Soviet writer M: 1948
Series "Poet's Library"
OCR A. Bakharev

Quietly the night falls
To the tops of the mountains,
And the moon looks
In the mirrors of lakes;

Over the deserted steppe
On an unknown path
An endless chain
The clouds are floating;

Over the wide river,
Covered in darkness
In the deep silence
The forest is thick;

Light Bays
They sparkle in the reeds,
Motionless fields
They stand in the fields;

Sky is blue
Looks fun
And the village is big
Sleeps carefree.

Only in the darkness of the night
Grief and debauchery
They don't close their eyes,
They don't sleep in silence.

The field spreads out like a wavy fabric
And it merged with the sky as a dark blue edge.
And in the transparent sky a golden shield
The brilliant sun shines above him;
Like the sea, the wind blows through the fields
And the hills are covered with white fog,
He's talking about something furtively with the grass.
And boldly makes noise in the golden rye.
I am alone... and there is freedom in my heart and thoughts...
Here is my mother, friend and mentor - nature.
And life seems brighter ahead for me,
When to your powerful, wide chest
She tolerates me like a baby
And it pours part of its strength into my soul.

Another faded day
I indifferently see you off
And the shadow of the silent night,
I greet you like a boring guest.
Alas! Won't bring me sleep
Her silent silence!
All day my soul ached secretly
Both for yourself and for others...
From vulgar meetings, from evil gossip,
From a dirty and sad life
It's time for her to find peace
Where is he? Where to look for it?
As soon as the morning looks at the earth,
As soon as the shadow of the night passes,
Again a hard, sad day,
A monotonous day will come.
The pain of the soul will begin again,
To the evil torture of the condemned,
You'll cry in silence again,
Exhausted and insulted.

SILENCE OF THE NIGHT

In the bottomless depths,
Full of wonderful powers
Millions are coming
The centuries-old luminaries.

Dimly lit
Pale moon
Tired city
Silenced in the darkness of the night.

He sleeps, enchanted
Wonderful silence
As if bewitched
Unearthly power.

Only, engulfed in slumber,
Sometimes he'll scream
Carefree watchman
The street is empty.

The world seems sleepy
Full of sweet dreams
Rested peacefully
From worries and tears.

But look: here's the house
Illuminated by fire;
There's a dead man on the table
Waiting for the grave in it.

He is a poor hungry man
No consolation
The barren age has ended
A secret victim of needs.

My daughter can't sleep
Sitting in the corner...
And my eyes are blurry,
And my ears are ringing.

Night blowjob - maybe
For Christ's sake
Someone help
From strangers.

Maybe like a beggar
They will give her a coffin,
In a coffin in a cemetery
The old man will be demolished...

And no one knows
What's in silent melancholy
The orphan is crying
In a cramped corner;

What is in need before the deadline,
Maybe she
Victim of vice
Must die.

The world fell asleep... and only
God sees from heaven
Secrets of bitter life
And human worries.

FUNERAL

Brocade covered tomb,
Above her there is a magnificent canopy,
There are thoughtful faces around
And torches fire and smoke,
Sad chanting of holy prayers, -
That's all life is about!
And this life is shrouded in mystery:
The veil of death has been lifted...
Now tell me, son of freedom,
Why did you suffer, why did you live?
Dedicated to the king of nature
A fathom of earth between the graves.
Love and anger are silent in you,
Proud hopes are silent...
Why did you live, deceased brother?..
The earth knocks on the coffin lid,
And, alien to grief and worries,
People look senseless.

NIGHT ON THE SEASHORE

In the mirror of cold moisture
The moon looks calmly
And above the silent land
Quietly floating and burning.

Light haze of fog
The sky is brightly dressed;
Light chest of the ocean
Breathes as if through a dream.

Slowly, swaying evenly,
Ships sleep in the harbor;
The shore, reflected in the water,
Flashes vaguely in the distance.

The day's alarm has ceased...
Full of solemn thoughts,
Sees the presence of God
In this silence is the mind.

SECRET Grief

There is a secret grief: it
Afraid of strangers' attention
And in the depths of my soul there is one thing,
The incurable is hidden.
A smile is deadened by cold,
Doesn’t look for or ask for support,
And, if grief endures, -
Keeps a proud silence.
Not everyone needs mercy
Not everyone is ready to inherit
The lot of either beggars or slaves.
Participation is a miserable consolation.
Why kneel?
It's easier to die free.

The field was covered in darkness. Sparkles on the dark azure
A bank of multi-colored clouds. Paler, the dawn fades.
Here the bright stars flashed in the sky, one after another,
And the moon rose over the pine forest like a golden shield;
The meanders of the silver river flashed among the green meadows;
There is silence and solitude all around: both the field and the shore have fallen asleep;
Only the mills of the old wheel, scattering diamonds, make noise,
Yes, with the wind, wavy fields, God knows what they are talking about.
Wet nets are stretched on stakes driven along the shore;
Here is a poor fisherman's hut, where children are playful in the evening
They play with trembling fish and look for aquatic fish in the grass.
Snails and small stones, sharpened by a blue wave;
Like swans, white clouds float over the field in a caravan,
Willow trees sleep over the clear river, clothed in a light fog,
And leaning towards the light streams, through a sensitive intermittent sleep,
The reed silently listens to the mysterious music of the waves.

Leave your sad story,
Ridicules doused with bile,
And half-open anger of the heart,
And the brilliance of borrowed phrases.

Are these tears really new to us?
And a sad story of loss,
Deceived dreams of the mind,
And there is a long line of misconceptions?

Haven't we read it ourselves?
Pages of love and jealousy,
Or on the marble of the tombs
Didn’t you cry for those dear to your heart?..

Tell me why you revealed
Our own wounds and suffering
And applause from the crowd,
How did a beggar wait for alms?

Your cry and your crown of thorns
Why for the public eye
You're flaunting
How does a woman update hers?..

Why all this pathetic nonsense?
Painful and incomprehensible
About the misconceptions of previous years,
About irrevocable youth?

Which one of us will take over now?
Your sealed word?
Say: with what new thought
Will it shake our hearts?..

No! There is another subject for tears,
Not your personal suffering -
Not the fruit of your worthless dreams
And a painful trial; -

But our life is poverty
With monotonous motley
And, hidden under tinsel,
Our vices are naked, -

Yes, cry for what fades
Our mind is inactive and empty,
That the bright truth suffers,
Debauchery crowned with triumph;

What we shamefully forgot
The wonderful world of living ideas
And that they were branded with shame
Ourselves, as citizens and people, -

That we do not have the strength for rebirth,
What we drag out feelinglessly
The shackles of evil and humiliation
And we don’t want to tear them apart...

Cry about it! And it may happen
Will you force someone
My powerlessness to admit
And take a hard look at yourself.

In the west the sun is burning,
The crimson sea is burning;
The ship is lonely like a bird
It glides through cold moisture.

The stream sparkles behind the stern,
The sails rustle like wings;
All around is the boundless sea,
And the skies merged with the sea.

A carefree cheerful song
Lost in thought, the helmsman sings,
And a black cloud in the south,
It rises like smoke from a fire.

There's a storm... and the sea howled,
The carefree singer fell silent;
His eyes flashed with fire:
Now he is both a king and a fighter!

This is where I recognize a person
In the face of the winner of the waves,
And somehow it makes me happy to think,
That I was born a man.

You don’t know the anguish of desires,
The world of your spring is beautiful,
And bright, alien to suffering,
Your baby dreams.

I am unfamiliar with the storm of life,
Like a bird, always cheerful,
Under the roof of my home
You have found heaven on earth.

The time will come - you will shed tears,
Perhaps labor will bend you...
And childhood rainbow dreams
They will die under the cold of worries.

Then, bearing your heavy cross,
More than once under its burden
You will remember the cheerful spring
And - you can’t turn anything back.

SOUTH AND NORTH

There is a side where everything is fragrant;
Where the night shines like a cloudless day
Above the swell of water and the sea there is an eternal noise
Mysteriously fetters the mind;
Where in the twilight of secluded gardens,
Silvered by the shining moon,
Rises like a diamond arc
Fountain rain over lush grass;
Where the statues are sullenly silent,
Embraced by an unspeakable thought;
Where they talk so much about the past
Ruins covered with ivy;
Where on the carpets of the picturesque valley
The shadow of the cypress grove lies;
Where everything ripens and blooms faster;
Where life's feast goes on more carelessly.

But I prefer the luxurious life of the South
Gray winter midnight blizzard,
Frost and wind, and the menacing noise of the forests,
Dense forest along the slope of the banks,
The expanse of the steppes and the sky above the steppes
With a huge cloud and bright stars.
You look around and everything speaks to your heart:
And the villages look monotonous,
And vast pictures of cities,
And snowy deserted plains,
And remove the sweeping revelry,
And the Russian spirit, and the hum of the Russian song,
Sometimes deeply carefree, sometimes sad,
Imbued with inexpressible power...
You look around, and your soul is light,
And the thought matures so freely, widely,
And a sweet song is sung in honor of the homeland,
And the blood boils, and the heart beats proudly,
And you joyfully listen to the sound of the words:
“I am the son of Rus'! This is the land of my fathers!”

Under the big tent
Blue skies -
I see the distance of the steppes
Turns green.

And on their edges,
Above the dark clouds
The chains of mountains stand
Giants.

Across the steppes, into the seas,
The rivers are rolling
And there are paths
In all directions.

I'll look south:
Mature fields,
That the reeds are thick,
They move quietly;

Ant of meadows
It spreads like a carpet,
Grapes in the gardens
It's pouring.

I'll look north:
There, in the wilderness of the desert,
Snow is like white fluff,
Spins quickly;

Raises the chest
The sea is blue,
And mountains of ice
Walks on the sea;

And the sky is on fire
Bright glow
Lights up the darkness
Impenetrable...

It's you, my
Sovereign Rus',
My motherland
Orthodox!

Wide are you, Rus',
Across the face of the earth
In royal beauty
Turned around!

Don't you have
Pure fields
Where would I find revelry?
Is the will bold?

Don't you have
About the treasury reserves,
For friends of the table,
A sword to an enemy?

Don't you have
Bogatyr forces,
Saint of old,
Loud feats?

Before whom?
Have you humiliated?
Low on a rainy day
Who did you bow to?

In your fields
Under the mounds
You put it
Tatar hordes.

You are life and death
Had a dispute with Lithuania
And gave a lesson
Lyakh proud.

And how long ago was it,
When from the West
I hugged you
Is the cloud dark?

Under her thunderstorm
The forests fell
Mother of cheese - earth
I hesitated

And ominous smoke
From the burning villages
stood up high
Black cloud!

But the king just called
Your people to battle, -
Suddenly from all over
Rus' has risen.

Gathered the children
Old men and wives,
Received guests
To a bloody feast.

And in the remote steppes
Under the snowdrifts
We went to bed
Guests forever.

They buried them
Snowy blizzards,
Storms of the North
They cried for them!..

And now among
of your cities
Swarming with ants
Orthodox people.

Across gray seas,
From distant countries
To bow to you
The ships are coming.

And the fields are blooming,
And the forests are noisy,
And they lie in the ground
Piles of gold.

And in all directions
White light
it's about you
The glory is loud.

There's a reason for it,
Mighty Rus',
To love you
Call me mother

Stand for your honor
Against the enemy
For you in need
Lay down your head!

There are bright moments:
A clear world will dawn on the soul;
Fire of Holy Inspiration
Burns unquenchably.

It is the seal of immortal power
He puts thoughtful efforts into work;
It is the silence of the grave
And gives life to dead stones,

Depravity and vulgarity amazes
Brings goodness to incense,
And erects eternal truth
Holy altar and eternal temple.

It doesn't require reward
In silence it creates like God...
But there is no mercy for man
In a bottomless pool of anxiety.

A stone will fall on the chest of care,
Freedom of hands is shackled by need, -
And the flame of inspiration goes out,
A powerful engine of labor.

The evening is clear and quiet;
They sleep in the foggy fields;
In blue skies
The dawn is shining brightly.

Golden clouds
Multicolored pattern
Covers the forests
Like a magic carpet;

There was a breeze,
Whispered in the reeds;
The month has risen
And it looks in the river.

What a wonderful night!
What shadows and shine!
As he speaks to the soul
Waves thoughtful splash!

Maybe at this hour
Hosts of bright spirits
The hymns of heaven are sung
God of wondrous worlds.

The harsh cold of strict life
I bear it calmly
And the sky has a new road
I don’t ask for prayer during hours.

Finds secret joy
And in the sadness itself a proud mind:
So often the sea moans and noises
Leads us to admiration.

I'm used to fighting fate
Strengthened under the storm of temptation:
She is a source of high thoughts,
The reason for tears and inspiration.

STEPPE ROAD

Calmly blue sky;
Alone in the bottomless depths
The golden sun is shining
Over the steppe in rainbow fire;
The hot wind tilts
The grass wavy to the ground,
And the distance in the translucent darkness,
Like drowning in a milky sea;
And over the fragrant grass,
Rarefied by the scorching sun,
The fragrant air flows
An intangible wave.
I look around: it’s still the same picture,
Still the same bright color.
I hear it - quietly over the plain
The musical trill sounds:
That's a lonely lark,
Whirling in the azure heights,
Sings over the wide steppe
About free life and spring.
And the steppe of that song shimmers
And unrequited and empty
In oblivion he listens silently,
Like a serene child;
And, hiding in the green carpets,
Inhaling the scent of flowers,
Millions of lung insects
They buzz incessantly.
Oh, steppe! I love your plain
And clean air and space,
Your deserted desert
Your carpets have a living pattern,
Your high mounds,
And your golden sand,
And the passing breeze,
And silvery mists...
It's midday... the heavens are hot...
I'm going alone. In front of me
Roads dusty strip
A snake spreads out in the distance.
Over the ravine, near the river,
The gypsies broke their camp,
The tents were arranged around
And they lit the lights;
Some are preparing lunch
In boilers filled with water;
Others on the thick grass,
In the shade of the tents, they rest;
And then, at attention, in a row with them,
Their shaggy dogs lie
And jumps screaming, laughing
A crowd of ragged children
Around tanned mothers;
In the distance a herd of horses is grazing...
They passed - and the same view
Around me and above me;
Only a wild kite above the grass
Sometimes it circles in the air,
And also with a wide ribbon
The road is long
And the sun is just as lonely
It burns in the transparent blue.
Now the day has begun to fade...it's getting dark...
We rose from afar
A ridge of long clouds,
The West is on fire,
The whole steppe is like a sleeping beauty,
Covered with a pink blush,
And the skies darkened
And the sun quietly set.
The dusk is thickening... the breeze
I smelled the coolness of the night,
And over the sleeping earth
A light flashed from the lightning.
And majestically the month is full
From behind the distant hills I rose
And over the silent plain,
Like a wonderful light, it shone...
Oh, how divinely beautiful
A picture of the night in the middle of the steppe,
When solemn and clear
The heavenly lights are burning,
And the steppe, spreading wide,
In the fog he sleeps alone,
And you can only hear it around
Inexplicable sound of life.
Throw down your staff, weary traveler,
You don't need a yard:
Here is your solitary lodging for the night,
Here you will rest until the morning;
Your bed is like fresh flowers,
Smelling grass - carpet,
And these vaults are blue -
Your gilded tent.

