По волне моей памяти

by David Tukhmanov

Fifty years ago, there was no Soviet disco that wouldn’t play the impossibly catchy «Из вагантов» (From Goliard Poetry). I had no faintest idea who goliards were, and it seems that neither the composer nor the singer did. Another thing I didn’t know at the time was that this schlager came from a freshly released LP «По волне моей памяти».

A few years later, I finally heard it as a whole, once again, thank to my cousin who brought the vinyl to our house. My I was impressed, expecially by Good Night sung entirely in English. Three more songs included verses in a foreign language: French in Sentimental Journey, German in Heart, my Heart, and Polish in Dedication in the Album^*. I didn’t expect that from a composer of patriotic songs like «Мой адрес — Советский Союз» (My address is the Soviet Union) and «День Победы» (Victory Day). Cool.

Somewhat disappointedly, the title track did not have any Spanish in it. The original poem by Nicolás Guillén, as I just learned, is called Agua del Recuerdo. Maybe it’s not the Russian version of it (the only one I knew until now) as such but its interaction with the tune that makes me cringe. Which is a shame really because the music is magical. Who plays the flute, I wonder?

Then again, the whole album is magical, and has to be listened to non-stop from the beginning to the end many times in a row. Every song has a twist or three in it. Whether it is a journey from soul-funk to baroque and back in Heart, My Heart, followed by a reprise of the jazz-rock theme from the opening track, or the psychedelic From Sappho, 2.5 millennia later reimagined as Confusion which also quotes from Sentimental Journey — you can’t help wondering what else is hidden there and wanting for more.

Alas, more was not to be. «По волне моей памяти» stands as sui generis in Tukhmanov’s discography. It was not the first conceptual art/prog/any rock album made in the USSR — Alexander Gradsky recorded «Размышления Шута», also based on classical poetry, a few years before — but it remains the most influential Soviet record of the 1970s, and definitely Tukhmanov’s best.

По волне моей памяти	On a Wave of My Memory
I сторона	Side A
Я мысленно вхожу в ваш кабинет (Максимилиан Волошин) Из Сафо (Сапфо, перевод Викентия Вересаева) Из вагантов (ваганты, перевод Льва Гинзбурга) Приглашение к путешествию (Шарль Бодлер, перевод Ирины Озеровой) Доброй ночи (Перси Биши Шелли)	I Step into your Study in my Thoughts (Maximilian Voloshin) From Sappho (Sappho, translation by Vikenty Veresaev) From Goliard Poetry (translation by Lev Ginsburg) Invitation to a Journey (Charles Baudelaire, translation by Irina Ozerova) Good Night (Percy Bysshe Shelley)
II сторона	Side B
По волне моей памяти (Николас Гильен, перевод Инны Тыняновой) Сентиментальная прогулка (Поль Верлен, перевод Ариадны Эфрон) Сердце моё, сердце (Иоганн Вольфганг Гёте, перевод Вильгельма Левика) Смятение (Анна Ахматова) Посвящение в альбом (Адам Мицкевич, перевод Семёна Кирсанова)	On a Wave of my Memory (Nicolás Guillén, translation by Inna Tynyanova) Sentimental Journey (Paul Verlaine, translation by Ariadna Efron) Heart, my Heart (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, translation by Wilhelm Levick) Confusion (Anna Akhmatova) Dedication in the Album (Adam Mickiewicz, translation by Semyon Kirsanov)
Музыка и аранжировка Давида Тухманова Литературный материал подобран Татьяной Сашко	Music composed and arranged by David Tukhmanov Literary source selection by Tatiana Sashko
Борис Пивоваров — гитара Аркадий Фельдбарг — гитара-бас, скрипка Владимир Плоткин — ударные Давид Тухманов — фортепиано, орган, синтезатор, электропиано	Boris Pivovarov: guitar Arkady Feldbarg: bass guitar, violin Vladimir Plotkin: drums David Tukhmanov: piano, organ, synthesizer, electric piano
Медная группа ансамбля «Мелодия» под управлением Георгия Гараняна Струнная группа Большого симфонического оркестра Всесоюзного радио и телевидения, дирижёр Константин Кримец Вокальная группа вокально-инструментального оркестра «Современник» (2, 10) Вокальная группа «Добры молодцы» (8)	Brass section of Melodiya ensemble led by Georgy Garanian String group of the USSR All-Union National Radio and Central Television Symphony Orchestra conducted by Konstantin Krimetz Vocal group of the vocal and instrumental orchestra “Sovremennik” (2, 10) Vocal group “Dobry Molodtsy” (8)
Мехрдад Бади — вокал (1, 5) Наталия Капустина — вокал (2)† Игорь Иванов — вокал (3) Александр Бырыкин — вокал (4) Владислав Андрианов — вокал (6) Сергей Беликов — вокал (7) Александр Лерман — вокал (8)‡ Людмила Барыкина — вокал (9)	Mehrdad Badie: vocals (1, 5) Natalia Kapustina (Natasha Shneider): vocals (2)† Igor Ivanov: vocals (3) Alexander Byrykin: vocals (4) Vladislav Andrianov: vocals (6) Sergey Belikov: vocals (7) Alexander Lehrman: vocals (8)‡ Liudmila Barykina: vocals (9)
Звукорежиссёр Николай Данилин Художник Александр Шварц	Sound engineer: Nikolai Danilin Cover design by Alexander Schwartz

