CD Details

Russian Reflections (eight-disc boxed set) (2016)

<em>Russian Reflections</em> (eight-disc boxed set)

The title of Music@Menlo’s 2016 festival season, Russian Reflections, captures a variety of perspectives on this season’s programming—including the ways in which Russian history is vividly reflected in its music, the parallels between Russian musical works and their Western European counterparts, and the compelling theme of self-reflection in Russian music, art, and literature. Through each disc of Music@Menlo LIVE’s 2016 edition, these and other perspectives cast Russia’s musical identity in sharp relief, while also revealing an essential character that transcends any cultural divide.

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Selections

Serenade in C Major for Strings, op. 48 | Piotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky (29:43)

  • Jeremy Berry, Viola
  • Stella Chen, Violin
  • Estelle Choi, Cello
  • Nicolas Dautricourt, Violin
  • Paul Huang, Violin
  • Katie Hyun, Violin
  • Coleman Itzkoff, Cello
  • Jessica Lee, Violin
  • Matthew Lipman, Viola
  • Ryan Meehan, Violin
  • Jeffrey Myers, Violin
  • Paul Neubauer, Viola
  • Scott Pingel, Double Bass
  • Lisa Sung, Viola
  • Stephen Waarts, Violin

Andante in B Major, op. 16, no. 1 | Aleksandr Scriabin (2:44)

  • Lucille Chung, Piano

Andante in B-flat Major, op. 11, no. 21 | Aleksandr Scriabin (2:12)

  • Lucille Chung, Piano

Vers la flamme (Towards the Flame), op. 72 | Aleksandr Scriabin (5:58)

  • Lucille Chung, Piano

Ne poy, krasavitsa, pri mne (Sing Not to Me, Beautiful Maiden), op. 4, no. 4 | Sergei Rachmaninov (4:53)


Text by Alexander Pushkin
Translation by Dina Kuznetsova

Ne poy, krasavitsa, pri mne
Tï pesen Gruzii pechal’noy.
Napominayut mne one
Druguyu zhizn’, i bereg dal’niy.

Uvï, napominayut mne
Tvoi zhestokiye napevï
I step’, i noch’, i pri lune
Chertï dalyokoy, bednoy devï!

Ya prizrak milïy, rokovoy,
Tebya uvidev, zabïvayu…
No tï poyosh’, i predo mnoy
Yego ya vnov’ voobrazhayu.

Ne poy, krasavitsa, pri mne
Tï pesen Gruzii pechal’noy.
Napominayut mne one
Druguyu zhizn’, i bereg dal’niy.




Sing not to me, beautiful maiden,
The melancholy songs of Georgia!
For they remind me
Of a different life, of a distant shore.

Alas, they remind me,
Your cruel melodies,
Of the steppes, and night,
And under the moonlight—of features of a faraway, poor maiden.

That specter, beloved and fateful,
I forget when I see you.
But then you sing—and in front of me
I imagine it once more.

Sing not to me, beautiful maiden,
The melancholy songs of Georgia!
For they remind me
Of a different life, of a distant shore.
  • Dina Kuznetsova, Soprano
  • Paul Neubauer, Viola
  • Wu Qian, Piano

Souvenir d’un lieu cher for Violin and Piano, op. 42 | Piotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky (16:53)

  • Kyoko Takezawa, Violin
  • Wu Qian, Piano

Piano Trio no. 1 in c minor, op. 8 | Dmitry Shostakovich (12:02)

  • Michael Brown, Piano
  • Nicolas Dautricourt, Violin
  • David Finckel, Cello

Piano Quintet no. 2 in e-flat minor, op. 26 | Ernő Dohnányi (23:45)

  • Michael Brown, Piano
  • Nicolas Dautricourt, Violin
  • Clive Greensmith, Cello
  • Ani Kavafian, Violin
  • Paul Neubauer, Viola

Piano Quartet in a minor | Gustav Mahler (11:35)

  • David Finckel, Cello
  • Paul Huang, Violin
  • Matthew Lipman, Viola
  • Wu Han, Piano

Piano Trio no. 1 in d minor, op. 32 | Anton Arensky (30:33)

  • Gloria Chien, Piano
  • Clive Greensmith, Cello
  • Paul Huang, Violin

String Quartet in D Major, op. 44, no. 1 | Felix Mendelssohn (28:18)

  • Calidore String Quartet

Variations on a Theme of Mozart in E-flat Major for Solo Piano | Mikhail Glinka (7:14)

  • Michael Brown, Piano

String Quartet no. 1 in D Major, op. 11 | Piotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky (26:11)

  • Calidore String Quartet

Piano Trio no. 2 in F Major, op. 80 | Robert Schumann (26:27)

  • David Finckel, Cello
  • Arnaud Sussmann, Violin
  • Wu Han, Piano

Romance in B-flat Major for Violin and Piano, op. 28 | Gabriel Fauré (6:10)

  • Michael Brown, Piano
  • Arnaud Sussmann, Violin

Písně milostné (Love Songs), op. 83 | Antonín Dvořák (14:55)


Text by Gustav Pfleger-Moravsky
Translation by David Beveridge
Song titles are bolded

Ó, naší lásce nekvěte
to vytoužené štěstí:

a kdyby květlo, na světě
nebude dlouho kvěsti.

