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Ptichka, 'The Little Bird'

Ptichka, 'The Little Bird'

Ptichka bozhiya prosnulasya s zareyu,
A uzh paxarya zastala za soxoyu;
Poletit ona k lazurny'm nebesam
I, chto vidit v selax, vsyo rasskazhet tam.
Skazhet ptichka bogu, chto bednyak stradaet,
Chto krovavy'm potom nivu oroshaet;
Ne mila, kak ptichke, paxaryu vesna,
Ne neset s soboyu radostej ona...
Vstretil by on solnce pesenkoj veseloj,
Da molchat zastavit gnet nuzhdy tyazheloj.
Na serdce zaboty kak svinecz lezhat,
Ponevole pesnya ne pojdet na lad.
Skazhet ptichka bogu, chtob ego ruka
Podderzhala v gorkoj dole bednyaka.
Chtob emu nesti svoj krest dostalo sily,
Chtob bez ropota dobrel on do mogily.
Text - Pleshcheyev after Syrokomla_

The little bird

God’s little bird awoke at dawn,
To find the ploughman already at his plough;
Off she flies to the blue sky above
Where she will tell of what she sees in the villages.
The little bird will tell God that the poor man suffers,
That he waters the fields with his blood and sweat;
Spring is not kind to the ploughman, as it is to the bird,
It brings with it no joys at all…
Fain would he greet the sun with his merry song,
But heavy burden oppresses him and makes him silent.
Cares, like lead, weigh heavily on his heart,
There is no mode to which to tune his song.
The little bird will ask God to succour
The poor man in his bitter lot.
To grant him strength to bear his cross,
To stagger to the grave without complaint.

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Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky was a Russian composer of the Romantic period. His works are still among the most popular music in the classical repetoire, and he is widely acknowledged as the first Russian composer to make a lasting international impression.

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