*	In this track, the first half is sung in Polish and the second in Russian.
†	The singer’s name was not listed on the album cover because of her emigration to the USA.
‡	The singer’s name was not listed on the album cover because of his emigration to the USA.

Free live music and stuff, March—April 2026

Some stuff that I saw in Valencia, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria and Vitoria.

• 15—19 March: Las Fallas de Valencia, various locations
  This year, compared to the first time I’ve been to the Fallas, I was able to see more and better, thanks to the weather. Even so, I spent most time away from the crowds in the centre, lost in the barrios of Benimaclet, Cabañal and Malvarrosa.

  

  More photos of Las Fallas @ Shutterstock.
• 31 March: «Grito de Mujer 2026» @ Casa de Colón, Calle Colón, 1, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria
  A part of the worldwide festival Grito de Mujer. With the participation of Proyecto Interculturalízate, a group of migrant women (with musical collaboration of the Thioune Brothers); writers M.ª del Pino Marrero Berbel, Rosario Ibrahim, Rubén Mettini, Pepa Molina, Carolina Landino, Bönaí Capote and Aghlahoum-Poeta saharaui-Tinduf; singers-songwriters Sara Brito, Daniel Cano, and Virginia Ruiz “La Niña de la Calle”. Presented by Ana Cendrero González.

  

• 8 April: «Somethin’ Stupid» @ Palacete Rodríguez Quegles, Calle Benito Pérez Galdós, 4, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria
  If you want to hear Billie Jean, Don’t Worry, Be Happy, The Entertainer, La Fiesta, Let It Be, Meet the Flintstones, Tears in Heaven and yes, Somethin’ Stupid in one concert, look no further. A splendid performance of Yul Ballesteros (guitar) and Germán López (timple).

  

• 10 April: «Sinfonía de sinfonías» @ Plaza del Pilar Nuevo, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria
  The final performance of the graduates of the Advanced Conducting Programme (the class of Dr. Ignacio García Vidal) based in the Canary Islands, with La Banda Sinfónica Municipal de Las Palmas de Gran Canaria. Unfortunately the show was interrupted by rain just when the second part started. This is what we heard:
  • Ludwig van Beethoven, Egmont: Overture — conducted by Óscar Manuel Sánchez Benítez
  • Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, Scheherazade I. The Sea and Sinbad’s Ship — conducted by Anna Kucherenko Parikova
  • Rimsky-Korsakov, Scheherazade III. The Young Prince and the Young Princess — conducted by Javier López Peña
  The full programme of the concert as it was intended is available here.

  

• 18 April: «Puto amor» @ Centro Cívico Langraiz-Oka, Tres de Marzo Parkea, 1, Nanclares de la Oca / Langraiz Oka
  A monologue by Dora Gálvez.

  

• 25 April: A Contra Blues @ Plaza de la Provincia, Vitoria-Gasteiz
  A fantastic band featuring Jonathan Herrero (lead vocals, acoustic guitar), Víctor López (drums), Héctor Martín Díaz (electric guitar), Matías Míguez (electric bass) and Alberto Noel Calvillo (electric guitar) was performing as part of the Fiestas de San Prudencio. I liked their originals but I was most impressed by the covers of Sinnerman and Triana’s En el lago.

  

And exhibitions, all in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria:

• 27 February — 27 March: «Hacer(se) Tierra. Arquitectura del arraigo» @ Centro Cultural CICCA, Alameda de Colón, 1
  Paintings from the collection of La Fundación La Caja de Canarias, including works by Miró Mainó, Alberto Manrique, José Comas Quesada, Pedro del Castillo Olivares and Juan Betancor.