Proč by se slza v ohnivé
polibky vekrádala?
Proč by mne v plné lásce své
ouzkostně objímala?

Ó, trpké je to loučení,
kde naděj nezakyne:
tu srdce cítí ve chvění,
že brzo bídně zhyne.





Oh, That Longed-for Happiness
Does Not Bloom for Our Love;

and if it would bloom, in this world
it would not bloom for long.

Why would a tear steal
into fiery kisses?
Why would she embrace me
in her full love with anxiety?

Oh, bitter is that parting
where hope does not beckon:
the heart then feels, trembling,
that soon in misery it will die.

v tak mnohém srdci mrtvo jest
jak v temné pustině;
v něm na žalost a na bolest
ba místa jedině.

Tu klamy lásky horoucí
v to srdce vstupuje
a srdce žalem práhnoucí
to mní, že miluje.

A v tomto sladkém domnění
se ještě jednou v ráj
to srdce mrtvé promění
a zpívá starou báj!

So Many a Heart Is As Though Dead,
as in a dark wasteland;
yea, only for grief and for pain
does it have room.

Then delusions of burning love
enter into that heart,
and the heart, yearning in misery,
believes that it loves.

And in this sweet belief
the dead heart once again
transforms itself into a paradise
and sings the old tale!

kol domu se ted’ potácím,
kdes bydlívala dříve,
a z lásky rány krvácím,
té lásky sladké, lživé!

A smutným okem nazírám,
zdaž ke mně vedeš kroku:
a vstříc Ti náruč otvírám,
však slzu cítím v oku!

Ó, kde jsi, drahá, kde jsi dnes,
což nepřijdeš mi vstříce?
Což nemám, v srdci slast a ples,
Tě uzřít nikde více?

Around the House Now I Stagger,
where you used to live,
and from the wound of love I bleed,
of that love sweet, deceitful!

And with a sad eye I watch
whether you step toward me:
and toward you my arms I open,
but a tear I feel in my eye!

Oh where are you, dear one, where are you today?
Won’t you come toward me?
Am I not, with delight and joy in my heart,
to behold you ever again?

Já vím, že v sladké naději
Tě smím přec milovat:
a že chceš tím horoucněji
mou lásku pěstovat.

A přec, když nazřím očí Tvých
v tu přerozkošnou noc;
a zvím, jak nebe lásky z nich
na mne snáší moc:

Tu moje oko slzami
se náhle obstírá,
neb v štěstí naše za námi
zlý osud pozírá!

I Know That in Sweet Hope
I may love you after all,
and that you want to nurture
my love all the more fervently.

And still, when I look into your eyes,
into that blissful night,
and learn how love’s heaven
brings down its power from them upon me,

then my eye suddenly
clouds with tears,
for in our happiness, behind us
Evil fate is watching!

Nad krajem vévodí lehký spánek,
jasná se rozpjala májová noc;
nesmělý krade se do listí vánek,
s nebes se schýlila míru moc.

Zadřimlo kvítí, potokem šumá,
příroda v rozkoši blaženě dumá,
neklidných živlů však utichl vzpor.

Hvězdy se sešly co naděje světla,
země se mění na nebeský kruh:
mým srdcem, v němžto kdys blaženost květla,
mým srdcem táhne jen bolestí ruch!

Over the Countryside Reigns a Light Sleep;
clear has stretched out the May night.
A shy breeze steals into the leaves;
from heaven has bent down the realm of peace.

The flowers have dozed; in the brook murmurs
nature, in delight, blissfully meditates;
but the squabble of restless elements has fallen silent.

The stars have come together like lights of hope;
Earth is changing into a celestial sphere.
Through my heart, in which once bliss bloomed,
through my heart spreads only the turmoil of pain!

Zde v lese u potoka
já stojím sám a sám
a ve potoka vlny
v myšlenkách pozírám.

Tu vídím starý kámen,
nad nímž se vlny dmou;
ten kámen vstoupá, padá
bez klidu pod vlnou.

A proud se oň opírá,
až kámen zvrhne se:
kdy vlna života mne
se světa odnese?

Here in the Forest by a Brook
I stand alone, all alone,
and into the brook’s waves
in thoughts I gaze.

Then I see an old stone,
over which the waves rage;
that stone rises and falls
without rest under a wave.

And the current presses on it
until the stone overturns.
When will the wave of life
carry me away from the world?

V té sladké moci očí Tvých
jak rád bych zahynul,
kdyby mně k životu jen smích
rtů krásných nekynul.

Však tu smrt sladkou zvolím hned
s tou láskou ve hrudi:
když mě jen ten Tvůj smavý ret
k životu probudí.

In That Sweet Power of Your Eyes
how gladly would I die,
if only the laughter of lovely
lips did not beckon me to life.

But I’ll choose that sweet death at once
with that love in my breast,
if only those smiling lips of yours
will awaken me to life.

Ó, duše drahá, jedinká,
jež v srdci žiješ dosud:
má oblétá Tě myšlenka,
ač dělí nás zlý osud.

Ó kéž jsem zpěvnou labutí,
já zaletěl bych k Tobě:
a v posledním bych vzdechnutí
Ti vypěl srdce v mdlobě.

