EKH, REIZEN, Red Army Choir (1947)

Ekh, Dorogy …( Oh, the Roadways….) Choir and Orchestra of the Soviet Army, Cond. Boris. Alexandrov ( 1947 ) Mark Reizen, Bass This pathetic song with lyrics of poet Lev Oshanin was composed in 1945 by Anatoly Novikov as a tribute to the Great Patriotic War ( 1941 – 1945 ) : it depicts the heroic struggle for survival of the Russian soldiers following the brutal invasion of the Soviet Union by Nazi Germany. Until the fall of Berlin in May 1945, more than 20 million soviet soldiers and citizens lost their lives …This recording was broadcast in 1947 on the All-Union soviet radio. Mark Ossipovitch REIZEN, Basso cantante ( Horlivka, Ukraine : 1895 – Moscow : 1992 ) : this exceptional soviet opera singer was often considered as Feodor Chaliapin’s heir. His unusual vocal longevity allowed him to interpret with amazing freshness the aria of Prince Gremin ( Eugene Onegin, P.I. Tschaikowsky ) at the ceremony of his 90th birthday at the Bolshoi Theater. Ekh, dorogi... ( Эх, дороги ...) Pyl’ da tuman, Kholoda, trevogi Da stepnoi bur’ian. Znat’ ne mozhesh’ Doli svoei, Mozhet kryl’ia slozhish’ Posredi stepei. V’iotsia pyl’ pod sapogami stepiami, poliami, A krugom bushuet plamia Da puli svistiat. Ekh, dorogi - Pyl’ da tuman, Kholoda, trevogi Da stepnoi bur’ian. Vystrel grianet, Voron kruzhit, Tvoi druzhok v bur’iane Nezhivoi lezhit. Krai sosnovyi, Solntse vstaet, U kryl’tsa rodnogo Mat’ synochka zhdet. I beskrainimi putiami, stepiami, poliami, Vse gliadiat vosled za nami Rodnye glaza. Ekh, dorogi - Pyl’ da tuman, Kholoda, trevogi Da stepnoi bur’ian. Sneg li, veter - Vspomnim, druz’ia, Nam dorogi eti Pozabyt’ nel’zia. English Translation : John Whitehead Oh, the roadways... Oh, the roadways, dust and haze of mist, Angst, and cold, and worries, and the tall steppe weeds... Not a soul knows what the fate had set, Maybe you will fold wings in the middle of the steppe. Dust is swirling underneath boots, along steppes, along fields, All around is rage of fire and hot bullet whiz. Oh, the roadways, dust and haze of mist, Angst, and cold, and worries, and the tall steppe weeds... Burst of gunshot, circles of the crow, In wild grass your friend lies gone forevermore. And the road keeps on going, the dust keeps on swirling, All around the land is smoking, an alien land. Oh, the roadways, dust and haze of mist, Angst, and cold, and worries, and the tall steppe weeds... Land of pine trees, sun lights up the dawn, A mother by her home porch waits for son’s return. And along unending pathways, along steppes, along fields, We are always watched and followed by the dearest of eyes. Oh, the roadways, dust and haze of mist, Angst, and cold, and worries, and the tall steppe weeds... Snow or wind blows, friends, let’s recollect, Each and one of those roads we must not forget..