Do not repeat the cold reproach:
You are not destined to love me.
The carefree world of your innocent life
I don't want to mercilessly destroy.
Is it for you, who has never known sorrow since infancy,
Walk hand in hand with me on the same path,
To look at evil and dirt, and to fade away through labor,
And cry, perhaps, under a time of hardship,
To suffer not for a day, not for two, but to suffer all your life!..
But where is the strength for this, where can one find the will?
And what will I tell you at that hour in justification,
When, killed by both grief and melancholy,
A reproach to me and a bitter tear
Will you respond to caresses and kisses?
I could not forgive myself for your tears...
But who will teach me to be insensitive?
And finally make you forget
Everything that makes me happy and torments me,
What for me, under the cold of worries,
Under the weight of needs, sadness and doubts, -
A single joy and stronghold, -
Source of thoughts, hopes and chants?..

Got up, making noise
Bad weather,
Low boron raw
Leans over.

Walking, swimming
Clouds in the sky
Autumn night
Blacker than a crow.

A man in a zipun
To the master's house
Through the dense garden
Sneaks quietly

He walks and looks
In all directions
Alone to myself
Silently thinks:

"Now with you,
Master-father,
Lapot man
Will count;

good for me
Last night
Down to the shoulders
Poor skin.

I was to blame
You yourself know:
To you my daughter
I liked it.

Yes, her father -
Difficile,
He doesn't tell her
Listen to the master...

I know you are with us
The big one himself is the eldest,
And judge
There is no one for you.

So the Lord judge
Me a sinner;
You won't see
My baby!"

A man came up
To the master's house,
Quietly broke out
old frame,

Got up, jumped up
To the dark bedroom, -
Don't get up now
In the morning master...

There's noise in the yard
Bad weather,
Low boron raw
Bends;

Home through the garden
A man is sneaking
He has a face
Like white snow.

He trembles like a leaf
Looks around
And the manor's house
Lights up.

I made friends with a harsh fate early on:
I didn’t know fun days, I didn’t know fun games,
I didn’t share my childhood dreams with anyone,
I haven’t heard any sensible speeches from anyone.

But everything that is dirty in the life of the poorest -
And grief, and revelry, the bloody sweat of labor,
Vice and the cry of need, ragged and pale,
I have seen things around me since I was a child.

Tormenting days with sleepless nights,
How many of you have passed without light and warmth!
How I remember you with longing and tears,
Loss of hope, powerlessness against evil!..

But I had joyful moments,
When I poured out all my sorrow in sounds,
And I knew hearts of peace and tears of inspiration,
And he considered the bitter share enviable.

For my gift, at that moment, I thanked God,
My sad shelter seemed like paradise to me,
Meanwhile, crazy and drunken anxiety,
A heated argument and abuse raged behind the wall...

Suddenly my inspired chanting reached the crowd,
Torn from the heart, born in the wilderness, -
And the best feelings, the whole life of my soul
They were exposed by an uninitiated hand.

And I hear both the verdict and the judgment above me...
And my song became a song of torment and delight,
The work that reconciled me with people and with life, -
The subject of evil witticisms, and slander, and bargaining...

Don't say that life is insignificant;
No, after storms and bad weather,
The struggle is harsh and alarming,
It gives both color and fruit.

All your sorrows are not eternal.
You yourself are the source of strength.
Look around: isn't it for you?
Has the whole world revealed the treasure?

The dense forest is curly and green,
The sheets of dawn are illuminated,
Clouds engulfed in fire
The rivers are reflected in the glass.

The slope of the mound is covered with flowers...
Rise and stand on high, -
What space! Through the network of fog
The village is slightly visible to the side.

Here is the kingdom of life and freedom!
There's glitter everywhere! Here is an eternal feast!
Understand the living language of nature -
And you will say: “The world is beautiful!”

Made noise, walked around
There is bad weather in the field;
Covered with white snow
Smooth road.

Covered with white snow,
There's no trace left
Dust and blizzard rose,
Out of sight.

Yes to the daring kid
The storm is not a concern:
He will pave the way,
If only there was a hunt.

The dead of midnight is not scary,
Long journey and blizzard,
If the young man is in his mansion
A beautiful friend is waiting.

How will she greet the guest?
Morning dawn,
Will hug him bashfully
With a white hand,

With clear eyes downcast,
Will love a friend...
It will flare up - and the cold of the night,
And the whole world will forget.

OLD MAN FRIEND

You have given me, matchmaker, a young wife!
My life has become a joy and no joy:
Day and night she argues with me for nothing
And he scolds my poor old age;
He beats his little stepsons for no reason,
Yes, he starts quarrels with neighbors -
Who eats what, who drinks what, who lives at home -
At least run as soon as the conversations start.
And let her be a human being herself!
You won’t believe it, the whole house was destroyed!
And he threatened her - what!.. it means she took her freedom!..
Women's shame - I forgot God's wrath!
And love... where is it going? shut up about love!
I have a little trouble for myself, -
I destroyed my children, I destroyed my blood:
Their evil stepmother will finish them off!
Eh! Not the same ability, not the old time,
Valiant prowess and strength, -
My wife shouldn’t leave the yard without asking,
And she wouldn’t trouble the waters...
Now I’ve come to my senses, but you won’t be able to cope with trouble,
Just look at your wife and be executed,
Yes, be silent like a fool when they sometimes say:
"Serves the old man right - don't get married!"

WINTER NIGHT IN THE VILLAGE

Cheerfully shines
A month over the village;
White snow sparkles
Blue light.

Moon's rays
God's temple is doused;
Cross under the clouds
Like a candle, it burns.

Empty, lonely
Sleepy village;
Blizzards deep
The huts were swept away.

Silence is silent
In the empty streets,
And you can't hear the barking
Watchdogs.

Praying to God
The peasant people are sleeping,
Forgetting the worry
And hard work.

Only in one hut
The light is on:
Poor old lady
She's lying there sick.

Thinks and wonders
About my orphans:
Who will caress them?
How she will die.

Poor kids
How long until trouble!
Both are young
There is no reason in them;

How they start to stagger
Through strangers' yards, -
Is it difficult to contact
With an evil man!..

And here's the road
It's not good:
They will forget God
They will lose their shame.

Lord have mercy
Poor orphan!
Give them reason and strength,
May you be their stronghold!..

And in a copper lamp
The fire is burning
Lighting up pale
The face of holy icons,

And the old lady's features,
Full of worries
And in the corner of the hut
Slumbering orphans.

Here's a sleepless rooster
Somewhere he shouted;
Calm midnight
The long hour has come.

And God knows when
Songbook dashing
Suddenly rushed into the field
With a daring troika,

And in the frosty distance
Drowned quietly
And the song of sadness
And melancholy is rampant.

INHERITANCE

There are none left
From my father to me
stone chambers,
Servants and gold;

He left me
Hereditary treasure:
Strong will,
Daring courage.

Well done with them
Fun everywhere!
Rich without treasury
Proud without honor.

In grief, on a rainy day,
Sing like a nightingale;
In need, in trouble
You look like a falcon;

Chest wide open
Against the enemy
Under the storm in battle
You smile.

And sweet to the soul
Every share
And the whole wide world
It seems like heaven!

Don't blame the lonely lot
Don't guess about fate at night,
Save your maiden will,
Save like a golden treasure:

You won't have to stay long
In the red chamber with my dear nanny,
Admire the forests from the window,
To blossom like a beloved dawn;

Listen to the songs of bright-eyed friends
And sew on velvet with gold,
And carelessly within the lonely walls
Live like a carefree bird.

Your oak tower will be unlocked,
And your father will say goodbye to you
And, proud of the wedding renewal,
You will go down the aisle with the groom:

Yes, not joy - the desired share -
You will find on a stranger's threshold:
Rude husband your young will
He will be buried behind a strong castle.

And you will bear it patiently,
When the evil old mother-in-law
The answer will be jealous scolding
To your obedience and love;

You'll be stupid to be afraid of your sister-in-law,
Tolerate the neighbors' gossip
Sitting at work without stopping
And lose weight from secret grief,

Listen to the drunken husband's reproaches,
Wait for him until dawn;
And you will forget the song, the clothes,
You will begin to curse evil fate;

And, health in the chest is half dead
Destroyed from fruitless melancholy,
A premature, pathetic victim
You will place yourself in a plank coffin.

And no one with a tear and a prayer
He won’t come to your grave,
And the road to the forgotten grave
The blizzard will cover you with thick snow.

OVERNIGHT CARRIERS' ACCOMMODATION

Far, far away is the field,
Covered with snow like a white carpet,
And the stars lit up, and the moon was like a swan,
Floats alone over a sleepy village.

God knows where, with some product
The convoy goes along the broken road:
Then he will quietly ride up a long mountain,
Then in a dark hollow it will disappear from sight.

And then he appeared on the road again
And he began to climb the mountain one step at a time;
You can hear the snow creaking under the sleigh,
And the horses neighed right under the village.

In sheepskin coats, in Kolomna hats,
With the convoy, both from the right and from the left hand,
In bast shoes and onuchas, in large mittens,
The men walk, groaning and shaking.

Their bast shoes are worn out from the long journey,
Their hard faces were branded by frost,
Tall hats, their mustaches and eyebrows
And the beards were covered with fluffy frost.

They approach the inns' yards;
The janitor hurries out of the gate to meet them,
And he takes off his hat, greeting with the words:
“Where, brothers, is the Lord bringing you from?”

“Yes, we’re going with fish to Moscow from Rostov,”
The driver in front answered him:
Won’t it be cramped for us in the yard? -
Now, I guess you weren’t expecting us at all.”

“There is a place for a good guest,”
The broad-shouldered janitor said affably
And, quietly stroking his red beard,
Grinning slightly, he continued again:

After all, I’m not like the rogue neighbor,
Ready to sell his soul for a penny:
I know how to treat people
Who to greet and what to treat.

My oats are barn, the hut is the same bathhouse,
Not like your neighbor - you can’t get your teeth back;
And there is somewhere to lie down, sit, dry off,
And you drink kvass, that is, mash, reluctantly.

The good people listened to the janitor:
They settled into the yard, unharnessed the horses,
They tied them to the sleigh and gave them food,
And they entered the warm hut through the entryway.

Taking off their hats, they prayed to the holy images,
Cleaned the fluffy frost from my hair,
Undress, put your sheepskin coats on the bunks
And they started talking about the severe frost.

We warmed ourselves near the stove and washed our hands,
And, having overshadowed the chest with a wide cross,
The hostess was ordered to serve bread and salt,
And they sat down to dinner at a long table.

And here, in a sundress, covered with a kitsch,
The young hostess came in to see the guests,
She said: “Great, dear, great!”
And she bowed to each one separately;

I laid out a painted spoon for them all,
And salt in the salt shaker, and bread,
And in a deep cup, with a cracked edge,
She brought hot cabbage soup from the kitchen.

And dish after dish there was a change...
The cab drivers eat silently and amicably,
And the sweat begins to roll off them like a hail,
Eyes perked up and faces lit up.

“Listen, mistress!” said the cabman,
With difficulty swallowing a piece of pork, -
Is it possible to find us some better kvass?
Surely this guy can rip out the eyes of a blind man?”

"And what are you talking about, my dear! Kvasok-at is like mash,
Merchants also had a chance to drink it."
“Thank you, mistress!” the cab driver said to her, “
We won’t soon forget your mash.”

“Well, stop arguing, you see, you got involved with a woman!”
Another said, wiping his mustache, -
Did he and his wife come to his mother-in-law for a holiday?
What you have is okay, but if you don’t, don’t ask.”

“Of course, Danilych,” the third said to him, “
It’s not a good idea to make noise over bread and salt:
After all, we are not boyars: we are satisfied with what we have...
Come on, hostess, give me the goose!”

“Eh, brothers!” straightening his curls with his hand,
One guy spoke to his comrades. -
Once I went to Makaryev in the summer on a troika,
You know, the merchant's son hired me.

Well, what freedom I had on the road!
Frankly, I already drank some wine!
How you used to whistle and touch the horses,
Sometimes you want to amuse a young man, -

And the migratory troika rushes like a bird,
Only dust rises in a black column,
The bell rings and miles flash by,
There is not a cloud in the sky and there is a field all around.

The wind blows towards your face,
And the heart is loving, and the face is radiant...
I arrived in the village - the snack is ready,
And the janitor’s daughter brings him some wine.

And in the evening, you know, my merchant is daring,
How is it going to get loud like this?
He will go out into the street, his whole chest wide open,
He will gather a crowd of guys around him.

He will give you money and cheerfully shout:
“Come on, go ahead: “The snow is not white!”
And the guys will tighten it, and he himself will flood,
And then take care of his wallet.

You used to whisper to him: “Yakov Petrovich!
Hide your wallet, your father will ask."
“Be quiet, brother! I won’t bother with a word!”
There is a loss in the goods, and that’s the end of the matter.”

So, sitting on benches for bread and salt,
Laughing, the men continue the story,
And, standing near the stove, rocking in a drowsiness,
The janitor listens to them with his eyes narrowed,

And he thinks to himself, sleepily:
"However, these profits will come to me,
You see, they took the oats according to measure,
If there is, then one can clean it up for three.