Oh Dear Soul, the Only One
that still lives in my heart:
my thoughts hover about you,
though evil fate separates us.

Oh, were I a singing swan,
I’d fly to you,
and in my final sighing would
sing out my heart to you, swooning.
  • Dina Kuznetsova, Soprano
  • Wu Qian, Piano

Seven Romances on Poems of Aleksandr Blok for Soprano, Piano, Violin, and Cello, op. 127 | Dmitry Shostakovich (26:22)


Translation by Danielle Sinclair
Song titles are bolded

Pesnja Ofelii
Razluchajas’ s devoj miloj, drug,
Ty kljalsja mne ljubit’.
Ujezzhaja v kraj postylyj,
Kljatvu dannuju khranit’.

Tam, za Danijej schastlivoj,
Berega tvoji vo mgle...
Val serdityj, govorlivyj
Mojet sljozy na skale.

Milyj voin ne vernjotsja,
Ves’ odetyj v serebro...
V grobe tjazhko vskolykhnjotsja
Bant i chjornoje pero.




Ophelia’s Song
On parting from your sweetheart, my beloved,
you promised to love me.
Departing for that hated land,
you swore to keep your promise.

There, beyond cheerful Denmark,
your native shores lie in darkness...
an angry, vociferous wave
washes teardrops from the rocks.

My beloved warrior, all dressed in silver,
will not return...
in the sepulcher his ribbon and black plume
will wave fretfully.


Gamajun ptica veshchaja
Na gladjakh beskonechnykh vod,
Zakatom v purpur oblechennykh,
Ona veshchajet i pojot,
Ne v silakh kryl podnjat’ smjatennykh.

Veshchajet igo zlykh tatar,
Veshchajet kaznej rjad krovavykh,
I trus, i golod, i pozhar,
Zlodejev silu, gibel’ pravykh.

Predvechnym uzhasom ob’jat,
Prekrasnyj lik gorit ljubov’ju,
No veshchej pravdoju zvuchat
Usta, zapekshijesja krov’ju!


Gamayun the Prophetic Bird
On the smooth expanse of endless water,
suffused with the purple of twilight,
it prophesies and sings,
too weak to raise its restless wings.

It tells of the evil Tatar yoke,
of a succession of bloody executions,
of terror, and famine, and fire,
of the rise of evil, and the destruction of the just.

Shrouded in perpetual horror,
its beautiful face glows with love,
but the truth is heard
from its blood-caked mouth!


My byli vmeste
My byli vmeste, pomnju ja...
Noch’ volnovalas’, skripka pela.
Ty v eti dni byla moja,
Ty s kazhdym chasom khoroshela.

Skvoz’ tikhoje zhurchan’je struj,
Skvoz’ tajnu zhenstvennoj ulybki
K ustam prosilsja potseluj,
Prosilis’ v serdtse zvuki skripki...


We Were Together
We were together, I remember it...
the night was troubled, a violin sang.
In those days you were still mine,
growing more lovely by the hour.

Through the soft murmur of streams,
through the mystery of a woman’s smile,
a kiss beckoned to our lips
as the violin beckoned to our hearts...


Gorod spit
Gorod spit, okutan mgloju,
Chut’ mertsajut fonari.
Tam daljoko, za Nevoju,
Vizhu otbleski zari.

V etom dalnem otrazhen’ji,
V etikh otbleskakh ognja
Pritailos’ probuzhden’je,
Dney, tosklivykh dlja menja.


The City Sleeps
The city sleeps, shrouded in gloom,
street lamps faintly flickering.
Far in the distance, beyond the Neva,
I see the first gleam of dawn.

These distant reflections,
these glimmers of flame,
concealed the awakening
of my days of sorrow.


Burja
O, kak bezumno za oknom
Revjot, bushujet burja zlaja,
Nesutsja tuchi, l’jut dozhdjom,
I veter vojet, zamiraja!

Uzhasna noch’! V takuju noch’
Mne zhal’ ljudej, lishennykh krova,
Sozhalenije gonit proch’
V objat’ja kholoda syrogo.

Borot’sja s mrakom i dozhdjom,
Stradaltsev uchast’ razdeljaja...
O, kak bezumno za oknom
Bushujet veter, iznyvaja!


The Storm
How furiously the savage storm
roars and rages outside the window.
Scudding clouds pour down rain,
the wind howls and subsides!

Dreadful night! On a night like this
I feel such pity for the homeless.
This compassion drives me out
into the cold embrace.

To battle the darkness and the rain
and share their misery...
Outside the window
the furiously roaring wind subsides!


Tajnyje znaki
Razgorajutsja tajnyje znaki
Na glukhoj, neprobudnoj stene.
Zolotyje i krasnyje maki
Nado mnoj tjagotejut vo sne.

Ukryvajus’ v nochnyje peshchery
I ne pomnju surovykh chudes.
Na zare golubyje khimery
Smotrjat v zerkale jarkikh nebes.

Ubegaju v proshedshije migi,
Zakryvaju ot strakha glaza,
Na listakh kholodejushchej knigi
Zolotaja devichija kosa.

Nado mnoj nebosvod uzhe nizok,
Chjornyj son tjagotejet v grudi.
Moj konets prednachertannyj blizok,
I vojna, i pozhar—vperedi...


