A Poetic Portrayal Of Musical Tonalities In 24 Preludes Poem by Sergey Dobrenkov

Foreword

The preludes are set in a particular order, that from them a poem of its own kind might arise, possessed of its own unfolding tale. This cycle is not for the many. One must be not a poet merely, but a musician besides — or, at the least, a connoisseur possessed of a fine and discerning feeling for the classical art. Yet even this does not suffice. To feel the whole emotional fullness of each of the four-and-twenty tonalities is given to but few among professional musicians, and not even to every composer. Absolute pitch is not, here, the chief necessity — though it is not unwelcome — so much as one particular species thereof: the pitch of timbre, whereby every note is apprehended not by its height alone, but by its very colour. Yet neither is this indispensable. What matters most of all is this: that upon the sounding of even the tonic triad in a given key, one should hear within it emotional shades wholly its own — shades scarcely to be found among the like feelings called forth by that selfsame chord in any other key.


I. Prelude to the Key of C Major

«Let there be light! » — the world at once was pierced
By simplicity, unbound and unrestrained;
As if a sudden blindness, fierce,
Sleepless and shadowless, o'er us all had reigned.

While still our eyes, unused to it, must strain
To see — is that the sky, or the snowy plain?
Till voices call to us, from the past, again:
«Frost and sun» — yet no warmth do they contain.


II. Prelude to the Key of A Minor

Homeless the world. Before first light
Scarce half an hour remains to bear.
The darkness leaves no shade, no white;
My life is over everywhere.

The ground is gentle where I lie,
My needless eyes forever sealed;
A footnote only will reply
What silence has not yet revealed.


III. Prelude to the Key of E-flat Major

Only the first ray is required
By earth grown weary with the night,
From ocean depths to mountain heights
That have forgotten light.

She turns her darkened, cooling face
Towards the steadfast, waiting sun;
The east is flooded with its blaze,
And all the skies are one.


IV. Prelude to the Key of G Major

The morning revels, wakes the pussy-willows,
A path winds softly by the brook and streams,
So light I feel — straight into the sky, now,
I'd fly as freely as a bird in dreams.

And I would sing my songs, carefree and glad,
Where tender sunlight softly pours its beams,
No grief remains, and happiness — forever,
My heart aspires where distance gleams.


V. Prelude to the Key of A Major

Oh, if I could but once relive
Those blessed days of infancy,
When, free from every care and grief,
The world revolved around just me.

Safe in my little cot I'd lie,
Content to coo and drool with pleasure,
And every moment hear the cry:
«Just look at him — a living treasure! »


VI. Prelude to the Key of F-sharp Major

Flowing, streaming, downward falling,
Through dams and dikes in mighty sweep,
The waters live, no sorrow calling;
What mourns is only sullied deep.

A silver drop toward seas unending,
With countless waves I'll onward glide,
That in a world renewed, transcending,
As rain, one moment, there abide.


VII. Prelude to the Key of B Major

In river shade where dim lights gleam,
And heavy hangs the stifling air,
They call to me beneath the stream,
Their wistful eyes already there.

My body lightens, as though aware:
I need but reach my hand — and then
A mermaid's warm and slender palm
Draws me into the silent fen.


VIII. Prelude to the Key of E-flat Minor

I dreamed of heaven and of hell —
They grappled in my breast.
Hell won. I'm there, as you can tell,
In spider-envy, spite-possessed.

There into blackness sinks the track,
There bottomless dark, devoid of will,
There void, there nothing — God they lack,
And sweet paralysis, without ill.


IX. Prelude to the Key of C Minor

O rage, o fury, o audacity,
Musculatureum of granite!
You'll build a monument with tenacity
Where the earth, roller-crushed, lies dead under it.

What does it matter, victims' share?
Their list by fate is offered.
Descendants will pay them their fair:
At your feet flowers are proffered.


X. Prelude to the Key of E Major

I've passed through fire and through flood,
Through brass-band cries of 'Hail, hurray! '
Enough! And now — freedom, for good!
And in a flash, the tinsel flies away.

Onward I walk the well-worn way,
With empty sack, so glad and free,
Toward my peak that won't obey…

…And there, a star converses with me.


XI. Prelude to the Key of D-flat Major

Burning itself to ash and night,
A candle in the window shone,
To succour every wandering wight
Whose hope and strength were spent and gone.

Burn on, burn on, my candle slight,
So tremulous and faint and shy,
That in your weak and wavering light
The beaten footpath may not die.


XII. Prelude to the Key of F Minor

All shall pass... Or something shall remain —
To eye and ear, in remembrance;
And all I've seen and heard shall wake again,
Surmount time's quarantine.

Then, like unbidden tides, the unforgotten names
Will surge once more, returning from the deep,
My memory's captives — unconstrained.
All will forgive... And silence will come.


