Atomowy bas!

Lord, I miss humming along with him. Can no longer do it save cheating by an octave. Age is not kind.

Very sand.

Vladimir Miller tops it think.

@@denismckay4992 Yes, Denis. I am totally in agreement.

Personally, I fhnd Mr. Pasjukov performance more complrte - warmer and gsntler - it truly feels ljke he is telling us this story, njt just singing a song.

Amen ❤

О, да!!!❤

for me the holy spirit is an innocent child.

Yes a wonderful voice! Really nice to listen.

Jebutny był gość, zero obiekcji!

You are absolutely right! Vladimir Pasjykov was the richest and night-deepest voice, warm and colourful. For me he is also the BEST OCTAVIST EVER. Such a pity he died so young, after figthing long the mortal desease.

​@@olgaorleanskaia1162qual era a doença?

Bez konkurencji i to na całe lata wprzód.

@Hooly Dooly Yes, and it is without being competitive. Tak i to bez konkurencyjnym.

​@@MrOprawca1978 Competition does not exist when it is sang in true spirit. True music!

А Златопольский?

@@user-cz7bs2wz3k прекрасен !!!👍 Но в его исполнении никогда не слышал этого песнопения.

​@@user-cz7bs2wz3k он умер за 10 лет до В. П. Пасюкова, в 2001 году!

Круглов

Hi, here's what I found Russian: (Припев: Господу Богу помолимся, Древнюю быль возвестим. Как в Соловках нам рассказывал Инок честной Питирим.) Было двенадцать разбойников, Был Кудеяр атаман. Много разбойники пролили Крови честных христиан. Много богатства награбили, Жили в дремучем лесу. Сам Кудеяр из-под Киева Выкрал девицу-красу. Днём с полюбовницей тешился, Ночью набеги творил. Вдруг у разбойника лютого Совесть Господь пробудил. Бросил своих он товарищей, Бросил набеги творить. Сам Кудеяр в монастырь пошёл Богу и людям служить. English: (Refrain: Let us pray to the God, our Lord, The ancient event we'll proclaim, The way it was told on the Solovkies By honorable monk Pitirim.) The were twelve robbers on the roads with Kudeyar at the head. They spilled the blood of the Christians For so many nights, many days. They robbed and took so much wealth Living in the very dense forest. And Kudeyar himself once stole From near Kiev a beautiful girl. He lied with the girl in the day While making the raids at night. But one day the fiend was awoken By remorse sent from the Lord. Kudeyar left his band And ceased making raids. He went to the monastery to serve God and men.

@@paavali1896 OMG! Thank you SO much for your trouble to translate this story of repentance for me to understand! It’s a heart wrenching account of remorse and retribution. It gives hope for us all BUT we do have to repent! Thank you. Love, understanding and forgiveness is there for us all. Be sensitive, empathise and have sympathy; when it counts! 👌👌 🙏♥️🤗

Magnificent doesn't even begin to describe this voice!🙏

This is a tale of the legendary brigand Koudejar. Ruthless and bloodthirsty as he was ("spilling the blood of many an honest Christian"), his conscience was awakened by God. So Koudejar abandoned his brothers in crime and joined a monastery to serve God and people.

@@xks16 Thank you very much! Pasiba! 🙏🌈🤗

Как вы точно поняли эту песню, удивительно. Душа каждого человека - христианка.

You Tube, Don Kosaken Chor "Die zwölf Räuber" mit deutscher Übersetzung.

Stimme Ihnen voll zu! Das ist ja so was von Fantastisch. Kann man nie genug davon haben.

Da kann ich auch nur zustimmen! Vladimir Pasjukov hat die beste Bassstimme die ich je gehört habe. Einfach unerreichbar und wunderschön!

Согласна с вами ,я встречалась с ним ..в одних концертах и храмах пели периодически .Это явление конечно .Православная традиция делает свое Дело .Мороз по коже ...

@@krotevich Будем надеяться, что эту традицию, от которой "мороз по коже..." никто не додумается "отключить" или запретить...

@@vsevolodskachans4562 а кто сможет запретить или уничтожить ?

