History of creation
Nekrasov devoted many years of his life to working on the poem, which he called his “favorite brainchild.” “I decided,” said Nekrasov, “to present in a coherent story everything that I know about the people, everything that I happened to hear from their lips, and I started “Who Lives Well in Rus'.” This will be an epic of modern peasant life.” The writer saved material for the poem, as he admitted, “word by word for twenty years.” Death interrupted this gigantic work. The poem remained unfinished. Shortly before his death, the poet said: “The one thing I deeply regret is that I did not finish my poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'.” N. A. Nekrasov began work on the poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'” in the first half of the 60s of the 19th century. The mention of the exiled Poles in the first part, in the chapter “The Landowner,” suggests that work on the poem began no earlier than 1863. But sketches of the work could have appeared earlier, since Nekrasov had been collecting material for a long time. The manuscript of the first part of the poem is marked 1865, however, it is possible that this is the date of completion of work on this part.
Soon after finishing work on the first part, the prologue of the poem was published in the January 1866 issue of Sovremennik magazine. Printing lasted for four years and was accompanied, like all of Nekrasov’s publishing activities, by censorship persecution.
The writer began to continue working on the poem only in the 1870s, writing three more parts of the work: “The Last One” (1872), “Peasant Woman” (1873), “A Feast for the Whole World” (1876). The poet did not intend to limit himself to the written chapters; three or four more parts were planned. However, a developing illness interfered with the author's plans. Nekrasov, feeling the approach of death, tried to give some “completeness” to the last part, “A feast for the whole world.”
In the last lifetime edition of “Poems” (-), the poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'” was printed in the following sequence: “Prologue. Part one", "Last One", "Peasant Woman".
Plot and structure of the poem
Nekrasov assumed that the poem would have seven or eight parts, but managed to write only four, which, perhaps, did not follow one another.
Part one
The only one has no name. It was written shortly after the abolition of serfdom ().
Prologue
“In what year - count,
In what land - guess
On the sidewalk
Seven men came together..."
They got into an argument:
Who has fun?
Free in Rus'?
They offered six possible answers to this question:
- Novel: to the landowner
- Demyan: to the official
- Gubin brothers - Ivan and Mitrodor: to the merchant;
- Pakhom (old man): to the minister
The peasants decide not to return home until they find the correct answer. They find a self-assembled tablecloth that will feed them and set off.
Peasant woman (from the third part)
The last one (from the second part)
Feast - for the whole world (from the second part)
The chapter “A Feast for the Whole World” is a continuation of “The Last One.” This depicts a fundamentally different state of the world. This is already awakened and speaking at once folk Rus'. New heroes are drawn into the festive feast of spiritual awakening. The whole people sings songs of liberation, judges the past, evaluates the present, and begins to think about the future. Sometimes these songs are contrasting to each other. For example, the story “About the exemplary slave - Yakov the Faithful” and the legend “About two great sinners”. Yakov takes revenge on the master for all the bullying in a servile manner, committing suicide in front of his eyes. The robber Kudeyar atones for his sins, murders and violence not with humility, but with the murder of the villain - Pan Glukhovsky. Thus, popular morality justifies righteous anger against the oppressors and even violence against them
List of heroes
Temporarily obliged peasants who went to look for who was living happily and at ease in Rus'(Main characters)
- Novel
- Demyan
- Ivan and Metrodor Gubin
- Old Man Pakhom
Peasants and serfs
- Ermil Girin
- Yakim Nagoy
- Sidor
- Egorka Shutov
- Klim Lavin
- Agap Petrov
- Ipat - sensitive serf
- Yakov - a faithful slave
- Proshka
- Matryona
- Savely
Landowners
- Utyatin
- Obolt-Obolduev
- Prince Peremetev
- Glukhovskaya
Other heroes
- Altynnikov
- Vogel
- Shalashnikov
see also
Links
- Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov: textbook. allowance / Yarosl. state University named after P. G. Demidova and others; [author art.] N.N. Paykov. - Yaroslavl: [b. i.], 2004. - 1 email. wholesale disk (CD-ROM)
Who can live well in Rus'?
Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov
“Who Lives Well in Rus'” is Nekrasov’s final work, a folk epic, which includes the entire centuries-old experience of peasant life, all the information about the people collected by the poet “by word” for twenty years.
Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov
Who can live well in Rus'?
PART ONE
In what year - calculate
Guess what land?
On the sidewalk
Seven men came together:
Seven temporarily obliged,
A tightened province,
Terpigoreva County,
Empty parish,
From adjacent villages:
Zaplatova, Dyryavina,
Razutova, Znobishina,
Gorelova, Neelova -
There is also a poor harvest,
They came together and argued:
Who has fun?