  

• 5 March — 10 April: «Prohibido Escuchar» @ Centro de Artes Plásticas (CAP), Calle Colón, 8
  A project by Anarcos and Rosa P. Almeida, with invited artist Pedro Déniz.

  

• 19 March — 30 August: «ART AL QUADRAT. Memorias colectivas / Represiones cotidianas» @ CAAM — San Antonio Abad, Plaza San Antonio Abad
  Works by the Valencian arists Mónica and Gema del Rey Jordà, aka Art al Quadrat.

  

Bring on May.

Free live music and stuff in Las Palmas, August 2025

This is what we’ve seen this, pretty much dead, month.

• 9 August: Poesía Cantada con Dácil Santana @ Biblioteca Pública Municipal Josefina de la Torre, Paseo de las Canteras, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria
  Dácil Santana (voice, guitar) with special guests, poets Adán Nada and Soledad Salim, the author of Guerra de almohadas.

  

• 23 August: Bravas, brindis y letras @ Biblioteca Pública Municipal Josefina de la Torre
  Colloquium with actress Carol Cabrera, film director Arima León and winemakers Trinidad Fumero and Josefina Rojas, polished with a glass of white Canarian wine.

  

• 29 August: Eugenia Cabrera @ Casa de Colón, Calle Colón, 1
  Canarian cantautora Eugenia Cabrera (voice, percussion) accompanied by Pachi Cabrera (guitar).

  

And an exhibition, or rather four exhibitions:

• 12 June — 31 August: «Millares Sall. Creación plástica»
  A retrospective of the artistic output of the Millares Sall family, in four locations:
  • Tribute to Sixto Millares Sall @ Centro Atlántico de Arte Moderno (CAAM), Calle de los Balcones, 9
  • Manolo Millares @ CAAM — San Antonio Abad, Plaza San Antonio Abad
  • María del Carmen “Jane” Millares: Centro de Artes Plásticas, Calle Colón, 8
  • Eduardo “Cho-Juaá” Millares @ Fundación Mapfre Canarias, Calle Castillo, 6

  

Looking forward to September.

The Nurse’s Song / Песня няни президента США

by Roald Dahl
translated by Mark Freidkin

This poem appears in Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, which I read last time some 20 years ago. I completely forgot about the POTUS and his nanny appearing there until I, quite by chance, came across the page of wonderful Roald Dahl translations by Mark Freidkin — yes, the very same translator of «Книга бессмыслиц». Enjoy!

Roald Dahl The Nurse’s Song

Роальд Даль, перевод Марка Фрейдкина Песня няни президента США

This mighty man of whom I sing, The greatest of them all, Was once a teeny little thing, Just eighteen inches tall. I knew him as a tiny tot, I nursed him on my knee. I used to sit him on the pot And wait for him to wee. I always washed between his toes, And cut his little nails. I brushed his hair and wiped his nose And weighed him on the scales. Through happy childhood days he strayed, As all nice children should. I smacked him when he disobeyed, And stopped when he was good. It soon began to dawn on me He wasn’t very bright, Because when he was twenty-three He couldn’t read or write. “What shall we do?” his parents sob. “The boy has got the vapors! He couldn’t even get a job Delivering the papers!” “Ah-ha,” I said, “this little clot Could be a politician.” “Nanny,” he cried, “Oh Nanny, what A super proposition!” “Okay,” I said, “let’s learn and note The art of politics. Let’s teach you how to miss the boat And how to drop some bricks, And how to win the people’s vote And lots of other tricks. Let’s learn to make a speech a day Upon the TV screen, In which you never never say Exactly what you mean. And most important, by the way, Is not to let your teeth decay, And keep your fingers clean.” And now that I am eighty nine, It’s too late to repent. The fault was mine the little swine Became the President.

Великой нации отец, Что всем нам так знаком, Когда-то был совсем малец, Под стол ходил пешком. Он был малявка, просто тля. Его (коль он хотел) Я на горшок сажала для Больших и малых дел. Его купала я не раз, Чтоб мальчик лучше рос, И утирала что ни час Его сопливый нос. И чтобы детство день за днём Безоблачней текло, Ему всыпала я ремнём По первое число. Ведь был он (стоит ли скрывать?) Не вундеркинд — о нет! И сколько будет пятью пять, Узнал лишь в двадцать лет. «Как парень дальше будет жить? — Все недоумевали. — Ведь и газеты разносить Возьмут его едва ли!» Но я сказала: «Не беда, Что мальчик прост немного. Таким в политике всегда Открытая дорога!» Он знает, как попасть впросак Расчётливо и метко, И наломать дрова мастак, Каких увидишь редко, И элегантен, как верстак, И туп, как табуретка. Он может чушь пороть подряд И два, и три часа, Что очень важно, говорят, В борьбе за голоса. Плюс строгий галстук, честный взгляд, Зубов здоровых ровный ряд — Они в день выборов творят Большие чудеса. И в результате тех чудес (А здесь лишь я виною) Через Конгресс пролез балбес Руководить страною.