Where, Lord, did it all fit in!
Lamb, cabbage soup, pig and goose,
Noodles and pork and honey for snacks...
Well, I’ll deal with them in my own way.”

Dinner is over. The cab drivers stopped...
The hostess wiped the table with a washcloth,
And the janitor brought an armful of straw into the hut,
He looked from under his brows and silently left.

After checking on the horses, taking them to the well,
The cabbies all entered the hut again,
We made the bed, prayed to God,
We undressed, took off our shoes and went to bed.

And everything fell silent... Only in the kitchen was the hostess,
Having placed the dishes on the shelf in a row,
From a clay cup, by the light of a cinder,
She fed the calf thick milk.

But finally she calmed down,
Putting an old coat under my head,
And fell asleep soundly on the hot stove,
Forgetting all the troubles of your kitchen.

Everything is quiet... everyone is sleeping... and it’s long past midnight.
The men snore with their arms outstretched.
Only a sick pig grunting in the kitchen
In a wide bowl he collects pieces...

It's starting to get light. The cab drivers stopped...
The hostess lit the rest of the cinder,
She gave the guests a towel to dry themselves,
I poured water into the washstand with a ladle.

The guests washed; before the image of steel,
We read the best prayer we could
And to the sleeping janitor in another hut
They went in to pay for food and bread and salt.

Angry, rubbing his eyes sleepily,
He got up from the bench and found the abacus,
He sat down at the table, frowned, rubbed the back of his head,
And he said: “Well, which of you took what?”

“You know our fence: we took it equally;
And you would like to put it for dinner
No offense to ourselves and no loss to us,
With you is our bread and salt to lead us forward."

"Well, give me a quarter per person:
Even though it’s small, so be it.”
“Won’t it be too much, honorable master?
You'll be rich soon! Can't you fold it?"

“No, the folds, guys, won’t be a penny.
And this price is nothing, nothing;
If you argue, you’ll pay double:
The gates are locked with a good lock."

After thinking, the cab drivers sighed deeply
And, reluctantly taking out their wallets,
The owner received the full amount of money
And they went on their way, to get ready for the road.

Putting all the proceeds in the old chest,
The owner got dressed and went out into the yard
And, seeing that the guests are harnessing their horses,
I took the key and unlocked the gate lock.

Throwing lassos around the horses' necks,
The cab drivers began to leave the yard.
“Thank you, master!” said the latter.
Look, profit from other people's goods!

“Well, with God, my dear!” the janitor told him, “
Even because of a penny you began to interpret!
Go ahead, please come and visit us,
I can’t learn who to accept.”

“Isn’t it time, Panteley, to be ashamed of people
And get to work again!
I squandered the clamps, squandered the horses, -
That's right, do you want to roam around the world?
After all, I can’t live from my neighbors anyway,
It’s a shame to show up on the street;
It’s like they’re blowing trumpets: “What, my dear,
Is your Pantelei not visible?
And you think: where else should he be?
Tea, I went on a spree with the barge haulers again...
And the heart in my chest will boil, boil,
And, sighing, you will burst into tears."

“Don’t fool me,” the husband answered his wife, “
I've known you for several days now,
By whose grace did I become a drunkard?
And now I'm disappearing for nothing?
Not wine with barge haulers, I drink my own blood,
I fill my grief with it,
Over the glass I curse you, the snake,
I curse you and myself!
Oh, my time, the golden time,
I won’t see you again, that’s right!
As it used to be, at dawn, on carts from the yard
You are going to harvest rye in your field: -
The harness is all custom-made, the horses are a pleasure to look at,
Like animals, they are torn from their harness;
Sometimes you didn’t have time to move the reins, -
The little darlings are already rushing like a whirlwind.
You plow - you sing a song, you mow - you are not tired;
The holiday will come - pray to God,
You walk through the village - and there is honor and greetings:
Old people give way!
And now... There’s one thing I don’t understand:
Our bins are clean and empty;
Now it’s time and there is no straw in the house,
There's not much in the wallet;
Just look at you - what comes from where,
Every holiday brings a different new thing;
Perhaps the Lord will give it to you,
I can’t believe it... something is awkward!..”

“Aren’t you telling me to wear old rags?”
Blushing, the wife answered. -
It seems that I had enough money to buy new things, -
I spent the whole winter spinning.
What a great honor for you, slob!
Look, he makes such speeches:
I don’t want to weave bast shoes myself,
But the zipun isn’t worth it.”

“I got a little worn out: not everyone has to show off;
What God has given to the poor man is all right.
And you like to greet guests by wearing a dress,
It’s not for nothing that the neighbor walks around smartly.”
“Oh, my dears,” cried the wife.
I don’t even have the will to greet a guest!
Well, good hubby, good times:
Don't bring bread and salt with people!
Here you go! It's not your way to be!
I wasn't too scared of you!
So my neighbor will come to visit me,
May your heart break!"
“If so, then so be it!” the husband answered his wife.
It’s too late for me to retrain you;
I’ve already taken a lot of sin on my soul,
You can try your neighbor...
Let's stop shouting! Get some food:
I am another day without lunch,
Give me at least a loaf of bread, and some cabbage soup, if you have it,
Leave the milk for your neighbor."

“But I didn’t have time to bake bread!”
The wife jumped up from the bench and said. -
If you want to eat, fix the stove first..."
And she pointed to the stove.
The husband did not say a word to his wife;
I took my coat and hat from the bed,
I stood by the window and shook my head
And he went where his eyes were looking.
Only he is coming out of the gate, the neighbor is coming,
Hat on one side, robe wide open.
Horse boots smell like clean tar,
And the shirt is buttoned up with a ribbon.
“Bless you, Panteley! Why are you hanging your nose, brother?
Al got stuck in a head of doom?"
“See, how lively! What kind of demand are you asking me for?” -
Panteley spoke to him gloomily.
"Why is it so angry? You know, my head hurts,
Or was he just inappropriately arrogant?..”
Panteley hastily rolled up his sleeves,
He looked around from under his brows.
“Eh, I wasn’t! Well, hang in there, my friend!” -
And the man turned around with all his might,
Yes, how can a neighbor hit his temple with a swing,
And the poor man did not groan - he reached out.

In the evening Panteley was already sitting in a tavern
And, having a little fun with the barge haulers,
Leaning your hand firmly against your cheek,
He sang songs, bursting into tears.

You come up, come up,
The dawn is clear,
Because of the dark clouds
Come up, look out;

Rise, fog,
From the damp earth,
Show yourself to me
Path-path.

I went to see my friend
Last night;
Peasants in the village
They went to bed.

So I went up to her
To the wide yard
Opened the huts
The door is familiar.

Lo and behold, the fire is burning
In a clean burner,
The table is set in the corner
White tablecloth;

Sitting at the table
The guest is dressed up,
They lie right up to the shoulders
Curls are black.

Near, next to him,
My darling;
I wrapped myself around him
With a white hand,

And, on his chest
Bowing my head
Quiet speeches
Whispers tenderly...

My
Hair on end,
It hit me
Heat and cold.

Lying on the table
White bread and knife:
Know, curly guest
I was called for dinner.

I grabbed that knife
He rushed to the guest;
Before he could get up,
To say the words, -

It doused him
Scarlet blood,
Face like snow
Turned white.

And she jumped up,
Gasped loudly
And, like a leaf, trembling,
She fell dead.

I became scared
In a bright room:
I opened the door
He ran out into the yard...

Well, I thought
Good fellow,
Say goodbye now
With father, with mother!

And came to my mind
Distant, dark forest,
Life is wild
Under the road...

I told myself:
There's nowhere else to go!
And, waving his hand,
I hit the road...

You come up, come up,
The dawn is clear,
Show me the way
To the dark forest!

THE COACHMAN'S WIFE

The bitter frost is bitter,
It's dark outside;
Silver frost
He closed the window.

It's hard and boring
Silence in the hut;
Only the wind howls
Complaining in the pipe

And the torch burns,
Making a cracking sound
On the floor, walls,
Spilling glitter.

Dozing near the stove,
Leaning against the wall
Curly boy
In an old zipun.

Poor illumination
Pale Light
baby head
And blush of the cheeks.

The shadow of his head
Lies on the wall;
On the bench, at the spinning wheel
His mother is sitting.

No wonder she dreamed
Scary dream yesterday:
The whole soul is exhausted
From early morning.

Fifth week
It's coming to the end
The husband who sank into the water
Doesn't send news.

"Well, Lord have mercy,
If with a man
What a sin happened
On the deaf path!..

My woman's business
I've been sick for a whole century,
What will i do
One-one:

The son is still a child
Will he grow up soon?
Poor!.. all the goodies
He expects it from his father!..”

And looks at his son
Poor mother.
"You should lie down, killer whale,
Stop dozing!"

"Why, mom?
You yourself are not sleeping,
And I spent the evening spinning,
And now you’re sitting?”

"Oh, my darling,
I have no strength to spin:
Something makes me so sad
God's light is not nice!"

"Stop crying, mom!" -
The boy said
And to my darling’s shoulder
He dropped his head.

“I won’t cry;
Lie down, go to sleep, my friend;
I'll give you some straws
I'll bring some sheaves,

I'll make the bed,
And the Lord will send -
Your father is a present
Will bring it soon;

New skids
Will do it again
There will be a son in them
Roll around the yard..."

And the child was forgotten.
The night is long, long...
Sounds out loudly
The sound of a spindle.

Smoky ray
There's a little light in the light,
Just a blizzard somehow
It makes more complaining noise.

Seems like he's moaning
Someone is at the porch
As if they were seeing you off
With a dead man's cry...

And as a souvenir for the spinner
Youth has come
Here comes the old mother
I think she came to life.

Sat down on the couch
And he looks at his daughter.
"You're drying up, dear,
“You’re drying out,” he says. -

Where are you, my dove?
Married to live
Labor is sometimes working
Take it out into the field!

And who was she born into?
Are you with that face?
Older sisters
There's blood and milk!

And riotous, it’s true,
Nothing to say,
But it's a joke to them
Thresh and reap.

And for your reason
The whole family praises
Yes, he loves... he loves
Only your mother."

Here in the hallway of the hut
Someone knocked.
"Father has arrived!" -
The boy said.

And jumped out of bed
Cheeks brighter than roses.
"Father has arrived,
I brought Kalachi!.."

"Look how frosty it is
He grabbed the door!" -
Rude guest acquaintance
Suddenly he spoke...

And the guy is broad-shouldered
He pulled the door hard,
On the threshold from the cap
I shook off the frost,

It dawned on me three times
cross your chest,
Scratched my head
And then he said:

"Hello, neighbor!
How are you living, my light?..
What a weather,
There is no trace in the field!

Well, not with good news
I came to you:
I am your horses
Brought from Moscow."

"What about my husband?" - asked
The coachman's wife,
And whiter than snow
She did.

"Yes, having arrived in Moscow,
Suddenly he fell ill
And God to the poor fellow
I sent it to my heart."

The news fell like thunder...
And barely alive
Take a breath
The widow could not;

Hands down,
The son was shaking like a leaf...
Behind the wall of the hut
There was crying and whistling...

"Look, what a parable! -
The man reasoned. -
That's right, I don't fit
I loosened my tongue.

But I feel sorry for the woman,
What can I say!
Soon she'll have to
Walk around the world..."

“It’s enough to grieve,”
He told the widow. -
There's nothing left to do
God, you know, punished!

Well, goodbye for now
It's time for me to go home;
The horses are yours
Here, by the yard.

Yes!.. after all, what a memory,
I began to forget everything:
Here is the father to my son
He ordered to give the cross.

He himself through force
He took it off his neck,
He gave it to me in writing
In his hands and said:

"Here's a blessing
To my son;
Let him not forget
Mother, tell him."

And apparently you
He loved deeply:
Your name after death
Poor thing, he kept saying."

MORNING ON THE LAKE SHORE

Clear morning. It blows quietly
Warm breeze;
The meadow turns green like velvet,
In the glow of the east.

Bordered by bushes
Young willows,
With colorful lights
The lake is sparkling.

The silence and the sun are happy,
Across the plain of waters
A tame flock of swans
Slowly swims.

Here one waved lazily
Wings - and suddenly
Moisture splashed playfully
Pearls all around.

Having tied the boat to the willow trees,
Guys together
Near the sedge, quietly,
They pull the net with difficulty.

On the grass, in white shirts,
Jumping barefoot
Two tanned boys
Riding on the rods.

Sweat pours out of them like a hail
And the face burns;
Their laughter resounds loudly,
The voice is ringing.

“Well, go to the races!”
And for the naughty ones
With secret envy, girl
Looks from the bushes.

“They’re pulling, they’re pulling!” they shouted
Guys all of a sudden. -
Enough, tea, now we've caught it
And tench and pike."

Here on the bank there is a sloping
The network appeared.
"Well, shake it out, with God -
There's nothing to see!" -

That's what the tall old man said
All gray-haired like a harrier,
With a convex-wide chest,
With a long beard.

The wet net was lifted
The fishermen are friendly;
Trembling on the sand
Perches, molts.

The children made a cheerful noise:
"It'll be for a day!"
And squatted down
Place the fish in a bag.

“You, foundling, where did you come to us from?
Don't call - he will come...
Get out of here!
If you don’t go, so that’s it!..”

And the foundling boy
He pushed it away with his hand.
“Well, what are you doing it for, Mishka?” -
Another reproached.

"This fellow was born,"
The old man spoke. -
He would still fight and swear,
What a mischief-maker!"

"You would like a little grandson
I picked him up for the cowlick:
He gave up his will early!" -
The matchmaker told the matchmaker.

"Eh!.. I'm tired of the girl...
I myself, you know, am naked,
There's a foundling here, idle,
Dress as you please.

Bread, look, it’s going up in price, -
You feed strangers;
But the mother, I suppose, is walking,
Take her ashes!"

“Be patient, - tea, he won’t forget
For goodness, Lord!
After all, she will work,
God willing, he will grow up."

"So, so... obviously, it is necessary
Get used to the job;
Yes, now it's annoying
There's no point in feeding.

And the girl is sick,
Dries like grass
Yes, everyone is crying... such rubbish!
But she’s still alive!”