Secret Signs
Secret signs burn
on the impassive wall.
Gold and red poppies
hang above my dreams.

I take refuge in the caverns of night
and do not remember the austere marvels.
At dawn, blue chimeras
gaze down from mirror-bright skies.

I escape into the past,
closing my eyes in fear.
Across the cold page of a book
a girl’s golden curl falls.

Above me the sky descends,
and dark dreams lie heavy on my breast.
My appointed end is near,
war and flames lie before me…


Muzyka
V noch’, kogda usnjot trevoga
I gorod skrojetsja vo mgle,
O, skol’ko muzyki u boga,
Kakije zvuki na zemle!

Chto burja zhizni,
Jesli rozy tvoji tsvetut mne i gorjat!
Chto chelovecheskije sljozy,
Kogda rumjanitsja zakat!

Primi, Vladychitsja vselennoj,
Skvoz’ krov’, skvoz’ muki, skvoz’ groba
Poslednej strasti kubok pennyj
Ot nedostojnogo raba.


Music
At night, when worries are asleep
and the city is hidden in darkness,
O what music there is with God,
what sounds are heard on Earth!

What does life’s turmoil matter
if your roses bloom for me and blaze!
What do human tears matter
in the crimson glow of a sunset!

Accept, O Queen of the Universe,
through blood, through pain, through death,
this brimming cup of the final passion
from your unworthy servant.
  • Michael Brown, Piano
  • Dina Kuznetsova, Soprano
  • Alexander Sitkovetsky, Violin
  • Paul Watkins, Cello

Élégie for Cello and Piano, op. 24 | Gabriel Fauré (6:02)

  • Hyeyeon Park, Piano
  • Keith Robinson, Cello

Nigun (Improvisation) from Baal Shem: Three Pictures of Hassidic Life for Violin and Piano | Ernest Bloch (7:10)

  • Alon Goldstein, Piano
  • Arnaud Sussmann, Violin

Pesni i plyaski smerti (Songs and Dances of Death) for Voice and Piano | Modest Mussorgsky (20:56)

Pesni i plyaski smerti (Songs and Dances of Death)
By A. A. Golenishchev-Kutusov (1848–1913)
Translation by Cori Ellison © 2016
Titles are bold

Kolïbel’naya
Stonet rebionok. Svecha dagaraya,
Tusklo mertzayet krugom.
Tzeluyu noch’, kolybel’ ku kachaya,
Mat’ ne zabylasya snom.

Ranhym raniokhon’ ko v dver’, ostorozhno,
Smert’ serdobol’ naya stuk!
Vzdrognula mat’, oglyanulas’ trevozhno…
“Polno pugat’ sya, moi drug!

Blednoye utro uzh smotrit v okoshko.
Placha, toskuya, lyubya
Ty utomilas’. Vzdremni ka nemnozhka,
Ya posizhu za tebya.

Ugomonit’ ty ditya ne sumela,
Slatsche tebya ya spoyu.”
“Tishe! Rebionok moi mechetsya, b’iotsya,
Dushu terzayet moyu!”

“Nu, da so mnoyu on skoro uimiotsya,
Bayushki, bayu, bayu.”
“Tschechki bledneyut, slabeyet dykhan’ ye…
Da zamolchi-zhe, molyu!”

“Dobroye znamen’ ye: stihnet stradan’ ye.
Bayushki, bayu, bayu.”
“Proch’ ty proklyataya!
Laskoi svoyeyu sgubish’ ty radost’ moyu.”

“Net, mirnyi son ya mladentzu naveyu;
Bayushki, bayu, bayu.”
“Szhal’ sya, pozhdi dopevat’ hot’ mgnoven’ ye,
Strashnuyu pesnyu tvoyu!”

“Vidish’, usnul on pod tikhoye pen’ ye.
Bayushki, bayu, bayu!”





Lullaby
A child moans. A candle, burning low,
Casts a dim light.
All night, rocking the cradle,
The mother has not slept.

Very early, carefully,
Death, the heartbreaker, knocked.
The mother shivered and looked around anxiously.
“Fear no more, my friend!

Pale morning already peers in the window.
You’re weary
From weeping, grieving, and loving.
I’ll keep watch for you.

You failed to calm your child.
But I’ll sing more sweetly than you.”
“Quiet! My child is tossing restlessly,
Torturing my soul.

“Well, he will soon rest with me.
Hush-a-bye, sleep.”
“His cheeks grow pale, his breathing weakens...
Be quiet, I beg you!”

“It’s a good sign—his suffering will end.
Hush-a-bye, sleep.”
“Away, evil one!
Your caress will kill my joy.”

“No, I’ll bring your child peaceful dreams.
Hush-a-bye, sleep.”
“Have pity! If just for a moment, stop singing
Your terrifying song!”

“See, he’s been lulled by my quiet song.
Hush-a-bye, sleep.”

Serenada
Nega volshebnaya, noch’ golubaya,
Trepetnyi sumrak vesny…
Vnemlet, poniknuv golovkoi bol’ naya
Shopot nochnoi tishiny.

