Альфред Шнитке - Жизнь с идиотом. Действие 2 - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Opera “Life with an Idiot” (1990-1991)

libretto by Viktor Erofeev

Act 2

Dutch Opera, production by B. Pokrovsky

I am Dale Duesing, Romain Bischoff (baritones)

Wife - Teresa Ringholz (soprano)

Vova — Howard Haskin (tenor)

Marcel Proust – Robin Leggate (baritone)

vocal ensemble and Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra

conducted by Mstislav Rostropovich

Amsterdam, Het Muziektheater, April 1992

***

Me: At first Vova was very quiet: he shuffled with his slippers and ate away. He loved to drink a bottle of kefir at breakfast, eat cottage cheese, sit modestly in our kitchenette and eat, then shuffle around the room with his slippers: five steps forward, five steps back - and again to the kitchenette: he’ll bite the sausage, then enjoy the ham. When he ate, his eyes became unkind, cat-like, but he didn’t take anything without permission and didn’t climb into the refrigerator. The watchman tricked me. Vova didn’t talk. He was a great silent person and, except for “eh,” did not use any words.

VOVA: Eh.

Me: I tried to talk to him more than once, started asking who he was and where he was from, where and what he taught - I got used to the idea that he was a professor - I even spread out a map of the USSR in front of him. — Vova, where are your native places? Show me! “But Vova senselessly ran his finger over the map, quietly sighing and quietly humming.

VOVA: Eh.

Me: Desperate, I didn’t bother him anymore, and he completely withdrew into himself.

CHORUS: He even spread out a map of the USSR in front of him... But something in him, apparently, was ripening, some thoughts, dreams were pestering him: he moaned at night, often woke up and used to sit for hours in the dark on an ottoman, narrowed and without the narrow slits of his eyes, propping up his beard with his fist.

Me: Why aren't you sleeping?

VOVA: Eh!

Me: In the evenings, in order to protect Vova from insomnia, we walked with him along the snowy alleys. Vova looked keenly at passers-by. For some reason they were frightened of him, avoided him, and then looked back. Puzzled, I would even say panic-stricken faces.

CHORUS: What's the matter? Why did Vova confuse the indifferent evening townsman?

Me: Once, when I returned home, I found the following scene: Vova was sitting on the kitchen floor in a large puddle of milk and surrounded by food thrown out of the refrigerator; sits and eats everything alternately: now he bites off a piece of cheese, now he sticks his hand into a jar of vinaigrette, now he crunches a waffle, now he reaches for the sausage,

WIFE: and he spread lingonberry jam on the sausage loaf.

CHORUS: He sits cheerful, happy with life.

Me: I scolded him, - he frowned, lay down on the ottoman and, without any signs of remorse, quickly fell asleep.

WIFE: I knew it, I knew it!

CHOIR OF FRIENDS: We were upset. We are outraged. We kiss “Hold on!” Come and have some pizza with us.

VOICE FROM THE CHOIR: “I traded the bird for pizza”

CHORUS: Ha ha ha

Me: A few days later, Vova tore the books. He tore up a good half of my lovingly collected library; Pieces of pages dear to me littered the bathtub and toilet.

WIFE: What a toilet! The whole apartment was covered in this blasphemous confetti.

Me: Why did you do this?

VOVA: Eh!

Me (to my wife): But look how happy he is, I can see it in his eyes!

WIFE: By those impudent red eyes!

Me: Idiot... Vova, do you understand that you are an idiot? This means you are a notorious bastard.

WIFE: Oh, God, he tore up all of Proust.

MARCEL PROUST: Oh, God, he tore me apart.

WIFE: Let's tie him up!

CHORUS: Vova roared in fear.

VOVA: Eh

Me: Let's better kill him!

CHORUS: Vova roared even more fearfully.

WIFE: All three were scared and didn’t know what to do.

CHORUS: He calmed down somewhat, but did not give up.

Me: I declared martial law. I established the strictest supervision over Vova.

WIFE: He calmed down somewhat. Suddenly, the mysterious disappearance of objects began. He became somewhat quiet. Vova, where are you going, you scoundrel, my underwear?

VOVA: Eh!

Me: Suddenly, one fine day, he made a big pile in the center of the room, and from then on it went on and on: he smeared feces on the wallpaper, tore it, urinated in the refrigerator, cut the parquet floor, furniture with a knife...

<…>