When I worked as a coachman at the post office,
I was young, I had strength,
And firmly, brothers, in one village
I loved the girl at that time.
At first, I did not smell trouble in the girl,
Then he bluffed in earnest:
Wherever I go, wherever I go
I'll turn everything to my dear for a minute.
And it is pleasant, but there is no rest,
And my heart hurts more and more.
One day the boss gives me a package:
“Bring, they say, to the post office faster!”
I accepted the package - and rather on the horse,
And rushed across the field with a whirlwind,
And my heart aches and aches,
As if she had never seen her for a century.
And what is the reason, I can not understand,
And the wind howls so sadly ...
And suddenly - as if my horse froze on the run,
And looks sideways timidly.
My heart beat faster,
And I looked ahead in alarm,
Then he jumped off a remote horse -
And I see a corpse on the road.
And the snow has completely covered that find,
The blizzard dances over the corpse.
I dug up a snowdrift and grew to the place -
Frost came under the sheepskin coat.
Under the snow, brothers, she lay ...
Brown eyes closed.
Pour, pour more wine
There is no more urine to tell! When I served in the mail coachman,
I was young, I had Silenko,
And hard, brothers, in the hamlet of the same
I loved a girl at that time.
At first I did not sense the girl trouble
Then playing the fool is not a joke:
Wherever you go, wherever you go,
All cute to wring a minute.
And Lubo it, but the rest is not present,
And my heart hurts all the more.
One gives me the head of the package:
"SVEZA supposedly the post alive!"
I took the package - and soon on a horse
And on the field swirl rushed
A heart aches but I have aches
As if her eyelids had not seen .
And what is the reason, I can't understand,
And the wind howls so sad ...
And suddenly - as if my horse stopped on the run,
And the side looks fearfully.
Zabilosya heart stronger in me
And I looked forward to the alarm,
Then he jumped out of the swashbuckling horse -
And I see a dead body on the road.
The snow really quite a find that he brought,
Blizzard and dancing over the corpse .
I dug up the snow - and then to a place rooted -
Frost came under the sheepskin.
Under the snow, then, brothers, lay it out...
Close brown eyes.
Pour, pour more wine,
Tell no more urine!
An old coachman's song to the words of L. Trefolev
I was young, I had strength,
And firmly, brothers, in one village
I loved the girl at that time.
At first, I did not smell trouble in the girl,
Then he bluffed in earnest:
Wherever I go, wherever I go
I'll turn everything to my dear for a minute.
And it is pleasant, but there is no rest,
And my heart hurts more and more.
One day the boss gives me a package:
“Bring, they say, to the post office faster!”
I accepted the package - and rather on the horse,
And rushed across the field with a whirlwind,
And my heart aches and aches,
As if she had never seen her for a century.
And what is the reason, I can not understand,
And the wind howls so sadly ...
And suddenly - as if my horse froze on the run,
And looks sideways timidly.
My heart beat faster,
And I looked ahead in alarm,
Then he jumped off a distant horse -
And I see a corpse on the road.
And the snow has completely covered that find,
The blizzard dances over the corpse.
I dug up a snowdrift and stuck to the place -
Frost came under the sheepskin coat.
Under the snow, brothers, she lay ...
Brown eyes closed.
Pour, pour more wine
There is no more urine to tell!
From the repertoire of Nadezhda Plevitskaya (1884-1941).
Singing Ivan Skobtsov
As a song, the poem began to be performed in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. (in other words, this song is not at all an "old coachman's song"). In the discography of Nina Dulkevich, the author of the music is indicated - Yakov Prigozhy, pianist-arranger of the Moscow restaurant "Yar", perhaps he is just an arranger. Other sources usually indicate "folk music".