The guys talked
And they went to the village;
The boys ran after
They carried the fish;

And the girl saw off
With their sad gaze,
And her tears trembled
In blue eyes.

STUBBORN FATHER

“At least you cry, at least don’t cry - it’s my way!
I told you: I won’t listen!
Still young, too early to be smart!
My fiancé is a brawler and a spendthrift,
He drove his first wife to the grave...
Tell me more directly: Father, to me,
The son of Kuzma the Miller fell in love.
So you promised me mountains of gold, -
The son of a sorcerer must not possess you.
He has accumulated good things, let him boast about them:
May he earn an honest name!
I'll go with my bag, I'll die of hunger,
I won’t give myself up to ridicule, -
I don’t want to be related to a healer!
There were no sorcerers in our family.
And you give this to me, shameless one,
I decided to pay for my bread and salt,
Judge your suitors!
Do you know your father's power?
With the shepherd, I command, you will go down the aisle!
Don’t tell me, I’ll tell you: that’s how I want it!”

It took my daughter's breath away,
My face became whiter than a sheet of paper,
And trembling like a leaf, with a bitter prayer
She threw herself at the old man’s feet:
"Have pity on me, dear father,
Don't bring me to the coffin alive!
Al in your hut I’m already superfluous,
Don't you have a worker in your house?..
You, my breadwinner, yourself used to say,
That you won’t marry off your daughter to someone who isn’t nice to you.
Don't ruin my youth:
I'd rather grow old in girls
Sitting at work day and night!
Refuse, dear, the matchmaker sent."
“Your speech is good, wise woman;
But where did you learn it?
I understand what you are thinking:
My father, they say, is old - he has a white coffin,
The red maiden has her own will...
Ali, maybe you don't like it,
That the father will go around the village in honor,
What is a rich son-in-law to a poor father-in-law?
If necessary, will you sometimes help?
So get out of my yard
Don't let your foot in the house!"

"Don't drive me away, have mercy, father,
For the sake of my mother's bitter tears!
After all, she is your God, at the point of death,
She begged you to be my protection...
Don’t drive me away, dear: I’m your blood!”
"I know your old wives' tales!
What about the dead, or what, did you cry?
Yes, at least get up, your dead mother,
I’ll tell her too: “Have it my way!”
I'll be damned if you don't listen!.."

Seven days passed: the matter was settled.
A father celebrates his daughter's wedding.
The invited guests are sitting at the table;
Drunk, the old man dances with joy,
Son-in-law, daughter praised.
The son-in-law is sitting in the corner, stroking his beard,
On his shoulders is a brand new caftan,
Boots with nails, with copper stitching,
He is belted with a red belt.
The young woman sits hand in hand with him;
She's wearing a sundress with a row of buttons,
Kichka with a beaded cuff, -
But the face is whiter than pure snow:
That's right, a lot of tears from the red maiden
It was shed until the crown in seven days.

The village feast is over,
The old man escorted the child out of the yard.
Only dust went along the street,
When the son-in-law, putting his hat on his ear,
He launched the friendly troika at full speed,
And without stopping under the big arc
Two bells rang.
Everything in the village fell silent at midnight,
Only the miller's son could not sleep;
He sat and sang on the ruins:
The longing of the soul was heard in the song,
That revelry, like a proud will,
Bitter fate called to fight.

One old man began to live as a master,
He took a young worker into his house...
The first snow fell. Mother Winter
The village people greeted him cheerfully;
The peasants are sent to the carriage,
Threshing is going on everywhere on the threshing floors,
And the old man almost from morning to night
He sits in a tavern, saddened.
"What, old lady, tea, rich son-in-law
Is he living well with your daughter?.." -
While drunk, he will say something else;
Instantly his crotch will squeeze his graying eyebrows
And, looking down, he will say reluctantly:
"Take care of your wife in your house,
And don’t look into someone else’s cage!”
“I have no need to look after my wife;
You better rejoice in your son-in-law:
Now there he is in the dirt on the street."

The wedding has passed a year. The holiday has arrived.
The village was awakened by the ringing of bells;
The peasants go to church cheerfully;
The sun looks at the baptized people.
There is a white coffin in the Church of God,
On its sides are two candlesticks;
Alone in the heads, in a thin coat,
The orphan Pakhom is thinking
And does not take his eyes off his dead daughter...
The long service is over,
The peasants carried the coffin to the cemetery;
The earth accepted a submissive daughter.
The son-in-law turned to his pale father-in-law,
And he said, putting his hands behind his belt:
"I didn't have to live with your daughter!
And the bread and salt was, it seems, free,
And somehow she was not feeling well..."
And the old man stood over the grave,
Hanging his head in sadness on his chest...
And when the ground on the grave is black
With a noise, blocks suddenly fell down, -
A chill ran through his bones,
And tears flowed from my eyes...
And more than once since then on a sleepless night
He heard this noise at home.

THREE MEETINGS

I remember a spring evening,
Pink sparkle of clouds,
The smell of fragrant lilacs,
Light glass of ponds,

Tops of blossoming apple trees,
Groups of bird cherry and linden
And, along the wide plain,
The garden has a quaint look.

I remember: near the bowed linden tree,
In his white dress
You're on the green bench
She sat next to her father;

Bright purple glitter
The sun's ray showered you
And on your childish face
A gentle blush played.

I remember your silver laughter,
A ringing, lively voice,
Dimples and fragrant,
Fresh wreath on curls.

How she shone at this time
Joy is in your eyes!
What kind of worlds did you create?
In the future you are for yourself!..

Days and years have passed;
Your childhood has passed.
Suddenly you recognized sadness,
Tears and poverty are evil.

From home you are mercilessly
Kicked out by a moneylender for debt;
Out of grief, in joyless melancholy,
Your old father has died.

You began to live as an orphan,
To recognize the bitterness of worries,
Silently, under someone else's roof,
Work alone at night.

So I broke up with you...
But a year later, by the river,
Met me again
You're in a small town.

The day was already approaching sunset;
The sound of overflowing waters,
Having covered the shore, I admired
Idle, carefree people.

I remember: in a luxurious outfit
You walked next to the man;
Secret anger in your gaze
It was too noticeable.

I remember: in a heterogeneous crowd
You've noticed more than once
Review of cold mockery,
The sounds of ambiguous phrases

And on your sad face
Suddenly I performed then
Born of a bitter feeling,
The bright color of shame.

I have to admit, it hurt me,
Who is walking next to you?
And I thought involuntarily,
What awaits you ahead?

The village fell silent; the roads are deserted;
The dark forest stands motionless;
On bright waters, on a sloping shore
The moon looks thoughtfully.

Like bright stars sparkle in the fog
Along the meadow the lights of mowers,
And their pale shadows flicker vaguely
There are lights all around.

And a clearly sensitive echo echoes
Long-dormant shores
Riotous songs and reviews of laughter
And the talk of cheerful mowers.

Now the songs have stopped; the lights go out;
Deserted and quiet all around;
Only bright stars shine in the sky
And they look at the waters and the meadow.

Like ghosts reflected in the mirror of waters,
Green willows stand
And, swaying rhythmically from the quiet wind,
The branches make a faint noise.

And in the moonlight, rising high
Over the sound asleep village,
The church is white from the huts not far away,
The village is overshadowed by a cross.

The village people, tired from work, are sleeping,
Only somewhere a poor mother
A child by the light of a lit torch
Through sleep it continues to rock;

Yes, raised from a hard bed by need,
Childless and weak old man
Weaves his shoes with a trembling hand
From fresh soaked bast.

My yard is not wide
Partitioned,
The hut is cold
Unheated.

Didn't do me any good
Father's treasury
One year
Well done.

I wish I could
With my prowess
Go to the tavern
Or around the world

Yes the neighbor is rich
Lives nearby
He has a treasury
Unopened;

How will he go?
To the city in the evening
Waving yours
A fur coat on the shoulders, -

And you go and eat,
Hat on ear
And the neighbor is waiting,
Listens to the song.

Sell, neighbor
Flour in the city -
To a young wife
We need money.

EVENING AFTER THE RAIN

The peals of thunder died down. Rain-drenched field
After the thunderstorm, the smile of the ruddy sun lit up.
The sunset glows with a glow. Golden ruddy clouds
Burning brightly above the top of the curly forest.
The motionless fields are sleeping, covered in the bliss of the evening,
Oh, how good this air is, refreshed by thunder and rain!
How welcome he is everywhere where the blessed one has penetrated!
At noon I saw this dark blue flower: from the heat
Sadly folding his petals, he bowed to the hot ground;
Now it has turned around again and is hanging straight on the stem.
The sun-artist covered it with golden paint,
Light drops, like pearls, burn on the terry head;
A busy buzzing bee clung tightly to him,
Collecting aromatic juice. And how brightly white she turned
Buckwheat has blossomed, washed clean from dust by moisture!
From a distance it seems like the snow lies in a white stripe.
Like an airy flower, the dragonfly landed on the ear;
Poor thing! She waited a long time for a transparent drop from a cloud,
The groundhog came out of his dark hole, looked around,
He carefully stood on his hind legs and listened quietly...
Only a quail is calling somewhere and a bunting is singing;
He whistled cheerfully and drank some water from the puddle.
An elderly man appeared from the forest. Armpit
He keeps fresh basts. Looking around the field with your eyes,
He took his hat off his head, covered with silvery gray hair,
While secretly praying, he made the sign of the cross and said:
“What joy the Lord sent us - this pouring rain!
Bread a week will get better so that you won’t recognize it.”

UNSUCCESSFUL DRYING

Blow after blow
Midnight thunder
Half the sky is on fire
Burning over the village.

And the rain pours down,
And the storm is noisy,
The hut is shaking,
There's a knock at the window.

Night light lonely
The hut is on fire;
On a wide bench
The magician is sitting.

He sits and casts a spell
Over a cup of water
It blows on the water
Sometimes it whispers.

There are furrows on the forehead
The wrinkles lie
Eyes under the eyebrows
They burn like coals.

There's a guy at the ceiling
In the robe there is:
He, poor thing, is sad
And he looks at the ground.

The face is ugly
Looks simple
But amazingly complex
From shoulders to toes.

"Well, listen: it's ready!
Although my work is great, -
Said sternly
Magician old man, -

I'll do the job:
Your beauty
Both soul and body
He will give it for you!

You yourself, obviously,
Yawn - don't yawn:
Without affection she passes
Don't let me pass..."

"Thank you, breadwinner!
I will pay for everything;
Will you help - a gift
I will hand it over with a bow.

Cereals, if you say
I don't care about the bag!
And if you order money -
And we will find the money."

And with joy at home
This is how my boyfriend slept
What storms and thunder
I didn't hear it all night.

Five days have flown by...
Just one evening
Idle on the bench
He lies prone

On strong hands
With my head down,
Crashing from boredom
Foot on the bench.

And suddenly he turned around
Scratched my shoulder
Yawned and stretched
And he said loudly:

"Listen, mommy! They're beating,
In our villages
You see there are docks, -
And there is fear in believing!

Who do you think will be dried up?
The light will not be nice:
The melancholy is so choking!..
Is it true or not?"

"There are, of course, -
The mother answered. -
God forbid, my dear,
To see and know them!..”

“Well, really, okay!”
The son thought: I’ll wait!..
Eh, life will be nice
If I get married!..”

But apparently it’s in vain
The wizard whispered
And the red girl
He threatened with melancholy:

Another beauty
Loved in secret
For the songs, the gait
And curls in a ring...

And the guy is walking
When the holiday comes,
Face washes
And the comb takes

And curls to the right
It will curl to the left,
He'll think: "Bravo!"
And he snaps his finger.

Like snow in an open field,
The shirt he's wearing
Kumach on the hem
Turns red with fire.

On a high hat,
Between the corduroy tapes,
Burns lonely
Twisted braid.

Onuchi entwined
There's a tow line all around,
And the bast shoes are stitched
Harsh hemp.

Shakes his hair
Goes to a round dance.
"Well, they say, we
Enjoy it, people!"

How I met my sweetheart, -
No words, no speeches:
What was in my memory -
I forgot, for the life of me!

Suddenly it's true by chance
I reached the guy:
It's a girl's secret
It wasn't a secret...

All my blood boiled
In the poor guy... "So, -
He thought - what's the matter!
The magician is lying.

It's no harm for him to use a stick
Break off the sides
I feel sorry for the deceiver
I'm getting my hands dirty!"

And gloomy for two days,
Killed by sadness
He kept thinking
In my native hut.

On the third, just
Mother went
To the river in a bucket
Draw some water -

Hastily from the nail
He took off his knapsack;
“I’ll go, they say!..” and quickly
Untied the straps.

Shirt in a rag
I put it in it
And a cup with a spoon
I dropped it there.

Robe for the road
About bad weather...
Mother comes in, he's at his feet
He fell and said to her:

"Well, mother, it's bitter,
Confess, go
From the native side...
Apparently, I'm sorry!"

The mother howled:
"You are my killer whale!
Ah, the power of the cross!
What's wrong with you?"

"Why should I fight?
Like a fish on ice!
I'll go work
Whatever God sends.

And here he lived by labor,
Talan, you see, is not there..."
Old lady hands
She burst out in response:

"Yes, what about old age
Should I live alone?
After all, you are my joy,
Dear breadwinner!

And she fell to her son
Head on chest
And she kept repeating:
"Dear breadwinner!"

Son with a strong hand
I grabbed myself in the forehead
And I thought to myself:
"Straight dunce!

Well, here you go, hello!..
I feel better.
Go, little one, reign
In the wrong direction!

And, it became - to the old lady
To be lost alone:
The treasury is half a dozen
She has nowhere to get it."

And the guy stealthily
He turned his face away
And an old hat
He threw it on the bench.

"Well, that's enough, dear!
I'm joking... it will pass...
Everything is bad...
Science forward!"

Ruddy sun
It came to the fields,
In the hut window
Filled with fire

Blushes, gilds
The forest is off to the side.
My boyfriend is hammering
Oats on the threshing floor.

Heavy torment
They settled down in the soul:
Mighty hands
They set to work.

The flail just flies
Like lightning it burns,
falls on a sheaf,
It hits the ear.

God help me, kid!
It's time for this to happen a long time ago!..
Down with you, sadness,
Out of the yard!