To put both poems into historical context: Dahl’s novel was published in 1972. The book «Детские бестселлеры» contaning its Russian translation appeared in 2001. Of course, Dahl and Freidkin were thinking of different presidents. Which president do you think of?

Crowdie Ever Mair / Овсянка

by Robert Burns and Samuil Marshak

I was not aware that Burns Night even existed until exactly 30 years ago, yes the very day of my first encounter with haggis and, as I learned much later, Black Brant scare. I arrived in Leeds just three days before and was staying at my Professor’s house while looking for my own accommodation. It started snowing in the afternoon, so we took the early leave — that is, about 5 pm, when everybody goes home. We spent the next two hours in a traffic jam. It was still a pre-mobile phone era and there was no way for the Professor to call his wife to say we’re stuck. At least we were sitting comfortably in the car, listening to the radio, most likely BBC Radio 3 broadcasing, guess what, Rabbie Burns songs.

Upon arrival, we were offered a dinner featuring hot porridge — Mrs Professor was an enthusiast of this dish on account of spending her formative years in Scotland. I found it impossible to refuse the first portion of the stuff but managed to politely decline the second helping.

Which brings me back to Burns. In The Complete Works of Robert Burns, there is a letter to Mrs. Dunlop from 15 December 1795 where he writes:

To leave talking of the matter so gravely, I shall sing with the old Scots ballad —

“O that I had ne’er been married,
etc. ”

See, Crowdie Ever Mair was already “old” in Burns’ times. I’m sure the Bard changed a word or two to make it sound more modern.

Robert Burns Crowdie Ever Mair

Роберт Бёрнс, перевод С.Я. Маршака Овсянка

O that I had ne’er been married, I wad never had nae care; Now I’ve gotten wife and bairns, An’ they cry crowdie ever mair. Ance crowdie, twice crowdie, Three times crowdie in a day, Gin ye crowdie ony mair, Ye’ll crowdie a’ my meal away. Waefu’ want and hunger fley me, Glowrin’ by the hallan en’; Sair I fecht them at the door, But aye I’m eerie they come ben. Ance crowdie, twice crowdie, Three times crowdie in a day; Gin ye crowdie ony mair, Ye’ll crowdie a’ my meal away.

Раз — овсянка, Два — овсянка И овсянка в третий раз. А на лишнюю овсянку Где мне взять крупы для вас? Одиноким, неженатым Не житье, а сущий рай. А женился, так ребятам Трижды в день овсянки дай. Век живет со мной забота. Не могу ее прогнать. Чуть запрешь за ней ворота, Тут как тут она опять. Раз — овсянка, Два — овсянка И овсянка в третий раз. А на лишнюю овсянку Где мне взять крупы для вас?

What’s “crowdie”? According to the glossary here,

Crowdie, a composition of oatmeal, boiled water and butter; sometimes made from the broth of beef, mutton, &c. &c.
Crowdie time, breakfast time.

The Russian translation of the song is called «Овсянка». «Овсянка, сэр» (“Porridge, Sir”) is a popular in Russian-speaking space meme from the 1981 Soviet film «Собака Баскервилей». In this movie, Sir Henry Baskerville was not a huge fan of it. The blasted dish is never mentioned in the novel, so it must have been an invention of the filmmakers. Also, porridge was used as ammo par excellence by Gromit in A Close Shave. Told you, it’s not edible.

Сергей Вальков (1964—1997)

He would have turned 60 today.

Years ago, I wrote a post on the occasion of the 20^th anniversary of Sergey’s death. What changed since then?

OK, I fixed a couple of dead links in the Russian Wikipedia article. I couldn’t find any “new” photos of Sergey. Apart from the image from the said article, there’s nothing on the web. Nada. How could that be? Repeats of the same bio, repeats of “download all songs of Sergey Valkov”, more dead links.

And then — suddenly! — this. One photo more!

But wait. A few months ago, I came across some posts by the LiveJournal user electrik-220. And from these... links to the audio archives! Several concerts of Sergey, some from as early as 1982. Plus a memorial concert in 2001. Plus some other discoveries. This is new stuff: all these archives were uploaded in 2023^*. The sound quality of most of them leaves much to be desired. There’s nothing we can do about it. This is history.

