Who wrote a horse carrying a cart of brushwood. Peasant children poem by Nikolai Nekrasov

I decided to collect in one place all the versions known to cattle famous poem Nekrasova, sorted in order from to a lesser extent hellishness to greater in the opinion of the cattle. Banal options are furiously eliminated.

Stock up on air so you have something to laugh at. So...

I left the house to take a shit in the cold.

A boy pulling a mare by the tail.

Hello boy!
- Fuck you..!
- Why are you swearing?
- Did *** stick around?
- Where do the firewood come from?
- We're dismantling the barn.
Father, listen, ***
And I ran away.

Ass blows were heard in the forest.
- What, does your father have a big family?
- How to eat - so fifteen,
Like *** - so two,
My father is the last bastard
Yes I.

I left the forest. It was very hot.
I see it's slowly going uphill
Akhmet Mukhamet and some firewood.
- Where do the bones come from?
- We know from the forest.
Father, do you hear, is being chopped down, and I am taking him away.

Once upon a time in the cold winter time
I'm sitting behind bars in a damp dungeon.
I look - it rises slowly up the mountain
A young eagle raised in captivity.
And walking with an important, decorous gait,
My sad comrade, flapping his wing,

It's pecking at bloody food under the window...

Once upon a time in the cold winter time
Great Rus' united forever.
I see it's slowly going uphill
One mighty Soviet Union.
And walking importantly, in decorous calm
Lenin illuminated our great path for us.
In big boots, in a short sheepskin coat
He inspired us on our path and deeds.

One day, in the cold winter season
The elf came out of the forest - was severe frost
Looks, slowly rises up the mountain
A cart laden with Mordorian rings.
Walking importantly, with a decorous gait
A little man leads the horse by the bridle,
In elven trousers, a sheepskin coat
And in mittens up to his ears, but without boots.
- Hello, furry!
- Go by!
You're too menacing, as I can see.
Where are the rings from?
- From the river, of course,
Gollum, listen, he dives, and I take him away.
In the forest blows to the face were heard,
Just two minutes of work:
Soon Gollum will drown the Nazgul in the swamp,
He'll take the ring and drag it here.
- Why do you need so much?
- Yes, the demand is huge:
To all the gnomes, so that they don't get lice,
On the finger, in the nostril and in the navel of Sauron,
And Gandalf and the Balrog, so as not to fight.
- Listen, furry one, what’s your name?
-Frodo.
-How old are you?
- I already have fifty dollars.
Where do you such freaks live?
“For this we’ll get a slap in the face, or we might even eat you.”
It wasn’t hot for the furry paws in the snow,
And Gollum screamed very wildly in the bushes.
“And Elbereth!” the little one shouted obscenities,
He pulled the reins and walked faster.

Once upon a time in the hot summer
I walked along the dune; the heat was very fierce.
I look - it rises slowly up the mountain
A heavily laden Bactrian camel.

And marching is important, like a horse in a parade,
A Bedouin leads a camel into custody -
In big dudes, in a long robe,
In a high turban, and himself - with a carabiner.

"Salaam, true believer!" "Step by!"
“You’re so formidable, as I can see!
Where did the camel come from?" "From the caravan, of course.
Father, do you hear, robs, and I take away."

The call of the muezzin was heard in the distance...
“What, does your father have a rich harem?”
"The harem is rich, but only men -
My father and me. We're completely fed up!"

"What's your name?" "Ali Ben ***
“How old are you?” "Allah will sort it out!"
"Go, Satan!" - he barked at the camel,
He pulled the ropes and stomped forward.

Once upon a time in the cold winter time
a horse moaning loudly uphill
dragged, farting, *** cart.
And it was fucking not just frost outside,
and *** your mother is about a hundred degrees.
And next to him is a boy in a *** coat
with an icicle in her nose he helped her with a whip,
covering the black eye with the other hand.
- Great, lad!
"Fuck yourself ***
- Wow! Well, you're fucking impudent, I'll take a look...
Where is the horse from?
***, fuck, fucked.
Father, do you hear, *** And I’ll take you away.”
(Horse thief whistles were heard in the village)
- What, does your father have a big family?
“It’s a big family... Do you need ***?
What the fuck are you, Malakhov? *** ***
- Okay, don’t be angry... What’s your name?
"Lena." - So you’re a fucking girl?!
"And you - ***
And crushing a loose snowdrift with my knee,
whipped the horse. And disappeared from sight.

