Children's fairy tales online. Tatar fairy tale Shurale Shurale fairy tale in Russian read

I
There is an aul near Kazan called Kyrlay.
Even the chickens in that Kyrlay can sing... Wonderful land!
Even though I didn’t come from there, I kept my love for him,
He worked on the land - he sowed, reaped and harrowed.
Is he reputed to be a big village? No, on the contrary, it’s small
And the river, the pride of the people, is just a small spring.
This forest side is forever alive in memory.
The grass spreads out like a velvety blanket.
The people there never knew either cold or heat:
In its turn the wind will blow, and in its turn the rain will come.
From raspberries and strawberries everything in the forest is motley,
You pick up a bucket full of berries in an instant.
Often I lay on the grass and looked at the heavens.
The endless forests seemed like a formidable army to me.
Pines, lindens and oaks stood like warriors,
Under the pine tree there is sorrel and mint, under the birch tree there are mushrooms.
How many blue, yellow, red flowers are intertwined there,
And from them the fragrance flowed into the sweet air.
Moths flew away, arrived and landed,
It was as if the petals were arguing with them and making peace with them.
Bird chirping and ringing babble were heard in the silence
And they filled my soul with piercing joy.
There is music and dancing, and singers and circus performers,
There are boulevards and theaters, and wrestlers and violinists!
This fragrant forest is wider than the sea, higher than the clouds,
Like the army of Genghis Khan, noisy and powerful.
And the glory of my grandfather’s names rose before me,
And cruelty, and violence, and tribal strife.
II
I depicted the summer forest, but my verse has not yet sung
Our autumn, our winter, and young beauties,
And the joy of our celebrations, and the spring Sabantuy...
O my verse, don’t disturb my soul with memories!
But wait, I was daydreaming... There is paper on the table...
I was going to tell you about the tricks of the Shural.
I’ll start now, reader, don’t blame me:
I lose all reason as soon as I remember Kyrlay.
III
Of course, in this amazing forest
You will meet a wolf, and a bear, and a treacherous fox.
Here hunters often see squirrels,
Either a gray hare will rush by, or a horned elk will flash.
There are many secret paths and treasures here, they say.
There are many terrible animals and monsters here, they say.
There are many fairy tales and beliefs circulating in our native land
And about gins, and about peris, and about terrible shurals.
Is this true? The ancient forest is endless, like the sky,
And no less than in the sky, there may be miracles in the forest.
IV
I will begin my short story about one of them,
And - such is my custom - I will sing poetry.
One night, when the shining moon glides through the clouds,
A horseman went from the village to the forest to get firewood.
He arrived quickly on the cart, immediately took up the ax,
Here and there, trees are being cut down, and there is dense forest all around.
As often happens in summer, the night was fresh and humid.
Because the birds were sleeping, the silence grew.
The woodcutter is busy with work, you know he knocks and knocks.
For a moment the enchanted horseman forgot.
Chu! Some terrible scream is heard in the distance,
And the ax stopped in the swinging hand.
And our nimble woodcutter froze in amazement.
He looks and doesn’t believe his eyes. What is this? Human?
Genie, robber or ghost - this gnarled freak?
How ugly he is, it involuntarily takes over fear!
The nose is curved like a fishhook,
Arms and legs are like branches, they will intimidate even a daredevil.
Flashing angrily, the eyes burn in black hollows,
Even during the day, let alone at night, this look will frighten you.
He looks like a man, very thin and naked,
The narrow forehead is decorated with a horn the size of our finger.
His fingers are half arshin long and crooked, -
Ten fingers are ugly, sharp, long and straight.
V
And looking into the eyes of the freak that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked bravely: “What do you want from me?”
- Young horseman, don’t be afraid, robbery doesn’t attract me.
But although I am not a robber, I am not a righteous saint.
Why, when I saw you, did I let out a cheerful cry?
Because I'm used to killing people with tickles.
Each finger is adapted to tickle more viciously,
I kill a man by making him laugh.
Come on, move your fingers, my brother,
Play tickle with me and make me laugh!
“Okay, I’ll play,” the woodcutter answered him. —
Only on one condition... Do you agree or not?
- Speak up, little man, please be bolder,
I will accept all the conditions, but let me play quickly!
- If so, listen to me, I don’t care what you decide.
Do you see a thick, big and heavy log?
Forest spirit! Let's work together first,
Together you and I will carry the log onto the cart.
Did you notice a large gap at the other end of the log?
Hold the log there tightly, all your strength is needed!..
Shurale glanced sideways at the indicated place
And, not disagreeing with the horseman, the shurale agreed.
He put his long, straight fingers into the mouth of the log...
Sages! Do you see the simple trick of a woodcutter?
The wedge, previously plugged, is knocked out with an axe,
By knocking out, he carries out a clever plan in secret.
Shurale does not move, does not move his hand,
He stands there, not understanding the clever invention of people.
So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle and disappeared into the darkness...
The fingers of the shurale got pinched and remained in the gap.
Shurale saw the deception, Shurale screams and yells.
He calls his brothers for help, he calls the forest people.
With a repentant prayer he says to the horseman:
- Have pity, have pity on me! Let me go, horseman!
I will never offend you, horseman, or my son.
I will never touch your entire family, O man!
I won't offend anyone! Do you want me to take an oath?
I will tell everyone: “I am a friend of the horseman. Let him walk in the forest!”
It hurts my fingers! Give me freedom! Let me live on earth!
What do you, horseman, profit from the torment of the shurale?
The poor fellow cries, rushes about, whines, howls, he’s not himself.
The woodcutter doesn’t hear him and is getting ready to go home.
“Won’t the cry of a sufferer soften this soul?”
Who are you, who are you, heartless? What's your name, horseman?
Tomorrow, if I live to see our brother,
To the question: “Who is your offender?” - whose name will I say?
“So be it, I’ll say, brother.” Don't forget this name:
I am nicknamed “The Thoughtful One”... And now it’s time for me to hit the road.
Shurale screams and howls, wants to show strength,
He wants to break out of captivity and punish the woodcutter.
- I will die! Forest spirits, help me quickly,
The villain pinched me, he destroyed me!
And the next morning the Shurales came running from all sides.
- What's wrong with you? Are you crazy? What are you upset about, fool?
Calm down! Shut up, we can't stand the screaming.
Pinched in the past year, why are you crying this year?
translation: S. Lipkin

