A feast for the whole world WWII 3.3 5. Analysis of the chapter “A feast for the whole world

An important role in understanding the moral quest of heroes Nekrasov's poem "Who Lives Well in Rus'", in their comprehension of the past and search for the truth, songs are played: “Corvee”, “Hungry”, “Salty”, “Soldier’s”. They not only talk about the tragic pages of people's life under serfdom. We can say that the poet has a kind of concept of folk songs: these are both mirrors of the people's soul and the source of the formation of the people's soul. Songs are born from life itself; they reflect those moods and feelings that are prompted by tragic reality. But songs also have the ability to influence the lives and souls of peasants. In the first part of the poem, in the chapter “Drunk Night”, the author told how a young peasant woman rebelled when she heard the song “about valiant daring, about maiden beauty”, how they listened to this song, which went “with fire-longing” “through the peasant’s heart”, all peasants. It is no coincidence that when Grisha Dobrosklonov hears the men, despondent after the story of the peasant sin, singing “Hungry,” he scolds his fellow countrymen: “They croaked “Hungry,” / Do you want to call out grief?”

Nekrasov pays attention not only to the content of the songs, but also to the attitude towards them. The people did not create “cheerful and clear” songs: Vakhlat songs are “lingering, sad.” One of them - “Corvee” - is about the hungry Kalinushka, “twisted, twisted, flogged, tortured”, who “will drown grief in wine.” Having sung this song-cry, the Vakhlaks, however, do not sigh, do not remain silent sadly, they begin to “boast” about the suffering they have experienced, about their patience: “We are corvées! With ours / Try, be patient!” And in response, guests from the neighboring volost begin to boast about their own troubles, the “eccentricity” of the former lady and the punishments they received from her. Both the strength and weakness of the people were reflected in this boast: truly, “the Russian people have endured enough,” proving their patience, their endurance. However, over the long centuries of slavery, not only the habit of tolerating quirks and bullying has formed, but also the habit of being proud of one’s patience. Patience began to be perceived as a virtue, as a manifestation of strength.

Another song - “Veselaya” - was not created by the people, “the Vakhlak did not sing it.” After the abolition of serfdom, Grisha Dobrosklonov brought her to the Vakhlaks, and the priests and servants immediately fell in love with her, and the Vakhlaks, listening to her, “tapped their feet, / Whistled; “Merry” / I didn’t call it jokingly.” Each verse of this “fun” song is a story about how peasants were robbed and humiliated - by the zemstvo court, by the landowner, by the tsar. The chorus of the song sounds bitterly ironic: “It’s glorious to live for the people / In Rus', a saint!” Why do the Vakhlaks call her “not a joke” and cheerful? Is it because the terrible past already seems distant, and the dance rhythm drowns out the bitterness of words and invites you to “whistle” and “trample”? But if the lordly bullying is forgotten, then the memory of the famine experienced - the eternal companion of peasant life - remains forever. And therefore, “in their guts” the Vakhlaks sing another song - “Hungry” - about the torments of a hungry man. This song came from the soul of everyone, everyone who sings it sings not about the hungry Pankratushka, but about their recent and future torments. And the Vakhlaks do not dance, but suffer, suffer, when they sing “Hungry”:

Another while singing
He stood on his feet and showed
How the man walked, relaxed,
How sleep filled the hungry,
How the wind swayed
And they were strict, slow
Movements. Singing "Hungry"
Staggering as if broken,
We went single file to the bucket
And the singers drank.

The men and the song “Soldatskaya” greeted with sympathy. Although the soldier’s share has passed them by, the chorus of this song: “The light is sickening, / There is no truth, / Life is sickening, / The pain is strong” - conveys the bitter experience of their peasant life. The song “Salty” opens another terrible page in the people’s life, another pain in the people’s soul. It was composed by Domna, the mother of Grisha Dobrosklonov, but all peasant women accepted it into their souls. It sings about the grief of a mother feeding her son bread, watered with salty tears. She, too, was born from the depths of a suffering soul. Each line is a cry of despair and grief.

The Vakhlaks do not sing a single truly cheerful song during the feast: life was bitter - the songs were bitter. But Nekrasov also knows that a song is not only an echo of an experience, it has the ability to influence the soul, and therefore influence life itself. Thus, Domna’s song not only reminded Grisha Dobrosklonov of his mother and childhood, it aroused love for the suffering person, “love for all the Vakhlachina.” The song shaped the soul of the hero, “and at the age of fifteen / Gregory already knew firmly / That he would live for the happiness / Of his wretched and dark / Native corner.” It is no coincidence that Nekrasov likens the people’s soul to soil. But the author clarifies that it is not “old-tilled fields”, but only new land that can give good shoots when the sower comes, who will announce to the people new truths, new paths. Both the author and his hero, Grisha Dobrosklonov, understand that the peasant heart needs a “life-giving” song:

As if playing and running your cheeks flare up,
This is how a good song lifts your spirits
Poor, downtrodden...

But what is a “good song”? This is the song where not only the bitter sides of people’s life will be reflected, but where the “front side” will also be reflected, where the powerful forces hidden in the depths of the people’s soul will be sung.

The chapter contains three songs by Grisha Dobrosklonov. Each of them is about the people. But only one of them was especially “successful”, only one he wants to “sing to the Vakhlachki tomorrow” so that they would “rise” in spirit - the song “Rus”. The name itself allows it to be perceived as the final one in understanding Russian life. It sings about the “mysterious” Rus', full of contradictions - “poor and abundant,” “mighty and powerless.” But its pathos is not to affirm the idea of ​​complexity, the mystery of the Russian soul and land, but to glorify the awakening of Rus'. The “spark” that revived Rus' was hidden in the people’s soul, in the “golden heart” of the people, saved in slavery, in “a calm conscience, tenacious truth.” In Grisha's song, the people are likened to an army - “rati”. This definition emphasizes both the unity of the people and their heroic spirit. The sense of community is further enhanced by the absence of a subject. The stanza is dominated by verbs, which convey the unity of actions. But at the same time, the work that the “army” serves is peaceful, it is likened to collecting grain:

They stood up - unwounded,
They came out - uninvited,
Live by the grain
The mountains have been damaged!
The army is rising
Countless!
The strength in her will affect
Indestructible!

Every sentence in the song sounds like a slogan, like a statement. And the meaning of the slogans is the same: great faith in the future of the people. The ring composition plays a special role in understanding the meaning of a “good song”. However, the initial and final stanzas, depicting the contradictory Rus', have one fundamental difference. In the first stanza, the semantic emphasis falls on the definition - “powerless”, in the last - on the word antonymous to it - “omnipotent”. This epithet not only opposes the previous word - “downtrodden”, but also sums up all the definitions of “mysterious Rus'”. Calling Rus' “all-powerful,” the author asserts the people’s ability to overcome all obstacles and arrange their destiny happily: “You are downtrodden, / You are all-powerful, / Mother Rus'!” “Divine,” says Grisha’s brother Savvushka about this song. “Divine” is an epithet that has several meanings: it is both a recognition of the artistic merits of the song and the truth, “divinity” of its content.

Poem by N.A. Nekrasov’s “Who Lives Well in Rus'” shows pre-reform and post-reform Rus'. The main idea of ​​the poem is the inevitability of the peasant revolution, which will become possible on the basis of the growth of the revolutionary consciousness of the people, led by the democratic intelligentsia. The compositional structure is designed to emphasize the main idea of ​​the work.

It is the last chapter, “A Feast for the Whole World,” that is of great importance in revealing the ideological content of the poem. In it, the author provides a solution to the questions posed earlier. Nekrasov turned “A Feast for the Whole World” into a kind of revolutionary proclamation.

“A feast for the whole world” is a traditional fairy tale expression meaning wide and free fun. The feast is evident in this part of the poem, but what caused it? It was caused by the acquisition of freedom on the occasion of liberation from Prince Utyatin, which significantly changed the lives of workers. It is this chapter that explains that, remembering their past, the Vakhlaks realized that the main thing in the life of the people is to gain freedom, to get rid of the “support”.

Characterizing the Vakhlat masses, the poet first of all speaks not about their past, not about relationships with the clergy, he again returns to the dispute about hired meadows, in which the desire of the workers to take their position in life is manifested.

The men decided to sell the hired meadows in order to pay the taxes. Vlas (former mayor) meets again. This image is important as a carrier of another type of peasant consciousness associated with communal ideals.

At the same time, Vlas is afraid to believe that a peasant can be free and control his own destiny. But Vlas was transformed by the dream of possible freedom and independence.

Nekrasov emphasizes the importance of changing the content of songs - abandoning old ones and mastering new ones. The author constructed a comparison that gives an idea of ​​the spiritual uplift of the peasants who felt freedom. For example:

In everyone's chest

A new feeling was playing,
It was as if she was carrying them out

Mighty Wave
From the bottom of a bottomless abyss
To the light, where the endless
A feast is prepared for them.

Such peasants cannot be called slaves. “A slave who is aware of his slave position and fights against it is a revolutionary,” wrote V.I. Lenin.

The author will make his many-sided hero experience a kind of farewell to the recent past. This hero still does not understand much, but he understood one thing: he considers himself responsible for his life, which began after the “settlement with the master.” This was Vlas - a typical representative of this people. He "...learns to be a citizen."

The author himself has changed. His voice sounds more clear, he directly, strongly and clearly introduces the author's direct statements. Working on the chapter “A Feast for the Whole World,” Nekrasov used folk poetry to make the poem accessible to the people and, with its help, influence the people in a revolutionary-democratic spirit. The chapter contains many songs, legends and parables.

It is no coincidence that before “Veselaya” plays, the author talks about its popularity. This mobilizes the reader's attention.

Slowly, like a cloud moving in,
The words flowed viscously.

In the last chapter, Nekrasov emphasizes the awakening of the consciousness of the peasantry. In this chapter we clearly see how the author deepens the topic of the people. After all, men-truth-seekers went to look for the happy, and along the way, many questions arose (what is happiness, heroism, how the consciousness of peasants awakens, what is sin...).

Here before us is an exemplary servant, Yakov the faithful. Offended by the cruel landowner Polivanov, he takes revenge on him by committing suicide before his eyes. Slave death! Instead of killing the cruel landowner and taking revenge on him, he dies himself.

As if emphasizing the absurdity of such senseless revenge, Nekrasov, following the story “About the exemplary slave - the faithful Yakov,” gives the parable “About two great sinners.” This parable is one of the most politically poignant. The hero of Nekrasov's legend is the robber Kudeyar - a repentant sinner. He received forgiveness only by killing the oppressor. The point here is not in external form. The artist poetizes the new “holiness”. The story of Kudeyar elevates the murder of a nobleman (Pan Glukhovsky) to a religious feat, for which God himself forgives even the robber all his sins.

The inserted short stories-legends “About Two Great Sinners” and “About the Exemplary Serf - Yakov the Faithful”, given in contrast, lead to a certain conclusion: the path to a happy life for the peasantry lies through revolution, through the overthrow of the power of the landowners and the tsar.

Grisha Dobrosklonov, a revolutionary propagandist, is a kind of link between the present and the future. His songs such as “In a moment of despondency, O Motherland...” and “Rus” are dedicated to this. In these songs, the leading idea is the growth of peasant self-awareness. Sincerity, ardent hatred of the oppressors of the people, calls for struggle are heard in every song of Gregory.

Enough! Finished with past settlement,
The settlement with the master has been completed!
The Russian people are gathering strength
And learns to be a citizen.

Grigory Dobrosklonov is a revolutionary who deliberately entered into open struggle. He loves his people. In his name, he took the path of revolutionary struggle.

... Fate had in store for him

The main path, the name is loud

People's Defender,
Consumption and Siberia!

A new man, he refuses happiness for himself. The concepts of “freedom”, “homeland”, “happiness” are fused together with Gregory’s speeches. He feels happy from the knowledge that the chosen path is correct. Grisha's happiness lies in serving the people, and his happiness is inseparable from the people's. He says:

I don't need any silver
No gold, but God willing,
So that my fellow countrymen
And every peasant
Life was free and fun
All over holy Rus'!

So the problem of happiness is solved. Nekrasov shows that not only in the consciousness, but also in the feelings of his hero, love for his own mother, his native Vakhlachin, and his native people are inextricably linked.

Nekrasov’s poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'” opens up the prospect of the victory of the bright principles of goodness and justice over the dark forces of evil and oppression, and sounds faith in the triumph of people’s happiness. The last chapter of the poem “A Feast for the Whole World” reveals these perspectives. This determined its leading significance in the poem.

From the second part, “Who Lives Well in Rus'.” This chapter follows the chapter “Last One”, placed in “Notes of the Fatherland” 1873, No. 2 and in a separate, 6th edition of Nekrasov’s “Poems”: part 6.