Now, that I sat down to listen, time rewinds. Seryozha, still in his twenties, steps into the room, takes out his trusty Resonata^† and starts to sing. More like, talk to me.

I’m grateful to all the people (I don’t know any of them) who made this encounter possible. Thank you for keeping the memory and music of Sergey alive.

electrik-220 posts

• Записи из фонотеки «Командора» (Сергея Гусакова): часть 3 and часть 10;
• Перебирая старые CD: часть 28, часть 34, часть 38 and часть 39

Archives

Сергей Вальков (Лещина) / Sergey Valkov (Leshchina): himself, solo

• Домашний концерт (18.12.1991) (из фонотеки Юрия Дёмина)
• Записи у Биг Мака (1985)
• Запись 05—06.11.1990 (МС из фонотеки Ю. Дёмина)^‡
• Запись 16.05.1993 (МС из фонотеки Ю. Дёмина)^‡
• Записи А. Антонова
• И всё-таки мы вернёмся
• Камни падают с неба (архивные записи, 1988)
• Маленький принц (записи 1982—1996)
• Песни Кая (архивные записи, 1990 и 1993)^‡
• Под запись (1988)
• Посвящение Каю (05—06.11.1990)^‡
• Москва—Ярославль—Москва (дом. концерт 09.06.1994)
• Улица Арбат (архивные записи)
• Я — клоун (архивные записи, 1990)

Other recordings

• Слёт команды МИД №3 (18—20.10.1985)
• Вечер памяти Сергея Валькова (Лещины) в Театре Кукол (Москва, 28.06.2001)
• Алексей Антонов: Смешные леденцы [1997—2016] (2016)
• Алексей Антонов: Планета пьёт чай [2CD] (2006)
• Алексей Антонов: домашний концерт «Может, померещились дороги» (19.11.1997)
• Алексей Антонов: Самсебяиздат (199х)

*	The password to open any rar archive is electrik.
†	The East German Musima Resonata, which, in the 1980s, was the best classical guitar I could dream of. Sergey bought it second-hand ca. 1980 for a princely sum of 50 roubles.
‡	Some of these archives overlap. «Посвящение Каю» is marked as recorded on 05—06.11.1990. «Песни Кая» includes songs recorded both on 05—06.11.1990 and 16.05.1993. Two archives «из фонотеки Ю. Дёмина» also contain songs from these dates.

Free live music and stuff in Las Palmas, March 2024

This is what I’ve seen in March:

• 2 March: Kya Loum @ Biblioteca Pública Municipal Josefina de la Torre, Paseo de las Canteras, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria
  This concert was a part of two-day workshop «Mujeres, migraciones y derechos humanos» organised by Karmala Cultura. In fact, I turned up on Friday 1 March to see the performance of Kya Loum planned at 7 pm only to discover that it was already over because the other parts of the workshop have finished earlier. Next day, I came by 7 pm to hear a bit of poetry by Biselé, Karessa Malaya, Gabriella Nuru and Hilda Pérez Rodríguez, followed by the rooftop concert of Kya at 8 pm.

  

• 6 March: «Guante blanco» @ Palacete Rodríguez Quegles, Calle Benito Pérez Galdós, 4
  This happened to be a two-in-one evening: presentation of the award of the IV Premio Internacional de Novela de Misterio e Intriga to Juan Muñoz González, the author of the winning novel, El informante; and the concert of Guante Blanco, which was why I went there. The trio of José Carlos Campos (vocals), Antonio Brito (piano) and Paula Conde (electric bass) performed such hits as Armando’s Rhumba, Luz de Luna, Rata de dos patas, Una canción para la Magdalena, Una Notte a Napoli, and Wilkommen and Mein Herr from Cabaret.

  

• 7 March: «Magua» @ Casa de Colón, Calle Colón, 1
  The Canarian singer-songwriter Sylvie Hernández presented her debut album Magua, accompanied by Marta Bautista (double bass), Totó Noriega (percussion), Pablo Quintana (guitar) and Ner Suárez (guitar, tres cubano, cuatro venezolano, accordion).

  

• 14 March: Ari Jiménez @ Museo Castillo de Mata, Calle Domingo Guerra del Río, 147
  The third concert from the cycle «12 Noches de autor».

  

• 21 March: Miryam Quiñones @ Teatro Guiniguada, Plaza F. Mesa de León
  More a concert than a masterclass, but I enjoyed it all the same. Miryam Quiñones took us on an illustrated journey through the history of (mostly) Peruvian author song (trova peruana) and added some “Peruvianised” classics of the genre.

