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Mendelssohn Club, Philadelphian™

RCA STEREO RECORDS may be played on any modern phonograph with a lightweight tone arm. You will hear excellent sound reproduction on a mono player and full stereo sound on a stereo player.

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Shostakovich—Symphony No. 13, Op. 113 (“Babi Yar”) The Philadelphia Orchestra / Eugene Ormandy - Tom Krause

Male Chorus of the Mendelssohn Club, Philadelphia Robert E. Page, Director

Produced by Peter Dellheim » Recording Engineer: Bernard Keville

Texts and translations enclosed

“Capacity audiences first in Philadelphia, then in Manhattan, roared approval of Shostakovich’s grim, powerful music and offered special bravos to Ormandy

and the black, Slavic sound of Finnish baritone Tom Krause. ”’

In his native land Shostakovich’s Op. 113, his Thirteenth

Symphony, lies silent—banned, damned—unpublished. This represents the latest instance in Shostakovich’s

career of bureaucratic censure. The first of his problems

with the Soviet hierarchy (and the press it controls) took

place in 1930. His satirical opera The Nose was the sub-

ject of a carping attack in the newspapers. Described

as a creation of ‘‘bourgeois decadence,” the work was

immediately dropped from the repertory. Six years later another opera, Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, was stigma-

tized by the authorities as the product of a propagandist

of morbid, foreign modernism, an anti-national music

with fulsome, formalistic distortions. In the same year

the Fourth Symphony was suddenly withdrawn from re-

hearsal for mysteriously unexplained reasons. (The only

bill of particulars offered was that it was “‘too modern-

istic.) In 1948 the rabble-rousing roar was again heard.

Shostakovich was now guilty of anti-communistic sins of

commission (meaning: expressionistic tenseness, neu-

roticism and pathological particulars) together with sins

of omission (meaning: the bypassing of nationalism in

favor of formalism). These charges were made despite

the huge success of the Fifth Symphony, hailed as an

example of true Soviet art, and the dramatically decisive Seventh (‘Leningrad’) Symphony. It mattered not—all

the old accusations were brought to the surface, together

with a new denunciation: the practice of neoclassicism.

The attack was based on the Eighth and Ninth Sym-

phonies, each termed “‘an escape from reality.” (Actu-

ally, “reality’’ meant academic four-square compositions,

laced with folkloristic turns, that proclaimed the health

of Soviet life.) Repression remained until the death of Stalin (1953)

made possible the eradication of creative harassment.

Because of the reactionary dogma that had been de-

manded, Shostakovich had withheld his first violin con- certo for some seven years. He brought the work out of

hiding, and soon afterward the Fourth Symphony was

finally given its first performance. Lady Macbeth (slightly

revised and renamed Katerina Ismailova) came out of its cultural cold storage, minus any problem of ideologi-

cal ineptitude. Then in 1962, because of the Thirteenth

Symphony, Shostakovich was once again accused of.

musical misdemeanor. The imputation had a slightly dif-

—Time, February 2, 1970

ferent tone this time. It was not the music but the texts by

the outspoken poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko that were un-

acceptable. Guilt this time was by creative association.

The most severe criticism dealt with the first of the

five movements, Babi Yar—a powerfully poetic protest against anti-Semitism, intimating that the Soviets were

also guilty of this traditional political game. The other

parts of the work are no less potent in their critical im-

pact. Humor pertains to the hypocrisy of “czars, kings” and other “rulers,’’ while At the Store touches on the

exploitation of Soviet women. In Fears the text mentions that past fears cannot be written about “with full force.” A Career underlines the factor that genius asserts itself,

regardless of what charges are made against it.

The Thirteenth Symphony was given its premiere in

Moscow on December 18, 1962. Boris Schwarz, the

noted authority on Soviet music, describing the event, states that composer and poet “had joined hands to re-

assert the liberty of spirit.’’ Their liberty was short-lived

and severely monitored. No texts were provided the

audience, and the Symphony was not reviewed. Yevtu-

shenko was commanded to make some changes. The

few he made did little to remove the sting of the original.

Two more hearings were given the work (in 1963 and

1965)—and none since. The Symphony remained hidden

until the initial Western Hemisphere presentations were given in Philadelphia and New York City in January

1970 by the forces heard in this recording.

