Shostakovich symphony no 13 "Babi Yar" / Kondrashin/Gromadsky 1962
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- เผยแพร่เมื่อ 25 ธ.ค. 2020
- Babi Yar
No monument stands over Babi Yar.
A drop sheer as a crude gravestone.
I am afraid.
Today I am as old in years
as all the Jewish people.
Now I seem to be
a Jew.
Here I plod through ancient Egypt.
Here I perish crucified, on the cross,
and to this day I bear the scars of nails.
I seem to be
Dreyfus.
The Philistine
is both informer and judge.
I am behind bars.
Beset on every side.
Hounded,
spat on,
slandered.
Squealing, dainty ladies in flounced Brussels lace
stick their parasols into my face.
I seem to be then
a young boy in Byelostok.
Blood runs, spilling over the floors.
The barroom rabble-rousers
give off a stench of vodka and onion.
A boot kicks me aside, helpless.
In vain I plead with these pogrom bullies.
While they jeer and shout,
“Beat the Yids. Save Russia!”
some grain-marketeer beats up my mother.
0 my Russian people!
I know
you
are international to the core.
But those with unclean hands
have often made a jingle of your purest name.
I know the goodness of my land.
How vile these anti-Semites-
without a qualm
they pompously called themselves
the Union of the Russian People!
I seem to be
Anne Frank
transparent
as a branch in April.
And I love.
And have no need of phrases.
My need
is that we gaze into each other.
How little we can see
or smell!
We are denied the leaves,
we are denied the sky.
Yet we can do so much -
tenderly
embrace each other in a darkened room.
They’re coming here?
Be not afraid. Those are the booming
sounds of spring:
spring is coming here.
Come then to me.
Quick, give me your lips.
Are they smashing down the door?
No, it’s the ice breaking …
The wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar.
The trees look ominous,
like judges.
Here all things scream silently,
and, baring my head,
slowly I feel myself
turning gray.
And I myself
am one massive, soundless scream
above the thousand thousand buried here.
I am
each old man
here shot dead.
I am
every child
here shot dead.
Nothing in me
shall ever forget!
The “Internationale,” let it
thunder
when the last anti-Semite on earth
is buried forever.
In my blood there is no Jewish blood.
In their callous rage, all anti-Semites
must hate me now as a Jew.
For that reason
I am a true Russian!
Jeremy Eichler writes of “ a simple yet miraculous fact: that a work of music as a portable archive of emotion and meaning, history and memory, can travel intact through the centuries.”
I. Babiy Yar
Nad Babyim Yarom pamyatnikov net.
Krutoy obryv, kak gruboye nadgrobye.
Mne strashno,
mne segodnya stol’ko let,
kak samomu yevreiskomu narodu.
Mne kazhetsya seichas - ya iudey.
Vot ya bryedu po dryevnemu Egiptu.
A vot ya, na kryeste raspyatyi, gibnu,
i do sikh por na mne - sledy gvozdey.
Mne kazhetsya, shto Dreifus - eto ya.
Meshchanstvo - moy donoschik i sudya.
Ya za reshotkoy, ya popal v kol’tso,
zatravlennyi, oplyovannyi, obolgannyi.
I damochki s bryusselskimi oborkami,
viszha, zontami tichut mne v litso.
Mne kazhetsya - ya mal’chik v Belostoke.
Krov’ lyotsya, rastekayas’ po polam.
Beschinstvuyut vozhdi traktirnoy stoyki.
I pakhnut vodkoy s lukom popolam.
Ya, sapogom otbroshennyi, bessilnyi,
naprasno ya pogromshchikov molyu.
Pod gogot: “Bey zhidov! Spasay Rossiyu!” -
Labaznik izbivayet mat’ moyu.
O, russkiy moy narod, ya znayu, ty
Po sushchnosti internatsionalen.
No chasto te, chyi ruki nechisty,
tvoim chisteishim imyenem bryatsali.
Ya znayu dobrotu moyey zyemli.
Kak podlo, shto, i zhilachkoy ne drognuv,
antisemity narekli sebya:
“Soyuzom russkovo naroda” !
Mne kazhetsya, ya - eto Anna Frank,
prozrachnaya, kak vetochka v aprele,
i ya lyublyu, i mne ne nado fraz,
No nado, shtob drug v druga my smotreli.
Kak malo mozhno videt’, obonyat’!
Nel’zya nam listyev i nel’zya nan neba,
no mozhno ochen’ mnogo -
eto nezhno
drug druga v tyomnoy komnate obnyat!
- “Syuda idut!”
- “Ne boysa. Eto guly
samoy vesny, ona syuda idyot.