I stand alone near the river under the shadow of a willow tree.
The dazzling light of the sun glides along the wide ledges
Cretaceous mountains, as if densely covered with non-melting snow.
The huts are white in the bright greenery of the gardens under the mountains.
Herds wander lazily along the meadow, and along the dusty road
A long convoy stretches; urging the tired oxen,
The Chumaks are walking quietly, and one dark-haired little guy
He sleeps soundly on the cart, arms outstretched carefree.
But look to the left: oh God, what a picture!
The moisture is transparent, it seems to breathe, spreading widely!
Blue sky and white, quietly floating clouds,
Shores of yellow sand, motionless forest peaks,
Thin fluffy reeds and a fisherman lowering his nets -
Everything was reflected in the glass of this moisture so vividly and clearly,
So it preserved all the wonderful charm of both shadow and light, -
Like an inspired artist with his magic brush,
The brave poet with his obedient word would be recognized by both here
The pitiful poverty of art before the life of eternal nature!..
At first glance, everything seems simple, but how much power is there?
Life, greatness, new subjects for songs and thoughts!
Do you hear these incessant sounds of silver moisture?
What is she trying to say? Doesn't he ask for revelry and freedom?
Or in their incomprehensible language both years and centuries
Echoing freely a solemn hymn to the omnipresent God?
Is there a mysterious meaning in this conversation between the wind and the leaves?
Am I the only one who contemplates the presence of God in creation,
Or are spirits hovering over me here in an invisible crowd,
They live a life unfamiliar to me, and the best is available to them,
Full of beauty, a world with its secrets, power and glory?
Apparently, it’s not alien to me either: it’s like I hear something familiar
In the whisper of the wind with the grass and in the talk of the waves underfoot.
I see secrets on every ball of mine; but it’s sweet for me to think:
In the kingdom of nature, I am not a superfluous guest with my thoughts and songs.

Eh, buddy, you’ve obviously seen grief too,
If you cry from a funny song!
No, listen to what I experienced,
This is how you learn about life being hard!
Nineteen years old, after the death of his father,
I was left alone orphaned;
The neighbor's daughter loved me, well done,
I got married and started living with my wife!
As if she brought happiness to my yard, -
May God grant the kingdom of heaven to the poor! -
There was such and such a mistress, brother,
Treasured the copper half!
On a winter evening, it used to light a torch
And he spins for himself, without closing his eyes; -
The roosters will crow - well, then he will rest
And he will lie down; and it’s just dawning, -
She's already on her feet: just look, she'll run
And he will give food to the sheep and cows,
He heats up the stove and sits at the spinning wheel again,
Or that he cleans the house.
In the summer, rye will begin to reap, or sheaves will be served
From the ground to the cart - and she has little grief.
I used to say, “Isn’t it time to rest?”
“Nothing,” she says, “I’m not tired.”
Sometimes she happens to buy a new thing
For joy, he will say: “In vain:
We will love each other without this,
Why are you wasting your time, my clear falcon!”
How he lived in paradise with her!.. But it’s probably not for us to know,
Where and how the storm will find us!
The wife lay down in the ground to sleep forever...
If you remember, life will not be nice to you!
All hope was, as if poured into the mother,
Dark blond handsome son.
Apparently I had already started reading the Psalter...
I thought: “My boy will come out into the world!”
It’s not like God wrote to him:
I got sick from something in the spring, -
I called my grandmothers and healers to him
And he gave me water to drink,
He promised to buy a ruble candle,
Place it under the icon in the church, -
The Lord did not hear... and had to put it down
Send my son to the coffin, to the cemetery...
It was bitter for me, friend, in these dark days!
My hands have completely given up!
They began to harvest the grain, - in the field there were songs, lights,
And I'm drying up from grief and boredom!
I was waiting for the first snow: I’ll sell it, they say, here’s the rye,
I’ll pull the sleigh, I’ll drive, -
Suddenly - trouble after trouble - the death of the cattle...
Tea, I won’t forget this year to the grave!
I spent the winter somehow; I see - my honor is not the same:
Then at the meeting someone else will laugh:
"They say that all sorts of small things
He’s also meddling in worldly matters!”
Then they scold him behind his back: “Not with his mind
Living in need: you see how lazy he is;
No, in our opinion it’s like this: if you’re good,
Don’t worry, even if grief happens!”
Human laughter and conversation brought me to my senses:
Apparently, God gave me his help!
The soul asked for a wide expanse...
I took my passport; gave the capitation...
And he went to the barge haulers. The melancholy has gone away
Mother Volga blue waves!..
When rest comes, on the steep bank
Light a light on a dark evening,
One of the comrades will start a song,
They’ll pick it up and you’ll instantly perk up,
From head to toe there will be heat and cold,
If you hold back your tears, you’ll burst into tears yourself!
Will bad weather happen and suddenly visit
Forgotten grief of my soul, -
There is a revelry for the young man: the Volga runs noisily
And he sings about freedom in the open air;
The zealous will begin to beat, and you will burst into flames!
Autumn, cold - no need for a fur coat! -
Once you get on the boat, go for a walk! Swing your oar
It’s nice to measure your strength against a storm!
And you fly through the waves, only splashes all around...
You will shout: “Well, now it’s God’s will!
If we live, we will live; if we die, we will die."
And it was as if there was no grief in my soul!

FORESTER AND HIS GRANDSON

“Grandfather, grandfather! I’ve seen enough miracles!
I've listened to all sorts of songs!.. and I remember, my heart starts beating,
In the morning I sat down in a clearing under an oak tree and began to wait,
Will the sun rise soon? It was quiet in the forest, so quiet,
It’s as if everything has frozen... I see the clouds in the sky turning red -
More and more, and the sun rose! Like a fire
The forest is lit up! Flowers in the meadow, leaves on the trees, -
Everything came to life, began to shine... well, he’s definitely laughing through his tears
God's dew!.. Through the clearing I saw an open field:
It was covered with a bright blush, and steam rose
Higher and higher and golden the clouds burned from the sun.
God knows who built bridges, bell towers, mansions from clouds,
Some mountains with copper caps... It’s a miracle and nothing more!
I looked up: there was a cobweb on the branches above me, -
It seemed to me that I could see patterns in the silver net.
The spider itself is long-legged, like a smart owner, in the morning
He came out and inspected his work and two new threads.
He carried it smartly, and disappeared under a leaf - what a wicked one!..
Suddenly a woodpecker sat down on a dry birch tree and with its long nose
He started knocking, as if he wanted to say: “Wake up, sleepyheads!”
I hear a robin singing somewhere, followed by another,
And voices were heard in the bushes, like a great holiday
Free birds met... So fun!.. The wind is cool
He quietly whispered something to the aspen - she perked up,
Light drops fell from the leaves like rain onto the grass;
Suddenly the birches, hazel trees, and babbling and chatter began to rustle
He walked everywhere through the forest, as if guests had come for a conversation..."
“Oh, you curly-haired naughty boy, you’re starting to dream in reality!
The wind rustled in the forest - it was a great miracle.
You love to listen to fairy tales and tell them yourself, a master.
See, last night I sat down by the stream and looked at the stars,
What a miracle! You'd better chop a torch!
What, and the stream, tea, told you a lot of new things yesterday?”
“What, grandfather told me! I admired it at first,
As the dawn faded in the sky, and in the sky, one after another,
The stars began to peek out; It seemed to me at that time:
The bright eyes of angels look to us from there to the earth,
I saw how the moon rose above the forest; Don't know,
Why doesn't he look like the sun? Everyone seems to be thinking something!
I loved it! I lay down on the grass under a green willow, -
I hear the stream say: “It’s good for me to babble in the dark forest:
At midnight here divas come to me, sing songs and dance;
Only there is no freedom here. There will be time, and I will be released,
I will come out of the dark forest, I will see the blue sea;
In the sea there are palaces of glass and gardens with golden fruits;
There are mermaids there, their open shoulders whiter than milk;
Eyes like stars burn; expensive stones in your hair.
There is an old sorcerer there; he sends out the winds according to his will;
The fish listen to him; wonderful rivers bring news..."
“Wait a minute, when you grow up, you’ll forget all these stories:
People won’t give you bread for them, but will say: work hard!
Our shepherd over there learned to play the pipe from an early age,
So he grew old as a beggar, composing all new songs!”
"Didn't you cry, grandpa, yourself when late in the evening
The shepherd took up his pipe, and far away through the dark forest
The nightingale's song suddenly spread out, and everything fell silent,
As if the forest was listening to her, and the blue sky, and the stars?..
No, don't scold me, grandpa! I will grow up, I will work,
I will also sing songs, like the migratory breeze sings,
Free birds by day, dark forest before a thunderstorm at night,
I will sing joy and sorrow, and smile through my tears!”

Enough, my steppe, sleep soundly:
Mother Winter's kingdom has passed,
The tablecloth of the deserted path is drying,
The snow has disappeared, and it is warm and light.

Wake up and wash yourself with dew,
Show yourself in unseen beauty,
Cover your chest with ants,
Like a bride, dress up in flowers.

Admire: spring is coming,
The cranes are flying in a caravan,
The day is drowning in bright gold,
And the streams in the ravines are noisy.

Snow-white clouds in droves
In the blue, in the open air, they float,
There are stripes across your chest,
Shadows run after each other.

Soon you will have guests,
How many nests they will build - look!
What sounds, what songs will flow
Day after day, from dawn to dusk!

It's already summer... lie down under the scythe,
White feather grass, for the sake of the mowers!
Rise up, heap by heap!
Sing, mowers, at night!

And then, with the flickering blush
Clear dawns on cool days, -
Rest, my steppe, under the fog,
Sleep carefree and soundly.

Clouds are moving in a multi-colored ridge across the blue sky.
The air is transparent and clean. From the rays of the setting sun
The Bora edge burns with golden lights across the river.
The sky and the shore are reflected in the mirror of the waters,
Flexible, tall reeds and emerald green willows.
Here a barely noticeable swell shines dazzlingly from the sun,
There, over there, from the shadow of the steep banks, blued steel
It looks like moisture. In the distance, a strip as wide as a tablecloth,
The meadow stretches, the mountains rise, flickering in the fog
Villages, villages, forests, and behind them the sky turns blue.
Quiet all around. Only the noise of the water near the dam never stops;
It’s as if he’s asking for space and grumbling that he’s serving the miller,
Yes, sometimes an invisible breeze will run across the grass,
He whispers something to her and, free, rushes away.
The sun has completely set, but it’s still shining
Scarlet blush in the sky. River, banks and trees
Flooded with pink light, and this light goes out, it gets dark...
Once again he flashed on the surface of the dormant moisture,
Here is a yellowed leaf from him on a coastal aspen
Suddenly, like a gold piece, it flashed, shone - and gradually faded away.
The shadows are getting thicker. The trees in the distance begin to take on
Strange images. Willows stand above the water, as if
They think something and listen. Bor looks somehow gloomy.
Clouds are like mountains lifted to the sky by an unknown force,
They float menacingly and grow, and on them in a whimsical heap
Rubble piles up from towers, ruined castles and rocks.
Chu! The wind smelled! The fluffy reed whispered and swayed,
Ducks swim hastily to the sedge, screaming from somewhere
The lapwing rushes, dry leaves fly from the willow tree,
Dust swirled like a dark column on the sandy road,
Quickly, like a cranked arrow, lightning cut through the clouds.
The dust rose thicker, and in frequent, large fractions
The rain pattered on the green leaves; not even a minute has passed, -
It had already turned into a downpour, and the forest shook from the storm,
What a giant, shook his curly head
And it began to rustle and hum, like several huge mills
They started working at once, rotating the wheels and stones.
Then everything was covered for a moment with a deafening whistle and again
An incomprehensible hum sounded, like the sound of a waterfall.
Waves covered with white foam rush towards the shore,
Then they will run away from him and walk in the distance in freedom.
Lightning will flash brightly, suddenly illuminating both the sky and the earth.
A moment - and again everything will drown in darkness, and thunder strikes
They sound like shots from terrible guns. Trees creaking
They bend and wave their branches over the muddy water.
Here comes another thunderclap, and the birch
It fell onto the shore with a crash and lit up all over like a torch.
I love watching a thunderstorm! For some reason it’s stronger at this time
The blood circulates in the veins, the eyes light up with fire,
You feel an abundance of strength and want space and freedom!
You can hear something familiar in the alarm of the dense forest,
Songs, and screams, and echoes of menacing speeches are heard...
It seems that the heroes of old Mother Rus' have come to life,
They have met their enemies in battle and the mighty are measuring their strength...
...................................................
The dark blue cloud is thinning. On wet ground
Drops of rain occasionally fall. Like candles in the sky
Here and there the stars sparkled. The gusty wind weakens,
The noise gradually fades away in the forest. The month has risen
He showered the top of the forest with a gentle silver light,
And after the storm, deep silence reigned everywhere,
The sky still looks lovingly at the earth.

Bad weather blew from my native side, -
A letter came from my dear one, drenched in tears;
She sent me my treasured ring back.
They ruined their beloved, they ruined her - they gave her in marriage!
She lies in someone else's house, in a hard bed, near death,
She puts the blame and complaint on her husband and stepmother...
Burn with fire, my goodness! Farewell, dear mother!
It won’t be long for me, a good fellow, to be your strong support.
What a day without the sun, and what a life without a dear friend!

DAMAGE
(sick)

“Go, old woman, and see your daughter-in-law,
She wouldn’t have started shouting in the yard.”
“What am I going to do with my daughter-in-law?
After all, I can’t offer her my hand.
Here we have acquired, God gave, joy in our old age!
She kept telling you: “You wanted to take it,
Old man, white-handed for his son's joy, -
You'll have to blame yourself."
That's how it came true! Every day - with her care:
It’s not like that here, it’s not like that there,
So, you see, she’s not able to work in the fields,
He will say: why do we keep pigs in the hut?
The stove is heating up, the smoke makes your head spin,
If only she were neat and clean,
And you order the barn to be cleaned, well, that’s where you get lazy,
You start scolding a little, - and went to shout:
"Eh-oh! Eh-oh!"