Shostakovich’s Op. 113, a hybrid of symphony and cantata, illustrates his penchant for a programmatic atti- tude (either by title, subtitle or text) in his symphonic

output. The Second and Third are politically oriented,

both containing choral sections, the earlier of the pair

dedicated to the October Revolution, the other to the

“First of May.’ The Seventh (composed in part during

the siege of Leningrad) is generally explicit in its details.

Eleven and Twelve are again non-abstract—the first con-

cerned with the historical aspects of “The Year 1905,” the other with “The Year 1917,” though the approach is implicative rather than direct picture-painting. The latest

symphony (the Fourteenth) is in the same delineatory

vein as the Thirteenth, with texts by Apollinaire, Rilke,

Lorca and Kyukhelbekker.

In addition to male chorus and soloist, the Thirteenth

calls for the following orchestral forces: triple wood-

winds, with two flutes and piccolo, the third oboe dou-

bling on the English horn, the E-flat clarinet and bass clarinet alternating within the three-clarinet span, and

the third bassoon doubling on the contrabassoon; a

brass section comprising four horns, three each of trum-

pets and trombones, and a tuba; a baker’s dozen per-

cussion instruments (none of unusual identity); two

harps, piano, celesta, and the usual strings.

Dark scoring permeates the opening movement, with

block writing and bell punctuations emphasizing the

threnodic thrust of the music. Despite its title, Humor contains no smiles—this is a blunt Moussorgsky-like,

snide Mahler-like conception, the special coloration here

divided between the small clarinet and a solo violin. The

final three movements are played without pause, each

demarcated by scoring specifics: a woodblock in At the

Store, the tuba and again bell sounds in Fears, and.once

more the bell (!) and strings pizzicati (a 56-measure

passage) in the finale. No lightheartedness is found in

any of the measures of this work. The Symphony is res-

olutely intense and concentrated, somewhat pessimistic

(confirmed by bell tolling throughout—40 times alone in the first movement!). Shostakovich’s Thirteenth Sym-

phony is not only a magnificent accomplishment. It is a sensitive union of music and poetry. Above all, it is a superb document of protest. -

—ARTHUR COHN

Tom Krause, baritone from Helsinki, Finland, performs

regularly with the Hamburg Opera and, since his Ameri-

can debut in Benjamin Britten’s War Requiem at Tangle- wood in 1963, has appeared with the Metropolitan Opera

and The Philadelphia Orchestra. Mr. Krause has also

performed at Bayreuth, Glyndebourne, La Scala, Berlin

and Vienna.

Other RCA recordings by Eugene Ormandy and The Philadelphia Orchestra:

Mahler: Symphony No. 1 (with “Blumine’’ movement) LSC-3107

Bartok: Concerto No. 2 (Alexis Weissenberg, Pianist) rour Pieces for Orchestra... 2.2404 5 se LSC-3159

Cover art by Thomas Upshur (Shostakovich and Yevtushenko photos from Wide World Photos, Inc.)

Library of Congress Card Number 79-751135 applies to this recording.

Timings: Side 1—16:50, 8:30 * Side 2—35:33 (ASCAP)

2 TMK(S) ® by RCA Corporation

© 1970, RCA Records, New York, N.Y. © Printed in U.S.A.

DYNAGROO\E"”,, the product of research and development assuring that RCA Records are as modern

as the latest advances in engineering and science.

Shostakovich—Symphony No. 13 (“Babi Yar’)

Adrian Siegel

The Philadelphia Orchestra/Eugene Ormandy

Tom Krause « Male Chorus of the Mendelssohn Club, Philadelphia

Taini strakh pered ch’im to donosom, taini strakh pered stukom v dver’. Nu, a strakh govorit’ s inostrantzem? § inostrantzem to chto, a s zhenoi? Nu, a strakh bez otchotni ostatsa posle marshei vdvoiom s tishinoi?

Ne boyalis’ my stroit’ v meteli, ukhodit’ pod snaryadami v boi, No boyalis’ poroyu smertel’no razgovarivat’ sami s soboi. Nas ne sbiliine rastlili, ine darom seichas vo vragakh, pobedivshaya strakhi Rossiya, eshcho bol’shii rozhdaet strakh!

Strakhi novye vizhu svetleya, strakh neiskrennoi byt’ so strannoi, strakh nepravdoi unizit’ idei chto yavlyayutsa pravdoi samoi. Strakh fanfarit’ do oduren’ya, strakh chuzhie slova povtoryat’, strakh unizit’ drugikh nedover’em,

i chrezmerno sebe doveryat’.

