Words and Verse
From out the dreaming wildwood (translation-Russian)
This is a Russian traditional folksong. My reason for translating this poem initially was not because of it's poetic beauty but because of the fact that this song is sung to children in cradles by Russians abroad and in Russia. Itis a particularly graphic lyric. The fact that it was sung to children horrified me and I felt a need to translate it so that Russians who speak English might see the horror afresh and thus realise what gore they were singing to their children. It also has poetic merit to be sure, but, as I have said, that was not my primary reason for translating it. The lyrics in parentheses are alternate lines which I thought would be better renderance of the Russian but, for reasons of rhyme, were replaced and augmented.
From out the dreaming wildwood (From out ‘twixt wood and boulders)
Come bandits to their lair
And on their mighty shoulders
A fallen friend they bear
Refrain:
The clouds, the clouds are hanging lowly
The fog on sea grows weak!
O speak of what you've thought upon
O Speak! Our chieftain! Speak!
The stretcher sides are fashioned
From rifles, and the board
Alongside of the rifles
Is made of sheath and sword.
Refrain
Upon this board a battered
Young bandit lies in gore.
His body all blood-spattered (his body covered bloody)
His young head bludgeoned o'er.
Refrain
A pair of rifled pistols
From off his worn belt drags
The strappings of his chain-mail
Are cut and rent to rags.
Refrain
The blood from his wound burning
Has trickled through his hair
His bleary eyes are turning
Up t'word God's heav'nly lair.
Refrain
Beneath an oak-tree stopping
Said: "Halt ye ‘neath this tree!
Farewell! Farewell! O Comrade
Young friend, farewell to thee"
Refrain
From out the dreaming wildwood (From out ‘twixt wood and boulders)
Come bandits to their lair
And on their mighty shoulders
A fallen friend they bear
Refrain:
The clouds, the clouds are hanging lowly
The fog on sea grows weak!
O speak of what you've thought upon
O Speak! Our chieftain! Speak!
The stretcher sides are fashioned
From rifles, and the board
Alongside of the rifles
Is made of sheath and sword.
Refrain
Upon this board a battered
Young bandit lies in gore.
His body all blood-spattered (his body covered bloody)
His young head bludgeoned o'er.
Refrain
A pair of rifled pistols
From off his worn belt drags
The strappings of his chain-mail
Are cut and rent to rags.
Refrain
The blood from his wound burning
Has trickled through his hair
His bleary eyes are turning
Up t'word God's heav'nly lair.
Refrain
Beneath an oak-tree stopping
Said: "Halt ye ‘neath this tree!
Farewell! Farewell! O Comrade
Young friend, farewell to thee"
Refrain
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From out the dreaming wildwood (translation-Russian)
From out the dreaming wildwood (translation-Russian)