Мурашки по коже..... Как правило, бас профундо держат тон на октаву ниже, чем басы. Как бы "фундамент" произведения. Мелодичность им не присуща. А тут..... Красота и мощь, связанные с выразительностью и мелодичностью. Большая редкость. Браво! Жаль, что уже в мире ином.....😔

The Oktavism Channel has a version of it: kzfaq.info/get/bejne/pp55ermXv7ithKc.html There's also this one: kzfaq.info/get/bejne/a8qii6eQm7u6pac.html

Я случайно "наткнулась" на это видео. Слушаю 5-й раз подряд....

Niepokonany. I to na dekady.

Święty!

you can tell he’s a true bass because he’s vladimir pasjukov

@@thomaso05 Indeed 😎

Boser bub..... Indeed' Wonderful voice from the deepest cellar, has resonances of Ivan Rebroff, "Im Tieffen Keller" which translates as "in the deep cellar". Sonorously bass voice, rich and warm. My major regret is that his life passed, without me getting the opportunity to hear and see him singing!

To spread our music around the world, we need not a museum, but more Orthodox churches and the desire of people to come to them every week. Every Liturgy is great music. So there will be a Regeneration through music! !

@@vsevolodskachans4562 I would make people in jails listen to such melodies 3 times a day until they are released from jail; The same I'd do to people in rehab houses, to pupils at schools, when they'd come to school in the morning before the class starts etc. And I'd use psychological studies to justify the mental profit of listening to these specific rhythms. Churches are not prefered by all, but I'm sure that the end justifies the means. Νice talking to you, but could you answer a question? How can russians believe in God so much, since there is a prophecy against Gog, the king of Magog, the ruler of Ros, Mosoch and Thovel, diminishing them in front of jews? Ηow could russians "swallow" this humiliation? And it's not the same humiliation as the one reserved for all jewish tribes, since in the case of jews God promised them to reestablish and finally save them, whereas in Gog's case, He insisted that Gog's army will be totally destroyed, should he attack Israel and also described the way: melting of their flesh, tongue and eyes. Μaybe God warns Gog, because He cares for russians and wants to save them from disaster? In another chapter He calls russians as a high-flown nation (εθνος μετεωρον); "Μετεωρος" also means the one who vaccilates between different opinions, the one who is unsure about what he must decide (Kριται1:14, 1: 15 "λυτρωσιν μετεωρων και λυτρωσιν ταπεινων"). If you think I'm wrong, please correct me. But your name shows you're not russian, so you won't care. Μaybe even you're jealous because God warns and protects the russians, as s father would protect his child, explaining the dangers to him. That's the only explanation stupid, why they praise Him this way. The best hymns by the best people with the kind soul! Now die!

Знаю . Не ответил мене от лица Твоего . Наберите - Пасюкова . И там будет

​​@@user-we9rw8tw2x не отвержи мене во время старости П. Чеснокова. ☝🏻

I 2nd this

Царствие небесное 🙏 Как я жалею, что поздно услышала его, как жалею!!😢😢

Sadly, not. Searched, failed. If anyone knows differently I'd be truly delighted. YT better than nothing but cd is certainly better.

I have the sheet music and that goes to C4

Can help u a little bit, i have audio of: Orthodox Singers Male Choir - Do Not Reject Me In My Old Age (remastered).mp3 Orthodox Singers Male Choir - We Bow before Thy Cross (remastered).mp3 Vladimir Miller - The Twelve Brigands (Remastered).mp3 The Male Choir of St. Petersburg - Cherubic Hymn (Remastered).mp3

​@@monolith757 please, send me all of these, I also missed Peder's remastered versions, or send a link to download them here mr.kirill98@gmail.com btw i posses the whole Orthodox singers male choir album, it's not easy to find it now. I'll be glad to share it, too

Atomowy bas!

I think that was an overtone, no? The fundamental seems solid to me.

​@@ScottishJazzmanI know it's over a year later but no, the last note was closer to a G#1 than a G1

Nikolay Alexeyevich Nekrasov 10 December 1821 - 8 January 1878 a Russian poet, writer, critic and publisher. Author of a poem. Nikolai Alexandrovich Manykin-Nevstruev 1869 - ? a Russian composer, poet and soldier. Author of music for the poem.