Singing Vadim Kozin
The text is based on Leonid Trefolev's poem "Coachman" (1868) - a translation of the poem "Postman" by the Polish poet Vladislav Syrokomlya (real name Ludwig Kondratovich, 1823-62). Based on a true story that happened to a Belarusian postman on the St. Petersburg-Warsaw postal route, 70 miles from Minsk. In those parts, on the territory of the Kingdom of Poland, mail was delivered not by yamskaya chase, but by a postman on a horse, with a bag and a signal horn. These features got into the Russian song: “I accepted the package - and rather on the horse”, “jumped off the horse” - the hero rides on horseback, and not on a sleigh with a troika, as a coachman would be supposed to.
ORIGINAL POEM
Coachman
Leonid Trefolev
We drink, have fun, and you, unsociable,
You sit like a slave in the gate.
And we will reward you with a cup and a pipe,
When you tell us grief.
The bell does not amuse you sometimes,
And the girls do not amuse. In sadness
You live for two years, friend, with us, -
You were not greeted cheerfully.
“I am bitter even so, and without a glass of wine,
Not nice in the world, not nice!
But give me a cup - she will help
Say that I'm tired.
When I worked as a coachman at the post office,
He was young, he was strong.
And I was hardly a bonded sign,
Tormented by a terrible race.
I rode at night, I rode during the day;
They gave me a bar for vodka,
We will get a ruble and quietly kutnem,
And we rush, hitting everyone.
There were many friends. The caretaker is not evil;
We even became friends with him.
And the horses! I whistle - they will rush with an arrow ...
Hold on, rider, in the carriage!
Oh, nice I went! It happened to be a sin
You will exhaust the horses in order;
But, as you carry the bride with the groom,
You'll probably get a chervonets.
In a neighboring village I fell in love with one
Maiden. Loved in earnest;
Wherever I go, I will turn to her,
To be together for a moment.
One night the caretaker gives me an order:
"Live take the baton!"
Then the weather was with us,
There is not a star in the sky.
The caretaker is quiet, through his teeth, scolding
And the evil coachman's share,
I grabbed the package and, jumping on the horse,
Rushed across the snowy field.
I ride and the wind whistles in the dark
Frost touches the skin.
Two versts flashed, on the third verst ...
On the third ... Oh, my God!
And someone asks for help
Someone in the snowdrifts brings.
But, remembering the caretaker, I'm afraid,
Save the Christian soul.
Hands trembled with fear.
Deathly faint sounds.
And at dawn I'm going back.
I still got scared
And, like a broken bell, out of tune
My heart was pounding in my chest.
My horse got scared before the third mile
And he ruffled his mane angrily:
There the body lay, simple canvas
Yes, covered in snow.
I saw faded eyes ...
Give me wine, let's hurry
Tell no more urine!
<1868>
Singing Sergey Lemeshev
It is interesting that in the folk song version the drama of the story is greatly softened, I would even say that the most important thing is lost.
In the original poem, this is a situation of real moral choice, and the narrator in it looks far from attractive:
Among the whistles of the storm I heard a groan,
And someone asks for help
And snowflakes from different sides
Someone in the snowdrifts brings.
Those. she was still alive, she could be saved! But not immediately, as in the song: a corpse on the road ...
I urge the horse to go rescue;
But, remembering the caretaker, I'm afraid ...
Someone whispered to me: on the way back
Save the Christian soul.
So always helpfully "someone" tells us in a critical situation that someday later, when we do our own business, we will have time to help our neighbor ... Especially who knows.
I got scared. I barely breathed
Hands trembled with fear.
I blew a horn to drown out
Deathly faint sounds.
He even involuntarily, completely senselessly (but psychologically and artistically very accurately!) creates a noise around himself, probably to drown out the voice of conscience calling to help a clearly dying person - to help, perhaps to his own detriment. Isn't that how we sometimes justify ourselves?
And, as if in the form of a mystical punishment for the cowardice shown by the coachman, this person, frozen through his fault, soon inexorably turns out to be ... precisely his beloved...
I shook off the snow - and my bride
I saw faded eyes ...
