Polkovodec

Grokhochet bitva, bleshut broni,
Orud'ja zhadnyje revut,
Begut polki, nesutsja koni
I reki krasnyje tekut.
Pylajet polden', ljudi b'jutsja;
Sklonilos' solnce, boj sil'nej;
Zakat blednejet, no derutsja
Vragi vse jarostnej i zlej.
I pala noch' na pole brani.
Druzhiny v mrake razoshlis'...
Vsjo stikhlo, i v nochnom tumane
Stenan'ja k nebu podnjalis'.
Togda, ozarena lunoju,
Na bojevom svojom kone,
Kostej sverkaja beliznoju,
Javilas' smert'; i v tishine,
Vnimaja vopli i molitvy,
Dovol'stva gordogo polna,
Kak polkovodec mesto bitvy
Krugom ob"jekhala ona.
Na kholm podnjavshis', ogljanulas',
Ostanovilas', ulybnulas'...
I nad ravninoj bojevoj
Razdalsja golos rokovoj:
,,Konchena bitva! ja vsekh pobedila!
Vse predo mnoj vy smirilis', bojcy!
Zhizn' vas possorila, ja pomirila!
Druzhno vstavajte na smotr, mertvecy!
Marshem torzhestvennym mimo projdite,
Vojsko mojo ja khochu soschitat';
V zemlju potom svoji kosti slozhite,
Sladko ot zhizni v zemle otdykhat'!
Gody nezrimo projdut za godami,
V ljudjakh ischeznet i pamjat' o vas.
Ja ne zabudu i gromko nad vami
Pir budu pravit' v polunochnyj chas!
Pljaskoj tjazhjoloju zemlju syruju
Ja pritopchu, chtoby sen' grobovuju
Kosti pokinut' vovek ne mogli,
Chtob nikogda vam ne vstat' iz zemli!``

Show Cyrillic (Покажите текст в кириллице)
Note on Transliteration

by Arseny Arkad'yevich Golenishchev-Kutuzov (1848-1913)

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

by Modest Petrovich Musorgsky (1839-1881) , "Polkovodec", 1875-7, from Pesni i pljaski smerti, no. 4, note: The theme is taken from a Polish revolutionary march called Z dymen pozarow.

ENG English (unknown or anonymous translator)
NOR Norwegian (Bokmål) (Marianne Beate Kielland)

Added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.

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The field‑marshal

 The battle rages, swords are flashing,
 Like hungry beasts the cannons roar;
 The horses neigh, the squadrons gallop,
 The stream runs crimson, dyed with gore.
 The burning noon-day sees the slaughter,
 And still at sunset the fight endures.
 The last gleams vanish, still unyielding,
 The foe maintains a stubborn front.
 Now falls the night upon the carnage,
 And in the gloaming all disperse.
 Silence reigns; only the darkness hears
 The wounded crying unto Heaven.
 See, there, where fall the livid moon-rays,
 Astride upon a charger pale,
 Rides a warrior wan and grisly, whose name
 is Death. There, in the dusk,
 He hears their pitiful complaining;
 Surveys the ghastly field with pride:
 Moves like a leader triumphant,
 Over the scene of glory and pain.
 Then climbs a hillock,
 Gazes round him on dead and dying, grimly smiling...
 Now over the seething field of slaughter
 Rings out stern and clear his voice:
 "Cease now the fight! The victory is mine!
 You warriors all, it is to Death you have yielded!
 Foes in your lifetime, I come to make you friends!
 Rise up, reply to the roll-call of Death!
 Fall into my rank! You must march past your leader!
 Before the day dawns I must muster my men.
 Soldiers, your bones shall repose in the earth's bosom,
 Sweet is the slumber that follows the fight!
 Years shall pass over you unreckoned, unheeded,
 Men shall forget what you fought for today.
 I, Death alone, will remember your valor,
 Honor your memory when midnight is struck!
 Over these furrows I'll dance in the moonlight
 Tread down the earth where your limbs lie at rest,
 Tread it so closely, your bones shall never move,
 Never more shall you come back to earth."

Translation from Russian to English by unknown or anonymous translator

a text in Russian by Arseny Arkad'yevich Golenishchev-Kutuzov (1848-1913) NOR

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

[ None yet in the database ]

Added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.