At the end she sat down under a willow tree,
A modest witness
All the life of the Vakhlaks,
Where the holidays are celebrated
Where do the gatherings gather?
Where they flog you during the day and in the evening
They kiss, they make love, -
Lights and noise all night.
On the logs lying here,
On the log house of a built-up hut
The men sat down;
Our wanderers are here too
We sat next to Vlasushka
Vlas poured vodka,
“Drink, vahlachki, take a walk!” -
Klim shouted cheerfully.
As soon as you decide to drink,
Vlas to his little son
He shouted: “Run after Tryphon!”
With the parish sexton Tryphon,
Reveler, godfather of the headman,
His sons came
Seminarists: Savvushka
And Grisha, good guys,
Letters to peasants to relatives
Wrote; "Position"
How it happened, they interpreted to them,
Mowed, reaped, sowed
And drank vodka on holidays
On a par with the peasantry.
Now Savva is a deacon
I looked, and Gregory
Face thin, pale
And the hair is thin, curly,
With a hint of red.
Immediately outside the village
The Volga walked, and behind the Volga
There was a small town
(To be more precise, cities
There was no shadow at that time,
And there were firebrands:
The fire destroyed everything in the third year).
So passing people
Vakhlak acquaintances,
Here they also became
Waiting for the ferry,
They fed the horses.
Beggars also wandered here,
And the chattering wanderer,
And a quiet praying mantis. On the day of the death of the old prince
The peasants did not foresee
That the meadows are not waterlogged,
And they will get into litigation.
And after drinking a glass,
The first thing they argued about was:
How can they deal with the meadows? Not all of you, Rus', has been measured
Zemlyotsej: come across
Blessed corners
Where everything went well.
By some chance -
The landowner's ignorance
Living far away
The mediator's mistake
And more often with twists
Peasant leaders -
Allotment to peasants occasionally
The fishing line was also hit.
There's a proud man there, try it
Headman knock on the window
For tax - he will get angry!
One answer before time:
“Sell the fishing line!”
And the Vakhlaks decided
Own flood meadows
Hand over to the headman - for tax:
Everything is weighed, calculated,
Just rent and taxes,
With too much. “Is that so, Vlas?
And if the filing is done,
I don't say hello to anyone!
There is a hunt - I’m working,
Otherwise, I’m lying around with a woman,
Otherwise, I’m going to the tavern!” - Yes! - the whole Vakhlat horde
On the word of Klima Lavin
I responded. - On taxes!
Do you agree, Uncle Vlas? - - Klim’s speech is short
And clear as a sign,
Calling to the tavern, -
The headman said jokingly. -
Klimakh will begin as a woman,
And he’ll end up in a tavern! - “What then! Not a prison
Finish that one? The point is true
Don’t croak, solve it!” But Vlas has no time for croaking.
Vlas was the kindest soul,
I was sick for the whole Vakhlachina -
Not for one family.
Serving under a strict master.
Carrying a burden on my conscience
An involuntary participant
His cruelty.
How young I was, I was waiting for the best,
Yes, it always happened like this
The best has come to an end
Nothing or trouble.
And I began to be afraid of new things,
Rich in promises.
Unbeliever Vlas.
Not so much in Belokamennaya
Driven along the pavement,
Just like a peasant
The insults are over... is it funny?..
Vlas was always gloomy.
And then the old lady messed up!
Vakhlatsky tomfoolery
It affected him too!
He couldn't help but think:
“No corvée... no taxes...
Without a stick... is it true, Lord?”
And Vlas smiled.
So the sun from the sultry sky
Into the dense forest
Throw a beam - and a miracle is there:
The dew burns like diamonds,
The moss turned golden.
“Drink, vahlachki, take a walk!”
It was too much fun:
In everyone's chest
A new feeling was playing,
It was as if she was carrying them out
Mighty Wave
From the bottom of a bottomless abyss
To the light, where the endless
A feast is prepared for them!
They put another bucket,
Galdenie continuous
And the songs began.
So, having buried the dead man,
Relatives and friends
They only talk about him
They won't manage it yet
With host's treat
And they won’t start yawning, -
So the hubbub is long
Behind a glass, under a willow tree,
Everything seems to have worked out
In wake of the pruned
To the landowners "strengthening". To the sexton with the seminarians
They pestered: “Sing “Merry”!”
The fellows sang.
(That song - not folk -
The son of Tryphon sang for the first time.
Gregory, vakhlakam,
And from the Tsar’s “Regulation”,
Who removed the support from the people,
She's on drunken holidays
Like a dancer singing
Priests and servants, -
Vakhlak did not sing it,
And, listening, he stamped his feet,
Whistled; "Merry"
He didn’t call it in jest.) VESELAYA “Eat the prison, Yasha!”
There’s no milk!”
- Where is our cow? -
“Take away, my light!
Master for offspring
I took her home."
It's nice to live for the people
Saint in Rus'! - Where are our chickens? -
The girls are screaming.
“Don’t yell, you fools!
The zemstvo court ate them;
I took another cart
Yes, I promised to wait..."
It's nice to live for the people
In Rus', a saint! His back was broken,
But the sauerkraut doesn’t wait!
Baba Katerina
I remembered - roars:
In the yard for over a year
Daughter... no dear!
It's nice to live for the people
A saint in Rus'! Almost like a child,
Lo and behold, there are no children:
The king will take the boys,
Master - daughters!
To one freak
Live forever with your family.
It's nice to live for the people
Saint in Rus'!
etc. Then your Vakhlatskaya,
Dear, they burst out in unison.
Lingering, sad -
There are no others yet.
Isn't it amazing? wide
Side of baptized Rus',
There are so many people in it,
And not in one little soul
From time immemorial before ours
The song didn't light up
Cheerful and clear
Like a crazy day.
Isn't it wonderful? isn't it scary?
Oh time, new time! You will also be reflected in the song,
But how?... The soul of the people!
Laugh at last! GRAVE Poor, unkempt Kalinushka,
He has nothing to show off,
Only the back is painted,
You don't know behind your shirt.
From bast shoes to gate
The skin is all ripped open
The belly swells with chaff.
Twisted, twisted,
Flogged, tormented,
Kalina barely walks.
He'll knock on the innkeeper's feet,
Sorrow will drown in wine.
It will only come back to haunt you on Saturday
From the master's stable to his wife... "Oh, a song!.. I wish I could remember!.."
Our wanderers grieved.
That memory is short
And the Vakhlaks boasted:
“We are corvee workers! With ours
Try it, be patient!
We are corvées! grew up
Under the snout of the landowner;
Day is hard labor, and night?
What a shame! For the girls
The messengers galloped in threes
Through our villages.
We forgot about the face
Each other, looking at the ground,
We have lost our speech.
They got drunk in silence,
Kissed in silence
The fight went on in silence."
- Well, what about the silence?
Not good! we are silent
I got the pickles! -
Said the neighboring volost
Peasant traveling with hay
(Extreme need has befallen,
I mowed it down and off to the market!)
Our young lady decided
Gertrude Alexandrovna,
Who will say a strong word.
Tear him mercilessly.
And they fought! as long as
They didn't stop barking.
And a man should not bark -
The only thing is to remain silent.
We're tired! truly
We celebrated the will,
Like a holiday: they swore like that,
That priest Ivan was offended
For the ringing of bells.
Whooped that day. -Such wonderful tales
They fell... And is it a wonder?
Go far for the word
No need - everything is spelled out
On our own back. “We had the opportunity,”
Said the kid with the blacks
Big sideburns. -
There’s nothing more wonderful than her,”
(The small one wears a round hat,
With a badge, a red vest,
With a dozen light buttons,
Beveled pants
And the bast shoes: the little one swiped them
To the tree from which
Tiny koru shepherd
I tore it all off from below.
And above - not a scratch,
Will not disdain at the top
Crow builds a nest.)
- So, brother, tell me! -
“Let me smoke first!”
While he was smoking,
Vlas has our wanderers
They asked: “What kind of goose?”
- So, the martyr ran up,
Assigned to our parish,
Baron Sineguzin
Yard man,
Vikenty Alexandrovich.
From heels to arable farming
Jumped! remained behind him
And the nickname “away”.
Healthy, but legs are weak,
Trembling; his lady
I rode in a carriage in a train
Four to mushrooms...
He'll tell you! listen!
Such a noble memory,
It must be (the headman finished),
Ate magpie eggs. -Adjusting my round hat,
Vikenty Alexandrovich
I began the story. ABOUT THE EXEMPLARY SLAVE - YAKOV VERNY There was a gentleman of low birth,
He bought a village with bribes,
He lived in it continuously for thirty-three years,
He took liberties, reveled, drank bitter things.
Greedy, stingy, did not make friends with the nobles,
I only went to see my sister for tea;
Even with relatives, not only with peasants,
Mr. Polivanov was cruel;
Having married the daughter, the husband of the faithful
He flogged them and drove them both away naked,
In the teeth of an exemplary slave,
Jacob the faithful
As he walked, he blew with his heel. People of Serf rank -
Real dogs sometimes:
The heavier the punishment,
That's why gentlemen are dearer to them.
Yakov appeared like this from his youth,
Yakov had only joy:
To groom, protect, please the master
Yes, rock my little nephew.
So they both lived to old age.
The master's legs began to wither,
I went for treatment, but my legs didn’t come back to life...
Full of partying, playing around and singing!
The eyes are clear
The cheeks are red
Plump hands as white as sugar"
Yes, there are shackles on my feet!
The landowner lies quietly under his robe,
He curses his bitter fate,
Yakov with his master: friend and brother
The master is calling faithful Yakov.
The two of us whiled away the winter and summer,
They played cards more
We went to see my sister to relieve boredom
Twelve versts in good din.
Yakov himself will carry him out and lay him down,
He himself will take the long distance to his sister,
He will help you get to the old lady yourself,
So they lived happily - for the time being... Yakov’s nephew, Grisha, grew up,
At the master’s feet: “I want to get married!”
-Who is the bride? - “The Bride is Arisha.”
The master answers: “I’ll drive it into the coffin!” -
He thought to himself, looking at Arisha:
“If only God could move his legs!”
No matter how much my uncle asked for his nephew,
The rival's master became a recruit.
I seriously offended the exemplary slave,
Jacob the faithful
Master, the slave has fooled me!
I'm dead drunk... It's awkward without Yakov,
Whoever serves is a fool, a scoundrel!
Everyone's anger has been boiling for a long time,
Fortunately, there is a case: be rude, take it out!
The master alternately begs and curses.
So two weeks passed.
Suddenly his faithful servant returns...
The first thing is to bow to the ground.
It’s a pity for him, you see, he’s become legless:
Who will be able to comply with it?
“Only do not remember cruel deeds;
I will carry my cross to the grave!”
Again the landowner lies under his robe,
Again Yakov sits at his feet,
Again the landowner calls him brother.
- Why are you frowning, Yasha? - “Muddy!” -
A lot of mushrooms were strung on threads,
We played cards, drank some tea,
Pour cherries and raspberries into drinks
And they gathered to have some fun with their sister. The landowner smokes, lies carefree,
I'm glad to see the clear sun and greenery.
Yakov is gloomy, speaks reluctantly,
Jacob's reins are trembling,
Gets baptized. “Forget me, evil spirit!”
Whispers: “Scatter!” (his enemy was bothering him).
They're going... To the right is a wooded slum,
Its name has been since ancient times: Devil's Ravine;
Yakov turned and drove down the ravine,
The master was taken aback: “Where are you going, where are you going?” -
Yakov doesn't say a word. We passed at a pace
Several miles; not the road - trouble!
Pits, dead wood; running along the ravine
Spring waters, trees rustle...
The horses began to stand - and not a step further,
Pine trees stick out like a wall in front of them. Yakov, without looking at the poor master,
He began to unharness the horses,
Faithful to Yash, trembling, pale,
The landowner then began to beg.
Yakov listened to the promises - and rudely,
He laughed evilly: “I found the murderer!
I will dirty my hands with murder,
No, it’s not for you to die!”
Yakov jumped towards a tall pine tree.
The reins at the top strengthened it,
He crossed himself and looked at the sun.
He put his head in a noose and lowered his legs!.. What passions of God! hanging
Yakov is swinging rhythmically over the master.
The master is rushing about, sobbing, screaming.
One echo responds!
Stretching his head, his voice strained
Master - the screams are in vain!
The Devil's Ravine is wrapped in a shroud,
At night the dew is heavy there,
You can't see Zgi! only owls scurry about,
Spreading its wings on the ground,
You can hear the horses chewing leaves,
Quietly ringing the bells.
It’s like a cast iron fits - they burn
Someone's two round, bright eyes,
Some birds are flying noisily.
I hear they settled nearby.
The raven croaked alone above Yakov.
Chu! There were up to a hundred of them!
The gentleman groaned and threatened with a crutch.
What passions of God! The master lay in the ravine all night,
Drive away birds and wolves with groans,
In the morning the hunter saw him.
The master returned home, lamenting:
- I am sinful, sinful! Execute me! -
You, master, will be an exemplary slave,
Jacob the faithful
Remember until the day of judgment! “Sins, sins,” was heard
From all sides. - It's a pity Yakov,
Yes, it’s creepy for the master too. -
What a punishment he received!”
- Sorry!.. - We listened again
Two or three stories are scary
And they argued heatedly
About who is the worst sinner of all.
One said: innkeepers,
Another said: landowners,
And the third is men.
It was Ignatius Prokhorov,
Carrying out transportation
Sedate and prosperous
The man is not an empty talker.
He saw all sorts of species,
Traveled all over the province
Both along and across.
You should listen to him
However, the Vahlaks
They got so angry, they didn’t let me
To utter words to Ignaty,
Especially Klim Yakovlev
He swaggered: “You’re a fool!..”
- And you should have listened first... -
“You’re a fool...”
- And that’s all you,
I see, fools! -
Suddenly inserted a rude word
Eremin, merchant brother,
Buying from peasants
Anything, bast shoes,
Whether it's veal or lingonberries,
And most importantly - a master
Be on the lookout for opportunities
When were the taxes collected?
And the Vakhlatsky property
It was put under the hammer. -
They started an argument,
But they didn’t miss the point!
Who is the worst sinner of all? think! -
“Well, who? speak!”
- We know who: robbers! -
And Klim answered him:
“You were not serfs,
There was a great drop.
Not your bald spot!
I've filled my purse: I'm imagining
There are robbers everywhere for him;
Robbery is a special article,
Robbery has nothing to do with it!”
- Robber for robber
I stood up! - Prasol said,
And Lavin - jump to him!
"Pray!" - and put some prasol in your teeth.
- Say goodbye to your bellies! -
And spray in Avalanche's teeth.
“Oh, fight! Well done!”
The peasants parted
No one encouraged
Nobody separated.
Blows rained down like hail:
- I'll kill you! write to your parents! -
“I’ll kill you!” call the priest!
It ended with Prasol
Klim squeezed his hand like a hoop,
The other grabbed his hair
And he bent with the word “bow”
Merchant at his feet.
- Well, that's it! - Prasol said.
Klim released the offender,
The offender sat on a log,
Wide checkered scarf
He wiped himself off and said:
- You win! and is it a wonder?
He doesn’t reap, he doesn’t plow, he wanders around
According to the Konovalsky position.
How can you not work up your energy? -
(The peasants laughed.)
“Don’t you want more? -
Klim said cheerfully.
- Did you think not? Let's try! -
The merchant carefully removed the scent
And he spat in his hands. “Open your sinful lips
The turn has come: listen!
And so I will make peace between you!” -
Suddenly Ionushka exclaimed,
Listening silently all evening,
Sighing and being baptized,
Humble praying mantis.
The merchant was glad; Klim Yakovlev
He kept silent. Sit down,
There was silence. Homeless, rootless
Quite a few come across
To the people of Rus',
They don’t reap, they don’t sow, they feed
From the same common granary,
What feeds a small mouse
And a countless army:
Sedentary peasant
Her name is Hump.
Let the people know
That entire villages
To beg in the fall,
Like a profitable business,
Going: in the people's conscience
The decision was stared at
What is more misfortune here?
Rather than lies, they are served.
Even though there are frequent cases
That the wanderer will turn out to be
Thief; what about the women
For the prosphora of Athonite,
For the “tears of the Virgin Mary”
The pilgrim will lure out the yarn,
And then the women will find out
What's next for Trinity-Sergius
He hasn't been there himself.
There was an old man who sang wonderfully
Captivated the hearts of the people;
With the consent of the mothers,
In the village of Krutiye Zavodi
Divine singing
He began to teach girls;
The girls are red all winter
They locked themselves in Riga with him,
Where did the singing come from?
And more often laughter and squealing.
However, how did it end?
He didn’t teach them to sing,
And he spoiled everyone.
There are great masters
To accommodate the ladies:
First through women
Available until maiden,
And then to the landowner.
Jangling keys around the yard
Walks like a gentleman,
Spit in the peasant's face
The old woman praying
Bent it into a ram's horn!..
But he sees in the same wanderers
And the front side
People. Who builds churches?
Who are the monastic circles
Filled over the edge?
No one does good
And no evil is seen behind him,
You won't understand otherwise
Fomushka is familiar to the people:
Two-pound chains
The body is girded,
barefoot in winter and summer,
Mumbling something incomprehensible
And to live - to live like a god:
A board and a stone to the head,
And there is only one food - bread.
Wonderful and memorable to him
Old Believer Kropilnikov,
An old man whose whole life
Either freedom or prison.
Came to the village of Usolovo:
Reproaches the laity with godlessness,
Calls to the dense forests
Save yourself. Stanovoy
Happened here, listened to everything:
“To interrogate the co-conspirator!”
He did the same to him:
- You are the enemy of Christ, the Antichrist
Messenger! - Sotsky, headman
They blinked at the old man:
“Hey, submit!” Not listening
They took him to prison,
And he reproached the boss
And, standing on the cart,
He shouted to the Usolovites: “Woe to you, woe to you, lost heads!”
Were torn off, you will be naked,
They beat you with sticks, rods, whips
You will be beaten with iron rods!.. -The Usolovites crossed themselves,
The chief beat the herald:
“Remember, anathema,
Judge of Jerusalem!
At the guy's, at the plumber's,
The reins fell out of fright
And my hair stood on end!
And, as luck would have it, military
The command rang out in the morning:
In Ustoy, a village not far away,
The soldiers have arrived.
Interrogations! pacification! -
Anxiety! by coincidence
The Usolovites also suffered:
Prophecy of the Shrew
It almost came true. It will never be forgotten.
The people of Euphrosyne.
Posad widow:
Like God's messenger
The old lady appears
In cholera years;
Buries, heals, tinkers
With the sick. Almost praying
Peasant women are at her...Knock, unknown guest!
No matter who you are, confidently
At the village gate
Knock! Not suspicious
Native peasant
No thought arises in him,
Like people who are sufficient,
At the sight of a stranger,
Poor and timid:
Wouldn't you shave something?
And the women are such little creatures.
In winter before the torch
The family sits, works,
And the stranger says:
He already took a steam bath in the bathhouse,
Ears with your own spoon,
With a blessing hand,
I sipped my fill.
There's a little charm running through my veins,
Speech flows like a river.
Everything in the hut seemed to freeze:
The old man mending his shoes
He dropped them at his feet;
The shuttle has not chimed for a long time,
The worker listened
At the loom;
Frozen already on the prick
Evgenyushka's little finger,
The master's eldest daughter,
high tubercle,
But the girl didn’t even hear
How I pricked myself until I bled;