Son ne smykayet blestyashchiye ochi,
Zhizn’ k naslazhden’ yu zoviot;
A pod okoshkom v molchan’ i polnochi
Smert’ serenadu poiot:

“V mrake nevoli surovoi i tesnoi,
Molodost’ vyanet tvoya.
Rytsar’ nevedomyi, siloi chudesnoi
Osvobozhu ya tebya.

Vstan’, posmotri na sebya: krasotoyu
Lik tvoi prozrachnyi blestit,
Tschioki rumyany, volnistoi kosoyu
Stan tvoi, kak tuchei obvit;

Pristal’ nyh glaz goluboye siyan’ ye,
Yarche nebes i ognya;
Znoyem poludennym veyet dykhan’ ye,
Ty obol’ stila menya.

Sluh tvoi plenilsya moyei serenadoi,
Rytsarya shopot tvoi zval.
Rytsar’ prishol za poslednei nagradoi.
Chas upoyen’ ya nastal.

Nezhen tvoi stan, upoitelen trepet.
O zadushu ya tebya
V krepkih ob’ yat’ yah; lyubovnyi moi lepet
Slushai…molchi…ty moya!”

Serenade
Magical rapture, deep-blue night,
Rustling shadow of spring...
With head bowed, the ailing girl listens
To the quiet nocturnal whisper.

Sleep does not veil her glowing eyes.
Life beckons her toward pleasure.
And beneath the window, in the night’s silence
Death sings a serenade:

“In the darkness of cruel bondage
Your youth is fading.
I, a mysterious knight,
Will free you with miraculous power.

Arise, look at yourself—
Your transparent face glows with beauty.
Your flushed cheeks, your wavy braids,
Your figure seem wrapped in a cloud.

The blue gleam of your keen eyes
Is brighter than heaven or fire.
Your breath is full of noonday heat.
You have seduced me.

My serenade enflamed your ears.
Summoned by your whisper,
The knight has come for his final reward.
The hour of bliss has arrived.

Your figure is soft, your trembling enchanting.
I will stifle you
In my strong embrace. Hear my murmurs of love—
Be still...you are mine!”

Trepak
Les, da polyany, bezlyud’ ye krugom;
V’yuga u plachet i stonet;
Chuyetsya, budto vo mrake nochnom,
Zlaya kovo to khoronit.

Glyan’! Tak i yest’! V temnote muzhika
Smert’ obnimayet, laskayet;
S p’ yanen’ kim plyachet vdvoiom trepaka,
Na uho pesn’ napevayet:

“Okh muzhichok, starichok ubogoi,
P’ yan napilsya, poplelsya domoi;
A myatel’ to, ved’ ma, podnyalas’, vzygrala,
S polya v les dremuchiy nevznachay zagnala.

Gorem, toskoy, da nuzhdoy tomimyi!
Lyag, prikorni, da usni rodimyi.
Ya tebya, golubchik moi, snezhkom sogreyu,
Vkrug tebya velikuyu igru zateyu.

Vzbei ka postel’, ty myatel’ lebyodka,
Gei, nachinay, zapevay, pogodka;
Skazku, da takuyu, chtob vsyu noch’ tyanulas’,
Chtob p’yanchuge krepko pod neyo zasnulos’.

Oi, vy lesa, nebesa, da tuchi,
Tem’, veterok, da snezhok letuchii,
Sveites’ pelenoyu, snezhnoy pukhovoyu
Yeyu, kak mladentsa, starichka prikroyu.

Spi, moi druzhok, muzhichok tschastlivyi,
Leto prishlo, rastsvelo! Nad nivoy
Solnyshko smeyotsa, da serpy gulyayut;
Pesenka nesyotsya, golubki letayut.”

Trepak
Forest and fields, desolation all around
The storm weeps and moans.
It seems like the Devil is burying someone
In the nighttime darkness.

And behold—it is so! In the darkness, there’s a peasant.
Death embraces him, caresses him.
Dancing a double trepak with the drunk,
She sings a song into his ear.

“Poor old peasant,
You drank yourself blind and took to the road.
But an old witch of a blizzard blustered up
Suddenly driving you from field to deep forest.

Though dogged by grief, suffering, and poverty
Lie down, take cover, fall asleep.
I’ll warm you with snow, my sweet,
I’ll strike up nice games around you.

Fluff your mattress, lovely snowstorm!
Hey, let’s go, sing on, blizzard!
Tell a tale that will last all night,
So that our drunken friend can sleep soundly.

O, forests, skies, and clouds,
Darkness, wind, and drifting snow,
Wave a mantle of soft down,
And I’ll cover the old man like a baby.

Sleep, my friend, happy peasant!
Summer has arrived, all is blooming. Over the grove,
The sun laughs, and sickles are humming.
A song rises, doves are flying.”

Polkovodets
Grokhochet bitva, bletschut broni,
Orud’ ya mednyye revut,
Begut polki, nesutsa koni
I reki krasnyye tekut.

Pylayet polden’, lyudi b’ yutsya!
Sklonilos’ solntze, boy sil’ nei!
Zakat bledneyet, no derutsya
Vragi vsio yarostney i zley!

I pala noch’ na pole brani.
Druzhiny v mrake razoshlis’…
Vsyo stihlo i v nochnom tumane
Stenan’ ya k nebu podnyalis’.

