Dorogoy Dlinnoyu (Those where the days)

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The title of this traditional russian song which russian gypsies consider theyrs, means “all along a long path”. Written by Boris Fomin (1900-1948) with words by the poet Konstantin Podrevskii, this song became famous thanks to its appearence in The Brothers Karamazov’ (1958) performed by Maria Schell. Here performed by Alexander Menshikov.

Dorogoy Dlinnoyu
Yehali na troyke s bubentsami,
A vdali mel’kali ogon’ki.
Mne b seichas, sokoliki, za vami,
Dushu bi razveyat’ ot toski.

Dorogoy dlinnoyu, da noch’yu lunnoyu,
Da s pesney toy, chto vdal’ letit, zvenya,
I s toy starinnoyu, toy semistrunnoyu.
Chto po nocham tak muchila menya…

Tak zhiv’a bez radosti, bez muki
Pomnyu ya ushedshiye goda
I tvoi serebryanie ruki
V troyke, uletevshey navsegda…

Dorogoy dlinnoyu, da noch’yu lunnoyu,
Da s pesney toy, chto vdal’ letit, zvenya,
I s toy starinnoyu, toy semistrunnoyu.
Chto po nocham tak muchila menya…

Dni begut, pechali umnozhaya,
Mne tak trudno proshloe zabit’.
Kak-nibud’ odnazhdi, dorogaya,
Vi menya svezete horonit’.

Dorogoy dlinnoyu, da noch’yu lunnoyu,
Da s pesney toy, chto vdal’ letit, zvenya,
I s toy starinnoyu, toy semistrunnoyu.
Chto po nocham tak muchila menya…

The long road (Translation)
They were riding in a troika with bells,
and in the distance there were glimmering lights.
I’d rather go now with you, my dears,
I’d rather distract my soul from the yearning.

[Chorus]
Along a long road, and on a moonlit night,
And with that song that flies away with jingle-jangle,
And with that ancient, seven-stringed one (guitar)
That tortured me so much at nights…

Living this way, without joy, without torture,
I do remember the past years
and your silvery hands
in a troika that flew away forever….

But it turns out our song was futile,
In vain we burned night in and night out.
If we have finished with the old,
Then those nights have also left us!

The days run on, multiplying the sorrows,
it is so hard for me to forget the past.
Some day, my dear,
you shall take me to bury (dead hero to the cemetery)

Out into our native land, and by new paths,
We have been fated to go now!
…You rode on a troika with sleigh bells,
[But] you’ve long since passed by!

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