Umirayut v Rossii strakhi.

| kogda ya pishu eti stroki, i poroyu nevol’no speshu, to pishuikh v edinstvennom strakhe, chto ne v polnuyu silu pishu.

The secret fear of someone informing, the secret fear of a knock on the door. Well, wasn’t it fearsome to talk to a foreigner? With a foreigner, or even your wife? And, what of the unaccountable fear of remaining after some march, two together in silence?

CHORUS We were not afraid to build in snowstorms, to go into battle under fire, but we were deathly afraid to talk to ourselves. We were not thrown down or corrupted, and no wonder that now in our enemies Russia, having overpowered her fears, spreads even greater fear!

SOLO New fears I see appearing, the fear of being insincere with one’s country, the fear of debasing with lies ideas that are truths themselves. The fear of self-elevation to excess, the fear of repeating someone else’s words, the fear of debasing others with distrust, and of trusting one’s own self excessively.

CHORUS Fears are dying in Russia.

SOLO And as | write these lines,

and at times unconsciously rush, | write them with the sole fear that | am not writing in full force.

V. A CAREER (Allegretto)

The tempo quickens for an orchestral introduction that precedes the

Tverdili pastyri, chto vreden i nerazumen Galilei.

Chto nerazumen Galilei, chto nerazumen Galilei.

No, kak pokazyvaet vremya, kto nerazumnei tot umnei.

Kto nerazumnei tot umnei, kto nerazumnei tot umnei.

Uchoni—sverstnik Galileya— byl Galileya ne glupee.

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entrance of the solo voice.

SOLO The priests insisted that evil and unwise was Galileo.

CHORUS That unwise was Galileo, that unwise was Galileo.

SOLO But, as time shows, he who is unwise is more wise.

CHORUS He who is unwise is more wise, he who is unwise is more wise.

SOLO A scholar—a contemporary of Galileo— was no more stupid than Galileo.

Byl Galileya ne glupee, byl Galileya ne glupee.

On znal, chto vertitsa zemlya, no u nevo byla sem’ya.

No unevo byla sem’ya, no u nevo byla sem’ya.

| on, sadyas’ s zhenoi v karetu, svershiv predatel’stvo svoio, schital, chto delaet kar’eru, a mezhdu tem gubil eio.

A mezhdu tem gubil eio, a mezhdu tem gubil eio.

Za osoznanie planety shol Galilei odin na risk, i stal velikim on.

| stal velikim on.

Vot eto—

Ya ponimayu kar’erist!

Itak, da zdravstvuet kar’era, kogda kar’era takova, kak u Shekspira i Pastera, Nyutona i Tolstovo—i Tolstovo.

L’va?... L’va!

Zachem ikh gryazyu pokryvali? Talant—talant, kak ne kleimi.

Zabyty te, kto proklinali.

No pomnyat tekh, kovo klyali, no pomnyat tekh, kovo klyali.

Vse te, kto rvalis’ v stratosferu, vrachi, chto gibli ot knoler— vot eti delali kar’eru!

Ya s ikh kar’er beru primer.

Ya veryu v ikh svyatuyu veru. Ikh vera muzhestvo moio. Ya delayu sebe kar’eru tem, chto ne delayu eio!

Transliterations and translations by Igor Buketoff

TMK(S) ® by RCA Corporation

CHORUS Was no more stupid than Galileo, was no more stupid than Galileo.

SOLO He knew that the earth revolves— but he had a family.

CHORUS But he had a family, but he had a family.

SOLO And he, sitting with his wife in a carriage, having committed his betrayal, thought he was establishing a career, but actually he was destroying it.

CHORUS But actually he was destroying it, but actually he was destroying it.

SOLO To comprehend our planet Galileo risked alone, and he became great.

CHORUS And he became great.

SOLO Now this—

(with Chorus) | understand as a careerist!

CHORUS

And so, hail to a career, when a career is like that of a Shakespeare and Pasteur, Newton and Tolstoy—and Tolstoy.

SOLO, then CHORUS Leo?...Leo!

CHORUS Why did they slander them? Talent is talent, no matter what.

SOLO They are forgotten, those who cursed.

CHORUS But those are remembered who were cursed, but those are remembered who were cursed.

SOLO All those who reached for the stratosphere, the doctors, who perished from cholera— they were the ones who made careers!

(with Chorus) From their careers | take my example.

SOLO | believe in their sacred belief. Their belief is my manhood. | make my own career by not working at it!

Printed in U.S.A.