That's why he thentwo years stays in sadness, to him bitter, not cute in the world, he is still tormented, remembering - not just some kind of misfortune, but his own sin that haunts him!
Those. the idea of the poem can be formulated something like this: "do not put off helping the needy, he can really be your neighbor."
In the song, all this is lost, and we hear only the usual folk horror story, without internal logic. It turned out, as it were, a pure accident that he suddenly found in the frozen steppe exactly the girl he loved. And it is not entirely clear why he suffers for so long and so much - moreover, it is clearly in connection with the event itself, and not only because of the fact of her death ...
Singing Vyacheslav Mozardo
When I worked as a coachman at the post office,
I was young, I had strength,
And firmly, brothers, in one village
I loved the girl at that time.
At first, I did not smell trouble in the girl,
Then he bluffed in earnest:
Wherever I go, wherever I go
I’ll turn everything to my dear for a minute.
And it is pleasant, but there is no rest,
And my heart hurts more and more.
One day my boss gives me a package:
"Bring, they say, to the post office faster!"
I accepted the package - and rather on the horse
And rushed across the field with a whirlwind,
And my heart aches and aches,
As if she had never seen her for a century.
And what is the reason, I can not understand,
And the wind howls so sadly ...
And suddenly - as if my horse froze on the run
And looks sideways timidly.
clogged upmy heart is stronger
And I looked ahead in alarm,
Then he jumped off a distant horse -
And I see a corpse on the road.
And the snow really brought that find,
The blizzard dances over the corpse.
I dug up a snowdrift and grew to the place -
Frost came under the sheepskin coat.
Under the snow, brothers, she lay ...
Brown eyes closed.
Pour, pour more wine
There is no more urine to tell!
Old coachman's song
to words by L. Trefolev
The literary prototype of the song is the poem by L. N. Trefolev (1839-1905) "Coachman", which follows below.
In some sources, Trefolev's poem is called: "When I served as a coachman at the post office" and it is said that it is a translation of the poem "Coachman" by the Polish poet V. Syrokomly. The lyrics of the song are close to those given here.
Coachman
We drink, have fun, and you, unsociable,
You sit like a slave in the gate.
And we will reward you with a cup and a pipe,
When you tell us grief.
The bell does not amuse you sometimes.
And the girls do not amuse. In sadness
You live for two years, friend, with us, -
Merry you were not met.
"I'm bitter and so, and without a glass of wine,
Not nice in the world, not nice!
But give me a cup, she will help
Say that I'm tired.
When I worked as a coachman at the post office,
He was young, he was strong.
And I was hardly a bonded sign,
Tormented by a terrible race.
I rode at night, I rode during the day;
They gave me a bar for vodka,
Rublyovik get and famously kutnem
And we rush, hitting everyone.
There were many friends. The caretaker is not evil;
We even became friends with him.
And the horses! I whistle - they will rush with an arrow ...
Hold on, rider, in the carriage!
Oh, nice I went! It happened to be a sin
You will exhaust the horses in order;
But, as you carry the bride with the groom,
You'll probably get a chervonets.
In a neighboring village I fell in love with one
Maiden. Loved in earnest;
Wherever I go, I will turn to her,
To be together for a moment.
One night the overseer gives me an order:
"Live take the baton!"
Then the weather was with us,
There is not a star in the sky.
The caretaker is quiet, through his teeth, scolding
And the evil coachman's share,
I grabbed the package and, jumping on the horse,
Rushed across the snowy field.
I ride and the wind whistles in the dark
Frost touches the skin.
Two versts flashed, on the third verst...
On the third... Oh, my God!
Among the whistles of the storm I heard a groan,
And someone asks for help
And snowflakes from different sides
Someone in the snowdrifts brings.
I urge the horse to go rescue;
But, remembering the caretaker, I'm afraid,
Someone whispered to me: on the way back
Save the Christian soul.
I got scared. I was barely breathing.