And that was it for this month. The sixth edition of Happy Piano Day, originally planned for 23 March, was cancelled due to rain and is now rescheduled to 6 April. Looking forward to it!

Guerra de almohadas

by Soledad Salim

Послушай, дедушка, мне каждый раз, Когда взгляну на этот замок Рётлер, Приходит в мысль: что, если это проза, Да и дурная?..... А. С. Пушкин

Now listen, granpa, to me, every time I take a glance upon this Röttler Schloss, A thought occurs: what if this is just prose, and, moreover, bad one?.. Alexander Pushkin

In his famous epigram, Pushkin parodied the blank verse of «Тленность» by Vasily Zhukovsky. Which, in turn, is a translation of the Alemannic poem Die Vergänglichkeit, also written in blank verse, by Johann Peter Hebel. (Pushkin actually copied the first two lines verbatim from Zhukovsky’s poem.) Yet Alexander Sergeyevich himself was not exactly a stranger to blank verse: Boris Godunov and The Little Tragedies show his mastery of the form. I don’t know what was Pushkin’s opinion on either vers libre or prose poetry but suspect he shoudn’t have cared of them at all.

Now why do I even bring in Pushkin, when he’s got nothing to do with free verse? Forget about him. The point is that, now and then, I come across some free-form poetry that I happen to like.

¿Y si la felicidad siempre ha estado
a la vuelta de la esquina?

Guerra de almohadas is a debut collection by Sole Salim, a social worker by day and an amateur poet, it looks like, always. Sole says in an interview that she writes prose poetry or, rather, short stories which are almost 100% autobiographical. My favourites are several of her “micropoems” (the erotic ones), and others such as Rara, Momentos, La mujer que habla y sonríe con los ojos, ¿Seguimos sumando? and, of course, Me gusta — basically, the lists of things Sole loves. Poems to share with friends and ask them how many items they identify with.

Read some of Sole’s works here.

Книга бессмыслиц

by Edward Lear
translated by Mark Freidkin
foreword by Nina Demurova

In the first post-Soviet year, when we had no money and were surviving being permanently drunk on new, as we thought, freedom, I bought this book from a rickety stall somewhere in the vicinity of Park Kultury metro station. I loved it so much that I kept returning to that stall, so many of my friends and colleagues have got it as a gift. Some of its limericks (or parts thereof), in Russian translation, became our cultural references that stood the test of time.

A few years later, already in Leeds, I got hold of Edward Lear’s Complete Nonsense, a gorgeous edition by the Folio Society, with a preface by Quentin Blake.

Life Lines: Poets For Oxfam

by Various Authors

This was the only non-second hand CD I ever bought from Oxfam, back in 2006. I’ve been coming back to it ever since.

There are poems OK, good and brilliant. As I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, I’m not a fan of vers libre, so I tend to skip those, except perhaps of Look at These by Helen Farish. My absolute favourites are Sexy at Sixty by Pam Ayres, No Ball Games by Sophie Hannah, and that ultimate pièce de résistance by John Hegley with Keith Moore on tuba: St George’s Day.

Life Lines: Poets For Oxfam Dannie Abse, The Stethoscope Fleur Adcock, A Rose Tree Patience Agbabi, Countdown to Zero Al Alvarez, Anne Dancing Simon Armitage, Two Clocks Pam Ayres, Sexy at Sixty Sebastian Barker, The Walkway Charles Bennett, A Woman Made of Bees Ashok Bery, A Very Short History of British India Alan Brownjohn, Talking Animals Melanie Challenger, Limb Polly Clark, Hedgehog Olivia Cole, Breaking the Ice Wendy Cope, Spared Tim Cumming, The Knowledge Charlie Dark, Airborne Isobel Dixon, And Carol Ann Duffy, Prayer Ian Duhig, From the Irish Frank Dullaghan, Man On The Moon Helen Farish, Look at These Peter Finch, Ben Lomond Annie Freud, Canaletto Orange Anne-Marie Fyfe, Signallings Giles Goodland, Corrections Lavinia Greenlaw, Spirit of the Staircase Sophie Hannah, No Ball Games, etc. David Harsent, Toffee John Hegley, St George’s Day Kevin Higgins, A Brief History of Those Who Made Their Point Politely and Then Went Home Alan Jenkins, Inheritance Mimi Khalvati, Ghazal after Hafez Nick Laird, Cuttings Roddy Lumsden, My True love Chris McCabe, Axis of Evil Roger McGough, Half Term Jamie McKendrick, Ancient History Lachlan Mackinnon, Marfa, Texas Adrian Mitchell, Human Esther Morgan, Bone China Andrew Motion, Anne Frank Huis Daljit Nagra, Darling and Me Cath Nichols, Corona Eric Ormsby, My Mother in Old Age Ruth Padel, Tiger Drinking at Forest Pool Pascale Petit, Self Portrait with Fire Ants Mario Petrucci, On the Onset of Tinnitus Clare Pollard, A London Plane Tree Peter Porter, Chorus At The End Of The First Act Sally Read, Mastectomy Denise Riley, Shatung Maurice Riordan, The January Birds Henry Shukman, Piano Solo George Szirtes, Water Jo Shapcott, Of Mutability Owen Sheers, Not Yet My Mother John Siddique, Cheap Moisturizer John Stammers, Mary Bruton Greta Stoddart, You Drew Breath Liane Strauss, Ça ce n’est pas Todd Swift, Lost at Austerlitz Heather Taylor, Trouble Tim Turnbull, New Romantic Jonathan Ward, Anna and the Swan John Welch, Taking Refuge Jackie Wells, Only a 9-Year-Old Briar Wood, Tent Tamar Yoseloff, Barnard’s Star Benjamin Zephaniah, A Picture of a Sign