→ Tatar fairy tale "Shurale"

There was a brave woodcutter in one village.
One winter he went to the forest and began chopping wood. Suddenly appeared in front of him.
- What's your name, little man? - asks Shurale*.
“My name is Byltyr**,” the woodcutter answers.
“Come on, Byltyr, let’s play,” says Shurale.
“I don’t have time to play right now,” the woodcutter answers. - I won't play with you!
Shurale got angry and shouted:
- Ah well! Well, then I won’t let you out of the forest alive!
The woodcutter sees it - it’s bad.
“Okay,” he says. - I’ll play with you, just help me split the deck first.
The woodcutter hit the deck with an ax once, hit it twice and said:
“Put your fingers into the gap so it doesn’t get pinched until I hit you a third time.”
Shurala stuck his fingers into the crack, and the woodcutter pulled out an ax. Then the deck closed tightly and pinched Shurale’s fingers. That's all the woodcutter needed. He collected his firewood and quickly left for the village. And let Shurala shout to the whole forest:
- Byltyr pinched my fingers!.. Byltyr pinched my fingers!..
Other shurale came running to the cry and asked:
- What's happened? Who pinched it?
- Byltyr pinched! - Shurale answers.
“If that’s the case, we can’t help you,” other shurale say. - If this happened today, we would help you. Since this happened last year, where can you find it now? You're stupid! You should have shouted not now, but last year!
But stupid Shurale could not really explain anything to them.
They say that Shurale put the deck on his back and still carries it on himself, and he shouts loudly:
- Byltyr pinched my fingers!.. 1. Gabdulla Tukay - Gabdulla Mukhamedgarifovich Tukai (April 14, 1886, Kushlavych village, Kazan district, Kazan province - April 2, 1913, Kazan). Tatar people's poet, literary critic, publicist, public figure and translator.
On April 20, 1912, Tukay arrived in St. Petersburg (stayed 13 days) to meet with Mullanur Vakhitov, later a prominent revolutionary. (see more about the trip to St. Petersburg: chapter 5 from the book “Tukai” by I.Z. Nurullin)
In his life and work, Tukay acted as a spokesman for the interests and aspirations of the masses, a herald of the friendship of peoples and a singer of freedom. Tukay was the founder of new realistic Tatar literature and literary criticism. Tukay's first poems appeared in the handwritten journal Al-Ghasr al-Jadid (New Age) for 1904. At the same time, he translated Krylov’s fables into Tatar and offered them for publication. ()

