Montag, 22. Juli 2019

Blaze Fowley vs. Novella Matveyeva

I recently discovered some songs by Blaze Fowley from Texas and 
the first booth remind me of Novella Matveyeva.
Her kind of singing and the poetic stories of her ballads were very unique 
in the former Soviet Union with it's communist censored unity culture.

I have not thought about her for a long time, but hearing the songs
 of Blaze Fowley, comes in my mind her song about Moldavian Gypsie 
and I wanna share it today.
The song was written by N. Matveyeva in 1961.

Развеселые цыгане
По Молдавии гуляли
И в одном селе богатом
Ворона коня украли,
А еще они украли
Молодую молдаванку;
Посадили на полянку,
Воспитали, как цыганку.

Навсегда она пропала
Под тенью
У нее в руках гитара,

Позабыла все, что было,
И нс видит в том потери...
Ах, вернись, вернись, вернись!
Ну, оглянись по крайней мере!..„

Мыла в речке босы ноги,
В пыльный бубен била звонко
И однажды
Из берлоги
Утащила медвежонка;

Посадила на поляну,
Воспитала, как цыгана,
Научила бить баклуши,
Красть игрушки из кармана,

С той поры про маму-папу
Забыл медвежонок,
Прижимает к сердцу лапу
И просит
Держит шляпу вниз тульёю...
...Так живут — одной семьею,—
Как хорошие соседи,
Люди, кони и медведи...

По дороге позабыли,
Кто украл, а кто украден,
И одна попона пыли
На коне и конокраде...
Никому из них не страшен
Никакой недуг, ни хворость,
По ночам поют и пляшут,
Да в костры бросают хворост.
А беглянка добрым людям,
Все, что было, все, что будет,
Как может...
Что же с ней, беглянкой, было,
Что же с ней, цыганкой, будет?
Все, что было, позабыла,
Все, что будет, позабудет.

Cheerful Gypsies were
walking in Moldova
And in one village rich
The've stolen a black horse
And they'v also stolen
A young Moldavian girl
Putted her in a clearing,
Raised like a gypsy.

Forever she's gone
Under the shade
Tanning ...
She has a guitar in her hands,
A guitar,
A guitar,..

I forgot everything that happened
And she does not see losses in that ...
Oh, come back, come back, come back!
Well, look at least! ..

Soaps in the river barefoot feet,
In the dusty tambourine beat loudly
And one day
From the lair
She've dragged a little bear

Puttesd him in a clearing,
Raised up like a gypsy
She taught him doing nothing
And stealing toys from pocket,

Since then about mom-dad
Forgot the bear,
Presses the paw to the heart
And asks
A little ...
Holds the hat down the crown ...
... So they live - one family, -
Like good neighbors,
People, horses and bears ...

On the way, forgotten
Who stole and who is stolen,
And one dust cover
On horseback and horseman ...
None of them are afraid
No ailment, no pain,
At night they sing and dance,
Yes, throw firewood on fires.
And a runaway to good people,
All that was, all that will be,
Will tell
How can...
What happened to her, the fugitive, was,
What will happen to her, Gypsy?
All that was forgotten
All that will be forgotten.

By the way: here is a book about Blaze Fowley


  1. Interesting songs & lovely art work. Wishing sunny week Mascha.

  2. ...I agree with Blaze Fowley, I don't care either. Thanks Masha for sharing this great video. Enjoy your week.

    1. Was another president... but it's for today's the same -

  3. oooh, i miss "seeing you" as often . . . or, it's better said - I'm So Happy to hear from you today. There are books, and films about & by Blaze . . . I sure like the music - and the gypsy music. Thank you for translating for us. I am always amazed by your collage work . . you have so much talent. Hope YOU are well . . (how about your cat?) . . sending love, -g-


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