Free in Rus'?
Roman said: to the landowner,
Demyan said: to the official,
Luke said: ass.
To the fat-bellied merchant! -
The Gubin brothers said,
Ivan and Metrodor.
Old man Pakhom pushed
And he said, looking at the ground:
To the noble boyar,
To the sovereign minister.
And Prov said: to the king...
The guy's a bull: he'll get in trouble
What a whim in the head -
Stake her from there
You can’t knock them out: they resist,
Everyone stands on their own!
Is this the kind of argument they started?
What do passers-by think?
You know, the kids found the treasure
And they share among themselves...
Each one in his own way
Left the house before noon:
That path led to the forge,
He went to the village of Ivankovo
Call Father Prokofy
Baptize the child.
Groin honeycomb
Carried to the market in Velikoye,
And the two Gubina brothers
So easy with a halter
Catch a stubborn horse
They went to their own herd.
It's high time for everyone
Return on your own way -
They are walking side by side!
They walk as if they are being chased
Behind them are gray wolves,
What's further is quick.
They go - they reproach!
They scream - they won’t come to their senses!
But time doesn’t wait.
They didn’t notice the dispute
As the red sun set,
How evening came.
I'd probably kiss you all night
So they went - where, not knowing,
If only they met a woman,
Gnarled Durandiha,
She didn’t shout: “Reverends!
Where are you looking at night?
Have you decided to go?..”
She asked, she laughed,
Whipped, witch, gelding
And she rode off at a gallop...
“Where?..” - they looked at each other
Our men are here
They stand, silent, looking down...
The night has long since passed,
The stars lit up frequently
In the high skies
The moon has surfaced, the shadows are black
The road was cut
To zealous walkers.
Oh shadows! black shadows!
Who won't you catch up with?
Who won't you overtake?
Only you, black shadows,
You can't catch it - you can't hug it!
To the forest, to the path-path
Pakhom looked, remained silent,
I looked - my mind scattered
And finally he said:
"Well! goblin nice joke
He played a joke on us!
No way, after all, we are almost
We've gone thirty versts!
Now tossing and turning home -
We're tired - we won't get there,
Let's sit down - there's nothing to do.
Let's rest until the sun!..”
Blaming the trouble on the devil,
Under the forest along the path
The men sat down.
They lit a fire, formed a formation,
Two people ran for vodka,
And the others as long as
The glass was made
The birch bark has been touched.
The vodka arrived soon.
The snack has arrived -
The men are feasting!
They drank three kosushki,
We ate and argued
Again: who has fun living?
Free in Rus'?
Roman shouts: to the landowner,
Demyan shouts: to the official,
Luka shouts: ass;
Kupchina fat-bellied, -
The Gubin brothers are shouting,
Ivan and Mitrodor;
Pakhom shouts: to the brightest
To the noble boyar,
To the sovereign minister,
And Prov shouts: to the king!
It took more than before
Perky men,
They swear obscenely,
No wonder they grab it
In each other's hair...
Look - they've already grabbed it!
Roman is pushing Pakhomushka,
Demyan pushes Luka.
And the two Gubina brothers
They iron the hefty Provo, -
And everyone shouts his own!
A booming echo woke up,
Let's go for a walk,
Let's go scream and shout
As if to tease
Stubborn men.
To the king! - heard to the right
To the left responds:
Ass! ass! ass!
The whole forest was in commotion
With flying birds
Swift-footed beasts
And creeping reptiles, -
And a groan, and a roar, and a roar!
First of all, little gray bunny
From a nearby bush
Suddenly he jumped out, as if disheveled,
And he ran away!
Small jackdaws are behind him
Birch trees were raised at the top
A nasty, sharp squeak.
And then there’s the warbler
Tiny chick with fright
Fell from the nest;
The warbler chirps and cries,
Where is the chick? – he won’t find it!
Then the old cuckoo
I woke up and thought
Someone to cuckoo;
Accepted ten times
Yes, I got lost every time
And started again...
Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!
The bread will begin to spike,
You'll choke on an ear of corn -
You won't cuckoo!
Seven eagle owls flew together,
Admiring the carnage
From seven big trees,
They're laughing, night owls!
And their eyes are yellow
They burn like burning wax
Fourteen candles!
And the raven, a smart bird,
Arrived, sitting on a tree
Right by the fire.
Sits and prays to the devil,
To be slapped to death
Which one!
Cow with a bell
That I've been off since the evening
She came to the fire and stared
Eyes on the men
I listened to crazy speeches
And I began, my dear,
Moo, moo, moo!
The stupid cow moos
Small jackdaws squeak.
