John Barleycorn

by Robert Burns and Samuil Marshak
a song by Edison Denisov

I first heard this song in the mid-1970s performed by Lyudmila Maksakova (Людмила Максакова) in the Soviet television play «Театр Клары Газуль» based on Prosper Mérimée’s Théâtre de Clara Gazul. I had no clue what it was all about. Beer!

Of course, Burns poem is just one of the versions of the English folk song. (One of my favourite renditions is the one by The Imagined Village.) In order to “Scottify” it, Burns incorporated a clumsy rhyme “hand” / “Scotland” into the last stanza. To me, it sounds incredibly false. Good thing Marshak got rid of it.

Who are Burns’s “three kings into the east” (Marshak kept them)? No idea. In English version, “There were three men came out of the West”. Some foreigners, I imagine. Irishmen perhaps?

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Robert Burns John Barleycorn	Роберт Бёрнс, перевод С.Я. Маршака Джон Ячменное Зерно
There were three kings into the east, Three kings both great and high, An’ they hae swore a solemn oath John Barleycorn should die.	Трёх королей разгневал он И было решено, Что навсегда погибнет Джон Ячменное Зерно.
They took a plough and plough’d him down, Put clods upon his head, And they hae swore a solemn oath John Barleycorn was dead.	Велели выкопать сохой Могилу короли, Чтоб славный Джон, боец лихой, Не вышел из земли.
But the cheerful Spring came kindly on, And show’rs began to fall; John Barleycorn got up again, And sore surpris’d them all.	Травой покрылся горный склон, В ручьях воды полно... А из земли выходит Джон Ячменное Зерно.
The sultry suns of Summer came, And he grew thick and strong; His head weel arm’d wi’ pointed spears, That no one should him wrong.	Все так же буен и упрям С пригорка в летний зной Грозит он копьями врагам, Качая головой.
The sober Autumn enter’d mild, When he grew wan and pale; His bending joints and drooping head Show’d he began to fail.	Но осень трезвая идёт И, тяжко нагружён, Поник под бременем забот, Согнулся старый Джон.
His colour sicken’d more and more, He faded into age; And then his enemies began To show their deadly rage.	Настало время помирать — Зима недалека. И тут-то недруги опять Взялись за старика.
They’ve ta’en a weapon, long and sharp, And cut him by the knee; Then tied him fast upon a cart, Like a rogue for forgerie.	Его свалил горбатый нож Одним ударом с ног, И как бродягу на правёж, Везут его на ток.
They laid him down upon his back, And cudgell’d him full sore; They hung him up before the storm, And turn’d him o’er and o’er.	Дубасить Джона принялись Злодеи поутру. Потом, подбрасывая ввысь, Кружили на ветру.
They filled up a darksome pit With water to the brim; They heaved in John Barleycorn, There let him sink or swim.	Он был в колодец погружён, На сумрачное дно. Но и в воде не тонет Джон Ячменное Зерно!
They laid him out upon the floor, To work him farther woe; And still, as signs of life appear’d, They toss’d him to and fro.
They wasted o’er a scorching flame The marrow of his bones; But a miller us’d him worst of all — He crush’d him ’tween two stones.	Не пощадив его костей, Швырнули их в костёр. А сердце мельник меж камней Безжалостно растёр.
And they hae taen his very heart’s blood, And drank it round and round; And still the more and more they drank, Their joy did more abound.	Бушует кровь его в котле, Под обручем бурлит, Вскипает в кружках на столе И души веселит.
John Barleycorn was a hero bold, Of noble enterprise; For if you do but taste his blood, ’Twill make your courage rise.	Недаром был покойный Джон При жизни молодец, — Отвагу подымает он Со дна людских сердец.
’Twill make a man forget his woe; ’Twill heighten all his joy; ’Twill make the widow’s heart to sing, Tho’ the tear were in her eye.	Он гонит вон из головы Докучный рой забот. За кружкой сердце у вдовы От радости поёт...
Then let us toast John Barleycorn, Each man a glass in hand; And may his great posterity Ne’er fail in old Scotland!	Так пусть же до конца времён Не высыхает дно В бочонке, где клокочет Джон Ячменное Зерно!