I. BABI YAR (Adagio)

In the brief orchestral introduction the intermittent tolling of a bell against heavy, somber harmonies establishes the main tonality of B-flat minor. The voices of the

chorus enter with a melancholy theme that suggests a Russian folk song.

Nad Babim Yarom pamyatnikov nyet. Krutoi obriv, kak gruboye nadgrobye. Mne strashno. Mne sevodnya stol’ko let, kak samomu yevreiskomu narodu.

Mne kazhetsya seichas—ya iudei. Vot ya bredu po drevnemu Yegiptu. | vot ya, na kreste raspyati, gibnu, i do sikh por na mne—sledi gvozdei. Mne kazhetsya, chto Dreyfus—eto ya. Meshchanstvo—moi donoschik i sud’ya. Ya za reshotkoi. Ya popal v kol’tzo, zatravienni, opliovanni, obolganni; i damochki s bryussel’skimi oborkami, vizzha, zontami tychut mne v litzo. Mne kazhetsya—ya mal’chik v Belostoke.

Krov liotsya, rastekayas’ po polam. Beschinstvuyut vozhdi traktirnoi stoiki i pakhnut vodkoi s lukom popolam.

Ya, sapogom otbroshenni, bessilen. Naprasno ya pogromshchikov molyu.

Pod gogot, “‘Bei zhidov, spasai Rossiu!”’ labaznik izbivayet mat’ moyu.

0 russki moi narod! Ya znayu ti po sushchnosti internatzionalen. No chasto te, ch’i ruki nechisty, tvoim chisteishim imenem bryatzali. Ya znayu dobrotu moei zemii. Kak podlo, chto i zhilochkoi ne drognuv, antisemity narekli sebya

“Soyuzom russkovo naroda!”’

Mne kazhetsya—ya—eto Anna Frank, prozrachnaya, kak vetochka v aprele. | ya lyublyu. | mne ne nado fraz. Mne nado, chtob drug v druga my smotreli. Kak malo mozhno videt’, obonyat’! Nel’zya nam list’ev i nel’zya nam neba, no mozhno ochen’ mnogo—eto nezhno drug druga v tiomnoi komnate obnyat’.

Syuda idut?

Ne boisya, eto guly samoi vesny— ona syuda idiot. Idi ko mne. Dai mne skoreye guby.

Lomayut dver’?

Nyet—eto ledokhod. ...

© 1970, RCA Records, New York, N.Y.

CHORUS Above Babi Yar there are no monuments. The steep cliff is like a crude tombstone. I’m frightened. Today | am as old as the Jewish people.

SOLO It seems to me now that | am a Jew. Now | am wandering through ancient Egypt. And now | am on a cross, crucified, dying, and to this moment | show traces of the nails. It seems to me that Dreyfus—I am he. The Philistines are my informers and my judges. | am behind bars. | have fallen into a circle, poisoned, spat upon, lied about; and fancy ladies, dressed in Brussels lace, squealing, jab me in the face with their parasols. It seems to me | am a youth in Belostok.

CHORUS Blood is pouring, spilling over the floors. The saloon barkeeps commit their outrages and smell of vodka and onions, half and half.

SOLO Kicked aside by a boot, | am helpless. In vain | beg the pogromists.

CHORUS To the cackle, ‘‘Beat the kikes, save Russia!” a grain marketeer beats up my mother.

SOLO O my Russian people! | know that in essence you are international. But often those whose hands were unclean tarnished your clean name. | know the kindness of my land. How vile that, without a flicker of a vein, the anti-Semites proclaimed themselves

(with Chorus) “The Union of the Russian People!”

SOLO It seems to me | am Anne Frank, transparent as a branch in April. And | love. And | have no need for phrases. But | need for us to gaze into each other. There is so little one can see or smell! We cannot have the leaves,

and we cannot have the sky, but much is allowed—to embrace one another in a dark room.

CHORUS Are they coming here?

SOLO Don’t fear, those are the roars of spring— it is coming here. Come to me. Quickly, give me your lips.

CHORUS Are they battering down the door?

SOLO No—it is the breaking up of the ice. ...

Nad Babim Yarom shelest dikikh trav. Derevya smotryat grozno, po-sudeiski. Vsio molcha zdes’ krichit, i, shapku snyav, ya chuvstvuyu, kak medlenno sedeyu.

| sam ya, kak sploshnoi bezzvuchni krik, nad tysyachami tysyach pogrebionnikh. Ya—kazhdi zdes’ rasstrelyanni starik. Ya—kazhdi zdes’ rasstrelyanni rebionok. Nichto vo mne pro eto ne zabudet!