В кругу себя

by David Samoylov
compiled by Yuri Abyzov

I didn’t remember much of the book that I bought 30 years ago, still in Moscow (where I also left it). All these years, nevertheless, its random bits have been popping up from memory:

Надо, Зяма, ездить прямо, Как нас всех учила мама, Ты же, Зяма, ездил криво, Это очень некрасиво. Or: Может быть, девушку новую Я и смогу полюбить, Но твою кофту джерсёвую Мне никогда не забыть. Or: Воздух чист и темнеет, И тихо течет Райн. Вершины гор светлеют Im Abendsonnenschein.

Now, thanks to ImWerden, I was able to re-read and once again enjoy this book. Apparently, David Samuilovich himself didn’t take his humorous output seriously, and why should he? So it was up to his friend Yuri Abyzov^* to collect his aphorisms, epigrams, parodies, etc. and see them published — unfortunately, already after the author’s death.

В кругу себя is way too short to quote everything I like. So here are just a few more teasers.

☁ ☁ ☁ Если выпить запрещают Или пить недёшево, Это нам не предвещает Ничего хорошего. ☁ ☁ От Марселя-то от Пруста Ошалела наша Русь-то. Ходишь нынче без Пруста Словно жопа без хвоста. ☁ Эх, девки синеокие С родимой стороны, Пойдем в хрена высокие, В цветущие хрены.

☁ ☁

Важен путь, а не результат. О Наполеоне никто бы не знал, если бы он сразу уехал на остров Святой Елены.

☁ ☁ ☁

Тот, кто пьёт без закуски — мерзавец; тот кто закусывает и не пьёт — просто сволочь.

☁ ☁

Одну бутылку нельзя выпить два раза, как верно заметил Гераклит. Но и две бутылки нельзя выпить два раза. Некоторые советуют покупать три и делить на два раза. Но это уже совсем нелепо. Тогда уж лучше покупать четыре.

☁

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*	Yuri Ivanovich Abyzov (1921—2006), nicknamed “Patriarch”, was a Soviet and Latvian writer, translator, bibliographer, literary critic and historian of Russian culture in the Baltic states. Read/listen more about Abyzov at Radio Liberty (in Russian).

Ночной дозор

by Alexander Galich

As I’ve mentioned some time years 10 years ago, in 1977 I expanded my cultural horizons a lot. To a large degree, the said expansion was thanks to my cousin who, in early summer of that year, entrusted us — that is, my brother and me — with a leather briefcase full of magnetic tape reels. For safekeeping. He specifically asked us to refrain from listening a couple of reels which were stored in unmarked boxes. (They are for a very small circle of listeners, he explained.) So we spent a happy summer discovering new for us music, mostly prog-rock, of which later. Of course, it was only a matter of (rather short) time before the temptation won. We were careful enough to make sure our mum wasn’t anywhere near when we explored the forbidden tapes.

That’s how we got acquainted with the works of Galich. Even though back then I didn’t know much about the things Galich was talking about, his songs sounded true. Аве Мария, На сопках Манчжурии, Вальс, посвященный уставу караульной службы, Караганда... And this one: Ночной дозор. Painfully true. Goosebumpingly true. Dangerously true. (About a very small circle of listeners, we got it. And kept quiet about it.) Wait. They still give me goosebumps.