"Old woman, fear God!
Why are you shouting about this day and night?
Well, call the healer: there’s a little trouble, -
The woman is damaged, she needs help.
And you are ashamed to lie! She's not lazy
He won’t sit idle for an hour;
If you scold her, she’s afraid to answer;
If she's really sick, she'll go into her cage
And she cries furtively, and does not say to her husband:
“Why, they say, start a quarrel in the family?”
Look, the Lord will truly punish you;
There’s no point in offending your daughter-in-law.”
“Oh, fathers, whoever says this is a shame!
Lie on the stove if God has punished you;
Blind and deaf, what do you want?
I started retraining my wife there!
And so from my housework,
Old bastard, that's how the head goes,
Yes, you still decided to grumble in vain, -
Ugh! So much for all your words!
See, it’s an important thing that he took for his son
A sensible girl, a bourgeois daughter, -
No dress behind her, no treasury, no altyn,
Now he interprets: “She needs help!”
I came to someone else's house and learned about illnesses,
No, I haven’t picked it up yet..."
Then the old woman heard a rustling in the hallway
And she fell silent. The daughter-in-law entered the hut.
The patient's face was sad and pale;
As you can see, they put marks on it
Heavy thoughts and daily work,
And secret tears, and the bitterness of need.

“Well, my dear, it’s early to go to bed,
Take me and prepare my bed for the night,
Sit down and work at the spinning wheel for a little while,”
The mother-in-law told the daughter-in-law through gritted teeth.
The daughter-in-law went for fresh straw,
She laid it on the bunk to the side,
I put a zipun at the head of the wall,
She sat down on the bench and began to spin.
It was quiet in the hut. The splinter was burning,
The old man dozed carefree and sweetly,
The old woman was wiping the cast iron on the floor, -
And only under the stove the cricket sang,
Yes, the cat walked around the old woman, wriggled around,
And, squinting, he purred; but the woman's foot
She pushed him, grumbling: “He’s gone wild!
Look, before the damage, you can see what kind it is."
Suddenly the door opened: boots knocking,
The old woman's son came in, took off his hat and caftan,
Hit them on the floor, shook my hair
And he shouted: “Well, mother, here I am drunk!”
"What did you do? When was this?
You haven’t drunk a drop of wine in your life!”
"I didn't drink when my heart wasn't aching,
When, like a blade of grass, the wife did not dry!”
“Thank you, son!.. thank you, dissolute!..
I can’t even put my mind to it!
Where can I go now, homeless?
What do you say to your daughter-in-law, she will start crying,
Otherwise she will fold her hands and she won’t have enough grief;
The old man just eats and lies on the stove,
But there was no honor from my son, -
Live - lament, endure and be silent!
Ah, my heavenly king! Yes it's old age
At least I had to lay my hands on myself!
She raised and nurtured her son for joy,
He won’t be feeding his mother any time soon!”
“It’s not true! I will feed you until death!”
I'd rather sell my last zipun,
I'll go into bondage, but I won't forget you,
And I’ll split the crumbs in half with you!
You hurt me, you carried me under your heart
I am drunk with your milk,
You taught me to be kind when I was young, -
And here is my honor and bow to you...
Why did your daughter-in-law bother you?
Why attack my wife?"

“Look, you dissolute one, before I get up,”
I'll soon silence you!.."
"Here, hit me, mother! Hit me so that it hurts."
I cried and cried out my grief!
Ehma! I was not given talent and share!
When will you perish, poor life?"

“Here’s the thing! Life has become hateful to you!
Did you decide to drink wine because of this?
So here it is for you!.."
And the old woman jumped up
And she rushed to teach her son with a stick.
The daughter-in-law wanted to rush to her from the bench.
But she just screamed: “Have mercy for once!”
And suddenly she staggered back, turned pale -
And she fell to the floor.
"Have mercy on us,
Queen of Heaven, Holy Mother!
Ah, fathers! -Where was the water here?
What's the matter with you, my golden one?" -
The mother-in-law started crying over the woman.
“Well, mother, God will be your judge!..” -
The son said quietly and began to sob himself.

"Tea, are they crying?.. Is the wind rustling behind the wall? -
Having woken up, the old man was talking on the stove. -
I don’t hear... You know, the son is still grieving about his wife;
She has this damage, you can understand that
The old woman doesn’t understand, she interprets everything about herself,
But no, to call the healer to the woman.”

BOBYL
(Dedicated to N.V. Puppeteer)

Let me take a more cheerful look:
The Duma didn't help.
For me, little guy,
There is no road everywhere!

Without a hut - I'm warm,
Falcon - without outfit,
Without a treasury - I am honored,
No need to die!

You're walking in an open field,
The breeze meets
Runs ahead
Sweeps the stitches.

Rye stands on the sides,
Gives bows;
You go to bed - under you
Postlan silk green;

The stars look into your eyes;
White day will come, -
The dew washes away
The sun is blushing.

You look at people -
Really, laughter and grief!
They've been working for a whole century
In the yard and in the field.

Well done here
He doesn’t go for the plow, -
Hello, and bread and salt,
And he finds shelter.

Well, there’s nothing to eat, -
Tighten your belt tighter
You shake your hair, -
This is where it gets easier.

Otherwise, to the rich:
They need a worker;
You'll grind for a day, -
Here's your dinner.

Well, but if there is
Zipinishka is new,
There are boots on my feet,
There's a ruble in the wallet, -

And the thought passed,
And the melancholy disappeared!
Stay away, rich people!
Poverty is on the rise!

How do you get into the round dance?
Let you start dancing there,
At evening dawn,
Squat down with a whistle, -

Women and girls are looking
Cats knock
The guys are reluctant to get along
They move their shoulders.

Here in old age
Someone will remember me, -
Looks after the sick
Will he bury the dead?

Yes, the orphan boy
Doesn't ask for anything;
Over his grave
The storm will scream

The rain will sprinkle her
With a clean tear
Spring will cover
Silk grass.

THE COACHMAN'S STORY

To live a century, you will see bad things sometimes.
It's a pity that it's dark, otherwise from the window
I would show you: beyond the river
We have one village here.
A gentleman lives there. Lord knows
Such a smart guy, my brother,
Well, now it disappears for nothing.
Once he had a little disagreement with his wife:
The lady did something wrong, -
Her husband scolded her rashly.
To tell the truth, it is annoying:
He apparently loved her madly.
That, - it’s a master’s matter, you know, it’s a shame, -
I went to my tender mother’s house,
Yes, she pretended to be an orphan, apparently -
I lived with the old woman alone for about a year.
Only here she has something... yes this
It’s not our business, I haven’t seen it myself...
Barin-at sokh; sometimes until dawn
Out of grief, they say, he didn’t close his eyes.
Everything, you see, I was sad, but I was waiting for my wife,
He himself did not want to bow to her;
Well, then I got ready to hit the road,
He hired me and flew to his wife,
I don’t know how he made peace with her,
The lady was angry about something...
I myself, my brother, am marking -
Her mother forced her away.
Here we go. I see - caresses
The master's wife: he looks into her eyes,
Then, you know, he covers his feet with a carpet,
He speaks to her so kindly, -
Well, the wife shrugs,
He looks to the side, - not a word in response...
He approached her almost in tears:
“Or, they say, you don’t even have a soul?
I, they say, forget everything, forgive...
I love you just the same, my dear friend..."
Then she said something - I don’t know,
And suddenly she burst out laughing...
The master became quiet. The evil has taken over me!
It's like I'm grabbing the root guy with a whip...
Afterwards I came to my senses and felt ashamed;
The troika walked up the mountain, but walked with difficulty;
The horse turned his head a little,
He looks at me like that, he keeps looking at me...
“Well, they say, go on your way.
Apparently my sin lies with the lady..."
Here we are...what the hell was I talking about at first?
Yes, - I said that the master became quiet here.
Here we go. Night has already come.
I hit the dashing horses.
We entered the city... Ehma! I forget
Whose yard is this where I fed the horses?
The yard is paved... wait, I remember...
No, screw him, he completely forgot!
Well, we spent the night. Zarya was busy...
The master woke up - lo and behold: the lady was gone!
They rushed to fumble and search, but they couldn’t find it;
We just found one footprint at the gate, -
Someone, you know, was with a cutting sled...
We are here in pursuit... The day has already dawned;
The fields flew about seven versts, -
The trail disappeared to no one knows where.
We turned into a village, and into another, -
There is no rumor anywhere; and the master is sitting,
He breaks his hands. The face is sick
Sam-at is cold; as if the whole leaf is trembling...
What should I do with it? I drove a little
And I tell him: “There is no trace;
Is this what we should keep dear?"
He spoke nonsense back to me.
My heart bled then!
"Oh, you ruined me, my dear,
Life and health with ardent love!"
Well, I brought him home at night.
Sorry for the poor guy! Someone else will feel sad:
At one year old he bent over and turned gray all over.
Nowadays even the servants are laughing at him:
“Our master, they say, has gone completely crazy”...
Wonder to me! How can he not forget his wife!
No, here you go! While away his life!
She doesn’t eat bread, she seems to miss her all the time...
Such a man, my brother!

The stars fade and go out. Clouds on fire.
White steam spreads across the meadows.
Along the mirror water, through the curls of willow
From dawn the scarlet light spreads.
The sensitive reeds are dozing. Silence and solitude all around.
The dewy path is barely noticeable.
If you touch a bush with your shoulder, suddenly it’s on your face
Silvery dew will sprinkle from the leaves.
The breeze picked up and the water wrinkled and rippled.
The ducks rushed noisily and disappeared.
Far, far away the bell is ringing.
The fishermen in the hut woke up,
They took the nets off the poles and carried the oars to the boats...
And the east is still burning, flaring up.
The birds are waiting for the sun, the birds are singing a song,
And the forest stands there, smiling
So the sun rises and shines from behind the fields,
Across the seas he left his lodgings for the night;
To the fields, to the meadows, to the tops of willow trees
Golden streams poured out.
A plowman rides with a plow, he rides and sings a song,
The young man can handle everything heavy...
No pain, soul! Take a break from worries!
Hello, sunshine and cheerful morning!

MEETING WINTER

It rained yesterday morning
There was knocking on the glass windows;
There is fog above the ground
Got up like clouds.

The cold blew into my face
From gloomy skies
And, God knows what,
The dark forest was crying.

At noon the rain stopped
And that white fluff,
To the autumn dirt
Snow began to fall.

The night has passed. It's dawn.
There is no cloud anywhere.
The air is light and clean,
And the river froze.

In yards and houses
The snow lies like a sheet
And the sun shines
Multi-colored fire.

To a deserted expanse
Whitened fields
The forest looks fun
From under black curls,

As if he’s happy about something, -
And on the branches of birch trees,
Like diamonds they burn
Drops of suppressed tears.

Hello, winter guest!
We ask for mercy
Sing songs of the north
Through forests and steppes.

We have freedom, -
Walk anywhere;
Build bridges across rivers
And lay out the carpets.

We will never get used to it, -
Let your frost crack:
Our Russian blood
It burns in the cold!

This is how it has always been
Orthodox people:
In the summer, look, it’s hot -
He walks in a sheepskin coat;

The burning cold smelled, -
It's all the same for him:
Knee-deep in snow,
He says: “Nothing!”

There's a snowstorm in an open field
And he's carousing, and he's stirring up, -
Our steppe peasant
Rides in a sled, groans:

"Well, falcons, well!
Bring it out, buddies!"
He sits and sings -
"The snowballs are not white!"

And do we, sometimes,
You can't meet death jokingly
If we have storms
Is the child getting used to it?

When the mother is in the cradle
He puts his son to bed at night,
Under the window for him
The blizzard sings songs,

And rampant bad weather
From an early age he loved
And the hero grows,
Like an oak under storms.

Scatter, winter,
Until the golden spring
Silver in the fields
Saint of our Rus'!

And will it happen to us
An uninvited guest will come
And for our good
He will start an argument with us, -

Just accept it
On the side of a stranger
Prepare a drunken feast,
Sing a song to the guest;

For his bed
Save the white fluff
And fall asleep with a blizzard
His trace is in Rus'!

Let us give praise to the Russian land.
(The Tale of the Massacre of Mamaev)

How well done he was -
Ilya Muromets,
Ilya sat in the seat
Exactly thirty years, -

Arrows on a tight bow
Didn't impose
Bogatyr's hand
Didn't show it.

How he visited here,
Sitting for a long time
About the dashing Nightingale,
About the robber, -

He equipped his horse for the journey:
His first leap -
There were five miles, and the other -
Out of sight.

There was a rider on the horse -
To the prince in Kyiv-grad
He brought the Nightingale
Live in Torokaki.

That's how people are
Mother Rus'!
He, needlessly, not suddenly
It will move off;

The hero is not used to it
The power to show off
Show off your daring
With the mind and mind.

But who cares?
You'll ask for it yourself
For the living of him
Touches at the wrong time -

Away with thinking and laziness!
After rest
He rises like a storm
Against the enemy!

And thousands of miles away
People will respond
And he will go through Rus'
The hum is incessant.

Then everything is a mess
To the brave fighter:
Cut it into pieces -
He won't wince.

Eh, dear mother,
Rus' is the nurse!
You didn't have to know
Negi-luxuries!

You grew up under the storm
Yes, under the blizzards,
The wild wind of you
Lulled me to sleep.

White snow washed away
Full face
Your cheeks are cold
Browned it.

You've seen a lot
Needs from a young age
Often with evil people
She fought to the death.

It wasn't a service
Service only;
Now co-serve
The service is strong.

You see: the clouds are carrying
Thunder and lightning
By the seas of the city
Light up

All your friends are apart
They fell apart
You're alone in the storm...
Stop, Mother Rus'!

They won't let you fall
Falcon children.
Stand up, listen to their cry
Yes, rejoice...

"Everything is good for you,
The dress is valuable,
Our wives, blood and life,
Everything for the mother."

God will carry the storm,
The sun will look,
Wider than before, Rus',
You'll spread out!

Your name will be
People remember
While the world stands
Narrowed by God.

And there are too many graves
Our enemies
Will grow in Rus'
Wild grass!

SUDDEN GRIEF

So autumn has come. The golden bread has been removed,
The neighbor's threshing floor is full...
To me it just looks like an orphan, -
Nothing is placed on it!

