Eugene Osadchy, cello, and Anastasia Markina, piano
Recorded by Bolo Classique Records in 2010.
The clock is striking monotonously,
It's the night's exhausting story.
The language equally alien to all
And close to everybody as conscience.
None of us amidst the universal silence
Could listen without depression
To the moaning of time,
To the prophetic parting voice.
It seems to us the abandoned world
Is overtaken by inevitable fate.
And we are left to ourselves,
Fighting against all of Nature.
Our own life in front of us stands
Like a ghost on the edge of an abyss,
Fading away in a dusky horizon
Alongside our times and friends.
Meanwhile the new young generation
Has flourished under the sun,
And, friends, the oblivion has coverd
All of us and our lifetimes.
Only every now and then, at midnight,
In a sorrowful ceremony,
The metal's funereal voice
Mourns over us.
F. Tyutchev, translated from Russian by Yuri Mitelman