“Internatzional” pust’ progremit, kogda naveki pokhoronen budet posledni na zemle antisemit.

Yevreiskoi krovi net v krovi moei. No nenavisten zloboi zaskoruzloi ya vsem antisemitam, kak yevrei.

| potomu, ya nastoyashchi russki!

Tzari, koroli, imperatory—

viastiteli vsei zemli— komandovali paradami. No yumorom, no yumorom ne mogli, ne mogli. V dvortsy imenitykh osob, vse dni vozlezhashchikh vykholenno, yavlyalsa brodyaga Ezop, i nishchimi oni vyglyadeli.

Yavlyalsa brodyaga Ezop, i nishchimi oni vyglyadeli.

V domakh gde khanzha nasledil svoimi nogami shchuplymi, vsyu poshlost’ Khadzha Nasr-ed-Din sshibal kak shakhmaty shutkami!

Vsyu poshlost’ Khadzha Nasr-ed-Din sshibal kak shakhmaty shutkami!

Khoteli yumor kupit’,

da tol’ko evo ne kupish!

Khoteli yumor ubit’,

a yumor pokazyval kukish!

Borotsa s nim delo trudnoe. _ Kaznili evo bez kontza.

Evo golova otrublennaya torchala na pike strel’tza.

CHORUS Above Babi Yar the rustle of wild grass. The trees gaze sternly, as though they are judges. Everything here cries out silently, and, having removed my cap, | feel how bit by bit | am turning gray.

SOLO And | am like a gigantic silent scream, above the thousands upon thousands buried. | am each old man who has been shot dead here. | am each small child who has been shot dead here. Nothing in me will forget about this!

CHORUS Let the “Internationale” thunder forth, when for the ages is buried the last anti-Semite on earth.

SOLO There is no Jewish blood in my blood. But | am hated with a bitterness by all anti-Semites, as if | were a Jew.

(with Chorus) For this reason, | am a true Russian!

Il. HUMOR (Allegretto)

SOLO Czars, kings, emperors— rulers of all the earth— commanded parades. But humor, humor they could not. In the palaces of the wealthy people, where daily they reclined at ease, appeared the beggar Aesop, and impoverished they appeared.

CHORUS Appeared the beggar Aesop, and impoverished they appeared.

SOLO In homes soiled by hypocrites with their puny feet, Hadji Nasr-ed-Din swept away this vulgarity like clearing a chessboard—uwith jokes!

CHORUS Hadji Nasr-ed-Din swept away this vulgarity like clearing a chessboard—with jokes!

SOLO They wanted to buy humor,

CHORUS but one cannot buy it!

SOLO They wanted to kill humor,

CHORUS but humor thumbed his nose!

SOLO To battle with him is a difficult task. They executed him time and again.

CHORUS His severed head was hoisted upon a pike.

No lish’ skomorosh i dudochki svoi nachinali skaz, on zvonko krichal,

“Ya tutochki! Ya tutochki!”’ i likho puskalsa plyas.

Potriopannom kutzem pal’tishke, ponuryas’ i sslovno kayas’, prestupnikom politicheskim on, poimanni shol na kazn’. Vsem vidom: pokornost’ vykazyval, gotov k nezemnomu zhit’yu, kak vdrug iz pal’tishka vyskal’zyval, rukoi makhal,

i tyu-tyu!

Yumor pryatiali v kamery, no chorta sdiva udalos’.

Reshotki i siteny kamennye on prokhodill na skvoz’. Otkashlivayas’ prostuzhenno kak ryadovoi boetz, shagal on cnastushkoi prostushkoi s vintovkoi ma Zimni Dvoretz.

Privyk on ko) vzglyadam sumrachnym no eto emu ine vredit. | sam na selbya s yumorom yumor poroii glyadit. On vechen.

Vechen.

On lovok.

Lovok.

| yurok.

Proidiot cherez vsio, cherez vsekh.

| tak, da slavitza yumor. On muzhestvenni chelovek.

SOLO But hardly had the ceremonial pipes started their knell when in a ringing voice he cried,

(with Chorus) “lam here! | am here!” and began to dance dashingly.