2. Poem "Shurale" - poem by the Tatar poet Gabdulla Tukay. Written in 1907 based on Tatar folklore. The ballet “Shurale” was created based on the plot of the poem. In 1987, Soyuzmultfilm produced the animated film Shurale.
The prototype of Shurale existed not only in Tatar mythology. Various peoples of Siberia and Eastern Europe (as well as the Chinese, Koreans, Persians, Arabs and others) believed in the so-called “half people”. They were called differently, but their essence remained almost the same.
These are one-eyed, one-armed creatures to which various supernatural properties were attributed. According to Yakut and Chuvash beliefs, half people can change the size of their body. Almost all nations believe that they are terribly funny - they laugh until their last breath, and also love to make others laugh, often tickling livestock and people to death. The “laughing” voices of some birds (of the order Owls) were attributed to the halves. The Udmurts use the word "shurali" or "urali" for the eagle owl. And the Mari call the buzzing night bird “shur-locho”, which means “half-dwarf”. An evil forest spirit, having only half a soul, could inhabit people. In the Old Chuvash language, the word “surale” was formed - a person who was possessed by “sura” (half-devil). In the northern dialects of the Chuvash language and in the Mari, the sound “s” sometimes turns into “sh” - this explains the appearance of “shurele”.
The image of Shurale was very widespread in Tatar and Bashkir mythology. Stories about Shural had many variations. At the end of the 19th century, they were recorded by researchers. One should name the book of the Hungarian scientist Gabor Balint “Study of the language of the Kazan Tatars”, published in 1875 in Budapest, the work of the famous Tatar educator Kayum Nasyri “Beliefs and rituals of the Kazan Tatars”, published in 1880, as well as the collection of fairy tales by Taip Yakhin “Defgylkesel min essabi” ve sabiyat" 1900 edition. One of these options (where the resourcefulness and courage of the Tatar people is most clearly shown) formed the basis for the famous work of Gabdulla Tukay. With the light hand of the poet, Shurale stepped from the realm of superstition into the world of Tatar literature and art. In a note to the poem, G. Tukay wrote: “I wrote this fairy tale “Shurale”, using the example of the poets A. Pushkin and M. Lermontov, who worked on the plots of folk tales told by folk storytellers in villages.”
The fairy-tale poem of Gabdulla Tukay was a huge success. It was in tune with its time and reflected educational trends in literature: it glorified the victory of the human mind, knowledge, and dexterity over the mysterious and blind forces of nature. It also reflected the growth of national self-awareness: for the first time, the center of a literary poetic work was not a common Turkic or Islamic plot, but rather a Tatar fairy tale that existed among the common people. The language of the poem was distinguished by its richness, expressiveness and accessibility. But this is not the only secret of her popularity.
The poet put his personal feelings, memories, experiences into the story, making it surprisingly lyrical. It is no coincidence that the action develops in Kyrlay, the village in which Tukai spent his happiest childhood years and, by his own admission, “began to remember himself.” A huge, amazing world, full of secrets and mysteries, appears before the reader in the pure and direct perception of a little boy. The poet, with great tenderness and love, sang the beauty of his native nature, folk customs, and the dexterity, strength, and cheerfulness of the villagers. These feelings were shared by his readers, who perceived the fairy tale “Shurale” as a deeply national work, truly vividly and fully expressing the very soul of the Tatar people. It was in this poem that the evil spirits from the dense forest for the first time received not only a negative, but also a positive assessment: Shurale became, as it were, an integral part of his native land, its virgin blooming nature, and inexhaustible folk imagination. It is not surprising that this bright, memorable image then inspired writers, artists, and composers for many years to create significant and original works of art.

There is an aul near Kazan called Kyrlay.
Even the chickens in that Kyrlay can sing... Wonderful land!

Even though I didn’t come from there, I kept my love for him,
He worked on the land - he sowed, reaped and harrowed.

Is he reputed to be a big village? No, on the contrary, it’s small
And the river, the pride of the people, is just a small spring.

This forest side is forever alive in memory.
The grass spreads out like a velvety blanket.

The people there never knew either cold or heat:
In its turn the wind will blow, in its turn the rain will blow
will do.

From raspberries and strawberries everything in the forest is motley,
You pick up a bucket full of berries in an instant.

Often I lay on the grass and looked at the heavens.
The endless forests seemed like a formidable army to me.

Pines, lindens and oaks stood like warriors,
Under the pine tree there is sorrel and mint, under the birch tree there are mushrooms.

How many blue, yellow, red flowers are there?
intertwined
And from them the fragrance flowed into the sweet air.

Moths flew away, arrived and landed,
It was as if the petals were arguing with them and making peace with them.

Bird chirping and ringing babble were heard in the silence
And they filled my soul with piercing joy.

There is music, and dancing, and singers, and circus performers,
There are boulevards, and theaters, and wrestlers, and violinists!

This fragrant forest is wider than the sea, higher than the clouds,
Like the army of Genghis Khan, noisy and powerful.

And the glory of my grandfather’s names rose before me,
And cruelty, and violence, and tribal strife.

2
I depicted the summer forest, but my verse has not yet sung
Our autumn, our winter and young beauties,

And the joy of our celebrations, and the spring Sabantuy...
O my verse, don’t disturb my soul with memories!

