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Tsarewitch – Psalmantra [CHITRA013]

Tsarewitch about Psalmantra album:

I sat down to write this album from the perspective of a person lost in the centuries, who picked up an instrument for the first time because of the primitive need to extract the sound locked in the ribs.

I wanted to slowly walk the path to my own healing through simple, deep, and soothing sounds, through lines of small confessions.

I followed the arrow of happiness shot by a fairy-tale prince through fields and meadows, forests and swamps, dawns and fogs - without leaving my ascetic cell.

Perhaps, these are only the first of a great many arrows, lost in space and time which will never be found. But maybe the seeker will be found on this path.

Tsarewitch (Russia)

Tsarewitch is a dark ambient/folk musical project, created with use of ethnic instruments: Russian harp named «Gusli», Scandinavian bowed lyre talharpa, shamanic drum, etc. Project based on a ritualistic approach inspired by the aesthetics of slavic antiquity: a search for light, a journey of self-discovery through deep simplicity.

Lyrics and translation from Russian to English

Утроба Саттвы

Выменял утро на утробу Саттвы. Счастливее пальцев пьяницы, Нежнее вымени, Тише воды, омывшей покойника, Глубже его выбитого в мраморе Имени, Желанней девятых врат нефритовых. Родившийся в свитере, Любимец связавших его норн, Этим утром я, Спившийся и небритый, Слон В Янтарной комнате.

Womb of Sattva

Swapped the morning for the womb of Sattva,

Happier than the fingers of a drunkard,

Softer than an udder,

Quieter than the water, that washed the dead body,

Deeper than its name, etched in marble,

More desirable than the Nine Gates of jade,

Born in a sweater,

The favorite one of the Norns who knitted it,

This morning I am,

Sottish and unshaven,

The elephant in the amber room.

Старые стрелы

О вас, мои хорошие, о вас Мне снятся сны. Сны без лиц и голосов, Сны ни о чем и обо всём, Что я впитал, Когда в груди томился май Как теплый плод Спокойных дней. Как кровь лозы, Густая сласть – В святую рань В пустой живот. О вас, мои родимые, о вас Мне снятся сны. О том, как хорошо вы влюблены И как чисты. Как первый крик, Как утренний хорал, Как тишина в румянах дня. О том, как сочиняли имена Для дочерей, Как я во снах их целовал. Без вас, мои хорошие, без вас Я вижу сны. но все – о вас. О том, как свеж на веках снег, О том, как пальцы в волосах, Как на губах цветёт сандал. О том, как я не разочаровал.

The Old Arrows

You, my beloved ones, who come to me in my dreams,

The dreams without faces and voices,

The dreams about nothing and everything

I have absorbed

When May was stewing in my heart

Like the warm fruit

Of calm days.

Like the blood of a vine,

A thick sweetness –

At the sacred early-hour.

Into an empty stomach.

You, my dear ones, who come to me in my dreams.

The dreams about how deeply you’re in love,

How pure you are.

Like the first cry,

Like a morning choral.

Like the silence in the blush of days.

The dreams where we made up the names for our daughters

Where I kissed them.

Without you, my beloved ones, without you

I see my dreams. But all of them are about you.

The dreams about how fresh is snow on the eyelids.

About fingers running through the hair,

About a sandal blooming on the lips.

Where I didn’t disappoint.

Голос Воды

Ты не один. Голос воды Вечно с тобой От утробы До родников В колыбели земли. Ты не один. Ласки любви В жаре печи, В плеске дождей, В шёпоте свеч, В тающей стуже тахты. Ты не один. Ты не одна. Всюду с тобой Запахи гроз, Песни горлиц, Звёздная пыль Вдоль удивительных троп. Я не один. Вечно со мной Мартовский цвет, Августов свет, Осени дым, Зимний Сын Над головой.

Voice of Water

You are not alone.

The voice of water

Is always with you

From the womb

To the spring

In the cradle of the Earth.

You are not alone.

The affection of love

In the heat of the stove

In the splash of rains,

In the whisper of candles,

In the melting cold of the ottoman.

You are not alone.

You are not alone.

You always have

The smell of thunderstorms,

The songs of doves,

The dust of the stars

Along the amazing trails.

I’m not alone.

I always have

The blossom of march,

The August light.

The autumn smoke,

The winter Son

Above the head.

Lyrics and music by Alexander Yordaki (Tsarewitch)

Guest voices of Water: Ayna, vheissu, rouge foncée

Mixing and Mastering by Grindamere

Photo by Alexander Yordaki (Tsarewitch)

Artwork by Alexander Yordaki (Tsarewitch) and N. Merkulov

Сover design by Dionis Afonichev (Dionisaf)


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