SOLO In a shabby, scanty overcoat, downcast and as if repenting, caught as a political prisoner, he was going to his execution. To all appearances he showed his obedience, he was ready for his afterlife, when suddenly he slipped from his overcoat, waved his hand,

(with Chorus) and ta-ta!

SOLO They hid humor in cells, but the devil may care.

SOLO and CHORUS The iron bars and walls of stone he walked straight through. Coughing from a cold like the rank and file, with a popular song and a rifle he marched upon the Winter Palace.

SOLO He is used to stern glances,

but this does not bother him. And sometimes humor even looks at himself with humor. He is immortal.

CHORUS Immortal.

SOLO He is sly.

CHORUS Sly.

SOLO, then CHORUS And nimble.

SOLO He will walk through everything, through everyone.

SOLO and CHORUS And so, all glory to humor. He is a manly person.

Il. AT THE STORE (Adagio)

A slow, ponderous theme, introduced by the cellos and double basses and taken up by the violas, suggests the shuffling of many feet as a line of shoppers gradually

moves toward the cashier.

Kto v platke, a kto v platochke, kak na podvig, kak na trud, Vv magazin po odinochke, molcha, zhenshchiny idut.

sole 2 Some in shawls, some in scarves, as though preparing for some heroic deed or exploit, into the store, one by one, silently, the women come.

0, bidonov ikh bryatzan’e, zvon butylok i kastryul’, pakhnet lukom, ogurtzami, pakhnet sousom “‘Kabul’.”’

Zyabnu, dolgo v kassu stoya, no pokuda dvizhus’ k nei, ot dykhanya zhenshchin stol’kikh v magazine vsio teplei. Oni tikho podzhidayut, bogi dobrye sem’i, iv rukakh oni szhimayut den’gi trudnye svoi.

Oni tikho podzhidayut, bogi dobrye sem’i, iv rukakh oni szhimayut den’gi trudnye svoi.

Eto zhenshchiny Rossii, eto nasha chest’ i sud. | beton oni mesili, i pakhali, i kosili. Vsio oni perenosili, vsio oni perenesut.

Vsio oni perenosili,

vsio oni perenesut.

Vsio na svete im posil’no, stol’ko sily im dano.

Ikh obshchityvat’ postydno, ikh obveshivat’ greshno.

|, v karman pel’meni sunuv, ya somtryu surov i tikh, na ustalye ot sumok ruki pravednye ikh.

CHORUS Oh, the clatter of cans, the clanking of bottles and saucepans, the smell of onions, cucumbers, the smell of the sauce “Kabul’.”

SOLO \’m freezing, standing so long in line for the cashier, but as | move closer, from the breathing of so many women it grows warmer in the store. They wait quietly, kind family-goddesses, and in their hands they clutch their hard-earned money.

CHORUS They wait quietly, kind family-goddesses, and in their hands they clutch their hard-earned money.

SOLO These are the women of Russia, they are our honor and judgment. They have mixed concrete, and plowed and reaped. They endured everything, they will endure everything.

CHORUS They endured everything, they will endure everything.

SOLO Everything on earth is within their power, so much strength has been given them.

SOLO and CHORUS It is shameful to cheat them, it is sinful to overweigh their goods.

SOLO

And having tucked the dumplings into my pocket, | gaze, stern and subdued, on their righteous hands, tired from shopping bags.

IV. FEARS (Largo)

A highly inventive, atmospheric tuba solo leads to a recitativelike passage for the basses of the chorus, sung on a reiterated low G-sharp.

Umirayut v Rossii strakhi, slovno prizraki prezhnikh let. Lish na paperti, kak starukhi, koe gde eshcho prosyat na khleb.

Ya ikh pomnyu vo viasti i sile, pri dvore torzhestvuyushchei Izhi. Strakhi vsyudu, kak teni, skol’zili, pronikali vo vse etazhi. Potikhon’ku lyudei priruchali ina vsio nalagali pechat’. Gde molchat’ by krichat’ priuchali, i molchat’ gde by nado krichat’. Eto stalo sevodnya daliokim, dazhe stranno i vspomnit’ teper’.

CHORUS Fears are dying in Russia, like phantoms of former years, lingering only on church steps, like old women, in a few places, who beg for bread.

SOLO | remember them in power and strength, at the court of triumphant falsehood. Fears, like shadows, slithered about everywhere, they penetrated every floor. Bit by bit they tamed the people and placed their seal upon everything. Where there should be silence, they taught shouting, and silence where it was necessary to shout. This, today, has become distant, it is strange even to remember now.