Togda ozarena lunoyu,
Na boyevom svoyom kone,
Kostey sverkaya beliznoyu,
Yavilas’ smert’ i v tishine,

Vnimaya vopli i molitvy
Dovol’ stva gordova polna,
Kak polkovodets, mesto bitvy
Krugom ob’ yekhala ona.

Na holm podnyavshis’ oglyanulas’,
Ostanovilas’, ulybnylas’,
I nad ravninoi boyevoy
Pronessya golos rokovoi:

“Konchena bitva! Ya vsekh pobedila!
Vse predo mnoy vy smirilis’ boitsy!
Zhizn’ vas possorila, ya pomirila,
Druzhno vstavaite na smotr, mertvetsy!

Marschem torzchestvennym mimo proidite,
Voiska moye ya khochu soschitat’.
Vzemlyu potom, svoi kosti slozhite,
Sladko ot zhizni v zemle otdykhat’!

Gody nezrimo proidut za godami,
V lyudyah itscheznet i pamyat’ o vas.
Ya ne zabudu! I gromko nad vami
Pir budu pravit’ v polunochnyi chas!

Plyaskoy, tyazholoyu, zemlyu syruyu
Ya pritopchu, chtoby sen’ grobovuyu
Kosti pokinut’ vo vek ne mogli,
Chtob nikogda vam ne vstat’ iz zemli!”

The Field Marshal
The battle rages, armor flashes,
And clanging weapons roar.
Regiments run, horses gallop,
And red rivers flow.

The midday sun glares. Men fight.
The sun descends. But the battle escalates.
Though twilight fades,
The enemies attack ever more fiercely and angrily.

Night has fallen on the battlefield.
The armies have dispersed in the gloom.
All is silent. And in the nocturnal fog,
Moans have risen to the sky.

Then, lit by the moon
On his battle steed,
His white bones glittering,
Death appeared. And in the silence,

Hearing the groans and prayers
With proud satisfaction
Like a field marshal,
Death rode through the battlefield.

Climbing to the hilltop, he gazed about,
He stopped and smiled.
And over the battlefield,
His fatal voice sounded—

“The battle is over! I have conquered all!
You have all made peace before me, warriors!
Life made you enemies,
but I have united you!

Pass by in a solemn march
I want to count my troops.
Then lay your bones in the earth, and in the ground,
Rest sweetly from life.

Year after year will pass unseen,
And people will forget you.
But I won’t forget! And I will lead a loud
Feast over you at midnight!

Dancing, I’ll stamp so heavily
On the damp earth
That your bones will never escape your grave.
And you will never rise from the earth!”
  • Nikolay Borchev, Baritone
  • Wu Qian, Piano

Trio élégiaque in d minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, op. 9 | Sergei Rachmaninov (41:54)

  • Alon Goldstein, Piano
  • Arnaud Sussmann, Violin
  • Paul Watkins, Cello

String Quintet no. 1 in F Major, op. 88 | Johannes Brahms (27:15)

  • Nicholas Canellakis, Cello
  • Sean Lee, Violin
  • Matthew Lipman, Viola
  • Paul Neubauer, Viola
  • Arnaud Sussmann, Violin

Piano Quintet in g minor, op. 30 | Sergei Taneyev (41:47)

  • David Finckel, Cello
  • Sean Lee, Violin
  • Paul Neubauer, Viola
  • Arnaud Sussmann, Violin
  • Wu Han, Piano

String Quintet no. 5 in D Major, K. 593 | Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (26:59)

  • Clive Greensmith, Cello
  • Paul Huang, Violin
  • Ani Kavafian, Violin
  • Matthew Lipman, Viola
  • Paul Neubauer, Viola

Sonata in D Major for Flute and Piano, op. 94 | Sergey Prokofiev (23:55)

  • Tara Helen O'Connor, Flute
  • Wu Qian, Piano

Suite no. 2 in c minor for Two Pianos, op. 17 | Sergei Rachmaninov (22:52)

  • Gloria Chien, Piano
  • Lucille Chung, Piano

Selections from Souvenirs for Piano, Four Hands, op. 28 | Samuel Barber (17:06)

  • Wu Han, Piano
  • Wu Qian, Piano

Pohádka (Fairy Tale) for Cello and Piano | Leoš Janáček (11:15)

  • Hyeyeon Park, Piano
  • Keith Robinson, Cello

Ispanskiye pesni (Spanish Songs) for Voice and Piano, op. 100 | Dmitry Shostakovich (13:56)

English translations by Dimitri Atapine

Proshchaj, Grenada!
Proshchaj, Grenada, moja Grenada,
S toboj naveki mne rasstat’sja nado!
Proshchaj, ljubimyj kraj, ochej uslada,
Navek proshchaj! Akh!
Budet pamat’ o tebe moej
Edinstvennoj otradoj
Moj ljubimyj, moj rodimyj kraj!

Navek mne serdce toska pronzila,
Pogiblo vsjo, chto v zhizni bylo milo,
Moja ljubov’ ushla vo mrak mogily,
I zhizn’ ushla! Akh!
I vokrug mne vsjo postylo,
Zhit’ kak prezhde, net uzh sily
Tam gde junost’ tak byla svetla!