​@@Mark_888 я прочитала, что это текст, переделанный для песни. Полностью оригинальный текст Некрасова - больше. К сожалению, не нашла перевода песни на английский. Огромное спасибо за эту поразительную запись!

@@user-rf8pi9jo8e Hi, yes that is right, the original text is longer and is an exemption from a big poem by Nikolay Nekrasov "Who Lives Happily in Russia?" written between 1863 - 1877 which i recommend reading, it's a masterpiece. Even better if you learn Russian because, obviously, it's a poem written in Russian. Here is the original version from the poem of the text which became a song: Chapter 8 Two Infamous Sinners Come, let us praise the Omnipotent! 280 Let us the legend relate Told by a monk in the Priory. Thus did I hear him narrate: Once were twelve brigands notorious, One, Kudeár, at their head; Torrents of blood of good Christians Foully the miscreants shed. Deep in the forest their hiding-place, Rich was their booty and rare; Once Kudeár from near Kiev Town 290 Stole a young maiden most fair. Days Kudeár with his mistress spent, Nights on the road with his horde; Suddenly, conscience awoke in him, Stirred by the grace of the Lord. Sleep left his couch. Of iniquity Sickened his spirit at last; Shades of his victims appeared to him, Crowding in multitudes vast. Long was this monster most obdurate, 300 Blind to the light from above, Then flogged to death his chief satellite, Cut off the head of his love,- Scattered his gang in his penitence, And to the churches of God All his great riches distributed, Buried his knife in the sod, Journeyed on foot to the Sepulchre, Filled with repentance and grief; Wandered and prayed, but the pilgrimage Brought to his soul no relief. 311 When he returned to his Fatherland Clad like a monk, old and bent, 'Neath a great oak, as an anchorite, Life in the forest he spent. There, from the Maker Omnipotent, Grace day and night did he crave: "Lord, though my body thou castigate, Grant that my soul I may save!" Pity had God on the penitent, 320 Showed him the pathway to take, Sent His own messenger unto him During his prayers, who thus spake: "Know, for this oak sprang thy preference, Not without promptings divine; Lo! take the knife thou hast slaughtered with, Fell it, and grace shall be thine. "Yea, though the task prove laborious, Great shall the recompense be, Let but the tree fall, and verily 330 Thou from thy load shalt be free." Vast was the giant's circumference; Praying, his task he begins, Works with the tool of atrociousness, Offers amends for his sins. Glory he sang to the Trinity, Scraped the hard wood with his blade. Years passed away. Though he tarried not, Slow was the progress he made. 'Gainst such a mighty antagonist 340 How could he hope to prevail? Only a Samson could vanquish it, Not an old man, spent and frail. Doubt, as he worked, began plaguing him: Once of a voice came the sound, "Heh, old man, say what thy purpose is?" Crossing himself he looked round. There, Pan[58] Glukhóvsky was watching him On his brave Arab astride, Rich was the Pan, of high family, 350 Known in the whole countryside. Many cruel deeds were ascribed to him, Filled were his subjects with hate, So the old hermit to caution him Told him his own sorry fate. "Ho!" laughed Glukhóvsky, derisively, "Hope of salvation's not mine; These are the things that I estimate- Women, gold, honour, and wine. "My life, old man, is the only one; 360 Many the serfs that I keep; What though I waste, hang, and torture them You should but see how I sleep!" Lo! to the hermit, by miracle, Wrath a great strength did impart, Straight on Glukhóvsky he flung himself, Buried the knife in his heart. Scarce had the Pan, in his agony, Sunk to the blood-sodden ground, Crashed the great tree, and lay subjugate, Trembled the earth at the sound. 371 Lo! and the sins of the anchorite Passed from his soul like a breath. "Let us pray God to incline to us, Slaves in the shadow of Death…."

Better known as the twelve robbers - well documented ....

auf yoo tube. Don Kosaken Chor: Die zwölf Räuber." auf deutsch

​@@johannesgrosser3120найду обязательно!🎉

Furlanetto, che vale poco . E non è un basso profondo. .