The sewing went down to my feet.
Sits - pupils dilated,
She threw up her hands...
Guys, hanging their heads
From the floor, they won’t move:
Like sleepy baby seals
On the ice floes outside Arkhangelsk,
They lie on their stomach.
You can’t see their faces, they’re veiled
Falling strands
Hair - no need to say.
Why are they yellow?
Wait! soon stranger
He will tell the story of Athos,
Like a Turk rebelling
He drove the monks into the sea,
How the monks walked obediently
And they died in hundreds...
You will hear the whisper of horror,
You will see a row of frightened people,
Eyes full of tears!
The terrible moment has come -
And from the hostess herself
Bellied spindle
Rolled off my knees.
Vaska the cat became wary -
And jump to the spindle!
At another time it would have been
Vaska the nimble got it,
And then they didn’t notice.
How nimble he is with his paw
I touched the spindle
How did you jump on him?
And how it rolled
Until it unwinds
Strained thread! Who has seen how he listens
Your visiting wanderers
Peasant family
He will understand that no work
Nor eternal care,
Not the yoke of slavery for a long time,
Not the pub itself
More to the Russian people
No limits set:
There is a wide path before him.
When will the plowman be cheated on?
Old-till fields,
Shreds in the forest outskirts
He tries to plow.
There is enough work here.
But the stripes are new
Give without fertilizer
Abundant harvest.
Such soil is good -
The soul of the Russian people...
O sower! come!.. Jonah (aka Lyapushkin)
Vakhlatskaya side
I've been visiting for a long time.
Not only did they not disdain
The peasants are God's wanderer,
And they argued about
Who will be the first to shelter him?
While their disputes Lyapushkin
Didn't put an end to it:
"Hey! women! take it out
Icons!” The women carried it out;
Before every icon
Jonah fell on his face:
“Don't argue! God's work
Who will look more kindly,
I’ll follow you!”
And often for the poorest
Ionushka walked as an icon
To the poorest hut.
And special to that hut
Respect: women run
With knots, pans
To that hut. The cup is full,
By the grace of Jonushka,
She becomes. Quietly and leisurely
Narrated by Ionushka
"About two great sinners."
Crossing ourselves fervently. Let us pray to the Lord God for TWO GREAT SINNERS,
Let's proclaim the ancient story,
He told it to me in Solovki
Monk, Father Pitirim. There were twelve thieves,
There was Kudeyar-ataman,
The robbers shed a lot
The blood of honest Christians, They plundered a lot of wealth,
We lived in a dense forest,
Leader Kudeyar from near Kyiv
He took out a beautiful girl. During the day he amused himself with his mistress,
At night he made raids,
Suddenly the fierce robber
The Lord awakened the conscience. The dream flew away; disgusted
Drunkenness, murder, robbery,
The shadows of the slain are
A whole army - you can’t count it! I fought for a long time, resisted
Lord the beast is man.
Blown off his lover's head
And he spotted Esaul. The villain’s conscience overpowered him,
He disbanded his gang,
He distributed property to the church,
I buried the knife under the willow tree. And atone for my sins
He goes to the Holy Sepulchre,
Wanders, prays, repents,
It doesn’t get any easier for him. An old man, in monastic clothes,
The sinner has returned home
Lived under the canopy of the oldest
Oak, in a forest slum. Day and night of the Almighty
He prays: forgive your sins!
Submit your body to torture.
Just let me save my soul! God took pity on salvation
The schema-monk showed the way:
Elder in prayer vigil
A certain saint appeared, Rek: “Not without God’s providence
You chose an age-old oak tree,
With the same knife that he robbed,
Cut it off with the same hand! It will be a great job,
There will be a reward for labor;
The tree has just fallen -
The chains of sin will fall.” The hermit measured the monster:
Oak - three girths all around!
I went to work with prayer,
Cuts with a damask knife. Cuts elastic wood,
Sings glory to the Lord,
As the years go by, it gets better
Slowly things move forward. What can we do with the giant?
A frail, sick person?
We need iron forces here,
What is needed is not an age of old age! Doubt creeps into the heart,
Cuts and hears the words:
"Hey old man, what are you doing?"
He crossed himself first. He looked and Pan Glukhovsky
He sees on a greyhound horse,
Sir rich, noble,
The first one in that direction. A lot of cruel, scary
The old man heard about the master
And as a lesson to the sinner
He told his secret. Pan grinned: “Salvation
I haven't had tea for a long time,
In the world I honor only a woman,
Gold, honor and wine. You have to live, old man, in my opinion:
How many slaves do I destroy?
I torment, torture and hang,
I wish I could see how I’m sleeping!” A miracle happened to the hermit:
I felt furious anger
He rushed to Pan Glukhovsky,
The knife stuck into his heart! The gentleman just got bloody
I fell my head on the saddle,
A huge tree collapsed,
The echo shook the whole forest. The tree collapsed and rolled down
The monk is off the burden of sins!..
Let us pray to the Lord God:
Have mercy on us, dark slaves! Jonah finished; being baptized;
The people are silent. Suddenly there's a lot of salt
An angry cry broke out:
- Hey, you sleepy grouse!
Steam, live, steam! -
“You can’t reach the ferry
Until the sun! carriers
And during the day they celebrate the coward,
Their ferry is thin,
Wait! About Kudeyar..."
- Ferry! steam-rum! steam-rum! -
He left, tinkering with the cart.
The cow is tied to her -
He kicked her;
Chickens coo in it,
He told them: - Fools! chick! -
The calf dangles in it -
The calf got it too
By the star on the forehead.
Burnt Savras's horse
With a whip - and moved towards the Volga.
A month floated over the road.
Such a funny shadow
Ran next to Prasol
Along the lunar strip!
“I thought better of it, should I fight?
And he sees there’s nothing to argue about, -
Vlas noticed. - Oh, Lord!
Great sin of the nobility!
- He’s great, but he still can’t be
Against the sin of the peasant, -
Ignatius Prokhorov again
I couldn't stand it - I said.
Klim spat: “I’m impatient!
Who with what, and our tick
Native galchenyatochki
Just a mile away... Well, tell me,
What great sin?” PEASANT SIN A widower-miral walked the seas,
I walked the seas, sailed ships,
Near Achakov he fought with a Turk,
Defeated him
And the empress gave him
Eight thousand souls as a reward.
In that patrimony, happily ever after
The ammiral-widower lives out his life,
And he hands over, dying,
A golden casket for Gleb the elder.
“Hey, headman! Take care of the casket!
My will is preserved in it:
From chains to freedom
Eight thousand souls are being released!”
The widower ammiral lies on the table...
A distant relative is about to bury...
I buried it and forgot about it! Calls the headman
And starts talking to him in a roundabout way;
I told him everything, promised him
Mountains of gold, gave up his freedom...
Gleb - he was greedy - is tempted:
The will is burned!
For decades, until recently
Eight thousand souls were secured by the villain,
With family, with tribe; what a lot of people!
What a lot of people! with a stone into the water!
God forgives everything, but Judas sin
It doesn't say goodbye.
Oh man! man! you are the sinner of all,
And for that you will forever suffer! Stern and angry.
Thunderous, menacing voice
Ignatius finished his speech.
The crowd jumped to its feet
There was a sigh and a voice was heard:
“So this is the peasant’s sin!
Truly a terrible sin!”
- And indeed: we will forever suffer,
Oh-oh!.. - said the headman himself,
Killed again, for the better
Vlas is not a believer.
And soon succumbed
As I grieve, so do I rejoice,
“Great sin! great sin! -
Klim echoed sadly.
The area in front of the Volga.
Illuminated by the moon,
She suddenly changed.
Proud people have disappeared
With a confident gait,
There are Vakhlaks left,
Those who have not eaten their fill,
Those who slurped unsalted,
Which instead of the master
The volost will tear up.
To whom hunger knocks
Threats: long drought,
And then there’s the bug!
Which prasol-burning
Cut price boasts
Their prey is difficult.
Resin, Vakhlatsky tear, -
He will cut back and reproach:
“Why should I pay you so much?
You have unpurchased goods,
Of you drowning in the sun
Resin, like from pine!
The poor have fallen again
To the bottom of a bottomless abyss,
They became quiet, they became humble,
They lay down on their stomachs;
We lay there and thought
And suddenly they started singing. Slowly,
Like a cloud is approaching,
The words flowed viscously.
So the song was minted,
What immediately our wanderers
They remembered her: HUNGRY, the man is standing -
It's swaying
A man is coming -
Can't breathe! From its bark
It's unraveled
Melancholy-trouble
Exhausted. Darker than the face
Glass
Not seen
Drunk. He walks and puffs,
He walks and sleeps,
Arrived there
Where the rye is noisy, like an idol has become
To the strip
Standing and singing
Without a voice: “Ripen, mature,
Mother Rye!
I'm your plowman
Pankratushka! I’ll eat kovriga
Mountain by mountain,
I'll eat cheesecake
The table is big! I’ll eat everything alone,
I can handle it myself.
Be it mother or son
Ask, I won’t give!” “Oh, fathers, I’m hungry!” -
He said in a low voice
One man; from Peschura
He took out the crust and eats it.
“They sing without a voice,
And listening to it makes your hair shiver!” -
Another man said.
And it’s true that not with a voice -
In my gut - my “Hungry”
The Vahlaks sang.
Another while singing
He stood on his feet and showed
How the man walked, relaxed,
How sleep filled the hungry,
How the wind swayed.
And they were strict, slow
Movements. Singing "Hungry"
Staggering as if broken.
We went single file to the bucket
And the singers drank. “Dare!” - can be heard behind them
Dyachkov's word; his son
Grigory, godson of the headman,
Suitable for fellow countrymen.
“Would you like some vodka?” - I drank enough.
What happened here?
How did you get into the water?.. -
- “We?.. what are you?..” They became wary,
Vlas put it on his godson
A wide palm. - Has bondage returned to you?
Will they send you to corvee?
Have your meadows been taken away? -
- “Luga?.. Are you kidding, brother!”
- So what has changed?..
They croaked "Hungry"
Do you want to make yourself hungry? -
- “It’s really nothing at all!” -
Klim fired like a cannon;
Many people got itchy
The backs of heads, whispers are heard:
“It’s really nothing at all!” “Drink, vahlachki, take a walk!”
Everything is fine, everything is our way,
As expected.
Don’t hang your heads!” - Is it Klimushka in our opinion?
And Gleb?.. - Explained
Quite a lot: put it in your mouth.
That they are not the ones responsible
For Gleb the accursed,
It's all to blame: strengthen yourself!
- The snake will give birth to baby snakes.
And the support is the sins of the landowner,
The sin of Jacob the unfortunate
Gleb gave birth to sin!
No support - no landowner,
Bringing it to a loop
A diligent slave,
No support - no yard,
By avenging suicide
To my villain,
No support - Gleb new
It won't happen in Rus'! -Everyone more closely, everyone more joyfully
I listened to Grisha Prov:
Grinning, comrades
Said in a victorious voice:
“Watch it!”
It went, was picked up by the crowd,
About the fortress the word is true
Chatter: “There is no snake -
There won’t be any baby snakes!”
Klim Yakovlev Ignatia
He scolded again: “You’re a fool!”
We almost got into a fight!
The sexton cried over Grisha:
“God will create a head!
No wonder it gets torn
To Moscow, to the new city!”
And Vlas stroked him:
“God grant you silver too,
And gold, give me a smart one,
Healthy wife!
- I don’t need any silver,
No gold, but God willing,
So that my fellow countrymen
And every peasant
Life was free and fun
All over holy Rus'! -
Blushing like a girl,
Said from the heart itself
Grigory - and left. It was getting light. Equipping
Leaders. “Hey, Vlas Ilyich!
Come here, look who’s here!” -
Ignatius Prokhorov said,
Taking the leaned against the logs
Dugu. Vlas approaches,
Klim Yakovlev runs after him,
Beyond Klim are our wanderers
(They care about everything):
Behind the logs, where the beggars are
We've been sleeping side by side since the evening,
He was lying there, kind of confused,
Beaten man;
He's wearing new clothes,
Yes, just all torn.
Red silk around the neck
Scarf, red shirt,
Vest and watch.
Lavin bent down to the sleeping man,
He looked and shouted: “Beat him!”
Kicked him in the teeth with his heel.
The kid jumped up, muddy
He rubbed his eyes, and Vlas
Meanwhile, in the cheekbone.
Like a pinched rat
The kid squeaked pitifully -
And to the forest! Legs are long
He runs - the earth trembles!
Four guys rushed
In pursuit of the child,
The people shouted to them: “Beat him!”
Until they disappeared into the forest
Both the guys and the fugitive. “What kind of man? - headman
The wanderers were interrogating. -
Why are they pushing him?” - We don’t know, that’s the punishment
To us from the village of Tiskov,
What will appear where
Egorka Shutov - beat him!
And we hit. The Tiskovites will arrive.
They'll tell you. Satisfied? -
The old man asked those who had returned
Well done in the chase. “We caught up, we caught up!”
Escape to Kuzmo-Demyansky,
There, apparently, to cross
Strives for the Volga." "Wonderful people! they beat the sleepy one.
Why don’t you know about anything..." - If the whole world knows:
"Hit!" - it became, there is a reason! -
Vlas shouted at the wanderers. -
Not the carminatives of the Tiskovites,
How long has it been there since the tenth
Flogged?.. They have no time for jokes.
I'm a vile man! - Don't hit him
So who should we beat?
We are not the only ones punished:
From Tiskov along the Volga
There are fourteen villages here, -
Tea, after all fourteen
They drove me through the gauntlet! -Our wanderers have become silent.
They would like to know
What's the big deal? Yes I got angry
And so Uncle Vlas. It’s completely light. Have breakfast
The landlady's husbands received:
Cheesecakes with cottage cheese.
Gusyatin (they drove away here
Geese; three are languid,
The man carried them under his arm:
“Sell! They’ll die before the city!” -
Bought for nothing).
How a man drinks, explained
A lot, but not everyone
It is known how he eats.
Hungry for beef
He rushes at the wine.
There was a bricklayer who didn't drink,
So drunk on goose meat,
What's your wine?
Chu! a cry is heard: “Who’s coming?
Who's coming?" It happened
More help for the noisy
The fun of the Vakhlaks.
The hay cart is approaching,
High on the cart
Soldier Ovsyanikov is sitting,
Twenty versts in circumference
Familiar to the men
And next to him is Ustinyushka,
Orphan niece,
Old man's support.
Grandfather fed on the district,
Showed Moscow and the Kremlin,
Suddenly the instrument became damaged
But there is no capital!
Three little yellow spoons
I bought it - it doesn’t work that way
Firmly memorized
Sayings to new music,
Don't make people laugh!
Tricky soldier! by time
I came up with new words,
And the spoons were used.
We were happy with the old things:
“Great, grandpa! jump off
Have a drink with us,
Hit the spoons!”
- I climbed up,
But I don’t know how I’ll get off:
Leads! - “Probably to the city
Again for a full pension?
Yes, the city burned down!”
- Burnt out? Serves him right!
Burnt out? So I'm off to St. Petersburg! -
“Tea, will you start using the cast iron?”
The servant whistled:
-You didn’t serve for long
To the Orthodox people,
Busurman cast iron!
You were dear to us.
How from Moscow to St. Petersburg
I drove for three rubles,
And if seven rubles
Pay, to hell with you! - “And you hit the spoons,”
The elder told the soldier,
People who have had a good time
There's enough here for now.
Maybe things will get better.
Operate quickly, Klim!”
(Vlas didn’t like Klim,
And a little bit difficult,
Immediately to him: “Use, Klim!”
And Klim is happy about it.) They lowered grandfather from the cart,
The soldier was fragile on his feet,
Tall and extremely skinny;
He's wearing a frock coat with medals
Hanging as if on a pole.
It cannot be said that it is good
had a face, especially
When the old one was brought together -
Damn it! The mouth will snarl.
The eyes are like coals! The soldier hit the spoons,
What happened right up to the shore?
The people are all running.
He struck and sang: The light is sickening,
There is no truth
Life is sickening
The pain is severe. German bullets
Turkish bullets,
French bullets
Russian sticks! The light is sickening
There is no bread
There is no shelter.
There is no death. Well, from the redoubt from the first number,
Well, with George - around the world, around the world! The rich man
At the rich man's
Almost got picked up
To the slingshot.
The fence is covered in nails
Bristled,
And the owner, the thief,
Bruised. The poor man doesn't have it
Copper penny:
Don't blame me, soldier!
- “No need, brother!” The light is sickening
There is no bread
There is no shelter
There is no death. Only three Matryonas
Yes Luka and Peter
I will remember you well.
Luke and Peter
Let's take a sniff of tobacco
And three Matryonas
We'll find provisions. At the first Matryona
The breasts are vigorous.
Matryona the second
Carrying a loaf
At the third water I will drink from the ladle:
Water is key, but measure is the soul! The light is sickening
There is no truth
Life is sickening
The pain is severe. The servant twitched.
Leaning on Ustinyushka,
He raised his left leg
And he began to rock her,
Like a weight suspended;
I did the same with the right one,
He cursed: “Damn life!” -
And suddenly he stood on both. “Operate.” Klim! In St. Petersburg
Klim equipped the case:
On a wooden saucer
I gave it to my uncle and niece.
I put them side by side
And he jumped onto a log
And he shouted loudly: “Listen!”
(The servant could not stand it
And often in the peasant's speech
Inserted an apt word
And he knocked on the spoons.) Klim The deck is oak
In my yard
Has been lying there for a long time: from youth
I chop wood on it,
So she’s not so wounded,
Like a gentleman.
Take a look: what is the soul! Soldier: German bullets,
Turkish bullets.
French bullets
Russian sticks. KlimA full pension
Didn't work out, rejected
All the old man's wounds;
The doctor's assistant looked
Said: “Second-rate!
There is also a pension for them.” The soldier was not ordered to give out a full pension:
The heart is not shot through! (The servant sobbed; into the spoons
I wanted to hit him, but he made a face!
Don't have Ustinyushka with him,
The old man would have fallen.) KlimSoldat again with a petition.
The tops of the wounds measured
And they appreciated each one
Almost worth a penny.
This is how the investigative officer measured it
Beatings on those who fought
At the market men:
“There is an abrasion under the right eye
The size of two kopecks,
There is a hole in the middle of the forehead
In rubles. Total:
For a ruble fifteen with money
Beatings..." Shall we equate
To the market carnage
The war near Sevastopol,
Where did the soldier shed blood? Soldier They just didn’t move the mountains,
And how they jumped onto the redoubts!
Hares, squirrels, wild cats.
There I said goodbye to my legs,
I became deaf from the hellish roar and whistle,
I almost died of Russian hunger! Klim should go to St. Petersburg
Before the committee of the wounded, -
Pesh will reach Moscow,
What next? Cast iron
Started biting!SoldierImportant lady! proud lady!
Walks, hisses like a snake:
“Empty for you! empty for you! empty for you! -
The Russian village is screaming;
He snorts in the peasant's face,
Presses, maims, tumbles,
Soon the whole Russian people
It will sweep cleaner than a broom. The soldier stamped his feet lightly.
And I heard knocking
Dry bone on bone
But Klim was silent: he had already moved
To the service people.
They gave everything: a pretty penny,
For pennies, on plates
I've picked up a ruble... The feast is over, it's leaving
People. Having fallen asleep, we stayed
Our wanderers are under the willow tree,
And then Ionushka slept,
Yes, a few drunk ones
Not to the extent of men.
Swinging, Savva with Grisha
Take your parent home
And they sang; in clean air
Over the Volga, like alarm bells,
Consonants and strong
Voices thundered: The share of the people,
His happiness
Light and freedom
First of all! We are a little
We ask God:
Fair deal
Do it skillfully
Give us strength! Working life -
Direct to friend
Road to the heart
Away from the threshold
Coward and lazy!
Isn't it paradise? The people's share,
His happiness
Light and freedom
First of all!

