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On the Hills of Manchuria
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Wikipedia article
1912
Russo-Japanese War "'On the Hills of Manchuria'" is a waltz composed in 1906 by Ilya Alekseevich Shatrov.[http://aarticles.net/biographies/1019-na-sopkax-manchzhurii-kak-vals-rodivshijsya-na-gauptvaxte-stal-dlya-rossii-superxitom.html "On the Hills of Manchuria"] , aarticles.net The original and orchestral arrangement is written in E-flat minor while the folk arrangement is in F minor.
The original title of the waltz was "The Mokshansky Regiment on the Hills of Manchuria" and referred to an incident during the Battle of Mukden, the disastrous final land battle of the Russo-Japanese War, when the Mokshansky Infantry Regiment was encircled by Japanese forces for 11 days, during which it sustained considerable casualties. Shatrov served in the regiment as bandmaster and composed the tune on returning from the war. While the regiment was stationed in Samara in 1906, he made the acquaintance of Oskar Knaube (18661920), a local music shop owner, who helped the composer to publish his work and later acquired ownership of it.
"On the Hills of Manchuria" achieved colossal success and Knaube boasted of having published some 82 different editions of the piece. Soon after its publication, the poet Stepan Petrov, better known by the pen-name of Skitalets, provided the lyrics which contributed to its wider success. The original words concern fallen soldiers lying in their graves in Manchuria, but alternative words were adapted to the tune later, especially during the Second World War.
Lyrics
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!Texts at [http://accordeonworld.weebly.com/on-the-hills-of-manchuria.html Accordeon World]
Around us, it is calm; Hills are covered by mist,
Suddenly, the moon shines through the clouds,
Graves hold their calm.
The white glow of the crosses heroes are asleep.
The shadows of the past circle around,
Recalling the victims of battles.
Dear mother is shedding tears,
The young wife is weeping,
All like one are crying,
Cursing fate, cursing destiny!
Around us, it's calm; The wind blew the fog away,
Warriors are asleep on the hills of Manchuria
And they cannot hear the Russian tears.
Let sorghum's rustling lull you to sleep,
Sleep in peace, heroes of the Russian land,
Dear sons of the Fatherland.
Dear mother is shedding tears,
The young wife is weeping,
All like one are crying,
Cursing fate, cursing destiny!
You fell for Russia, perished for Fatherland,
Believe us, we shall avenge you
And celebrate a bloody wake!
Tiho vokrug, sopki pokryty mgloj,
Vot iz-za tu blesnula luna,
Mogily hranjat pokoj.
Belejut kresty to geroi spjat.
Prologo teni kruat davno,
O ertvah bov tverdjat.
Plaet, plaet mat rodnaja,
Plaet molodaja ena,
Plaut vse, kak odin elovek,
Zloj rok i sudbu kljanja!
Tiho vokrug, veter tuman uns,
Na sopkah manurskih voiny spjat
I russkih ne slyat slz.
Pust gaoljan vam navevaet sny,
Spite geroi russkoj zemli,
Otizny rodnoj syny.
Plaet, plaet mat rodnaja,
Plaet molodaja ena,
Plaut vse, kak odin elovek,
Zloj rok i sudbu kljanja!
Vy pali za Rus, pogibli vy za Otiznu,
Poverte, my za vas otomstim
I spravim krovavuju triznu!
References
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