Idi ko mne,
day mne skoreye guby!”
- “Lomayut dver’!”
- “Net! Eto ledokhod!”
Nad Babyim Yarom shelest dikihkh trav,
derevya smotryat grozno, po-sudeyski.
Zdes’ molcha vsyo krichit,
i, shapku snyav,
ya chuvstvuyu, kak medlenno sedeyu.
I sam ya, kak sploshnoy bezzvuchnyi krik,
nad tysyachami tysyach pogrebyonnykh.
Ya - kazhdyi zdes’ rasstrelyannyi starik.
Ya - kazhdyi zdes’ rasstrelyannyi rebyonok.
Nishto vo mne pro eto nye zabudet.
“Internatsional” pust’ progremit,
kogda naveki pokhoronen budet
posledniy na zemle antisemit.
Yevreyskoy krovi net v krovi moyey,
no nenavisten zloboy zaskaruzloy
ya vsem antisemitam kak yevrei,
I potomu ya nastoyashchiy russkiy!
I. Yumor ((at 15min04))
Tsari, koroli, imperatory,
vlastiteli vsey zyemli
komandovali paradami,
no yumorom, no yumorom
ne mogli. Ne mogli.
V dvortsy imenitykh osob,
vse dni vozlezhashchikh vykholenno,
yavlyalsya brodyaga Ezop,
i nishchimi oni vyglyadeli.
Yavlyalsya brodyaga Ezop,
i nishchimi oni vyglyadeli.
V domakh, gde khanzha nasledil
svoimi nogami shchuplymi,
Vsyu poshlost’ Khodzha Nasreddin
shibal, kak shakhmaty, shutkami!
Khoteli yumor kupit’,
da tol’ko yevo ne kupish!
Khoteli yumor ubit’,
a yumor pokazyval kukish!
Borotsya s nim delo trudnoye.
Kaznili yevo bez kontsa.
Yevo golova otrublennaya
torchala na pike streltsa.
No lish skomoroshji dudochki
svoy nachinali skaz,
on zvonko krichal:
“Ya tutochki!”
I likho puskalsya v plyas.
V potryopannom kutsem pal’tishke,
ponuryas’ i slovno kayas’,
prestupnikom politicheskim
on, poymannyi, shol na kazn’.
Vsem vidom pokornost’ vykazyval,
gotov k nezemnomu zhityu,
kak vdrug iz pal’tishka vyskal’zyval,
rukoi makhal
i tyu-tyu!
Yumor pryatali v kamery,
da chyorta s dva udalos’.
Reshotki i steny kamennyie
on prokhodil naskvoz’.
Otkashlivayas’ prostuzhenno,
kak ryadovoy boyets,
shagal on chastushkoy-prostushkoy
s vintovkoy na Zimniy dvorets.
Privyk on ko vzglyadam sumrachnym,
no eto yemu ne vryedit,
i sam na sebya s yumorom
yumor poroy glyadit.
On vechen.
Vechen!
On lovok.
Lovok!
I yurok,
I yurok!
Proydyot cherez vsyo, cherez vsekh.
Itak, da slavitsa yumor!
On muzhestvennyi chelovek!
III. V Magazine (desde 22:55min)
Kto v platke, a kto v platochke,
kak na podvig, kak na trud,
v magazin poodinochke
molcha zhenshchiny idut.
O, bidonov ikh bryatsan’ye,
zvon butylok i kastryul’!
Pakhnet lukom, ogurtsami,
pakhnet sousom “Kabul’.”
Zyabnu, dolgo v kassu stoya,
no pakuda dvizhus’ k ney,
ot dykhanya zhenshchin stol’kikh
v magazine vsyo tepley.
Oni tikho podzhidayut,
bogi dobryie semyi,
i v rukakh oni szhimayut
den’gi trudnyie svoyi.
Eto zhenshchiny Rossii.
Eto nasha chest’ i sud.
I beton oni mesili,
i pakhali, i kosili …
Vsyo oni perenosili,
vsyo oni perenesut.
Vsyo na svete im posil’no, -
skol’ko sily im dano!
Ikh obschityvat’ postydno!
Ikh obveshivat’ greshno!
I v karman pel’meni sunuv,
ya smotryu, surov i tikh,
na ustalyie ot sumok
ruki pravednyie ikh.
IV. Strakhi ((35:14min))
Umirayut v Rossii strakhi,
slovno prizraki prezhnikh let,
lish na paperti, kak starukhi,
koye-gde yeshcho prosyat na khleb.
Ya ikh pomnyu vo vlasti i sile
pri dvore torzhestvuyushchey lzhi.