Hands trembled with fear.
I blew a horn to drown out
Deathly faint sounds.
And at dawn I'm going back.
I still got scared
And, like a broken bell, out of tune
My heart was pounding in my chest.
My horse got scared before the third mile
And he ruffled his mane angrily:
There the body lay, simple canvas
Yes, covered in snow.
I shook off the snow - and my bride
I saw faded eyes ...
Give me wine, let's hurry
There's no point in telling any more!"
L. N. Trefolev
< 1868 . >
When I worked as a coachman at the post office,
I was young, I had strength,
And firmly, brothers, in one village
I loved a girl at that time.
At first, I did not smell trouble in the girl,
Then he bluffed in earnest:
Wherever I go, wherever I go
I’ll turn everything to my dear for a minute.
And it is pleasant, but there is no rest,
And my heart hurts more and more.
One day my boss gives me a package:
“Bring, they say, to the post office faster!”
I accepted the package - and rather on the horse
And rushed across the field with a whirlwind,
And my heart aches and aches,
As if she had never seen her for a century.
And what is the reason, I can not understand,
And the wind howls so sadly ...
And suddenly - as if my horse froze on the run
And looks sideways timidly.
My heart beat faster,
And I looked ahead in alarm,
Then he jumped off a distant horse -
And I see a corpse on the road.
And the snow really brought that find,
The blizzard dances over the corpse.
I dug up a snowdrift and grew to the place -
Frost came under the sheepskin coat.
Under the snow, brothers, she lay ...
Brown eyes closed.
Pour, pour more wine
Tell no more urine!
An old coachman's song to the words of L. Trefolev
I was young, I had strength,
And firmly, brothers, in one village
I loved the girl at that time.
At first, I did not smell trouble in the girl,
Then he bluffed in earnest:
Wherever I go, wherever I go
I'll turn everything to my dear for a minute.
And it is pleasant, but there is no rest,
And my heart hurts more and more.
One day the boss gives me a package:
“Bring, they say, to the post office faster!”
I accepted the package - and rather on the horse,
And rushed across the field with a whirlwind,
And my heart aches and aches,
As if she had never seen her for a century.
And what is the reason, I can not understand,
And the wind howls so sadly ...
And suddenly - as if my horse froze on the run,
And looks sideways timidly.
My heart beat faster,
And I looked ahead in alarm,
Then he jumped off a distant horse -
And I see a corpse on the road.
And the snow has completely covered that find,
The blizzard dances over the corpse.
I dug up a snowdrift and stuck to the place -
Frost came under the sheepskin coat.
Under the snow, brothers, she lay ...
Brown eyes closed.
Pour, pour more wine
There is no more urine to tell!
From the repertoire of Nadezhda Plevitskaya (1884-1941).
Singing Ivan Skobtsov
As a song, the poem began to be performed in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. (in other words, this song is not at all an "old coachman's song"). In the discography of Nina Dulkevich, the author of the music is indicated - Yakov Prigozhy, pianist-arranger of the Moscow restaurant "Yar", perhaps he is just an arranger. Other sources usually indicate "folk music".
Singing Vadim Kozin
The text is based on Leonid Trefolev's poem "Coachman" (1868) - a translation of the poem "Postman" by the Polish poet Vladislav Syrokomlya (real name Ludwig Kondratovich, 1823-62). Based on a true story that happened to a Belarusian postman on the St. Petersburg-Warsaw postal route, 70 miles from Minsk. In those parts, on the territory of the Kingdom of Poland, mail was delivered not by yamskaya chase, but by a postman on a horse, with a bag and a signal horn. These features got into the Russian song: “I accepted the package - and rather on the horse”, “jumped off the horse” - the hero rides on horseback, and not on a sleigh with a troika, as a coachman would be supposed to.
ORIGINAL POEM
Coachman
Leonid Trefolev
We drink, have fun, and you, unsociable,
You sit like a slave in the gate.