And did I spare my strength for arable land,
I was lazy at my favorite job,
Or I didn’t know how to fertilize it properly,
Or did you start sowing unwillingly?

Am I the nurse - warm spring
I was not happy, and the old custom
Didn’t hold on - for the guest on an equal basis with people
Didn’t light the candle with ardent wax!..

Day and night I kept thinking: maybe I’ll wait!
I’ll start threshing the rye in the fall, -
That's it, look, I'm going to lose money on clothes for the kids.
And I will pay the rent on time.

My eared rye is not ripe,
Beaten to the roots by large hail!..
When will you, my joy, enter my yard?
Oh, my unsolved misfortune!

Apparently the children will sit without bread in the winter,
Without clothes they will endure the cold...
Get used to the bad life, my dears!
Temper yourself in hardship from a young age!

Everyone can’t feast... To the bitter, grief comes,
He gets along with them everywhere like a friend,
With them he sows and reaps, with them he sings songs,
When the chest is torn apart in pieces!..

A PEASANT WOMAN'S STORY

Oh, a lot, my mothers,
And I shed tears
And I knew bitter grief,
And she endured the needs!

Here God sent timelessness -
Our barn burned down,
Here, about six months later,
Suddenly my husband fell ill.

It was time to work -
And it’s a pity to throw him away,
And the field hasn’t been harvested,
As it should, nothing

And there are little children there, -
You work all day long,
Will break all the joints
Sometimes at night.

Once I work in the field -
The heat is unbearable,
I have nothing to drink...
Until the night came

I'm so tired -
I won't raise my hand
It hurts my heart
And he aches with sadness.

Oh, come on, I'll check on you
I'll go sick; -
I came, and he, my killer whale,
He's already tossing about in delirium.

The calf was on a leash -
The edge was torn off
And all the straw here and there
I kicked around in the hut.

Little son is scared
Sits and screams in the corner
And my baby daughter is crawling
And crying on the floor.

I looked at her -
I almost died!
I took the poor thing in my arms
Yes, I approached my husband.

"Vasilievich! Vasilievich!
Come to your senses, just for an hour.
For whom, my dear,
Are you leaving us?"

He groaned, my darling,
He waved his hand like this,
He said: “According to the will of God,”
Yes, he fell asleep forever.

Stayed with the kids
I'm alone...
Covered without a master
Wide grass yard.

Winter has come with frosts -
And I'm sitting without firewood,
I don’t know how to rest
I grieve and grieve.

Here the children are asking for bread,
They don't give me peace
The horses are hungry there
They stand and wait for the stern;

Then you need to bake with straw
Heat and cook cabbage soup;
Then to the river for water
Go with buckets;

Then throw away the snow yourself
With a shovel from the gate, -
You'll hurt yourself like that for a day,
Food doesn't come to mind.

Children, my berries,
They look like orphans
Plucked, torn,
They lose weight and hurt.

I look at them and think:
“What am I going to feed them with?”
And my strong thoughts
And I can’t sleep...

Suddenly he wooed me
A wealthy man;
So, God bless him, eccentric,
Fancy old man

I always quarreled with my wife,
And it’s a sin to reproach a woman -
She was smart
She knew how to live at home.

And he was not to my heart,
And she married him;
Now my eyes are hurting me
The whole family is his:

"Why did you impose
Some with children
She gave birth, nursed,
Feed them yourself!"

Yes, it’s good that orphans
Warmed up by me
And about yourself, mothers,
I don't care anymore.

STREET MEETING

As if deserted, the whole city is calm.
The sun is barely visible through the network of clouds.
Empty on the street. Morning chill
I drew patterns on the glass of houses.
The roofs are carpeted everywhere
Soft snow; from pipes here and there
Smoke rises to the sky in pillars,
It curls, thins out, like shreds
Transparent clouds - and flies into the distance...
Boring street! That's right, people
People here are reluctant to leave their yards...
But the woman, bent over, carries
A coffin under my arm... Here's another one
I met her, bowed to her,
Bowing, she said: “Hello, dear!”
She stopped and began speaking:

"Who is this coffin for?
You, my mother, took
Son, is it over?
Or is your daughter dead?

"Son, my dear,
I'm going to bury;
Yes, I forcibly lost my way
And buy a coffin.

And as for candles and incense
I don't know where to get it...
There is an old samovar,
I want to pledge it.

My husband is sick. Here are three months
Everything lies on the stove,
To beg for poverty is shameful,
At least shout with your voice."

"And, mother! And I was ashamed
To ask at your age...
I was stupid, to be honest,
Stupid and proud.

Now I’m used to it, there’s no grief;
You will come to a familiar house,
You will cry and bow,
Tell me everything;

Widow, they say, I’m unhappy...
Look, they tell you to sit down,
Will they give you some kind of dress?
And they will invite you to tea.

Another thing, my mother,
Walk under the windows -
Apparently, it’s shameful
You really have to be poor.

And they will receive you in the room, -
What kind of vice is that?
You seem to be spinning
Why is your son dead?"

"Oh, I'm taking care of him
I took a lot!..
Feed him, due to illness,
I couldn't breastfeed.

In the morning of liquid gruel
Pour it into his horn,
He sucks her, poor thing,
And that’s enough for the day.

Here, you know, we have a gorenka,
In winter it’s like a glacier -
A little sleepy he will mark himself,
Well, a cry will rise...

And he's shaking all over from the cold...
You'll start breathing for him
On red little hands,
Well, he'll fall asleep again."

"And you have no reason to cry,
That God took him away...
He, my mother, I think
Have you been ill for a while?"

"For a week, my friend, I toiled
And he didn’t put the horn in his mouth;
It happened, just a little
Swallow milk.

Yesterday, my darling,
I caress him
Lo and behold, tears welled up.
In his eyes,

As if life is sinless
He didn't want to quit...
And he died quietly, poor thing,
Like a candle, it burned out!..”

"What are you crying about?
This is not your will.
And children in poverty -
Glands, my mother!

Here I have Arinushka
And she was smart
On velvet, my soul,
She could sew with gold;

It happened while at work
Sitting until the roosters crow
And I bow to the people
And he doesn’t tell me to go out:

"Mama herself, they say,
I will impregnate you."
Worked, worked, -
And she lost her eyes.

Tied my little hands:
After all, he is wasting away from melancholy;
She's blind, but she knits somehow
Socks and stockings.

He won’t eat someone else’s roll,
And if he does
What a piece from hunger,
The whole heart will break:

And she eats and cries, stupid;
You chide - there is no answer...
This is what it's like to be poor
Living with children, my light! "

"Oh, it's bittersweet, my dear!
The child grows - sadness,
It will die - it’s its own blood,
It’s a pity, my friend, it’s a great pity!”

"Pray to God, my mother, -
There is no need to push.
Sorry, I'll come to you
Have some pancakes."

The women separated. On the street again
Empty. Fences and walls of houses
They look sad and somehow stern,
The sun behind a long bank of clouds
Hidden. The sky is so pale, colorless,
Just like the dead... and the clouds
They look so desolate, unwelcoming,
What involuntarily finds melancholy...

The water has walked
Through green meadows, -
I've heard enough of the storm;
Broke bridges
Flooded the yards, -
I enjoyed my free life.

Spring has passed
The river has calmed down, -
It flows through the sand and does not become muddy;
On the night of the month he does not sleep,
The wind blows - it is silent,
He just frowns and winces.

Well done for a walk
On other sides, -
He boasted of his daring;
I went to feasts,
Caressed other people's wives,
He gave their husbands some care.

And now, under fire
Sit, whip bast shoe, -
Place all the blame on old age;
Young wife
It stings the eyes, -
Well, I’m glad if I’m not happy, but keep quiet.

Above the light lake of the purple dawn
The evening flame goes out.
Mowers light fires on the shore,
And carefreely collects
Fisherman, near the reeds, a wet net in the shuttle;
We fell asleep in the darkness of the plain,
And only occasionally a cool breeze
Will stir the aspen leaves.

I love this hour, when from all sides
Thick shadows are coming towards me,
And the freshness blows, and the air is filled
The breath of dormant plants;
When every sound becomes clearer
The lightning is burning above me,
And the fiery month, silent friend of the night,
It rises above the nearby mountain.

What needs? I lived this day sadly
Under the weight of bitter impressions,
But now an excess of strength is boiling inside me
And new feelings and thoughts.
I'm living again now! And how pleased I am
And the sleep of the fields in deserted silence,
And these bright stars burning in the heights,
The language is solemn and wonderful!

FRIEND (STEPPE)

Let my days bring me grief again, -
Hours of heavy languor,
I know, the delight of other moments will redeem -
Other feelings and phenomena.

When the surface of the waters shines during the month,
When the sunset burns with fire,
Or a whirlwind of thick dust swirls along the road,
Or at midnight lightning flashes,

When the fields sleep under white fluff in winter,
Or the forest bends from a terrible blizzard,
Or in the sky the pillars, like rainbows, are burning
In the light of the sun on a frosty day, -

It makes me happy and fun to follow,
Everything is so familiar and new to me,
And I would like to keep everything in my memory,
Close it in a thoughtful word!..

Nature, you are my mentor and friend,
She opened up a world full of thoughts to me,
Made my sad leisure time happy
And reconciled with the poor lot!

Is it because of secret melancholy that my chest hurts and aches,
Or the heart of needs is tormented by anxiety, -
I rush to rest in your arms,
Like a temple of the invisible God.

And shouldn't I love you with all my heart,
My friend who knows no oblivion!
You will shelter me and the dead in silence,
Now living consolation!

IN THE FOREST
(After recovery)

Hello, my curly friend!
Take me under the shade of your oak trees,
Spreading their majestic canopy
Above the smooth surface of bright waters and green meadows.

How I thirsted, exhausted by longing,
In a slow illness, burning like fire,
To drink in your coolness in silence
And lie down on the grass with your hot head!

How often in the painful silence of the nights,
In the hours of languid vigil,
I remembered your darkness and the music of speeches,
And the birds are cheerful whistling and singing,

And the days of old, when your boring home
I left, an unsociable child,
And silently, in your darkness
Wandered around, excited by an unspeakable dream!

Oh, how good you were in the evening,
When everything was instantly illuminated by lightning
And suddenly - to the voice of a thunder cloud
He responded with a riotous whistle!

And I loved it!.. as with a dear creature,
I shared everything with you openly:
And bitter tears, and instant joy,
And the song composed under your dialect.

You, mighty one, have not been changed by the years!..
And I, your guest, have matured over the years,
But in the flames of passions and petty adversity,
I experienced a lot of severe bitterness...

This poison is terrible! Suddenly he doesn't kill
Doesn't strike like heavenly thunder:
It dries out the brain, penetrates into the joints,
Burns the body with slow fire!

Will I fall, struck by this poison,
Having lost the strength of strength and songs, a modest gift,
Or I recognize light and heat of new thoughts and feelings,
Tempted in the crucible of grief, -

God knows what's ahead! Now half ill
I’m entering your shadow again, gloomy forest.
And I listen to your greetings,
I confide my sadness to you as a friend!..

Get rid of me, melancholy,
Get some dust!
What kind of sadness is it if you are alive -
And laugh through your tears!

Not a curiosity - a feast
With a good share;
He sings out of grief,
It also dances in captivity.

No matter how you boast
With a smart head, -
Thunder clouds
Don't pull away with your hand.

Sadness-care does not sleep,
Without trouble it crashes;
Carefree soul
And he sleeps on a stone.

If there is no sun, -
A clear month is shining;
Love has changed -
The song won't change!

The heart asks not to cry,
And he lives in joy;
You'll die - well, then
Do not need anything.

What a morning this is! Silver frost
Lies on the green meadow;
Yellowed reeds over the blue river
There is a through fence.

Over the black distance of a deserted plain
A transparent fog swirls
And long threads of gray web
Enmeshed in gray weeds.

And the sky is so clear, bright, serene,
What's over there - far to the side -
I see a snow-white fisherman flash
And now he is drowning in the heights.

Cheerful, refreshed by the coolness of the meadows,
I'm waiting for the red sun
I admire the arable fields, the naked forest,
And I enter the sleepy thicket.

The leaves rustle under my feet,
Two woodpeckers are knocking somewhere...
And the sun rises quietly over the fields,
The lakes are glowing red.

Here the golden rays flashed brightly
And they sneak into the thicket of birches
Further and further, and the branches are damp
Covered with drops of tears.

In late autumn, sometimes sad,
There are their own wonderful colors,
How there is a charm in a farewell smile,
In the last embrace of love.

Yes, my sir, this often happens:
The father is on the table, and the children are sharing,
And brother grabs his brother by the collar...
Because of which? And you won’t understand it!

You, bar, I have tea, there is no discord...
And men, it is known, are vahlaks:
They have for a penny - coldness and annoyance,
For a dime - kicks!

Here, because of the women and children, anger will come out...
Here we are now: there are always two of us -
My brother and I; married, sir, both,
And they always had bread in reserve;

And they would live for themselves, put together a house...
No, wait! See, the wives are not in harmony:
Over there, one of the cats got tired of them...
“I,” he says, “will not go to the river;

Let the daughter-in-law go if she wants
Her husband managed to buy her a new one..."
And she will jump up like crazy,
He starts throwing up his hands like this.

And well - shout: “What kind of noblewoman are you?
There are no cats, but she sat down and sits..."
And then there will be such a squabble,
What is ringing in your ears?

The brother, you see, will put in a word for his wife
And he’ll call me a fool,
And you have five words ready, -
This, my sir, is where the fun begins!

All this is so... And it happened with my father.
Yes, the old man soon deceived us;
He shouts a little: “Hey!” - you run anywhere,
Otherwise it’s a disaster! Oh, the dead man was cool!

When he died, my brother became arrogant:
Disgraces me, disgraces my wife:
You say, what? I remained the eldest
He says, this is how I’ll turn you around!

And he turned... Here you need a bast on the bast shoes, -
He will start drinking and taking walks;
You take the flail, it climbs onto the floor...
Well, you can’t stretch out alone.

His wife, you know, sets everything on fire:
"Share, they say! Your brother is a couch potato,
Like a doll he outfits his wife,
Stealthily the whole house was torn apart..."