At the end of the village of Valakhchina,
Where the resident is a plowman from time immemorial
And partly - tar smoker,
Under the old, old willow tree,
A modest witness
All the life of the Vakhlaks,
Where the holidays are celebrated
Where do the gatherings gather?
Where they flog you during the day and in the evening
They kiss, they make love, -
There was a feast, a great feast!
Operate like St. Petersburg
Accustomed to doing anything,
Our acquaintance Klim Yakovlich,
Seen noble
Feasts with speeches, matches,
The master of the feast was.
On the logs lying here,
On the log house of a built-up hut
The men sat down;
Our wanderers are here too
We sat with Vlas the elder
(They care about everything.)
As soon as you decide to drink,
Vlas to his little son
He shouted: “Run after Tryphon!”
With the parish sexton Tryphon,
Reveler, godfather of the headman,
His sons came
Seminarists: Savvushka
And Grisha; was the eldest
Wow nineteen years old;
Now a protodeacon
I looked, and Gregory
Face thin, pale
And the hair is thin, curly,
With a hint of red.
Simple guys, kind,
Mowed, reaped, sowed
And drank vodka on holidays
On a par with the peasantry.

Immediately outside the village
The Volga walked, and behind the Volga
There was a small town
(To be more precise, cities
There was no shadow at that time,
And there were firebrands:
The fire destroyed everything in the third year).
So passing people
Vakhlak acquaintances,
Here they also became
Waiting for the ferry,
They fed the horses.
Beggars also wandered here,
And the chattering wanderer,
And the silent praying mantis.