Once upon a time in the cold winter time
I didn’t walk on foot like a sucker through the forests
I went up the mountain in my jeep
Suddenly - a cart of brushwood comes from around the corner!

I went to find out. In decorous calm
A man leads a horse by the bridle
He slightly hit the side of the jeep
It’s a shame, however, for the skinned side

“You got it, you goat!” “Yes, I was driving by...”
“Yes, you’re without money, as far as I can see!
Where do the firewood come from? " "From the forest, apparently..."
“Don’t be afraid, I’ll handle everything wisely!

I won’t overload the woodcutter!
Are you not getting paid? Big family? "
"The family is big. There are two people in it
One of them is me, and the second one is me too! "

Comments

VAG - here in the slang sense: a respected prisoner who has weight in the criminal world.

CHAMP - go.

DUBNYAK - frost.

SECH - watch. GO CHUMAT – in in this case: go. In general, this word is often pronounced with a disdainful connotation: get out of here! Or even - kochumai! What does it mean - stop it, fuck off. In a certain context - shut up, etc. (that is, stop any action).

RAM – carry, carry.

OBAPOL – waste from log processing. The sides of the log are cut off on both sides, the fallen slabs are the two floors. In popular dialects, obapol means: around, about (from the Church Slavonic “both sexes” - on both sides there are floors, that is, on both sides of clothing). In the north you will often hear from Siberians: “Say the matter, don’t walk around and talk about it!”

PAY FOR AN HONEST THIEF - pose as an authoritative criminal. If you don’t come up with a suit, it means you’re drying up. Your head will be torn off.

UNDER THE GILLS - gills in general: throat or lungs. Take it by the gills - by the throat. In this case, under the gills - under the knots. In relation to people, taking them under the gills is the same as twisting their flippers: twisting their arms and escorting them.

LOCHMAN - sucker means simpleton. And a lochman is an extremely simpleton, which is why it is ironic that “man” is added - a man. There is praise: “Well, you’re a man!” In general, the underworld borrowed the word “sucker” in the 19th century from the secret language of wandering peddlers - peddlers, or peddlers. In the Ofen language, a man was called a “sucker”: “The suckers were drinking klygi and gomza” (“The men treated them to mash and wine”). Even then, the word had a connotation of disdain, as evidenced by the feminine form “lokha” (or “solokha”) - a fool, a sluggish, stupid woman. This is understandable: traveling merchants were always cheating simple-minded villagers.
But the ofeni scammers also did not invent the “sucker”, but borrowed it from the inhabitants of the Russian North. This is how salmon, a fish of the salmon family, has long been called in the Arkhangelsk province and other places. White Sea suckers are a rather stupid and slow fish, and therefore extremely convenient for fishing. As evidenced, for example, by the poetic lines of Fyodor Glinka, who wrote in the poem “Maiden of the Karelian Forests” (1828):
That son of Karela is silent
Sleepy swarm of careless suckers
Disturbs with a well-aimed spear.

WHEELS WITH creaking – brand new shoes, still creaking. There may be shoes, shoes, boots.

PEASHLAT - a prisoner's winter sheepskin coat.

WITH AN ACE ON THE BACK - a convict used to have a yellow diamond sewn onto his back to make it easier to hit him in the back when escaping. According to the recollections of some convicts (Yakubovich, it seems), aces were also black (depending on the color of clothing). Remember from Blok: “You need an ace of diamonds on your back.” Sticking an ace of diamonds means sending it to a mansion, to a colony special regime, where especially dangerous repeat offenders serve their sentences.

WITH GULKIN HORRISH - common folk: small, like the penis of a pigeon (“gulki”).
BRATISHKA - also brother, bro, bratka, bratella: the address of tramps to each other. They are all like brothers and sisters to each other.

