In the spring of 1946, at a festive government concert in the Hall of Columns of the House of Unions in Kremlin, which broadcast the concert live to the entire Soviet Union, an amazing and hitherto unprecedented event happened.
In the midst of the concert, the first performance of Matvey Blanter's then unknown song "The enemies burned his home" (then "The Song of the Soldier" based on the poem "Praskovya" by M. Isakovsky) was announced.
Famous performers Vladimir Bunchikov and Vladimir Nechaev came on stage and sang this song for the first time.
Аn eyewitness of the concert, recalls : "The reaction of the audience was strange. No applause, no whistling, no trampling, a pause, a silence, and a moan or howl - "mmmm" - of the huge hall, as if people were clenching their teeth to keep from crying. And when they announced the next actor, they could not do it - this crying, the roar of the audience. And after the third or fourth unsuccessful appearance of the announcer, who was rounded up fom the stage and the audience demanded an encore for this song, it was already an uncontrollable crowd with the strongest feeling, I heard all this, I was also shaking. This has never happened before."
After that, for a long time, this song was banned from its public performance. This can be understood - every citizen of the country had too much grief and everyone wanted to heal the spiritual wounds of the people faster. Only 20 years later, this song was released on the record and became one of the most popular and memorable songs.
In the 60s, when my grandfather, a participant in the war from the first to the last day, who lost three brothers in it, was drinking and it was difficult to calm him down, my grandmother always suggested that my younger sister sing this song. From the first words, the grandfather began to cry and after that he could be sent to sleep.
I tried to translate this song into english, and rhyme it. Here is the performance of this song and below is my translation.
I would like to hear comments about the translation and possible corrections in the text. Thanks.
The nazis burnt his home to ashes,
His family they murdered there,
Where shall the soldier home from battle
Go now, to whom his sorrow bear?
The soldier went to the open wide field
Accommodate his grief and pain
And soldier found in the open wide field
Little grassy mound with no name
He stood with tears of sorrow welling
And scarcely able breath to draw
He said: "Praskovya dear, come welcome
Your hero-husband back from war."
Prepare a treat for your dear husband
Put on the table in the house
My day, my holiday of coming
to you, I celebrate, my spouse
But in reply there came no answer,
No welcome for the soldier brave.
Only a breeze that way came glancing
And stirred the grass upon the grave...
He paused a while, his belt he strengthened,
And, from the kitbag at his side
A flask of bitter vodka taking,
He placed it on her grave and sighed.
My dear Praskovya, don't be judgeful
For visit in this joyless state
I come back home to be triumphal
But have to mourn, not celebrate.
the soldier drinks from a cup (or flask)
But we will never meet again
And soldier drank from cap of heather
The vodka mixed half with a pain
A soldier, veteran, was drinking
And speaking with heartache, he say:
"Four years about you I was thinking,
Defeat three countries on my way"
The soldier drank and wept for many
A broken dreams, while on his chest
There shone a newly-minted medal
For liberating Budapest...