On the day of the death of the old prince
The peasants did not foresee
That the meadows are not waterlogged,
And they will get into litigation.
And after drinking a glass,
The first thing they argued about was:
What should they do with the meadows?
Not all of you, Rus', has been measured
Zemlyotsej: come across
Blessed corners
Where everything went well.
By some chance -
The landowner's ignorance
Living far away
The mediator's mistake
And more often with twists
Peasant leaders -
Allotment to peasants occasionally
The fishing line was also hit.
There's a proud man there, try it
Headman knock on the window
For tax - he will get angry!
One answer before time:
“Sell the fishing line!”
And the Vakhlaks decided
Own flood meadows
Hand over to the headman - for tax:
Everything is weighed, calculated,
Just rent and taxes,
With too much. “Is that so, Vlas?”

“And if the filing is done,
I don't say hello to anyone!
There is a hunt - I’m working,
Otherwise, I’m lying around with a woman,
Otherwise, I’m going to the pub!”

"So!" - the whole Vakhlat horde
On the word of Klima Lavin
She responded - to pay taxes!
Do you agree, Uncle Vlas?"

“Klim’s speech is short
And clear as a sign,
Calling to the tavern, -
The headman said jokingly. -
Klimakh will begin as a woman,
And he’ll end up in a tavern!”
- “Why! Not a prison
Should I finish? The point is true
Don’t croak, solve it!”

But Vlas has no time for croaking.
Vlas was the kindest soul,
I was sick for the whole Vakhlachina -
Not for one family.
Serving under a strict master,
Carrying a burden on my conscience
An involuntary participant
His cruelty.
How young I was, I was waiting for the best,
Yes, it always happened like this
The best has come to an end
Nothing or trouble.
And I began to be afraid of new things,
Rich in promises
Unbeliever Vlas.
Not so much in Belokamennaya
Driven along the pavement,
Just like a peasant
The insults are over... is it funny?..
Vlas was always gloomy.
And then the old lady messed up!
Vakhlatsky tomfoolery
It affected him too!
He couldn't help but think:
“No corvee... no tax...
Without a stick... is it true, Lord?”
And Vlas smiled.
So the sun from the sultry sky
Into the dense forest
I threw a beam - and there was a miracle:
The dew burns like diamonds,
The moss turned golden.
“Drink, vahlachki, take a walk!”
It was too much fun:
In everyone's chest
A new feeling was playing,
It was as if she was carrying them out
Mighty Wave
From the bottom of a bottomless abyss
To the light, where the endless
A feast is prepared for them!
They put another bucket,
Galdenie continuous
And the songs began!
How, after burying a dead person,
Relatives and friends
They only talk about him
They won't manage it yet
With host's treat
And they won’t start yawning, -
So the hubbub is long
Behind a glass, under a willow tree,
Everything seems to have worked out
In wake of those who were cut off,
The landowners' "strengthens".
To the sexton with the seminarians
They pestered: “Sing merry!”
The fellows sang.
(That song - not folk -
The son of Tryphon sang for the first time,
Gregory, vakhlakam,
And from the Tsar’s “Regulation”,
Who removed the support from the people,
She's on drunken holidays
Like a dancer singing
Priests and servants, -
Vakhlak did not sing it,
And, listening, he stamped his feet,
Whistled; "cheerful"
He didn't say it as a joke.)

1. Bitter times - bitter songs

“Eat the prison, Yasha!
There’s no milk!”
- “Where is our cow?”
- “Take away, my light”
Master for offspring
Took her home!"
It's nice to live for the people
Saint in Rus'!

“Where are our chickens?” -
The girls are screaming.
“Don’t yell, you fools!
The zemstvo court ate them;
I took another cart
Yes, he promised to wait..."
It's nice to live for the people
Saint in Rus'!

Broke my back
But the sauerkraut doesn’t wait!
Baba Katerina
I remembered - roars:
In the yard for over a year
Daughter... no dear!
It's nice to live for the people
Saint in Rus'!

Some of the kids
Lo and behold, there are no children:
The king will take the boys,
Master - daughters!
To one freak
Live forever with your family.
It's nice to live for the people
Saint in Rus'!

Then your Vakhlatskaya,
Dear, they burst out in chorus,
Lingering, sad -
There are no others yet.
Isn't it amazing? wide
Side of baptized Rus',
There are so many people in it,
And not in one little soul
From time immemorial before ours
The song didn't light up
Cheerful and clear
Like a crazy day.
Isn't it amazing? isn't it scary?
Oh time, new time!
You will also say it in the song,
But how?.. The soul of the people!
Finally, laugh!

Corvee

Kalinushka is poor and unkempt,
He has nothing to show off,
Only the back is painted,
You don't know behind your shirt.
From bast shoes to gate
The skin is all ripped open
The belly swells with chaff.

Twisted, twisted,
Flogged, tormented,
Kalina barely walks.

He'll knock on the innkeeper's feet,
Sorrow will drown in wine,
It will only come back to haunt you on Saturday
From the master's stable to his wife...

“Ah, a song!.. I wish I could remember!..”
Our wanderers grieved,
That memory is short
And the Vakhlaks boasted:
“We are corvee workers! With ours
Try it, be patient!
We are corvées! grew up
Under the snout of the landowner;
Day is hard labor, and night?
What a shame! For the girls
The messengers galloped in threes
Through our villages.
We forgot about the face
Each other, looking at the ground,
We have lost our speech.
They got drunk in silence,
Kissed in silence
The fight went on in silence!
- “Well, what about the silence?
Not good! we are silent
I got the pickles! -
Said the neighboring volost
Peasant traveling with hay
(Extreme need has befallen,
I mowed it down and off to the market!). -
Our young lady decided
Gertrude Alexandrovna,
Who will say a strong word,
Tear him mercilessly.
And they fought! Pokudova
They haven't stopped barking
And a man should not bark -
The only thing is to remain silent.
We're tired! truly
We celebrated the will,
Like a holiday: they swore like that,
That priest Ivan was offended
For the ringing of bells,
Those who buzzed that day."

Such wonderful stories
They fell... and is it a wonder?
Go far for the word
No need - everything is spelled out
On your own back.

“We had an opportunity,”
Said the kid with the blacks
Big sideburns, -
There’s nothing more wonderful than her.”
(The small one wears a round hat,
With a badge, a red vest,
With a dozen light buttons,
Beveled pants
And the bast shoes: the little one swiped them
To the tree from which
Tiny koru shepherd
I tore it all off from below.
And above - not a scratch,
Will not disdain at the top
Crow builds a nest.)
- “So, brother, tell me!”
- “Let me smoke first!”
While he was smoking,
Vlas has our wanderers
They asked: “What kind of goose?”
- “So, the martyr ran up,
Assigned to our parish,
Baron Sineguzin
Yard man,
Vikenty Alexandrovich.
From heels to arable farming
Jumped! remained behind him
And the nickname: “Away.”
Healthy, but legs are weak,
Trembling; his lady
I rode in a carriage in a train
Four to mushrooms...
He'll tell you! listen!
Such a noble memory,
It must be (the headman finished),
I ate magpie eggs.”

Adjusting my round hat,
Vikenty Alexandrovich
Started the story.

About the exemplary slave - Yakov Verny

There was a gentleman of low birth,
He bought a village with bribes,
He lived in it continuously for thirty-three years,
He took liberties, reveled, drank bitter things.
Greedy, stingy, did not make friends with the nobles,
I only went to see my sister for tea;
Even with relatives, not only with peasants,
Mr. Polivanov was cruel;
Having married the daughter, the husband of the faithful
He flogged them and drove them both away naked,
In the teeth of an exemplary slave,
Jacob the faithful
Walking around he hit with his heel.

People of servile rank -
Real dogs sometimes:
The heavier the punishment,
That's why gentlemen are dearer to them.
Yakov appeared like this from his youth,
Yakov had only joy:
To groom, protect, please the master
Yes, rock my little nephew.
So they both lived to old age.
The master's legs began to wither,
I went for treatment, but my legs didn’t come back to life...
Full of partying, playing around and singing!
The eyes are clear
The cheeks are red
Plump hands are as white as sugar,
Yes, there are shackles on my feet!

The landowner lies quietly under his robe,
He curses his bitter fate,
Yakov with his master: friend and brother
The master is calling faithful Yakov.
The two of us whiled away the winter and summer,
They played cards more
We went to see my sister to relieve boredom
About twelve versts on good days.
Yakov himself will carry him out and lay him down,
He himself will take the long distance to his sister,
He will help you get to the old lady yourself,
So they lived happily - for the time being...

Jacob's nephew, Grisha, grew up
At the master’s feet: “I want to get married!”
- “Who is the bride?” - “The Bride is Arisha.”
The master answers: “I’ll drive it into the coffin!”
He thought to himself, looking at Arisha:
“If only God could move his legs!”
No matter how much my uncle asked for his nephew,
The rival's master became a recruit.
I seriously offended the exemplary slave,
Jacob the faithful
Master, the slave has fooled me!
I'm dead drunk... It's awkward without Yakov,
Whoever serves is a fool, a scoundrel!
Everyone's anger has been boiling for a long time,
Fortunately, there is a case: be rude, take it out!
The master either asks or swears like a dog,
So two weeks passed.
Suddenly his faithful servant returns...
The first thing is to bow to the ground.
It’s a pity for him, you see, he’s become legless:
Who will be able to comply with it?
“Only do not remember cruel deeds;
I will carry my cross to the grave!”
Again the landowner lies under his robe,
Again Yakov sits at his feet,
Again the landowner calls him brother.
“Why are you frowning, Yasha?” - “Muddy!”
A lot of fungi were strung on threads,
We played cards, drank some tea,
Pour cherries and raspberries into drinks
And they gathered to have some fun with their sister.