WATCH THE MARKET - either filter the market, or knit a broom: watch what you say, you allow yourself too much.

WRITE - cut with a knife. You can do it to death, but more often you can pee a little, or you can paint your face so that mom doesn’t find out.

THE FUCK ARE YOU, OPERA? - a common phrase. The answer to someone who wants to know a lot. Idle inquiries among the lads are not welcome.

PLOW - work tirelessly.

WEST - either for a bastard, or as a bastard: shameful, disgraceful, unworthy. For a representative of a high suit (thief, trump fraer) to plow is really a waste. Although there are situations...

FAMILY - they also say Kentovka: a small association of prisoners who support each other, share grub, junk, write for their family members in front of others (defend that is). In the St. Petersburg zones, however, “family people” prefer not to say: it’s very similar to “semen people”, a bad association...

MAN is a respectful description of a tramp, a convict: “This is a man!” Or from the “muzhiks” (prisoners who plow and quietly drag out their sentences) those close to the thieves’ brotherhood are singled out - “a man-man”, or a “thieves’ man”. And “people” are authoritative convicts (previously only thieves were called that).

KODLJAK – also kodla, kodlo: gathering, company.

BACLANYO - collective from cormorant: a prisoner who likes to scandalize, make noise, runs into trouble. Such people are treated with contempt.

POGONYALO - nickname, nickname. The same thing - a clique. The last word they don’t like it now. “The dog has a call, I have a rattle.”

EXCHANGE - to serve a certain part of the sentence imposed by the court.

DISAPPEAR WITHOUT GRIEF – disappear without complications.

My daughter is in the 3rd grade, learning an excerpt from N. Nekrasov’s poem (allegedly) “Peasant Children”:

Once upon a time in the cold winter time

I came out of the forest; it was bitterly cold.

I see it's slowly going uphill

A horse carrying a cart of brushwood.

And walking importantly, in decorous calm,

A man leads a horse by the bridle

In big boots, in a short sheepskin coat,

In big mittens... and he's as small as a fingernail!

“Great lad!” - “Go past!” -

“You’re so formidable, as I can see!

Where did the firewood come from?" - "From the forest, of course;

Father, you hear, chops, and I take it away."

(A woodcutter’s ax was heard in the forest.)

“What, does your father have a big family?”

"The family is big, two people

Just men: my father and I..." -

“So that’s it! What’s your name?” -

“Vlas.” - “What year are you?” - “The sixth year has passed...

Well, she’s dead!” the little one shouted in a deep voice,

He pulled the reins and walked faster.

The analysis in the head turns on automatically: a six-year-old child cannot lead a horse by the bridle:

1. He is small in stature and he will have to keep his arm extended upward all the time, which is impossible in a sheepskin coat (and even without it).

2. The horse’s step (especially with a load) is wider than the child’s step and, in order not to get under the hooves and not get hit by the shafts in the back of the head, he must run ahead of the horse, which is wearing “big boots” and a “sheepskin coat” and loose snow impossible.

Or maybe the poet slightly corrected reality for the sake of rhyme and the peasant leads the horse not by the bridle, but by the rein at the side of the sleigh?

But this option is also impossible:

At that time there were no municipal services and equipment, and no one cleaned the road, which means that it was not a road, but a sled track, on the sides of which there were snowdrifts that you could not walk on.

It is also not clear what the poet was doing in the forest in the cold winter season and in the severe frost? Did you draw inspiration or were people drawn to lumberjacks?

And about the woodcutter himself: you shouldn’t take a child with you to work in such weather: there was only folk medicine...

Wife: “Don’t split your child’s mind! They’ll kick her out of school!”