Strakhi vsyudu, kak teni, skol’zili,
pronikali vo vse etazhi.
Potikhon’ku lyudey priruchali
i na vsyo nalagali pechat’:
gde molchat’ by -
krichat’ priuchali,
i molchat’ -
gde by nado krichat’.
Eto stalo sevodnya dalyokim.
Dazhe stranno i vspomnit’ teper’.
Taynyi strakh pered chyim-to donosom,
taynyi strakh pered stukom v dver’.
Nu, a strakh govorit’ s inostrantsem? ((39:33min))
S inostrantsem-to shto, a s zhenoy?
Nu, a strakh bezotchotnyi ostatsya
posle marshey vdvoyom s tishinoy?
Ne boyalis’ my stroit’ v meteli,
ukhodit’ pod snaryadami v boy,
no boyalis’ poroyu smertel’no
razgovarivat’ sami s soboy.
Nas ne sbili i ne rastlili,
i nedarom seichas vo vragakh
pobedivshaya strakhi Rossiya
yeshcho bolshyi rozhdayet strakh.
Strakhi novyie vizhu, svetleya:
strakh neiskrennim byt’ so stranoy,
strakh nepravdoy unizit’ idei,
shto yavlyayutsya pravdoy samoy;
strakh fanfarit’ do odurenya,
strakh chuzhyie slova povtoryat’,
strakh unizit’ drugikh nedoveryem
i chrezmerno sebe doveryat’.
Umirayut v Rossii strakhi.
I kogda ya pishu eti stroki
i poroyu nevol’no speshu,
to pishu ikh v yedinstvennom strakhe,
shto ne v polnuyu silu pishu.
V. Karyera ((46:10min))
Tverdili pastyri, shto vreden
i nerazumen Galiley.
(Shto nerazumen Galiley
Shto nerazumen Galiley)
No, kak pokazyvayet vremya,
kto nerazumney - tot umney!
Uchyonyi, sverstnik Galileya,
byl Galileya ne glupeye.
On znal, shto vertitsya zemlya,
no u nevo byla semya.
I on, sadyas s zhenoy v karetu,
svershiv predatel’stvo svoyo,
schital, shto delayet karyeru,
a mezhdu tem gubil yeyo.
Za osoznaniye planety
shol Galiley odin na risk,
i stal velikim on. Vot eto -
ya ponimayu - karyerist!
Itak, da zdravstvuyet karyera,
kogda karyera takova,
kak u Shekspira i Pastera,
Nyutona i Tolstovo,
i Tolstovo … L’va?
L’va!
Zachem ikh gryazyu pokryvali?
Talant - talant, kak ni kleymi.
Zabyty te, kto proklinali,
no pomnyat tekh, kovo klyali.
Vse te, kto rvalis’ v stratosferu,
vrachi, shto gibli ot kholer,
vot eti delali karyeru!
Ya s ikh karyer beru primer!
Ya veryu v ikh svyatuyu veru.
Ikh vera - muzhestvo moyo.
Ya delayu sebe karyeru
tem, shto ne delayu yeyo!
Yevgeny Yevtushenko (1932-2017)
Мы уже ничего не помним. - Как Услышать музыку?..- Как её понять?
Dmitri Shostakovich:
SYMPHONY n°13 op.113 "Babi Yar"
(poems by Yevgenij Yevtusheko)
I. Babi Yar. Adagio 0:00
II. Humour. Allegretto 15:02
III. In the Store. Allegro 22:54
IV. Fears. Largo 33:00
V. Career. Allegretto 43:30
Vitali Gromadsky (bass soloist)
Men of the Republican State and Gnessin Institute Choirs
Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra
Kirill Kondrashin (director)
Live recording, Moscow, 20.XII.1962
Premiere recording of the work (premiere performance was on 18.XII.1962).
Спасибо. 20 декабря 1962
Первое её исполнение состоялось в Москве 18 декабря 1962 года.
always fantastic!👍👍👍👍
This, now more than ever. Remember the Ukraine.
Fascist Ukrainian nationalists assisted Germans in the Babi Yar massacre.
@@gorankatic40000bc Fascist Russian nationalists assisted Germans by form Russian Liberation Army (ROA, Русская освободительная армия) headed by Russian general Andrey Vlasov. th-cam.com/video/3u5k7Pd3vPU/w-d-xo.html
th-cam.com/video/OlWWhLVDd80/w-d-xo.html
@@vitiachao9765 1. They were discardable frontline cannon fodder and without any power.
2. They were nowhere near Babi Yar nor participating in Holocaust but Ukrainians had both power and they participated in the Holocaust.