The landowner smokes, lies carefree,
I'm glad to see the clear sun and greenery.
Yakov is gloomy, speaks reluctantly,
Jacob's reins are trembling,
Gets baptized. “Forget me, evil spirit! -
Whispers, “Scatter!” (his enemy was bothering him)
They're going... To the right is a wooded slum,
Its name has been since ancient times: Devil's Ravine;
Yakov turned and drove down the ravine,
The master was taken aback: “Where are you going, where are you going?”
Yakov doesn't say a word. We passed at a pace
Several miles; not the road - trouble!
Pits, dead wood; running along the ravine
Spring waters, trees rustle...
The horses began to stand - and not a step further,
Pine trees stick out like a wall in front of them.

Yakov, without looking at the poor master,
He began to unharness the horses,
Faithful to Yash, trembling, pale,
The landowner then began to beg.
Yakov listened to the promises - and rudely,
He laughed evilly: “I found the murderer!
I will dirty my hands with murder,
No, it’s not for you to die!”
Yakov jumped onto a tall pine tree,
The reins at the top strengthened it,
He crossed himself, looked at the sun,
He put his head in a noose and lowered his legs!..

What passions of God! hanging
Yakov is swinging rhythmically over the master.
The master rushes about, sobs, screams,
One echo responds!

Stretching his head, his voice strained
Master - the screams are in vain!
The Devil's Ravine is wrapped in a shroud,
At night the dew is heavy there,
You can't see Zgi! only owls scurry about,
Spreading its wings on the ground,
You can hear the horses chewing leaves,
Quietly ringing the bells.
It’s like a cast iron fits - they burn
Someone's two round, bright eyes,
Some birds are flying noisily,
I hear they settled nearby.
The raven croaked alone above Yakov.
Chu! There were up to a hundred of them!
The gentleman hooted and threatened with a crutch!
What passions of God!

The master lay in the ravine all night,
Drive away birds and wolves with groans,
In the morning the hunter saw him.
The master returned home, lamenting:
“I am a sinner, a sinner! Execute me!
You, master, will be an exemplary slave,
Jacob the faithful
Remember until judgment day!

“Sins, sins,” was heard
From all sides. - It's a pity Yakov,
Yes, it’s creepy for the master too, -
What a punishment he received!”
- “Sorry!..” They also heard
Two or three stories are scary
And they argued heatedly
About who is the worst sinner of all.
One said: innkeepers,
Another said: landowners,
And the third is men.
It was Ignatius Prokhorov,
Carrying out transportation
Sedate and prosperous
The man is not an empty talker.
He saw all sorts of species,
Traveled all over the province
Both along and across.
You should listen to him
However, the Vahlaks
They got so angry, they didn’t let me
Say a word to Ignatius,
Especially Klim Yakovlev
He swaggered: “You’re a fool!..”
- “You should have listened first...”
- “You’re a fool...”
- “And that’s all you,
I see, fools! -
Suddenly inserted a rude word
Eremin, merchant brother,
Buying from peasants
Anything, bast shoes,
Whether it's veal or lingonberries,
And most importantly - a master
Be on the lookout for opportunities
When were the taxes collected?
And the Vakhlatsky property
It was put under the hammer. -
They started an argument,
But they didn’t miss the point!
Who is the worst sinner of all? think!”
- “Well, who? speak!”
- “We know who: robbers!”
And Klim answered him:
“You were not serfs,
There was a great drop,
Not your bald spot!
I've filled my purse: I'm imagining
There are robbers everywhere for him;
Robbery is a special article,
Robbery has nothing to do with it!”
- "Robber for robber"
Interceded!” - Prasol said,
And Lavin - jump to him!
"Pray!" - and put some prasol in your teeth.
"Say goodbye to your bellies!" -
And spray in Avalanche's teeth.
“Oh, fight! Well done!”
The peasants parted
No one encouraged
Nobody separated.
Blows rained down like hail:
“I’ll kill you!” write to your parents!”
- “I’ll kill you!” call the priest!
It ended with Prasol
Klim squeezed his hand like a hoop,
The other grabbed his hair
And he bent with the word “bow”
Merchant at his feet.
“Well, that’s it!” - Prasol said.
Klim released the offender,
The offender sat on a log,
Wide checkered scarf
He wiped himself off and said:
"You win! Isn't it amazing?
He doesn’t reap, he doesn’t plow, he wanders around
According to the Konovalsky position.
How can you not work up your energy?”
(The peasants laughed.)
- “Don’t you want more?” -
Klim said cheerfully.
“Did you think not? Let's try! "
The merchant carefully removed the scent
And he spat in his hands.

"Open the lips of sin
The turn has come: listen!
And so I will make peace between you!” -
Suddenly Ionushka exclaimed,
Listening silently all evening,
Sighing and being baptized,
Humble praying mantis.
The merchant was glad; Klim Yakovlev
He kept silent. Sit down,
There was silence.

2. Wanderers and pilgrims

Homeless, rootless
Quite a few come across
To the people of Rus',
They don’t reap, they don’t sow, they feed
From the same common granary,
What feeds a small mouse
And a countless army:
Sedentary peasant
Her name is Hump.
Let the people know
That entire villages
To beg in the fall,
Like a profitable business,
Going: in the people's conscience
The decision was stared at
What is more misfortune here?
Rather than lies, they are served.
Even though there are frequent cases
That the wanderer will turn out to be
Thief; what about the women
For the prosphora of Athonite,
For the “tears of the Virgin Mary”
The pilgrim will lure out the yarn,
And then the women will find out
What's next for Troytsy-Sergius
He hasn't been there himself.
There was an old man who sang wonderfully
Captivated the hearts of the people;
With the consent of the mothers,
In the village of Krutiye Zavodi
Divine singing
He began to teach girls;
The girls are red all winter
They locked themselves in Riga with him,
Singing was heard from there,
And more often laughter and squealing.
However, how did it end?
He didn’t teach them to sing,
And he spoiled everyone.
There are great masters
To accommodate the ladies:
First through women
Available until maiden,
And then to the landowner.
Jangling keys around the yard
Walks like a gentleman,
Spit in the peasant's face
The old woman praying
Bent it into a ram's horn!
But he sees in the same wanderers
And the front side
People. Who builds churches?
Who are the monastic circles
Filled over the edge?
No one does good
And no evil is seen behind him,
You won't understand otherwise.
Fomushka is familiar to the people:
Two-pound chains
Belted around the body
barefoot in winter and summer,
Mumbling something incomprehensible
And to live - to live like a god:
A board and a stone to the head,
And food is only bread.
Wonderful and memorable to him
Old Believer Kropilnikov,
An old man whose whole life
Either freedom or prison.
Came to the village of Usolovo:
Reproaches the laity with godlessness,
Calls to the dense forests
Save yourself. Stanovoy
Happened here, listened to everything:
“To interrogate the co-conspirator!”
He too to him:
"You are the enemy of Christ, the antichrist
Messenger! Sotsky, headman
They blinked at the old man:
“Hey, submit!” Not listening!
They took him to prison,
And he reproached the boss
And, standing on the cart,
He shouted to the Usolovites:

“Woe to you, woe to you, lost heads!
Were torn off, you will be naked,
They beat you with sticks, rods, whips,
You will be beaten with iron bars!..”

The Usolovites were baptized,
The chief beat the herald:
“Remember, anathema,
Judge of Jerusalem!
At the guy's, at the plumber's,
The reins fell out of fright
And my hair stood on end!
And, as luck would have it, military
The command rang out in the morning:
In Ustoy, a village not far away,
The soldiers have arrived.
Interrogations! pacification!
Anxiety! by concomitant
The Usolovites also suffered:
Prophecy of the Shrew
It almost came true.

will never be forgotten
The people of Efrosinyushka,
Posad widow:
Like God's messenger
The old lady appears
In cholera years;
Buries, heals, tinkers
With the sick. Almost praying
Peasant women look at her...

Knock, unknown guest!
No matter who you are, confidently
At the village gate
Knock! Not suspicious
Native peasant
No thought arises in him,
Like people who are sufficient,
At the sight of a stranger,
Poor and timid:
Wouldn't you shave something?
And the women are such little creatures.
In winter before the torch
The family sits, works,
And the stranger says:
He already took a steam bath in the bathhouse,
Ears with your own spoon,
With a blessing hand,
I sipped my fill.
There's a little charm running through my veins,
Speech flows like a river.
Everything in the hut seemed to freeze:
The old man mending his shoes
He dropped them at his feet;
The shuttle has not chimed for a long time,
The worker listened
At the loom;
Frozen already on the prick
Evgenyushka's little finger,
The master's eldest daughter,
high tubercle,
But the girl didn’t even hear
How I pricked myself until I bled;
The sewing went down to my feet,
Sits - pupils dilated,
She threw up her hands...
Guys, hanging their heads
From the floor, they won’t move:
Like sleepy baby seals
On the ice floes outside Arkhangelsk,
They lie on their stomach.
You can’t see their faces, they’re veiled
Falling strands
Hair - no need to say
Why are they yellow?
Wait! soon stranger
He will tell the story of Athos,
Like a Turk rebelling
He drove the monks into the sea,
How the monks walked obediently
And they died in hundreds...
You will hear the whisper of horror,
You will see a row of frightened people,
Eyes full of tears!
The terrible moment has come -
And from the hostess herself
Bellied spindle
Rolled off my knees.
Vaska the cat became wary -
And jump to the spindle!
At another time it would have been
Vaska the nimble got it,
And then they didn’t notice
How nimble he is with his paw
I touched the spindle
How did you jump on him?
And how it rolled
Until it unwinds
Strained thread!

Who has seen how he listens
Your visiting wanderers
Peasant family
He will understand that no matter what work,
Nor eternal care,
Not the yoke of slavery for a long time,
Not the pub itself
More to the Russian people
No limits set:
There is a wide path before him.
When will the plowman be cheated on?
Old-till fields,
Shreds in the forest outskirts
He tries to plow.
There's enough work here
But the stripes are new
Give without fertilizer
Abundant harvest.
Such soil is good -
The soul of the Russian people...
O sower! come!..

Jonah (aka Lyapushkin)
Vakhlatskaya side
I've been visiting for a long time.
Not only did they not disdain
The peasants are God's wanderer,
And they argued about
Who will be the first to shelter him?
While their disputes Lyapushkin
Didn't put an end to it:
"Hey! women! take it out
Icons!” The women carried it out;
Before every icon
Jonah fell on his face:
“Don't argue! God's work
Who will look more kindly,
I’ll follow you!”
And often for the poorest
Ionushka walked as an icon
To the poorest hut.
And special to that hut
Respect: women run
With knots, pans
To that hut. The cup is full,
By the grace of Jonushka,
She becomes.

Quietly and leisurely
Narrated by Ionushka
"About two great sinners"
Crossing myself diligently.

About two great sinners

Let us pray to the Lord God,
Let's proclaim the ancient story,
He told it to me in Solovki
Monk, Father Pitirim.

There were twelve thieves
There was Kudeyar - ataman,
The robbers shed a lot
The blood of honest Christians,

They stole a lot of wealth
We lived in a dense forest,
Leader Kudeyar from near Kyiv
He took out a beautiful girl.

I amused myself with my lover during the day,
At night he made raids,
Suddenly the fierce robber
God awakened my conscience.

The dream flew away; disgusted
Drunkenness, murder, robbery,
The shadows of the slain are
A whole army - you can't count it!

I fought and resisted for a long time
Lord beast-man,
Blown off his lover's head
And he spotted Esaul.

The villain's conscience overcame him,
He disbanded his gang,
He distributed property to the church,
I buried the knife under the willow tree.

And atone for sins
He goes to the Holy Sepulchre,
Wanders, prays, repents,
It doesn't get any easier for him.

An old man, in monastic clothes,
The sinner has returned home
Lived under the canopy of the oldest
Oak, in a forest slum.

Day and night of the Almighty
He prays: forgive your sins!
Submit your body to torture
Just let me save my soul!

God took pity on salvation
The schema-monk showed the way:
Elder in prayer vigil
A certain saint appeared

River "Not without God's providence"
You chose an age-old oak tree,
With the same knife that he robbed,
Cut it off with the same hand!

There will be great work
There will be a reward for work;
The tree has just fallen -
The chains of sin will fall."

The hermit measured the monster:
Oak - three girths all around!
I went to work with prayer,
Cuts with a damask knife,

Cuts resilient wood
Sings glory to the Lord,
As the years go by, it gets better
Slowly things move forward.

What can one do with a giant?
A frail, sick person?
We need iron forces here,
We don't need senility!

Doubt creeps into the heart,
Cuts and hears the words:
"Hey old man, what are you doing?"
Crossed himself first

I looked and Pan Glukhovsky
He sees on a greyhound horse,
Sir rich, noble,
The first one in that direction.

A lot of cruel, scary
The old man heard about the master
And as a lesson to the sinner
He told his secret.