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I'm in the village again. I go hunting, I write my verses - life is easy. Yesterday, tired from walking through the swamp, I wandered into the barn and fell asleep deeply. I woke up: the rays of the cheerful sun were peeping through the wide cracks of the barn. The dove coos; flying over the roof, young rooks screaming; Some other bird was also flying - I recognized the crow from the shadow; Chu! some kind of whisper... but here is a line along the crack of attentive eyes! All gray, brown, blue eyes - Mixed together like flowers in a field. There is so much peace, freedom and affection in them, There is so much holy kindness in them! I child's eye I love the expression, I always recognize it. I froze: tenderness touched my soul... Chu! whisper again! F irst g o l o s Beard! Second A master, they said!.. Third Quiet you devils! Second: A bar doesn't have a beard - it's a mustache. First And the legs are long, like poles. Fourth And there's a clock on his hat, look! P i ty y Ay, important thing! Sixth And the golden chain... Seventh Tea, is it expensive? Eighth How the sun burns! N ew And there is a dog - big, big! Water runs from the tongue. P i t y Shotgun! look at it: the double barrel, the carved locks... THIRD (with fear) Look! FOURTH Keep quiet, nothing! Let's wait a little longer, Grisha! The third one will kill... _______________ My spies were frightened and rushed away: when they heard a man, So sparrows fly from the chaff in a flock. I calmed down, squinted - they appeared again, Little eyes flickering through the cracks. What happened to me - they marveled at everything and pronounced my verdict: - What kind of hunting is such and such a goose! I would lie on the stove! And it’s clear that it’s not a master: as he rode from the swamp, So next to Gavrila... - “If he hears, be silent!” _______________ O dear rogues! Whoever has seen them often, I believe, loves peasant children; But even if you hated them, Reader, as “a low kind of people,” I still must admit openly, That I often envy them: So much poetry has been poured into their lives, As God forbid your spoiled children. Happy people! They know neither science nor bliss in childhood. I made mushroom forays with them: I dug up leaves, rummaged through stumps, tried to spot a mushroom spot, but in the morning I couldn’t find it for anything. “Look, Savosya, what a ring!” We both bent down and grabbed the Snake at the same time! I jumped: the sting hurt! Savosya laughs: “I just got caught!” But then we destroyed them quite a lot and laid them in a row on the railing of the bridge. We must have expected glory for our deeds. We had a big road: There were countless people scurrying along it. A Vologda ditch digger, a tinker, a tailor, a wool-beater, and then a city dweller goes to the monastery to pray on holiday. Under our thick ancient elms tired people were drawn to rest. The guys will surround you: stories will begin about Kyiv, about the Turk, about wonderful animals. Some people will play around, just hold on - He will start from Volochok, and will reach Kazan. richer than all, Yes, one day he decided to grumble at God, - Since then, Vavilo has become seedy, ruined, There is no honey from the bees, no harvest from the earth, And only one happiness was in him, That the hairs grew out of his nose a lot...” The worker will arrange, arrange shells - Planes, files, chisels, knives: “Look, little devils!” And the children are happy, How you saw, how you tinker - show them everything. A passer-by will fall asleep listening to your jokes, The guys get to work - sawing and planing! They will use a saw - you won’t sharpen it in a day! They will break a drill - and run away in fear. It happened that there are whole the days flew by, - Like a new passer-by, then a new story... Wow, it’s hot! desert river Like white mushrooms in a forest clearing! The river resounded with laughter and howling: Here a fight is not a fight, a game is not a game... And the sun scorches them with the midday heat. - Home, kids! It's time for lunch. - We're back. Everyone has a basket full, And so many stories! Got caught with a scythe, caught a hedgehog, got a little lost and saw a wolf... wow, what a scary one! They offer the hedgehog flies and boogers, I gave him my Root milk - He doesn’t drink! retreated... Who catches leeches On the lava, where the queen beats the laundry, Who nurses his sister, two-year-old Glashka, Who drags a bucket of kvass for reaping, And he, tying his shirt under his throat, Mysteriously draws something in the sand; That one huddled in a puddle, and this one with a new one: She wove herself a glorious wreath, Everything white, yellow, lavender, and occasionally a red flower. Those sleep in the sun, those dance squatting. Here is a girl catching a horse with a basket - she caught