Hello. I'll try. _____ Legenda o 12 razboynikakh (Легенда о 12 разбойниках) The Legend of the twelve Robbers There were twelve robbers on the roads With Kudeyar at the head. They spilled the blood of the Christians For so many nights, many days. They robbed and took so much wealth Living in the very dense forest. And Kudeyar himself once stole From near Kiev a beautiful girl. He lied with the girl in the day While making the raids at night. But one day the fiend was awoken By remorse sent from the Lord. And ceased making raids. He went to the monastery To serve God and men. Let us pray to the God, our Lord, Let us serve Him, We will pray to the God "Let us pray to the God, our Lord, The anciant event we'll proclaim", - The way it was told on the Solovkies By honorable monk Pitirim. _____ It's probably not a perfect translation at all.😀

Hi, the original text is longer and is an exemption from a big poem by Nikolay Nekrasov "Who Lives Happily in Russia?" written between 1863 - 1877 which i recommend reading, it's a masterpiece. Even better if you learn Russian because, obviously it's a poem written in Russian. Here is the original version from the poem of the text which became a song: Chapter 8 Two Infamous Sinners Come, let us praise the Omnipotent! 280 Let us the legend relate Told by a monk in the Priory. Thus did I hear him narrate: Once were twelve brigands notorious, One, Kudeár, at their head; Torrents of blood of good Christians Foully the miscreants shed. Deep in the forest their hiding-place, Rich was their booty and rare; Once Kudeár from near Kiev Town 290 Stole a young maiden most fair. Days Kudeár with his mistress spent, Nights on the road with his horde; Suddenly, conscience awoke in him, Stirred by the grace of the Lord. Sleep left his couch. Of iniquity Sickened his spirit at last; Shades of his victims appeared to him, Crowding in multitudes vast. Long was this monster most obdurate, 300 Blind to the light from above, Then flogged to death his chief satellite, Cut off the head of his love,- Scattered his gang in his penitence, And to the churches of God All his great riches distributed, Buried his knife in the sod, Journeyed on foot to the Sepulchre, Filled with repentance and grief; Wandered and prayed, but the pilgrimage Brought to his soul no relief. 311 When he returned to his Fatherland Clad like a monk, old and bent, 'Neath a great oak, as an anchorite, Life in the forest he spent. There, from the Maker Omnipotent, Grace day and night did he crave: "Lord, though my body thou castigate, Grant that my soul I may save!" Pity had God on the penitent, 320 Showed him the pathway to take, Sent His own messenger unto him During his prayers, who thus spake: "Know, for this oak sprang thy preference, Not without promptings divine; Lo! take the knife thou hast slaughtered with, Fell it, and grace shall be thine. "Yea, though the task prove laborious, Great shall the recompense be, Let but the tree fall, and verily 330 Thou from thy load shalt be free." Vast was the giant's circumference; Praying, his task he begins, Works with the tool of atrociousness, Offers amends for his sins. Glory he sang to the Trinity, Scraped the hard wood with his blade. Years passed away. Though he tarried not, Slow was the progress he made. 'Gainst such a mighty antagonist 340 How could he hope to prevail? Only a Samson could vanquish it, Not an old man, spent and frail. Doubt, as he worked, began plaguing him: Once of a voice came the sound, "Heh, old man, say what thy purpose is?" Crossing himself he looked round. There, Pan[58] Glukhóvsky was watching him On his brave Arab astride, Rich was the Pan, of high family, 350 Known in the whole countryside. Many cruel deeds were ascribed to him, Filled were his subjects with hate, So the old hermit to caution him Told him his own sorry fate. "Ho!" laughed Glukhóvsky, derisively, "Hope of salvation's not mine; These are the things that I estimate- Women, gold, honour, and wine. "My life, old man, is the only one; 360 Many the serfs that I keep; What though I waste, hang, and torture them You should but see how I sleep!" Lo! to the hermit, by miracle, Wrath a great strength did impart, Straight on Glukhóvsky he flung himself, Buried the knife in his heart. Scarce had the Pan, in his agony, Sunk to the blood-sodden ground, Crashed the great tree, and lay subjugate, Trembled the earth at the sound. 371 Lo! and the sins of the anchorite Passed from his soul like a breath. "Let us pray God to incline to us, Slaves in the shadow of Death…."