Text: Ivan Turgenev (1818-1883)
Music: Arkady Abaza
Utro tumannoye, utro sedoye,
Nivy pechal'nyye, snegom pokrytyye,
Nekhotya vspomnish' i vremya byloye,
Vspomnish' i litsa, davno pozabytyye.
Vspomnish' obil'nyye strastnyye rechi,
Vzglyady, tak zhadno, tak robko lovimyye,
Pervyye vstrechi, posledniye vstrechi,
Tikhogo golosa zvuki lyubimyye.
Vspomnish' razluku s ulybkoyu strannoy,
Mnogoye vspomnish' rodnoye dalekoye,
Slushaya ropot koles neprestannyy,
Glyadya zadumchivo v nebo shirokoye.
Russian novelist, Ivan Turgenev
Misty morning, grey morning.
Sorrowful wheat fields, covered with snow,
Reluctantly cause you to recall times past,
To recall faces long ago forgotten.
You recall eloquent, passionate words,
Glances so hungrily and gently exchanged,
The very first meeting, and the final meeting,
The beloved strains of a quiet voice.
With an odd smile, you remember the parting,
You remember many things long ago forgotten,
As you listen to the constant chatter of the wheels,
You gaze pensively into the broad sky.
Mikola Shopsha
Elena Obraztsova
Misty morning, grey morning.
Sorrowful wheat fields, covered with snow,
Reluctantly cause you to recall times past,
To recall faces long ago forgotten.
You recall eloquent, passionate words,
Glances so hungrily and gently exchanged,
The very first meeting, and the final meeting,
The beloved strains of a quiet voice.
With an odd smile, you remember the parting,
You remember many things long ago forgotten,
As you listen to the constant chatter of the wheels,
You gaze pensively into the broad sky.
Mikola Shopsha
Elena Obraztsova