She herself, you see, she’s so stingy,
I’m ready to disappear forever in rags,
Yes, he loves to live as an unauthorized mistress,
Do everything in your own way, you know.

Well, my little woman is not grumpy,
And to be honest, I’m not averse to panache,
And besides... she’s lazy at work,
What is, that is, lies cannot help here.

This, my sir, is where the matter begins:
Every day there is noise, and under the noise you will fall asleep;
And my brother is tired of all this,
And it’s all the same to me,” and they started dividing...

At first, we shared in good conscience:
They didn’t manage, - they took up the trial, -
Well, we somehow made peace in the violence,
There is still a dispute over the old clamp...

And I scream, and my brother does not yield:
“No,” he says, “even if you crack me, I won’t give it up!”
I'm following you, he, you know, pulls out,
Yes, he strives to hit his hands.

And laughter and sin!.. - We stand behind a mountain of rubbish!..
Suddenly, my sir, I didn’t have time to blink,
As the brother shouted: “Take it, let it follow you!”
Yes, he put the collar on me.

In the heat of the moment I got tangled up in the harness;
The people are yelling: “There, dressed up the horse!”
I was so confused at that time, -
Somehow a tear came out of me!..

You, sir, laugh... No, there’s not much funny here:
After all, my brother wanted to live like a lord;
I took hold of the tug, but I didn’t have enough strength,
He pushed and pushed and began to drink out of grief.

And I don’t need honey... After all, you don’t know the holidays:
You work, you can’t straighten your back,
A little bit of bad weather - you keep moaning and panting...
Here, my sir, is a peasant division!

The evening dawn is burning over the fields,
The rye is covered with scarlet paint;
The forest stands above the river, blushing,
Says goodbye to the day with quiet music.

The lights on the steep bank began to smoke,
The mowers gathered around the lights,
They began to sing a song about love and longing,
Echoes rushed into the darkness.

Well, why am I sitting here alone under a willow tree?
And I catch mournful sounds,
I remember how I lived, but I forcibly wake up
Is there sleeping torment in the poor heart?

Oh, you, life, my life! Sometimes you don’t sleep at night,
You wait for a moment of leisure;
As soon as the family settled down, you felt like you were flying on wings.
Into the dark garden of a beloved friend!

The key in my pocket has long been ready for the gate,
And the path to the gazebo is familiar...
Once you whistle like a nightingale in the sleepy thicket of bushes,
And the window will open wide.

Now the old people are sleeping... And you stand to your head
Your blood rushes noisily.
Here comes a dear friend through the dewy grass,
"It's you!" - and falls on his chest.

And you don’t see, you don’t know how time flies...
The early dawn has been shining for a long time,
The garden is covered with a thick golden blush, -
Your eyes won't notice anything.

Oh, happy nights! What a dream you went through...
The girl’s will was immediately fettered:
They found an old groom for her poor thing,
The half-dead woman was married to him...

Desolate melancholy cannot suddenly break me:
I have a lot of strength and courage!
How does it feel for you, my beloved friend,
Locked up by a jealous miser!

DEPARTURE OF THE COACHMAN (THE DRIVER)

Well, I think I'm ready:
Here's my caftan
I'm wearing mittens
New whip under your arm...

There's a noise in my head...
That's what annoys me!
True, hops are not stupidity,
I got enough sleep - and that's fine.

You, wife, shut up:
I know everything without you;
I'm going with the master... yes!
Oh, what a walk!

Yes, and master!.. - go, -
With my own son
He beat off the bride, -
It's done, well done!

Buried two wives
I found the third one...
And he’s angry... almost like that, -
Beat him with a whip!

Well, nothing... they say
This bride
And she herself will fight back, -
You won't find a place.

Goes for wealth
Wind racing means:
He will let his son go with the bag,
My husband will be fooled...

The son, for example, is not stupid,
Yes, intimidated, that's right:
Everyone looks like an orphan,
Humble... that's what's bad!

Well, let God judge
What's black and white...
Here, harness the horses -
This is our business!

Listen, wife! look,
What bridles!
See, here is a copper set,
Here are mohairs and rings.

And the arc, the arc, -
Shines in gold...
Prr... you're naughty, native!
Know that the sand digs!

You, my friend, don’t be a whim;
I feel sorry for your old age!..
So I’ll teach you a lesson with a whip, -
The sky will become hot!..

Sidor will take the reins, -
The devil is not afraid!
It will fly - towards him
The cloud is amazed!

He just shouts: “Well, well!
Eh, you carefree one!"
Lagging behind
Migratory wind!

And the rider to me - ugh!..
If he says "Easy!"
No, they say, sit down, sit still
Yes, hold on tight.

If we are too lazy,
We sleep day and night in succession;
If there is a feast, on the spot,
Work until you drop;

If you're going to go, go for a drive!
Don't mind the head!
It’s bright for us without light,
Without a road - smooth!

Well, Matryona, goodbye!
Stay with God;
Wait for something new
Yes, watch the house.

Yes, the mare is sick
Steam your rotting leg...
Don't forget!.. And water
Don't give too much.

Come on, let's go! Move!
Oh, how we went!
Be careful, man.
Are you deaf or what?.. Be careful!..

LAMP

Before the image the lamp burns out,
Throwing a shadow on the ceiling;
How many thoughts, bitter thoughts it evokes
A familiar light to the eyes!

I remember the night: in front of my crib
Clasping my hands, with agony in my features,
All poor, illuminated by a lamp,
My mother prayed in tears.

I was hot. And behind the wall they sang, -
There was a family feast, as always!
Frightened, I shuddered in bed...
Why didn't I die then?

I remember the day: the lamp was trembling;
It was raining, ringing on the glass.
My father was crying... my mother was lying in a coffin...
My vision was blurry.

But youth is strong. There was glitter in the distance;
Full of hope, living in a hurry,
From the pool where the heart grew cold, -
My soul was rushing forward.

This is the distance, the land of my shrine,
Where I thought the light was on...
I walk along it - and in the cold of the desert
It stings me from all sides.

Alas! lamps bright shine,
What happened, awakening again,
Casts a ray on new suffering,
Recent wounds are living blood!

Over the years I have not found a better life,
The cherished path did not save me
From thin needles that enter against your will
Into a hot brain, into a sore chest.

All darkness and crying... scars from scourging...
The saving dawn is far away...
And the days fade away amid darkness and silence,
Like this pale light.

Are you soha, our mother,
Helper of bitter poverty,
Constant nurse,
Eternal worker!

Is it by your plow's mercy
The threshing floors are spread apart with the bread,
The evil ones are full, the good ones are full,
Are there carpets spread across the fields?

No one even remembers about you...
Why are you silent, unfriendly,
That your work is not for your glory,
Unrequited service is not in honor?..

Oh, strong, never tired
The peasant has an iron hand,
And lays the mother plow to rest
One starless night!

The grass is green in between,
Wild wormwood sways, -
Isn't your fate bitter?
Does it respond in her juice?

Who invented you?
Always attached to the case?
You feed the young and the old,
She was left an orphan...

Oh, you miserable poverty,
Patient at home in grief,
Accustomed to a callous piece,
She's timid around strangers!

You, timid, look everyone in the eye,
Orphan, killed by shame,
When you come to a rich man, you stand in the corner,
Unwelcoming, forgotten.

You are floating - wherever the water carries you,
You wander along the side - where the way will be given,
You ask for the sun - a thunderstorm is coming,
If you tell the truth, they will force your mouth shut.

You have spring without greenery,
And your love is without joy,
Your joy is timeless
Sickness with hunger in old age.

You've been tormented and tormented forever,
There is great sadness in my heart;
You will part with the white light, -
There is wild grass on the grave!

PROMOTION AND CARE

Care melts away like a candle,
An age disappears from melancholy;
Remove grief - not grief,
Put him in a chain - he sings.

Care will fall - I can’t sleep,
If he's asleep, walk by and he'll wake up;
The brave prowess is sleeping,
Strike with thunder - he won’t wake up.

The ear is bending in the wind,
The wind will bend care;
Prowess will meet a thunderstorm,
He'll twist his hat over his ear.

Care is afraid of everyone,
If they stamp their feet, they will turn pale;
They'll stamp their feet for prowess -
He climbs on the knife and is not shy.

After death, care is stingy,
Busy late and early;
Prowess, without thinking, will get
If it throws it into the wind, it laughs.

The song of care is not a song;
Listen - longing will overcome;
Prowess will whistle, stomp -
It will dispel grief and thoughts.

Care will come to visit, -
There is boredom and cold in the house;
Daring will fly in and hug you, -
You will become cheerful and young.

TALENT SHARE

The share is mediocre,
What a grumpy wife
Won't starve to death
Won't feed you enough.

At home - drives you out of the house,
Takes you on a visit to the mountain,
It hurts no matter what he wants,
Across and in two.

Ah, the wife is grumpy
Makes some noise and leaves
With late roosters
If he falls asleep, he will calm down.

Untalented share
He's amusing himself all day,
Arouses the sleepy one -
Taunts me all night.

Threatens with flour, poverty
It promises hard days,
The falcon orders to watch,
The songs are fun to sing.

Those songs are funny
They are covered in whistles,
After songs in three streams
Tears are shed.

Time moves slowly -
Believe, hope and wait...
Behold, our young tribe!
Your path is wide ahead.
Lightning illuminated us
We stand at a crossroads...
The dead in the world have rested,
The matter came alive.

The seed was sown for centuries, -
The roots are deep in the ground;
You cut down forests with axes, -
Evil is not easy to pull out:
We were instilled with it in childhood,
His grandfathers became close to him...
The dead in the world have rested,
The matter came alive.

Shame on those who grieve senselessly,
The leaves will whisper: he is mute.
Glory to those who serve the truth,
He sacrifices everything to the truth!
We opened our eyes late,
Let's hurry to work together...
The dead in the world have rested,
The matter came alive.

Loose soil is ready,
Sow while it's spring:
Good deeds and words
The seeds will not be lost.
Where did we get them and how did we get them?
We will give honor to our grandchildren...
The dead in the world have rested,
The matter came alive.

CONVERSATIONS

The dawn of a new life -
And warm and light;
We talk about good things
We are indignant at evil.

For our native land
Our heart hurts;
For the past days
Conscience and shame torment me.

What keeps us from blooming
Keeps growth young, -
So I would throw it off my shoulders
This trash is centuries old!

Where are you, servants of good?
Come forward!
Lead by example!
Teach the people!

Our reasonable impulse
Our honest speech
It must be turned into blood,
It must be clothed with flesh.

How to believe the words -
We are growing by the hour!
They will shout: “Help!” -
Let's step across the abyss!

Our soul is hot,
Our will is strong
And sadness for others -
Deep, deep!..

And the time comes
A good deed to begin,
We're so sorry from the head
Lose a hair:

There is thought and laziness,
Here timidity will take over us...
And the words... in words
Falcon flight!..

Both evening and early
Many elders, and widows, and orphans
Walks under the windows with a bag,
For Christ's sake he calls for help.

Does bondage put on a bag,
Are you reluctant to take on the work?
Your lot is hard and bitter,
Homeless, ragged people!

They will not refuse you alms,
You won't die homeless in winter, -
It's a pity for God's intelligent creature,
A man covered in dirt and carrying a bag!

But the poorer and worse is the beggar:
He won’t go begging under the window,
A whole century, from clothes and food,
It works night and day.

Sleeps in a shack, on dirty straw,
The hero is in hopeless trouble,
Stronger than a stone in unbearable languor,
Stronger than brass in bloody need.

When the grain dies, he throws it into the ground,
Death reaps, but need sells;
A cloud of tears sheds for him,
The storm sings about his melancholy.

Textbook for grade 3 (Part 1)

Russian language

What is the root word?

130. Read it.

Aspen forest. I'm walking through a thick aspen tree. Nice young aspen trees! There are older aspen trees nearby. I see mushrooms under the trees. These are boletuses.

• Find words with the same root. How did you determine them? Explain the lexical meaning of each of these words.
• Write down words with the same root. Select the root in them. Underline the fundamentally uncheckable spelling.

Remember! Cognates- these are words that have the same root with the same meaning.

131. Read it.

1. In the deep silence the forest stands thick. (I. Nikitin) 2. We went out into a light birch forest. (G. Skrebitsky) 3. The forester takes care of the forest property - he won’t tear off a leaf and won’t scare away the animal. (L. Yakhnin) 4. The valley was surrounded by forested mountains.

• Find words with the same root. Explain their lexical meaning. Which part in each of the cognate words “stores” the general lexical meaning of all cognate words?
• Write down words with the same root and highlight the root in them.

132. Read it. What groups can words be combined into?

Cleanliness, say, oil, whitewash, whiten, ring, fairy tale, oily, white, ringing, ringing, clean, oil, fabulous, clean, ringing, clean, oil.

• Find words with the same root. Write them down in groups. Highlight the root in the words.

Trees 2. Shrubs 3. Shrubs Grasses 3. Shrubs Grass 4. Mosses Lichens 4. Mosses Lichens

“Birds and animals in the forest have their own floors: mice live in the roots - at the very bottom; various birds, like the nightingale, build their nests right on the ground; blackbirds - even higher, on bushes; hollow birds - woodpeckers, titmice, owls - even higher; At different heights along the tree trunk and at the very top, predators settle: hawks and eagles. Each breed certainly lives on its own floor.” MM. Prishvin

Everything in the forest is interconnected and inextricable. A healthy young tree is not afraid of bark beetles. Any damage to the bark is filled with resin. But when a tree ages, it can no longer cope with the multitude of bark beetles and dies, making way for young plants. Do bark beetles bring harm or benefit to the forest? For young trees this is a benefit, but for old trees it is not. However, bark beetles accelerate the circulation of substances. If these connections are disrupted, the ecological balance will also be disrupted.

The importance of mushrooms for the forest They help trees absorb water from the soil with salts dissolved in it. They help trees absorb water with dissolved salts from the soil. Animals eat and treat mushrooms. Animals eat and treat mushrooms. Mushrooms contribute to the decomposition of plant debris (stumps, fallen branches, dead leaves) Mushrooms contribute to the decomposition of plant debris (stumps, fallen branches, dead leaves)

Panova Oksana Vladimirovna primary school teacher MAOU "Gymnasium 4" Veliky Novgorod Personal website: