Okudzhava BLACK CAT We've a doorway with a staircase, Also known as a "back door". In that place as in a palace A black cat has set up store. There's a smirk beneath his whiskers, Darkness fits him like a glove. Other cats are coy or frisky, This black cat won't make a move. As his leer gets only bolder, He does not catch mice or steal. Somehow we are all beholden, Running briskly with his meals. As the yellow cat eyes glower, He does not demand or cadge. Every one of us forks over, Grateful for the privilege. This cat doesn't issue orders, He just sits and drinks and eats. When he claws the dirty floor it's Like he's clawing at our throats. Must be that's why we're in chaos, And the scowling never ends. One small lightbulb might have saved us... But we just can't raise the funds. Top
Po Smolenskoi doroge
Bulat Okudzhava
Translated by Tanya Wolfson
Bulat Okudzhava SMOLENSK ROAD All along the Smolensk Road trees rise and rise and rise. All along the Smolensk Road posts stand mid trees, mid trees. Just above the Smolensk Road I think those are your eyes: Two cold evening stars, my two blue destinies. All along the Smolensk Road the snow slaps face, slaps face. We are driven from homes because work can't wait, can't wait. But had there been more force in the pull of your embrace, A shorter road might have conveyed me through the night. All along the Smolensk Road trees rise and rise and rise. All along the Smolensk Road posts hum till dawn, till dawn. Just above the Smolensk Road I think those are your eyes: Two cold evening stars, two blue stars look down, look down. Top
Pesenka o nochnoi Moskve (Nadezhdy malen'kii orkestrik)
Bulat Okudzhava
Translated by Tanya Wolfson
Bulat Okudzhava SONG ABOUT MOSCOW AT NIGHT (The Little Orchestra of Hope) When all at once, the sound of trumpets Still faint, commands a fierce grip, When sudden words like midnight falcons Swoop down from the fevered lips, When melody bursts out, unbidden, It wanders side by side with men: The little orchestra of hope With love in charge of the baton. Back in the years of loss and turmoil When sudden gusts of bullet rain Came down upon us without warning, Without compassion or restraint, And all commanders lost their voices, That's when it took command of men: The little orchestra of hope With love in charge of the baton. The drum is bent, the trumpet - dented, The old bassoon begins to croak, The clarinet is full of gashes - But played by such a dashing rogue! The flutist's grace is all but royal, And there it is, in league with men: The little orchestra of hope With love in charge of the baton. Top
Zemlya gudit pod solov'yami...
Bulat Okudzhava
Translated by Tanya Wolfson
A POEM ABOUT MY SON'S TOY SOLDIER Spring has assaulted every boulder - The topsoil bursts with sprouting seeds, Only my son's steadfast toy soldier Is doomed to his heroic deeds. A joyless master somehow happened To join this set of tiny parts... Ask the toy soldier: Are you happy? And he will fire at your heart. As fashions, moods and hopes are swinging With every year that comes and goes, People are laughing, crying, singing, While he keeps waiting for his foes. His muscles tense, his senses heightened: He'll fight before he's torn apart!.. Ask the toy soldier: Are you frightened? And he will fire at your heart. He sees our buzzing busy static As just a stretch from harm to harm. His sorry little automatic Has merged forever with his arm. No peace for my unwilling buffer And catalyst of coming hurt... Ask the toy soldier: Do you suffer? And he will fire at your heart. Top
Kranoj gliny beru prekrasnyj lomot'...
Bulat Okudzhava
Translated by Tanya Wolfson
Bulat Okudzhava POTTER. I take a slab of lovely red clay, I squeeze and I knead it in my own way, And I strike its flesh, I punch and I flay... And once my potter's wheel starts to stall they will inhabit a pot's red wall: a yellow bull - my left hand's print, a grey stork drinking from a white spring, a brown beggar singing his own deathwish, two green beauties and five blue fish.. Hey there, King! This is the bull of your slave, the fish of your slave... but for these, he has nothing saved. This is the brown beggar who'll rave in the name of your crazed from ill-treatment slave. Hey there, King! Let's take a few risks, you and I. You'll risk your head, I will render your head in clay. Let's indulge in lust, sloth and pride, push God aside, pull a wench on the bed, to our side. Hey there, King! When you're weary of eating off gold, have them bring you my wares standing unsold, with a yellow bull - my left hand's print, a grey stork drinking from a white spring, a brown beggar singing his own deathwish, two green beauties and five blue fish... Top
Sobralsya k mame - umerla
Bulat Okudzhava
Translated by Tanya Wolfson *
Bulat Okudzhava * * * Went to see mother -- but she died. Father -- they shot him years ago. Our eagle from the mountainside Eclipses the whole world below. And stuffed with slogans to the gills, Made filthy by that filthy shadow I want to ask you something sad now You wretched men, while wretched still: My mother, she is dead, you see. Yoy shot my father long ago. While your great deeds set hearts aglow Why have you never thought of me And how it felt to lose them so? ...What was your great philosophy? Top
*) translated jointly with Beth Holmgren