Pan grinned: “Salvation
I haven't had tea for a long time,
In the world I honor only a woman,
Gold, honor and wine.

You have to live, old man, in my opinion:
How many slaves do I destroy?
I torment, torture and hang,
I wish I could see how I’m sleeping!”

A miracle happened to the hermit:
I felt furious anger
He rushed to Pan Glukhovsky,
The knife stuck into his heart!

Just now pan bloody
I fell my head on the saddle,
A huge tree collapsed,
The echo shook the whole forest.

The tree collapsed and rolled down
The monk is off the burden of sins!..
Let us pray to the Lord God:
Have mercy on us, dark slaves!

3. Old and new

Jonah finished, crossed himself;
The people are silent. Suddenly there's a lot of salt
An angry cry broke out:

“Hey, you sleepy grouse!
Steam, live, steam!”
- “You can’t reach the ferry
Until the sun! carriers
And during the day they celebrate the coward,
Their ferry is thin,
Wait! About Kudeyar..."
- “Ferry! ferry! ferry!"
He left, tinkered with the cart,
The cow is tied to her -
He kicked her;
Chickens coo in it,
He told them: “Fools! Tsits!”
The calf dangles in it -
The calf got it too
By the star on the forehead.
Burnt Savras's horse
With a whip - and moved towards the Volga.
A month floated over the road,
Such a funny shadow
Ran next to Prasol
Along the lunar strip!
“I thought better of it, should I fight?
And he sees there’s nothing to argue about, -
Vlas noticed. “Oh, my God!”
Great sin of the nobility!
- “Great, but he still can’t be
Against the sin of the peasant,” -
Ignatius Prokhorov again
I couldn't stand it - I said.
Klim spat. “Oh, I’m impatient!
Who with what, and our tick
Native galchenyatochki
Just a mile away... Well, tell me,
What great sin is this?”

Peasant sin

The widower ammiral walked the seas,
I walked the seas, sailed ships,
Near Achakov he fought with a Turk,
Defeated him
And the empress gave him
Eight thousand souls as a reward.
In that patrimony, happily ever after
The ammiral-widower lives out his life,
And he hands over, dying,
A golden casket for Gleb the elder.
“Hey, you, headman! Take care of the casket!
My will is preserved in it:
From chains to freedom
Eight thousand souls are being released!”

The widower ammiral lies on the table...
A distant relative is about to bury him.

I buried it and forgot about it! Calls the headman
And starts talking to him in a roundabout way;
I told him everything, promised him
Mountains of gold, gave up his freedom...

Gleb - he was greedy - is tempted:
The will is burned!

For decades, until recently
Eight thousand souls were secured by the villain,
With family, with tribe; what a lot of people!
What a lot of people! Drop a stone into the water!

God forgives everything, but Judas sin
It doesn't say goodbye.
Oh man! man! you are the sinner of all,
And for that you will suffer forever!

Stern and angry
Thunderous menacing voice
Ignatius finished his speech.
The crowd jumped to its feet
There was a sigh and a voice was heard:
“So this is the peasant’s sin!
Truly a terrible sin!”
- “Indeed: we will forever suffer,
Oh-oh!..” - said the headman himself,
Killed again, for the better
Vlas is not a believer.
And soon succumbed
As I grieve, so do I rejoice,
“Great sin! great sin! -
Klim echoed sadly.

The area in front of the Volga,
Illuminated by the moon,
She suddenly changed.
Proud people have disappeared
With a confident gait,
There are Vakhlaks left,
Those who have not eaten their fill,
Those who slurped unsalted,
Which instead of the master
The volost will tear up,
To whom hunger knocks
Threats: long drought
And then there’s the bug!
Which prasol-burning
Cut price boasts
Their prey is difficult,
Resin, Vakhlatsky tear, -
He will cut back and reproach:
“Why should I pay you so much?
You have unpurchased goods,
Of you drowning in the sun
Resin, like from pine!

The poor have fallen again
To the bottom of a bottomless abyss,
They became quiet, they became humble,
They lay down on their stomachs;
We lay there and thought
And suddenly they started singing. Slowly,
Like a cloud is approaching,
The words flowed viscously.
So the song was minted,
What immediately our wanderers
She was mentioned:

Hungry

The man is standing -
It's swaying
A man is coming -
Can't breathe!

From its bark
It's unraveled
Melancholy-trouble
Exhausted.

Darker than the face
Glass
Not seen
Drunk.

He goes and puffs,
He walks and sleeps,
Arrived there
Where the rye is noisy.

How did the idol become
To the strip
Standing and singing
Without a voice:

"Grow up, mature
Mother Rye!
I'm your plowman
Pankratushka!

I'll eat Kovriga
Mountain by mountain,
I'll eat cheesecake
With a big table!

I'll eat everything alone
I can handle it myself.
Be it mother or son
Ask, I won’t give!”

“Oh, fathers, I’m hungry!” -
He said in a low voice
One man; from Peschura
He took out the crust and eats it.
“They sing without a voice,
And listening to it makes your hair shiver!” -
Another man said.
And it’s true that not with a voice -
In my gut - my “Hungry”
The Vahlaks sang.
Another while singing
He stood on his feet and showed
How the man walked, relaxed,
How sleep filled the hungry,
How the wind swayed
And they were strict, slow
Movements. Singing "Hungry"
Staggering as if broken,
We went single file to the bucket
And the singers drank.

"Go for it!" - can be heard behind them
Dyachkov's word; his son
Grigory, godson of the headman,
Suitable for fellow countrymen.
“Would you like some vodka?” - “I drank enough.
What happened here?
How you are in the water!...”
- “We?.. what are you?..” They became wary,
Vlas put it on his godson
Wide palm.

“Has bondage returned to you?
Will they send you to corvee?
Have your meadows been taken away?"
- “Luga?.. Are you kidding brother!”
- “So what has changed?”
They croaked "Hungry"
Do you want to make yourself hungry?"
- “It’s really nothing at all!” -
Klim fired like a cannon;
Many people got itchy
The backs of heads, whispers are heard:
“It’s really nothing at all!”

“Drink vakhlachki, take a walk!
Everything is fine, everything is our way,
As expected.
Don't hang your heads!

“Is it our way, Klimushka?
And Gleb?..”
Explained
Quite a lot: put in your mouth,
That they are not the ones responsible
For Gleb the accursed,
It's all to blame: strengthen yourself!
“The snake will give birth to baby snakes,
And the support is the sins of the landowner,
The sin of Jacob the unfortunate
Gleb gave birth to sin!
No support - no landowner,
Bringing it to a loop
A diligent slave,
No support - no yard,
By avenging suicide
To my villain,
No support - Gleb new
It won’t happen in Rus'!”

All the more closely, all the more joyfully
I listened to Grisha Prov:
Grinning, comrades
Said in a victorious voice:
“Watch it!”
- “So, that means “Hungry”
Now forever on the side?
Hey friends! Sing merry!” -
Klim shouted joyfully...
It went, was picked up by the crowd,
About the fortress the word is true
Chatter: “There is no snake -
There won’t be any baby snakes!”
Klim Yakovlev Ignatia
He scolded again: “You’re a fool!”
We almost got into a fight!
The sexton cried over Grisha:
“God will create a head!
No wonder it gets torn
To Moscow, to the new city!”
And Vlas stroked him:
“God grant you silver too,
And gold, give me a smart one,
Healthy wife!
- “I don’t need any silver
No gold, but God willing,
So that my fellow countrymen
And every peasant
Life was free and fun
All over holy Rus'! -
Blushing like a girl,
Said from the heart itself
Grigory - and left.

It's getting light. Equipping
Leaders. “Hey, Vlas Ilyich!
Come here, look who’s here!” -
Ignatius Prokhorov said,
Taking the leaned against the logs
Dugu. Vlas approaches,
Klim Yakovlev runs after him,
Beyond Klim are our wanderers
(They care about everything):
Behind the logs, where the beggars are
We've been sleeping side by side since the evening,
He was lying there, kind of confused,
Beaten man;
He's wearing new clothes,
Yes, just all torn,
Red silk around the neck
Scarf, red shirt,
Vest and watch.
Lavin bent down to the sleeping man,
He looked and shouted: “Beat him!”
Kicked him in the teeth with his heel.
The kid jumped up, muddy
He rubbed his eyes, and Vlas
Meanwhile, in the cheekbone.
Like a pinched rat
The kid squeaked pitifully -
And to the forest! Legs are long
He runs - the earth trembles!
Four guys rushed
In pursuit of the child,
The people shouted to them: “Beat him!”
Until they disappeared into the forest
Both the guys and the fugitive.

“What kind of man? - headman
The wanderers were interrogating. -
Why are they pushing him?”

“We don’t know, that’s how it’s punished
To us from the village of Tiskov,
What will appear where
Egorka Shutov - beat him!
And we hit. The Tiskovites will arrive,
They'll tell you." - “Are you satisfied?” -
The old man asked those who had returned
Well done to the chase.
“We caught up, we satisfied!
Escape to Kuzmo-Demyansky,
There, apparently, to cross
Strives for the Volga.”

“Wonderful people! they beat the sleepy one,
Why don’t you know about anything..."

“If the whole world has ordered:
Hit! - it became, there is a reason! -
Vlas shouted at the wanderers. -
Not the carminatives of the Tiskovites,
How long has it been there since the tenth
Flogged?.. oh, Egor!..
Oh, service is a vile position!
I'm a vile man! - Don't hit him
So who should we beat?
We are not the only ones punished:
From Tiskov along the Volga
There are fourteen villages here, -
Tea, after all fourteen
They drove me through a gauntlet!”

Our wanderers became silent.
They would like to know
What's the matter, I'm angry
And so is Uncle Vlas.

It's completely light. Have breakfast
The landlady's husbands received:
Cheesecakes with cottage cheese,
Gusyatin (they drove away here
Geese; three are languid,
The man carried them under his arm:
“Sell! They’ll die before the city!” -
Bought for nothing).
How a man drinks, explained
A lot, but not everyone
It is known how he eats.
Hungry for beef
He rushes at the wine.
There was a bricklayer who didn't drink,
So drunk on goose meat,
What's your wine?
Chu! a cry is heard: “Who’s coming?
Who's coming?" It happened
More help for the noisy
The fun of the Vakhlaks.
The hay cart is approaching,
High on the cart
Soldier Ovsyanikov is sitting,
Twenty versts in circumference
Familiar to the men
And next to him is Ustinyushka,
Orphan niece,
Old man's support.
Grandfather fed on the district,
Showed Moscow and the Kremlin,
Suddenly the instrument became damaged
But there is no capital!
Three little yellow spoons
I bought it - it doesn’t work that way
Firmly memorized
Sayings to new music,
Don't make people laugh!
Tricky soldier! by time
I came up with new words,
And the spoons were used.
We were happy with the old things:
“Great, grandpa! jump off
Have a drink with us,
Hit the spoons!”
- “I climbed up,
But I don’t know how I’ll get off:
Leads! - “Probably to the city
Again for a full pension?
Yes, the city burned down!”
- “Burned out? Serves him right!
Burnt out? So I'm off to St. Petersburg!
All my comrades are there
Walking with full pension,
There, the matter will be sorted out!”
- “Tea, will you start using the cast iron?”
The servant whistled:
"You didn't serve long
To the Orthodox people,
Busurman cast iron!
You were dear to us
How from Moscow to St. Petersburg
I drove for three rubles,
And if seven rubles
To pay, to hell with you!”

“And you hit the spoons,”
The elder told the soldier,
People who have had a good time
As long as there's enough here,
Maybe things will get better.
Operate quickly, Klim!”
(Vlas didn’t like Klim,
And a little bit difficult,
Immediately to him: “Use, Klim!”
And Klim is happy about that.)

They let grandfather off the wagon,
The soldier was fragile on his feet,
Tall and extremely skinny;
He's wearing a frock coat with medals
Hanging as if on a pole.
It cannot be said that it is good
had a face, especially
When the old one was brought together -
Damn it! The mouth will snarl
The eyes are like coals!

The soldier hit the spoons,
What happened right up to the shore?
The people are all running.
He hit and sang:

Soldatskaya

The light is sickening
There is no truth
Life is sickening
The pain is severe.
German bullets
Turkish bullets,
French bullets
Russian sticks!
The light is sickening
There is no bread
There is no shelter
There is no death.
Come on, from the redoubt from the first number,
Well, with George - around the world, around the world!
The rich man
At the rich man's
Almost got picked up
To the slingshot.
The fence is covered in nails
Bristled,
And the owner, the thief,
Bruised.
The poor man doesn't have it
Copper penny:
“Don’t punish the soldiers!”
- “No need, brother!”
The light is sickening
There is no bread
There is no shelter
There is no death.
Only three Matryonas
Yes Luka and Peter
I will remember you well.
Luke and Peter
Let's take a sniff of tobacco
And three Matryonas
We'll find provisions.
At the first Matryona
The breasts are vigorous,
Matryona the second
Carrying a loaf
At the third water I will drink from the ladle:
Water is key, but measure is the soul!
The light is sickening
There is no truth
Life is sickening
The pain is severe.