it, jumped up and rode it. And is she, born under the sunny heat And brought home from the field in an apron, Afraid of her humble horse?.. The mushroom time has not yet had time to depart, Look - everyone’s lips are so black, They’ve filled their lips: the blueberry is ripe! And there are raspberries, lingonberries, and nuts! A childish cry, echoed, thunders through the forests from morning to night. Frightened by singing, hooting, laughter, Will the grouse take off, squawking at the chicks, Will the little hare jump up - soda, turmoil! Here is an old capercaillie with a faded wing, busy in the bush... well, the poor thing feels bad! They drag the living one into the village in triumph... - Enough, Vanyusha! You’ve been walking a lot, It’s time to get to work, dear! - But even work will first turn out to Vanyusha with its elegant side: He sees how his father fertilizes the field, How he throws grain into the loose soil, How the field then begins to turn green, How the ear grows, pours grain ; The finished harvest will be cut with sickles, tied into sheaves, taken to the barn, dried, pounded and pounded with flails, ground in a mill and baked. The child tastes the fresh bread and runs more willingly into the field after his father. Will they wind up the hay: “Climb up, little shooter!” Vanyusha enters the village as a king... However, it would be a pity for us to sow envy in a noble child. So, by the way, we must wrap the medal with the other side. Let's say peasant child He grows freely without learning anything, But he will grow if God pleases, And nothing prevents him from bending. Suppose he knows the forest paths, prances on horseback, is not afraid of water, but the midges eat him mercilessly, but he knows the work early... One day, in the chilly winter season, I came out of the forest; it was bitterly cold. I see a horse slowly ascending the mountain, carrying a cart of brushwood. And, walking importantly, in decorous calm, the horse is led by the bridle by a peasant in large boots, in a short sheepskin coat, in large mittens... and himself as small as a fingernail! - Great, lad! - “Go past!” - You’re too formidable, as I can see! Where did the firewood come from? - “From the forest, of course; Father, you hear, chops, and I take it away.” (A woodcutter's ax was heard in the forest.) - What, does your father have a big family? “It’s a big family, but two people. Just men: my father and me...” - So that’s it! What is your name? - “Vlas”. - How old are you? - “The sixth year has passed... Well, she’s dead!” - the little one shouted in a deep voice, pulled the reins and walked faster. The sun was shining so much on this picture, The child was so hilariously small, As if it were all made of cardboard, As if in children's theater they got me! But the boy was a living boy, a real one, and firewood, and brushwood, and a piebald horse, and snow lying up to the windows of the village, and winter sun cold fire - Everything, everything that was truly Russian was, With the stigma of an unsociable, deadening winter, That the Russian soul is so painfully sweet, That Russian thoughts instill in the minds, Those honest thoughts that have no will, For which there is no death - don’t crush, In which so there is a lot of anger and pain, in which there is so much love! Play, children! Grow in freedom! That's why you were given a red childhood, So that you can forever love this meager field, So that it always seems sweet to you. Keep your centuries-old inheritance, Love your labor bread - And let the charm of childhood poetry Guide you into the depths of your native land!.. _______________ Now it’s time for us to return to the beginning. Noticing that the guys had become bolder, “Hey, thieves are coming!” I shouted to Fingal: “They’ll steal, they’ll steal!” Well, hide it quickly!” Shiner made a serious face, buried my belongings under the hay, hid the game with special care, lay down at my feet and growled angrily. The vast field of canine science was perfectly familiar to Him; He started doing such things that the audience couldn’t leave their seats. They marvel and laugh! There's no time for fear here! They command themselves! - “Fingalka, die!” - Don’t freeze, Sergei! Don’t push, Kuzyakha, - “Look - he’s dying - look!” I myself enjoyed, lying in the hay, their noisy fun. Suddenly it became dark in the barn: it darkens so quickly on the stage, When a thunderstorm is destined to break out. And sure enough: the blow thundered over the barn, a river of rain poured into the barn, the actor burst into a deafening bark, and the audience gave a shout! The wide door unlocked, creaked, hit the wall, and locked again. I looked out: dark cloud hung above our theater just. In the heavy rain, the children ran barefoot to their village... My faithful Fingal and I waited out the storm and went out to look for great snipes.