And we will reward you with a cup and a pipe,
When you tell us grief.
The bell does not amuse you sometimes,
And the girls do not amuse. In sadness
You live for two years, friend, with us, -
You were not greeted cheerfully.
“I am bitter even so, and without a glass of wine,
Not nice in the world, not nice!
But give me a cup - she will help
Say that I'm tired.
When I worked as a coachman at the post office,
He was young, he was strong.
And I was hardly a bonded sign,
Tormented by a terrible race.
I rode at night, I rode during the day;
They gave me a bar for vodka,
We will get a ruble and quietly kutnem,
And we rush, hitting everyone.
There were many friends. The caretaker is not evil;
We even became friends with him.
And the horses! I whistle - they will rush with an arrow ...
Hold on, rider, in the carriage!
Oh, nice I went! It happened to be a sin
You will exhaust the horses in order;
But, as you carry the bride with the groom,
You'll probably get a chervonets.
In a neighboring village I fell in love with one
Maiden. Loved in earnest;
Wherever I go, I will turn to her,
To be together for a moment.
One night the caretaker gives me an order:
"Live take the baton!"
Then the weather was with us,
There is not a star in the sky.
The caretaker is quiet, through his teeth, scolding
And the evil coachman's share,
I grabbed the package and, jumping on the horse,
Rushed across the snowy field.
I ride and the wind whistles in the dark
Frost touches the skin.
Two versts flashed, on the third verst ...
On the third ... Oh, my God!
And someone asks for help
Someone in the snowdrifts brings.
But, remembering the caretaker, I'm afraid,
Save the Christian soul.
Hands trembled with fear.
Deathly faint sounds.
And at dawn I'm going back.
I still got scared
And, like a broken bell, out of tune
My heart was pounding in my chest.
My horse got scared before the third mile
And he ruffled his mane angrily:
There the body lay, simple canvas
Yes, covered in snow.
I saw faded eyes ...
Give me wine, let's hurry
Tell no more urine!
<1868>
Singing Sergey Lemeshev
It is interesting that in the folk song version the drama of the story is greatly softened, I would even say that the most important thing is lost.
In the original poem, this is a situation of real moral choice, and the narrator in it looks far from attractive:
Among the whistles of the storm I heard a groan,
And someone asks for help
And snowflakes from different sides
Someone in the snowdrifts brings.
Those. she was still alive, she could be saved! But not immediately, as in the song: a corpse on the road ...
I urge the horse to go rescue;
But, remembering the caretaker, I'm afraid ...
Someone whispered to me: on the way back
Save the Christian soul.
So always helpfully "someone" tells us in a critical situation that someday later, when we do our own business, we will have time to help our neighbor ... Especially who knows.
I got scared. I barely breathed
Hands trembled with fear.
I blew a horn to drown out
Deathly faint sounds.
He even involuntarily, completely senselessly (but psychologically and artistically very accurately!) creates a noise around himself, probably to drown out the voice of conscience calling to help a clearly dying person - to help, perhaps to his own detriment. Isn't that how we sometimes justify ourselves?
And, as if in the form of a mystical punishment for the cowardice shown by the coachman, this person, frozen through his fault, soon inexorably turns out to be ... precisely his beloved...
I shook off the snow - and my bride
I saw faded eyes ...
That's why he thentwo years stays in sadness, to him bitter, not cute in the world, he is still tormented, remembering - not just some kind of misfortune, but his own sin that haunts him!
Those. the idea of the poem can be formulated something like this: "do not put off helping the needy, he can really be your neighbor."
In the song, all this is lost, and we hear only the usual folk horror story, without internal logic. It turned out, as it were, a pure accident that he suddenly found in the frozen steppe exactly the girl he loved. And it is not entirely clear why he suffers for so long and so much - moreover, it is clearly in connection with the event itself, and not only because of the fact of her death ...
Singing Vyacheslav Mozardo