XIII. Prelude to the Key of G-sharp Minor

I sink beneath the ice still deeper —
At the bottom of the soul the water stands,
The darkness narrows all around, and more hushed.
And in the ice-hole a star fades.

There useless breath
Will exhale one last bubble
And the departing consciousness
Will bark to eternity: abyr-r-r-r...


XIV. Prelude to the Key of E Minor

Behind my back a phantom looms,
That whispers: none can live without death;
And night peers through the curtain's glooms,
And nods to it beneath its breath.

Impatient grows the long awaiting
Of final throes, in torment wrung;
Eternal silence comes, abating,
Beneath a heartbeat, faintly strung.


XV. Prelude to the Key of D Minor

So here it is — the end. And I am spent,
And life's own secret, silent repeater
Was so foredoomed, by death's own meter,
That all at once my world was rent.

And night fell down, to grief unknowing,
Down on the eyes already closed.
Yet in the soul a tear, still glowing,
Still boils and burns, and overflows.


XVI. Prelude to the Key of B-flat Minor

I was alone. All round, no light,
The darkness threatened with defeat,
And nearby, steps of measured might
Advanced with an ever-growing beat.

I beat my forehead 'gainst the boards below,
While overhead the earth fell, clod by clod...
...And with a canceled reprise — even so,
My life was played into the box, 'neath sod.


XVII. Prelude to the Key of G Minor

You are the SALT, my self one day,
Yet higher still, too far to gain;
To you, the road's an endless way,
Kept safe, still, from the present's reign.

And how I long to look and see
Into my own, far resounding zone:
Oh, turn around, and stay with me —
Without you, I'm so alone.


XVIII. Prelude to the Key of A-flat Major

The angels sang in the constellations' choir,
And led the shepherds down to Bethlehem;
Happy together, gathered in the byre,
Stood the Holy Family, and the donkeys with them.

— He came to bring Salvation to mankind,
The ONE true path amid a thousand roads —
And there they saw a miracle, first of its kind:
A smile the little God on them bestowed.


XIX. Prelude to the Key of C-sharp Minor

The hour draws near. And Sin's own death — how dread!
Blood-tinted sweat is mingling with the dew.
Over Gethsemane's garden, moonbeams spread.
— Father, let what You have spoken now come true!

Mankind's shared Sin has grown more heavy still:
The disciples, weak of heart, let their eyelids fall,
And gazing at the world with final grief, until
It sighs in bitterness, obedient to all.


XX. Prelude to the Key of B Minor

Whatever be my path — it is my own,
Whether I bear the Cross for a crucifixion,
And close beside me — He, alive, not gone,
Whispers to me: «All men are brothers» — without distinction.

But brother-men, not I, must bear the blame —
They crucified the Christ, yet once again...
The Mother stood in shadow of the flame,
And all looked on — and stood, like silent men.


XXI. Prelude to the Key of F-sharp Minor

The Mother stood, above her towered the Cross,
Her Son, crucified, pierced through with nails,
Not daring lift her eyes to Him, in loss,
She prayed for Salvation's grace to prevail —

«My Son is dearer than all Eternity,
And Thy own Father dwells in Heaven on high;
Have mercy, God! God! God! I cry to Thee!
Save Him, and raise Him up, no more to die! »


XXII. Prelude to the Key of B-flat Major

With friends, over a little bottle of wine,
We talked of many things — and God also...
The evening light so loved us, through the window's shine,
And stroked our lashes, eyebrows, cheeks aglow.

Suddenly an Angel of silence came from the heavens,
And crossed us, shielding from the world's vain ill.
He whispered:
— Truly risen
Is Christ!
And God is everywhere...
And gentle light, so still...


XXIII. Prelude to the Key of D Major

Earth and heaven waited for the wonder to be;
And the fortieth day, foretold, came true;
And Mother, with the apostles, then knew:
He is the Son, the Father, Holy Spirit — Three.

And with the Ascension, every mote
Within us wakes to song and mirth;
And Death itself, forever, lies smote —
God is near: wholly, always, everywhere, and forth.


XXIV. Prelude to the Key of F Major
Prelude for the Key of F Major

How infinite is this open sky,
Flung wide before me, vast and free,
The choir of stars, to Phoebus tied,
Upon his golden chariot, plain to see.

There —
they sing a hymn to the vanished life
Of me, the one who is no more,
And hold a festive funeral feast
For my soul —
Where reigns the Light for evermore.


A Prelude Reprised: to the Key of F Major

In the valley of a distant land of after-echoes,
From the heights, where overtones are sounding down to me,
I remember, and I know that I lived in the best
Of all the possible worlds that in the universe could be.

Singing and changing with every passing moment,
The soul exults, in joy for all that's still unborn...
And endless life in unceasing movement...
Why — this is Music! God! The break of morn!


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© Author of the original poem of 24 preludes in Russian: Alexander Alexandrovich Alexandrov (pseudonym — Timofeichev) .

© Poetic translation into English by Sergey Dobrenkov.