I couldn’t find when exactly Ночной дозор was written but a number of web sites point on the year 1963, or “between 1962 and 1964”. In any case, Ночной дозор sounds even more true now than 60 years ago. At least that’s what I thought when I read about unveiling a bronze bust of Stalin in Volgograd earlier this month.

The English translation by Gerald Stanton Smith thanks to this website.

Александр Галич Ночной дозор

Alexander Galich, translated by Gerald Stanton Smith The Night Watch

Когда в городе гаснут праздники, Когда грешники спят и праведники, Государственные запасники Покидают тихонько памятники. Сотни тысяч (и все — похожие) Вдоль по лунной идут дорожке, И случайные прохожие Кувыркаются в «неотложке». И бьют барабаны!.. На часах замирает маятник, Стрелки рвутся бежать обратно: Одинокий шагает памятник, Повторённый тысячекратно. То он в бронзе, а то он в мраморе, То он с трубкой, а то без трубки, И за ним, как барашки на море, Чешут гипсовые обрубки. И бьют барабаны!.. Я открою окно, я высунусь, Дрожь пронзит, будто сто по Цельсию! Вижу: бронзовый генералиссимус Шутовскую ведёт процессию. Он выходит на место лобное — Гений всех времен и народов! — И, как в старое время доброе, Принимает парад уродов. И бьют барабаны!.. Прёт стеной мимо дома нашего Хлам, забытый в углу уборщицей, — Вот сапог громыхает маршево, Вот обломанный ус топорщится. Им пока — скрипеть да поругиваться, Да следы оставлять линючие, Но уверена даже пуговица, Что сгодится ещё при случае! И будут бить барабаны!.. Утро родины нашей розовое, Позывные летят, попискивая. Восвояси уходит бронзовый, Но лежат, притаившись, гипсовые. Пусть до времени покалечены, Но и в прахе хранят обличие. Им бы, гипсовым, человечины — Они вновь обретут величие! И будут бить барабаны!..

When the town celebrations fade away, The unrighteous and righteous in bed asleep, Those the state has put by for a rainy day Step down quietly from their pedestals. In their hundreds of thousands, identical, Along moonlit paths they go pacing, And the odd belated pedestrians Dive for shelter in first-aid stations. And drums are a-drumming! Clock pendulums freeze, stand motionless, The hands on their faces pull backwards, A uniform statue with soldier’s step Marches out, repeated in thousands. Some of marble, and some of brass made, Some are holding that famous pipe, Alabaster ones, shattered fragments, Itch to follow, like white-flecked tide. And drums are a-drumming! I lean out from my window, shivering With a fever, one hundred Celsius, As the brazen generalissimo Heads a pageant of fools and jesters. He climbs up on the hallowed podium, “Of all peoples and ages the genius”, And salutes a parade of monsters, As he did in those days so dear to us. And drums are a-drumming! By the wall of the block my flat’s in, Among heaps of abandoned dust and trash, You can make out a goose-stepping jackboot, And a broken-off piece of moustache. For the moment, they creak, drop a curse or two, Now, they only leave fading traces, But the last little button’s certain to Come in useful again on occasion. And the drums will be drumming! Dawn’s pink fingers suffuse our motherland, Station callsigns ping down the radio waves, The bronze statue returns to its place of rest, Alabaster ones stay in their hideaways. Maybe crippled, just temporarily, But their fragments retain the makings, Alabaster only needs humankind, And again it will rise to greatness! And the drums will be drumming!

Labordeta, un hombre sin más

a film by Paula Labordeta and Gaizka Urresti

By a happy coincidence, last Saturday the second number of CINEZiN2 programme won the Goya Award for best documentary. For this reason, I presume, the screening was moved from Museo Castillo de Mata to the bigger venue, that is, Teatro Guiniguada. The film was presented by its creators, Gaizka Urresti and Paula Labordeta de Grandes; the latter insisted on taking a selfie with the audience, mainly (as she explained) because she wanted to send it to her mum. So sweet.

I have to say that until now I had no slightest idea who José Antonio Labordeta was, apart from that he must have something to do with music. Well, he was many things: teacher, writer, poet, TV presenter and regionalist politician, with his now-legendary “a la mierda” discourse in Spanish Congress of Deputies twenty years ago (6 March 2003, to be precise). But first and foremost, he was a cantautor. To Aragon (and, arguably, the rest of Spain), Labordeta is what Serrat is to Catalonia (and the rest of Spain). In a lump-in-throat moment, as the final titles rolled, the audience stood up, applauding and singing Canto a la libertad.