Текст песни MoShkin - Мадригалы Ленского ч 30-35 глава 4

Words by Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin
Music by Igor Veniaminovich Moshkin

Madrigals of Lensky h 30-35 chapter 4

synthesizer solo
mandolin solo

XXX

But you scattered volumes
From the library of devils
Great albums,
Torment of fashionable rhymes
You adorned nimbly
Tolstoy with a miraculous brush
Il Baratynsky with a pen,
Let God's thunder burn you!
When a brilliant lady
He gives me his in-quarto,
And trembling and anger takes me,
And the epigram moves
Deep in my soul
And write madrigals for them!

Guitar solo

XXXI

Not madrigals Lensky writes
In Olga's album young;
His feather breathes love
Does not shine coldly with sharpness;
Whatever he sees or hears
About Olga, he writes about that:
And, full of living truth,
Elegies flow like a river.
So you, inspired languages,
In the impulses of his heart,
Eat God knows who
And precious collection of elegies
Will present you once
The whole story of your destiny.

Guitar solo
synthesizer solo

XXXII

other thema

But quieter! Do you hear? Strict critic
Commands us to drop
Elegy wretched wreath,
And to our brother rhymes

Shouts: "Yes, stop crying,
And all the same croak,
Why about the past, about the past:
Enough, sing about something else! "
- You are right, and you will show us correctly
Trumpet, mask and dagger
And thoughts are dead capital
You will order to resurrect from everywhere:
Isn't it, friend? - Not at all. Where!
"Write odes, gentlemen,
XXXIII
As they were written in the powerful years,
As was the old way. "
- Some solemn odes!
And, complete, friend; is it all the same?
Remember what the satirist said!
"Alien" sly lyricist
Can it be bearable for you
Our sad rhymes? -

"But everything in the elegy is insignificant;
Her empty goal is pitiful;
Meanwhile the purpose of the ode is high
And noble ... "Here you can
We argue, but I am silent:
I don't want to quarrel for two centuries.
XXXIV
Admirer of fame and freedom,
In the excitement of his stormy thoughts,
Vladimir would write odes,
Olga didn’t read them.

guitar solo

other thema

Did poets ever cry
Read in the eyes of your dear ones
Your creations? They say
That there are no awards in the world above.
And indeed, blessed is the humble lover,
Who reads his dreams
The subject of songs and love,
Nice-languid beauty!
Blessed ... though maybe she
Very differently entertained.

sax solo

XXXV

But I am the fruit of my dreams
And harmonious undertakings
I only read to the old nanny,
To the friend of my youth,
Yes after a boring lunch
A neighbor wandered over to me
Catching unexpectedly for the floor,
Soul in tragedy in the corner
Or (but this is no joke),
We languish with longing and rhymes
Wandering over my lake,
Scaring a flock of wild ducks:
Having heeded the singing of mellifluous stanzas,
They fly off the banks.

December 15, 2014
Rock opera Eugene Onegin 2014 chapter 4