Song picture
"Winter Morning" Alexander Pushkin
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Music composition for Tenor and orchestra, in Russian. With three trumpets, and English horn.
jazz classical instrumental vocal opera orchestra chamber ballet
Artist picture
Composer for large-scale performance work, ballet and opera. Have written music for classical theatrical productions of Shakespeare, ("The Tempest," "The Twelft
Loren Lieberman is a native of Denver, Colorado, now living on the West Coast in California, where he is best known for his work as an actor in Classical and Shakespearean Theatre. He has a degree from Sonoma State University in Theatre Arts, and has been an Honor's Music Composition Student at the College of Marin, Santa Rosa Junior College, and at Sonoma State University. He has won an award for composition from the Redwood Empire Music Association. He has recently completed an opera in Russian, based on the novel by Alexander Solzhenitsyn, "Cancer Ward", (and of the same name), and is currently working on his fourth opera, based on the Classical Tragedy by Sophocles, "Oedipus the King," with a libretto in Ancient Greek. His interest in languages has shaped much of his artistic temperment, and he is self taught in Russian and Sanskrit, and has hopes to begin his next opera, Shakespeare's, "Romeo and Juliet," in Hindi.
Song Info
Genre
Classical • Opera
Charts
Peak #91
Peak in subgenre #4
Author
Alexander Pushkin/Masaru Yonemitsu
Rights
adhikapokoya 2010
Uploaded
October 13, 2010
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.9 MB • 128 kbps • 4:15
Story behind the song
An English translation follows. You are not going to read the translation, and think, "Gee....one of the world's great poems."
Lyrics
WINTER MORNING Snow, frost and sunshine... Lovely morning! Yet you, dear love, its magic scorning, Are still abed... Awake, my sweet!.. Cast sleep away, I beg, and, rising, Yourself a northern star, the blazing Aurora, northern beauty, meet. Last night a snowstorm raged, remember; A turbid haze swam in the sombre, Wind-ravaged sky, and through the grey Murk of the clouds the moon shone dully, And you sat listless, melancholy... But now - look out the window, pray - 'Neath lucid skies of clearest azure, Great snowy carpets, winter's treasure, A rich and dazzling sight, lie spread. The wood is etched against them darkly, The firs, rime-starred, are green and sparkling, In shiny mail the stream is clad. A mellow glow like that of amber Illumes the room... 'Tis good to linger Beside the gaily crackling stove, And think and dream... But let our honest Brown mare without delay be harnessed That we may take a sledge ride, love. We'll give free rein to her, and lightly, The snow of morning gleaming brightly, Skim over it, and, full of glee, Cross empty fields and empty meadows, A once green wood with trees like shadows, A stream and bank long dear to me. 1829
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