Sergey Bolotin, adapted from a text in Spanish by José Rizal (1861–1896)
Farewell, Granada!
Farewell, Granada, my Granada,
Forever must I part with you!
Farewell, beloved land, sweetness of my eyes,
Farewell forever! Ah!
The memory of you shall be
My only joy
My beloved, my native land!

Forever my heart has been pierced by yearning,
All has perished, what was dear to me in life,
My love has gone into the darkness of the grave,
And life has gone! Ah!
And around me everything is tiresome,
To live as before there is no strength,
There where my youth has been so bright!



Zvjozdochki
Pod kiparisami starymi
serebritsja pribrezhnaja glad’.
K miloj idu ja s gitaroju,
chtoby pesnjam jejo obuchat’.

No uchit’ besplatno mne net okhoty:
Ja beru s nejo poceluj za notu.
Stranno, chto ona k utru uznajot,
vsjo krome not!

Zhal’, chto nachat’ snova pozdno!
Zhal’, chto uzhe svetel vozdukh!
Zhal’, chto i dnjom ne drozhat puglivo
Nad zalivom zvjozdy...

V zvjozdochkakh nebo beskrajnee,
imi znojnaja polnoch polna.
Miloj mojej nazyvaju ja
vsekh beschislennykh zvjozd imena.

Ja poznan’jami dorozhu svoimi
I beru s nejo poceluj za imja.
Stranno, chto urok kazhetsja jej prost—
vsjo krome zvjozd!

T. Sikorsky, adapted from an unattributed Spanish text
Little Stars
Under the old cypresses
The silvery water near the shore is glistening.
I am walking to visit my sweetheart with my guitar,
So I can teach her some songs.

But to teach for free I am not inclined:
I take from her a kiss for every note.
It is strange that in the morning she recognizes
Everything but the notes!

A pity that it is too late to start again!
A pity that the air is already bright!
A pity that in the daytime the stars
Are no longer shyly twinkling above the bay…

Full of little stars is the limitless sky,
The balmy night is full of them.
I tell my sweetheart
All the names of countless stars.

I do value my knowledge
And take from her a kiss for every name.
How strange that the lesson seems to her so simple—
Everything but the stars!



Pervaja vstrecha
Ty u ruch’ja vody mne dala kogdato,
Svezhej vody, kholodnoj,
kak sneg v ushchel’jakh sinikh gor.
Nochi temnej tvoj vzor,
v kosakh aromat lepestkov dikoj mjaty...
Vidish’, opjat’ kruzhit khorovod,
Buben gremit, zvenit i pojot.
Kazhdyj tancor podruzhku vedjot,
smotrit na nikh, ljubujas’, narod.
Bej, moj buben bej, gremi, budto grom!
S miloju mojej my tancujem vdvojom.
Lenta na tebe nebes golubej.
Bej, moj buben, bej! Buben, bej! Buben bej!
Mne ne zabyt’ vovek etoj pervoj vstrechi,
Laskovykh slov i smugloj ruki,
i bleska chjornykh glaz...
Ponjal ja v etot chas,
chto tebja ljublju i ljubit’ budu vechno!

Sergey Bolotin, adapted from an unattributed Spanish text
First meeting
Once near a stream you gave me water,
Fresh water, cold
Like the snow in crevasses of blue mountains.
Your gaze is darker than night,
In your braids the aroma of wild-mint petals…
Look, once again the round dance is turning,
The tambourine thunders, rings, and sings.
Each dancer is leading his partner,
The crowd is looking at them, admiringly.
Beat, my tambourine, beat. Thunder and thunder!
With my sweetheart we are dancing together.
Your ribbon is bluer than the sky.
Beat, my tambourine, beat! Tambourine, beat! Tambourine, beat!
I can never forget this first meeting,
The tender words and tanned hand,
And the brilliance of black eyes…
In that moment I understood,
That I love you and I will love you forever!



Ronda
Shumit khorovod u nashikh dverej,
vesel’ja pora nastala.
Idi tancevat’ so mnoju skorej,
Gvozdki cvetochek alyj!
lunoj tishine slyshen zvon ruch’ja...
daj ruku mne, devochka moja,
Gvozdiki cvetochek alyj!
Ulica slovno jarki sad.
Shutki zvenjat, glaza blestjat.
Ronda kruzhitsja i pojot,
Svetitsja zvjozdnym serebrom nebosvod,
Mchatsja vesjolye pary...
Eto radostnyj prazdnik pervykh cvetov,
Eto prazdnik nashej ljubvi!
Igrajut v luche luny na okne
Derev’ev mindal’nykh teni...
Kogda zhe sjuda ty vyjdesh’ ko mne,
Moj nezhnyj cvetok vesennij?
Vetku mindalja s dereva sorvi,
Ejo mne daj v znak tvojej ljubvi,
Moj nezhnyj cvetok vesennyj!

T. Sikorsky, adapted from an unattributed Spanish text
The Round Dance
The round dance is noisy near our doors,
Now is the time of celebration.
Come quickly, dance with me,
Scarlet carnation flower!
In moonlit silence the noise of a stream is heard…
Give me your hand, my little girl,
Scarlet carnation flower!
The street is like a bright garden.
Jokes ring out, eyes sparkle.
The round dance is turning and singing,
The sky is shining with starry silver,
Festival pairs race by…
This is a happy holiday of first flowers,
It is the holiday of our love!
In the moon’s ray on the window are playing
The shadows of almond trees…
When will you come out here near me,
My tender spring flower?
Take a branch from an almond tree,
Give it to me as a sign of your love,
My tender spring flower!



