Barshai & Lokshin

Alexander Lokshin (1920 – 1987) was born in Biysk, Altai Region (Western Siberia), in Russia. A pupil of a great Russian composer, Nikolay Myaskovsky, he refused to compromise with the Soviet regime and dearly paid for it by being persecuted and rejected by the censors. By the time he left us his name was forgotten in his native Russia and not known in the West. Some of his compositions he had never heard performed himself.

His art, ironically, was introduced in the West only after his death. His close friendship with Rudolf Barshai led to their close collaboration, premier performances of his major works and recordings. Now you can hear his works on Laurel Record.

Text to Lokshin’s CD.

The Songs of Margaret (All English translations by Walter Barshai. Copyright © by Walter Barshai)
BORIS PASTERNAK'S RUSSIAN TEXT BASED ON GOETHE'S "FAUST".

INTRODUCTION & THEME

To have fun, to be openly free
My mother ruined my life,
And my father, the cannibal,
Gnawed around my skeleton.
And my sister had buried my body
Next to the mound's ream,
With my head pointed to the stream.
I had flown away
Like the going of spring,
Forest bird gray by day
And I fly far away,
High and far
I am flying away,
Very far, very far.
Henry, can you hear?
Can you hear me?

VARIATION I

I sent my mother to her grave
I drowned my daughter in the pond
God blessed us with this child,
But our misery is wild.

VARIATION II

Are you here?
Is this not in my dream?
Quick! Quick!
Save the poor child!
Keep to the path along the brook
Over the bridge
To the wood beyond
The trembling child,
Its head would rise,
Catch her by the hand.
She's still alive. Alive!

INTERMEZZI AND VARIATION III

Are you still here?
You haven't gone away?
My agony is here all the time...
Were we but only past the hill!
There sits my mother upon a stone (What a day, what a dread!)
There sits my mother upon a stone,
She sits upon a road.
And to and fro she shakes her head,
She winks not, she nods not, her head - it droops sore.
She slept so long; she waked no more;
She slept, that we might taste the bliss:
Ah! Those were times of happiness.

VARIATIONS IV AND CODA

Oh! Stay alive, beloved!
From all of us - be one!
And keep the wreath of grave,
The flowers of dawn.
Dig us a grave upon a hill,
Use a shovel, dig all three -
For mother, one for brother
And also one for me.
I'll nestle beside my child,
I'll cling to her body
What a pity, cannot be with you,
With you, my beloved!..........
Henry!

I - Ukon

I dread not what you have forgotten
I'm not in fear of my own fate.
By our gods we've sworn,
By our lives we've sworn,
I fear destiny that we await.

II - I-Go Tokutaizi

The road is paved with flowers.
My home - my admiration.
I'm in no hurry - no one awaits me,
No one awaits me now with tender expectation.

III - Riosen Host

Taken over by sorrow,
His dreary home behind,
He looked around - only sadness,
The twilight of a fallen mind.
Rudolf Barshai
and Alexander Lokshin
Produced

IV - Minamoto Saneaki

The moon is faint at the sunrise.
A ruby-colored maple shone upon
Blood-red foliage, like surprise,
Is twisted by a wind that's coming on.

V - Fudzivara Mitinagi

I know day will pass and night will always come,
And darkness will replace the sun
And I will be with you - I cannot overcome
This hated time of the dawn

VI - Hugodzena Daidedzina

No, that is Hot the snow that plucks tree leaves at random
When earth is covered by petals, blown away.
That is the shade of gray hair's wisdom,
It is my passing, but the flowers will stay.