But wait, I was daydreaming... There's paper on the table...
I was going to tell you about the tricks of the Shural.

I’ll start now, reader, don’t blame me:
I lose all reason as soon as I remember Kyrlay.

Of course, in this amazing forest
You will meet a wolf, and a bear, and a treacherous fox.

Here hunters often see squirrels,
Either a gray hare will rush by, or a horned elk will flash.
There are many secret paths and treasures here, they say.
There are many terrible animals and monsters here, they say.

There are many fairy tales and beliefs circulating in our native land
And about genies, and about peris, and about terrible shurals.

Is this true? The ancient forest is endless, like the sky,
And no less than in the sky, there may be miracles in the forest.

I will begin my short story about one of them,
And - such is my custom - I will sing poetry.

One night, when the moon glides shining through the clouds,
A horseman went from the village to the forest to get firewood.

He arrived quickly on the cart, immediately took up the ax,
Here and there, trees are being cut down, and all around is a dense forest.
As often happens in summer, the night was fresh and humid.
Because the birds were sleeping, the silence grew.
The woodcutter is busy with work, you know he’s knocking, knocking,
For a moment the enchanted horseman forgot.
Chu! Some kind of terrible scream is heard in the distance.
And the ax stopped in the swinging hand.

And our nimble woodcutter froze in amazement.
He looks and doesn’t believe his eyes. Who is this? Human?
A genie, a robber or a ghost, this crooked freak?
How ugly he is, involuntarily takes over fear.
The nose is curved like a fishhook,
Arms and legs are like branches, they will intimidate even a daredevil.
The eyes flash angrily, burning in the black hollows.
Even during the day, let alone at night, this look will frighten you.

He looks like a man, very thin and naked,
The narrow forehead is decorated with a horn the size of our finger.
His fingers are half arshin long and crooked, -
Ten fingers ugly, sharp, long
and straight.

And looking into the eyes of the freak that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked bravely: “What do you want from me?”

“Young horseman, don’t be afraid, robbery doesn’t attract me,
But although I am not a robber, I am not a righteous saint.

Why, when I saw you, did I let out a cheerful cry?
Because I'm used to killing people with tickles.

Each finger is adapted to tickle more viciously,
I kill a man by making him laugh.

Come on, move your fingers, my brother,
Play tickle with me and make me laugh!”

“Okay, I’ll play,” the woodcutter answered him.
Only on one condition... Do you agree or not?

“Speak up, little man, please be bolder,
I will accept all the conditions, but let’s play quickly!”

“If so, listen to me, how do you decide -
I don't care.
Do you see a thick, big and heavy log?
Forest spirit! Let's work together first,
Together you and I will carry the log onto the cart.
Did you notice a large gap at the other end of the log?
Hold the log there tightly, all your strength is needed!..”

The shurale glanced sideways at the indicated place.
And, not disagreeing with the horseman, the shurale agreed.

He put his long, straight fingers into the mouth of the log...
Sages! Do you see the simple trick of a woodcutter?

The wedge, previously plugged, is knocked out with an axe,
By knocking out, he carries out a clever plan in secret.

Shurale does not move, does not move his hand,
He stands there, not understanding the clever invention of people.

So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle and disappeared into the darkness...
The fingers of the shurale got pinched and remained in the gap.

Shurale saw the deception, Shurale screams and yells.
He calls his brothers for help, he calls the forest people.

With a repentant prayer he says to the horseman:
“Have mercy, have mercy on me! Let me go, horseman!

I will never offend you, horseman, or my son.
I will never touch your entire family, O man!

I won't offend anyone! Do you want me to take an oath?
I will tell everyone: “I am a friend of the horseman. Let him walk
In the woods!"

It hurts my fingers! Give me freedom! Let me live
on the ground!
What do you want, horseman, for profit from the torment of the shurale?”

The poor fellow cries, rushes about, whines, howls, he’s not himself.
The woodcutter doesn’t hear him and is getting ready to go home.

“Won’t the cry of a sufferer soften this soul?
Who are you, who are you, heartless? What's your name, horseman?

Tomorrow, if I live to see our brother,
To the question: “Who is your offender?” - whose name will I say?

“So be it, I’ll say, brother. Don't forget this name:
I am nicknamed “The Thoughtful One”... And now -
It's time for me to go."

Shurale screams and howls, wants to show strength,
He wants to break out of captivity and punish the woodcutter.

"I will die. Forest spirits, help me quickly!
The villain pinched me, he destroyed me!”

And the next morning the Shurales came running from all sides.
“What's wrong with you? Are you crazy? What are you upset about, fool?

Calm down! Shut up! We can't stand the screaming.
Pinched in the past year, what are you doing this year?
are you crying?

Tatar folk tale with pictures. Illustrations: K Kamaletdinov