Chernookaja
Mat’ dala tebe ochi zvjozdy,
Nezhnyj cvet tvoikh smuglykh shchjok,
Milaja moja!
S bol’ju v serdce noch’ju pozdnej
Bez tebja ja brozhu, odinok,
Milaja moja!
Akh za chto ja nakazan byl sud’boj?
Akh, zachem povstrechalsja ja s toboj?
Ja umru ot ljubvi bezumnoj,
Esli ty ne poljubish’ menja,
Milaja moja!
Mat’ dala tebe stan vysokij,
Chjornyj blesk nepokornykh kudrej,
Milaja moja!
Proklinaju rok zhestokij,
Bol’ i muki dushi mojej.
Milaja moja!
O, zachem zhe tebe symela mat’
Mne nazlo krasotu takuju dat’?
Ja umru ot ljubvi bezumnoj,
Esli ty ne poljubish’ menja,
Milaja moja!

T. Sikorsky, adapted from an unattributed Spanish text
Black-Eyed maiden
Your mother gave you eyes like stars,
The tender color of your dark cheeks,
My darling!
With pain in my heart late at night,
Without you I wander, lonely,
My darling!
Ah, why have I been punished by destiny?
Ah, why have I met you?
I will die from maddening love,
Unless you fall in love with me,
My darling!
Your mother gave you a tall figure,
The black luster of unruly curls,
My darling!
I curse the cruel fate,
The pain and suffering of my soul.
My darling!
Oh, how dared your mother
Give you such beauty to spite me?
I will die from maddening love,
Unless you fall in love with me,
My darling!



Son
Ne znaju, chto eto znachit...
Son chudesnyj prisnilsja mne,
Kak budto v lodke rybach’ej,
Ja plyvu po burnoj volne
Chjoln bez vjosel, ja ikh brosil...
Volny penjatsja, zljatsja i topjat moj chjoln,
No otvazhno mchus’ ja sredi tjomnykh,
Sred’ ogromnykh voln,
Ottogo, chto v rybachej etoj lodke
Po morskoj nepokornoj glubi
Mchish’sja ty, moja gordaja,
mchishsja vmeste so mnoj
I menja ty budto tozhe ljubish’!
O moja golubka! Posmotri zhe,
Kak nesjotsja v svojej lodochke krupkoj po morju
Bednyj paren’, chto tak krepko ljubit tebja!

Anonymous, adapted from an unattributed Spanish text
The Dream
I don’t know what this means…
I had a wondrous dream,
As if in a fishing boat,
I cruise on a stormy wave,
The boat has no oars, I threw them away…
The waves foam in anger and try to sink my boat,
But bravely I race among the dark,
Among the giant waves,
Because in this fishing boat,
Through the unruly blue of the sea,
You are racing, my proud one,
You are racing together with me
And it seems as if you also love me!
Oh, my little dove! Look now,
How through the sea in his little fragile boat
Is racing the poor fellow, who loves you so fully!

  • Nikolay Borchev, Baritone
  • Hyeyeon Park, Piano

Souvenir de Florence for String Sextet, op. 70 | Piotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky (35:27)

  • Nicholas Canellakis, Cello
  • Matthew Lipman, Viola
  • Paul Neubauer, Viola
  • Keith Robinson, Cello
  • Alexander Sitkovetsky, Violin
  • Kyoko Takezawa, Violin

Artists

  • Jeremy Berry, Viola
  • Nikolay Borchev, Baritone
  • Michael Brown, Piano
  • Calidore String Quartet, String Quartet
  • Nicholas Canellakis, Cello
  • Stella Chen, Violin
  • Gloria Chien, Piano
  • Estelle Choi, Cello
  • Lucille Chung, Piano
  • Nicolas Dautricourt, Violin
  • David Finckel, Cello
  • Alon Goldstein, Piano
  • Clive Greensmith, Cello
  • Paul Huang, Violin
  • Katie Hyun, Violin
  • Coleman Itzkoff, Cello
  • Ani Kavafian, Violin
  • Dina Kuznetsova, Soprano
  • Jessica Lee, Violin
  • Sean Lee, Violin
  • Matthew Lipman, Viola
  • Ryan Meehan, Violin
  • Jeffrey Myers, Violin
  • Paul Neubauer, Viola
  • Tara Helen O'Connor, Flute
  • Hyeyeon Park, Piano
  • Scott Pingel, Double Bass
  • Keith Robinson, Cello
  • Alexander Sitkovetsky, Violin
  • Lisa Sung, Viola
  • Arnaud Sussmann, Violin
  • Kyoko Takezawa, Violin
  • Stephen Waarts, Violin
  • Paul Watkins, Cello
  • Wu Han, Piano
  • Wu Qian, Piano

<em>Russian Reflections</em> (eight-disc boxed set) Total Time: 9:33:43
Discs: 8
Price: $100.00
Year Recorded: 2016