The servant was shaken.
Leaning on Ustinyushka,
He raised his left leg
And he began to rock her,
Like a weight suspended;
I did the same with the right one,
He swore: “Damned life!” -
And suddenly he became both.

“Use, Klim!” In St. Petersburg
Klim equipped the case:
On a wooden saucer
Gave it to my uncle and niece
I put them side by side
And he jumped onto a log
And he shouted loudly: “Listen!”
(The servant could not stand it
And often in the peasant's speech
Inserted an apt word
And he knocked on the spoons.)

There is an oak deck
In my yard
Has been lying there for a long time: from youth
I chop wood on it,
So she’s not so wounded,
Like a gentleman.
Take a look: what is the soul!

German bullets
Turkish bullets,
French bullets
Russian sticks.

And the full pension
Didn't work out, rejected
All the old man's wounds;
The doctor's assistant looked
Said: “Second-rate!
That’s what the pension is for.”

It was not ordered to give out the full:
The heart is not shot through!

(The servant sobbed; into spoons
I wanted to hit him, but he made a face!
Don't have Ustinyushka with him,
The old man would have fallen.)

The soldier again with a request.
The tops of the wounds measured
And they appreciated each one
Almost worth a penny.
This is how the investigative officer measured it
Beatings on those who fought
At the market men:
“There is an abrasion under the right eye
The size of two kopecks,
There is a hole in the middle of the forehead
In rubles. Total:
For a ruble fifteen with money
Beatings..." Shall we equate
To the market carnage
The war near Sevastopol,
Where did the soldier shed blood?

They just didn’t move the mountains
And how they jumped onto the redoubts!
Hares, squirrels, wild cats.
There I said goodbye to my legs,
I became deaf from the hellish roar and whistle,
I almost died of Russian hunger!

He should go to St. Petersburg
Before the committee of the wounded, -
Pesh will reach Moscow,
What next? Cast iron
Started biting!

Important lady! proud lady!
Walks, hisses like a snake:
“Empty for you! empty for you! empty for you! -
The Russian village is screaming;
He snorts in the peasant's face,
Presses, maims, tumbles,
Soon the whole Russian people
Sweeps cleaner than a broom.

The soldier stomped his feet lightly,
And I heard knocking
Dry bone on bone
But Klim was silent: he had already moved
To the service people.
They gave everything: a pretty penny,
For pennies, on plates
I picked up a ruble...

4. Good time - good songs

Instead of matches with songs,
In support of speech with a fight
The feast only ended in the morning,
Great feast!.. Disperses
People. Having fallen asleep, we stayed
Our wanderers are under the willow tree,
And then Ionushka slept,
Humble praying mantis.
Swinging, Savva with Grisha
Take your parent home
And they sang; in clean air
Over the Volga, like alarm bells,
Consonants and strong
Voices boomed:

Share of the people
His happiness
Light and freedom
First of all!

We're a little
We ask God:
Fair deal
Do it skillfully
Give us strength!

Working life -
Direct to friend
Road to the heart
Away from the threshold
Coward and lazy!
Isn't it heaven?

Share of the people
His happiness
Light and freedom
First of all!

Poorer than seedy
The last peasant
Tryphon lived. Two lumps:
One with a smoking stove,
Another fathom is summer,
And all this is short-lived;
No cow, no horse,
There was a dog Itchy,
There was a cat - and they left.

Having put the parent to sleep,
I picked up the book Savvushka,
But Grisha couldn’t sit still,
He went into the fields, into the meadows.

Grisha has a wide bone,
But very emaciated
Face - underfed them
Grabber-economist.
Gregory in the seminary
At one o'clock in the morning he wakes up
And then until the sun
Not sleeping - eagerly waiting for the rushnik,
which was given to them
With sbiten in the morning.
No matter how poor the Vakhlacina is,
They gorged themselves on it.
Thanks to Vlas the godfather
And to other men!
The young men paid them,
To the best of my ability, by work,
Trouble in their affairs
We celebrated in the city.

The sexton boasted about his children,
And what do they eat -
And I forgot to think.
He himself was always hungry,
Everything was spent on searching,
Where to drink, where to eat.
And he was of an easy-going nature,
If it were otherwise, it would hardly
And he lived to see his gray hairs.
His owner Domnushka
She was much more caring
But also durability
God didn't give it to her. Deceased
All my life I thought about salt:
No bread - anyone
He will ask for salt
You need to give me clean money,
And there are them all over the Vakhlachina,
Driven to corvée,
Not much! Thankfully - some bread
Vakhlak shared with Domna.
They would have decayed in the ground long ago
Her own children
Don't be a Vakhlat hand
Generous than God sent.

Unresponsive farmhand
For everyone who has anything
Helped her on a rainy day
All my life I thought about salt,
Domnushka sang about salt -
Did you wash it, did you mow it,
Did you cradle Grishenka?
Beloved son.
How the boy's heart sank,
When the peasant women remembered
And they sang a song to Domnin
(He nicknamed her “Salty”
Resourceful vakhlak).

No one like God!
Doesn't eat, doesn't drink
Little son
Look - he dies!

Gave me a piece
Gave another -
Doesn't eat, screams:
“Sprinkle some salt!”

But there is no salt,
At least a pinch!
“Sprinkle with flour,” -
The Lord whispered.

Bite once or twice
He curled his mouth.
“More salt!” -
My son is screaming.

Again flour...
And for a piece
Tears like a river!
Ate son!

The mother boasted -
Saved my son...
Know, salty
There was a tear!..

Grisha remembered the song
And with a prayerful voice
Quietly in the seminary,
Where it was dark, cold,
Gloomy, stern, hungry,
Sang and grieved about mother
And about all the vakhlachina,
To his nurse.
And soon in the boy's heart
With love to the poor mother
Love for all the wahlacina
Merged - and about fifteen years old
Gregory already knew for sure
What will live for happiness
Wretched and dark
Native corner.

Pretty demon of rage
He flew with a punishing sword
Over Russian land.
Enough slavery is hard
Some paths are evil
Open, inviting
Kept in Rus'!
Over dying Russia
Another song is heard:
That is the angel of mercy,
Flying invisibly
Above her, strong souls
Calls for an honest path.

In the middle of the world below
For a free heart
There are two ways.

Weigh the proud strength,
Weigh your strong will, -
Which way to go?

One spacious
The road is rough,
The passions of a slave,

It's huge,
Greedy for temptation
There's a crowd coming.

About sincere life,
About the lofty goal
The idea there is funny.

Eternal boils there,
Inhuman
Feud-war

For mortal blessings.
There are souls captive there
Full of sin.

Looks shiny
Life there is deadening
Good is deaf.

The other one is tight
The road is honest
They walk along it

Only strong souls
Loving,
To fight, to work.

For the bypassed
For the oppressed -
In their footsteps

Go to the downtrodden
Go to the offended -
Be the first there!

And the angel of mercy
No wonder the song of call
Sings over the Russian youth, -
Rus' has already sent a lot
His sons, marked
The seal of God's gift,
On honest paths
I mourned a lot of them
(While the falling star
They're rushing by!).
No matter how dark the vahlachina is,
No matter how crammed with corvée
And slavery - and she,
Having been blessed, I placed
In Grigory Dobrosklonov
Such a messenger.
Fate had in store for him
The path is glorious, the name is loud
People's Defender,
Consumption and Siberia.

The sun was shining gently,
The early morning breathed
Coolness, aromas
Mown grass everywhere...

Gregory walked thoughtfully
First on the big road
(Antique: with high
curly birch trees,
Straight as an arrow).
It was fun for him
That's sad. Horny
Vakhlatsky feast,
Thought worked strongly in him
And poured out in song:

“In moments of despondency, O Motherland!
My thoughts fly forward.
You are still destined to suffer a lot,
But you won't die, I know.

The darkness above you was thicker than ignorance,
More suffocating than a restless sleep,
You were a deeply unhappy country,
Depressed, slavishly unjudgmental.

How long have your people served as toys?
The master's shameful passions?
The descendant of the Tatars brought out like a horse
To the Slav slave market,

And the Russian maiden was dragged to shame,
The scourge raged without fear,
And the horror of the people at the word “recruitment”
Was it similar to the horror of execution?

Enough! Finished with past settlement,
The settlement with the master has been completed!
The Russian people are gathering strength
And learns to be a citizen.

And fate lightened your burden,
Companion of the days of the Slav!
You are also a slave in the family,
But the mother of a free son!”

Grisha was lured by the narrow one,
winding path,
running through the bread,
Mown into a wide meadow
He went down it.
Drying grass in the meadow
The peasant women met Grisha
His favorite song.
The young man felt deeply sad
For the suffering mother,
And even more anger took over.
He went into the forest. Haunting,
In the forest, like quails
In the rye, the little ones wandered
Guys (and older ones
They turned over the senzo).
He is with them a body of saffron milk caps
I dialed it. The sun is already burning;
He went to the river. Bathing -
Three days ago burned
Charred city
The picture in front of him:
Not a house left standing,
One prison saved
Recently whitewashed
Like a white cow
Standing in the pasture.
The authorities hid there,
And the inhabitants under the shore,
Like an army, they became a camp,
Everything is still sleeping, few
Woke up: two clerks,
Holding the shelves
Robes, making their way
Between cabinets, chairs,
Units, crews
To the tavern tent.
That's where the tailor is crouched
Arshin, iron and scissors
Carries - like a leaf trembles.
Rising from sleep with prayer,
Combing his head
And keeps you flying away,
Like a girl, a long braid
Tall and dignified
Archpriest Stefan.
Slowly along the sleepy Volga
The rafts with firewood are pulling,
They stand under the right bank
Three barges loaded:
Yesterday barge haulers with songs
They were brought here.
And here he is - exhausted
Burlak! with a festive gait
Goes, the shirt is clean,
The copper rings in my pocket.
Grigory walked and looked
For a satisfied barge hauler,
And the words fell from my lips
Sometimes in a whisper, sometimes loudly.
Gregory thought out loud:

Shoulders, chest and back
He pulled the barge with a whip,
The midday heat scorched him,
And sweat poured from him in streams.
And he fell and got up again,
Wheezing, “Dubinushka” moaned;
He reached the place where the barge was located
And fell asleep in a heroic sleep,
And, in the bathhouse, washing off the sweat in the morning,
Walks carelessly towards the pier.
Three rubles sewn into the belt.
The rest - copper - stirring,
I thought for a moment and went into a tavern.
And silently threw it on the workbench
Hard earned pennies
And, having drunk, he grunted from the bottom of his heart,
He crossed his chest at the church;
It's time to go! it's time to go!
He walked briskly, chewed kalach,
He brought his wife a red cloth as a gift,
A scarf for my sister, and for the children
Horses in gold leaf.
He walked home - a long way,
May God let you get there and rest!

From the barge hauler of Grishina's thoughts
To all mysterious Rus',
They went to the people.
And for a long time Grisha was on the shore
Wandered around, worrying, thinking,
As long as the song is new
Didn’t satisfy the weary one,
Burning head.

You're miserable too
You are also abundant
You are mighty
You are also powerless
Mother Rus'!

Saved in slavery
Free heart -
Gold, gold
People's heart!

People's power
Mighty force -
Conscience is calm,
The truth is alive!

Strength with untruth
Doesn't get along
Sacrifice by untruth
Not called -

Rus' does not move,
Rus' is like dead!
And she caught fire
Hidden spark -

They stood up - unwounded,
They came out - uninvited,
Live by the grain
The mountains have been damaged!

The army rises -
Countless!
The strength in her will affect
Indestructible!

You're miserable too
You are also abundant
You're downtrodden
You are omnipotent
Mother Rus'!

“I succeeded in the song! - Grisha said, jumping. -
The great truth in her spoke passionately!
Tomorrow I’ll sing it to the vakhlachki - not all of them
Sing sad songs... Help them, oh God!
As if playing and running, my cheeks flare up,
This is how a good song lifts your spirits
Poor, downtrodden..." After reading solemnly
A new song for my brother (my brother said: “Divine!”)
Grisha tried to sleep. I fell asleep, I didn’t sleep,
More beautiful than before, a song was composed in half sleep;
If only our wanderers could be under their own roof,
If only they could know what was happening to Grisha.
He heard the immense strength in his chest,
The sounds of grace delighted his ears,
The radiant sounds of the noble hymn -
He sang the embodiment of people's happiness!..