The boys are screaming,
And the echo echoes everyone.
He has only one concern -
Teasing honest people
Scare the boys and women!
Nobody saw him
And everyone has heard,
Without a body - but it lives,
Without a tongue - screams!
Owl - Zamoskvoretskaya
The princess is immediately mooing,
Flies over the peasants
Crashing on the ground,
It’s about the bushes with the wing...
The fox herself is cunning,
Out of womanish curiosity,
Snuck up on the men
I listened, I listened
And she walked away, thinking:
“And the devil won’t understand them!”
Indeed: the debaters themselves
They hardly knew, they remembered -
What are they making noise about...
Having bruised my sides quite a bit
To each other, we came to our senses
Finally, the peasants
They drank from a puddle,
Washed, freshened up,
Sleep began to tilt them...
Meanwhile, the tiny chick,
Little by little, half a seedling,
Flying low,
I got close to the fire.
Pakhomushka caught him,
He brought it to the fire and looked at it
And he said: “Little bird,
And the marigold is awesome!
I breathe and you'll roll off your palm,
If I sneeze, you'll roll into the fire,
If I click, you'll roll around dead
But you, little bird,
Stronger than a man!
The wings will soon get stronger,
Bye bye! wherever you want
That's where you'll fly!
Oh, you little birdie!
Give us your wings
We'll fly around the whole kingdom,
Let's see, let's explore,
Let's ask around and find out:
Who lives happily?
Is it at ease in Rus'?
“You wouldn’t even need wings,
If only we had some bread
Half a pound a day, -
And so we would Mother Rus'
They tried it on with their feet!” -
Said the gloomy Prov.
“Yes, a bucket of vodka,” -
They added eagerly
Before vodka, the Gubin brothers,
Ivan and Metrodor.
“Yes, in the morning there would be cucumbers
Ten of salty ones,” -
The men were joking.
“And at noon I would like a jug
Cold kvass."
“And in the evening, have a cup of tea
Have some hot tea..."
While they were chatting,
The warbler whirled and whirled
Above them: listened to everything
And she sat down by the fire.
Chiviknula, jumped up
Pahomu says:
“Let the chick go free!
For a chick for a small one
I will give a large ransom."
- What will you give? -
“I’ll give you some bread
Half a pound a day
I'll give you a bucket of vodka,
I'll give you some cucumbers in the morning,
And at noon, sour kvass,
And in the evening, tea!”
- And where,
Page 2 of 11
small bird, -
The Gubin brothers asked,
You will find wine and bread
Are you like seven men? -
“If you find it, you will find it yourself.
And I, little birdie,
I'll tell you how to find it."
- Tell! -
"Walk through the forest,
Against pillar thirty
Just a mile away:
Come to the clearing,
They are standing in that clearing
Two old pine trees
Under these pine trees
The box is buried.
Get her, -
That magic box:
It contains a self-assembled tablecloth,
Whenever you wish,
He will feed you and give you something to drink!
Just say quietly:
"Hey! self-assembled tablecloth!
Treat the men!”
According to your wishes,
At my command,
Everything will appear immediately.
Now let the chick go!”
- Wait! we are poor people
We are going on a long journey, -
Pakhom answered her. -
I see you are a wise bird,
Respect old clothes
Bewitch us!
- So that the peasant Armenians
Worn, not torn down! -
Roman demanded.
- So that fake bast shoes
They served, they didn’t crash, -
Demyan demanded.
- Damn the louse, the vile flea!
She didn’t breed in shirts, -
Luka demanded.
- If only he could spoil... -
The Gubins demanded...
And the bird answered them:
“The tablecloth is all self-assembled
Repair, wash, dry
You will... Well, let me go!..”
Opening your palm wide,
He released the chick with his groin.
He let it in - and the tiny chick,
Little by little, half a seedling,
Flying low,
Headed towards the hollow.
A warbler flew behind him
And on the fly she added:
“Look, mind you, one thing!
How much food can he bear?
Womb - then ask,
And you can ask for vodka
Exactly a bucket a day.
If you ask more,
And once and twice - it will be fulfilled
At your request,
And the third time there will be trouble!
And the warbler flew away
With your birth chick,
And the men in single file
We reached for the road
Look for pillar thirty.
Found! - They walk silently
Straightforward, straight forward
Through the dense forest,
Every step counts.
And how they measured the mile,
We saw a clearing -
They are standing in that clearing
Two old pine trees...
The peasants dug around
Got that box
Opened and found
That tablecloth is self-assembled!
They found it and cried out at once:
“Hey, self-assembled tablecloth!
Treat the men!”
Lo and behold, the tablecloth unfolded,
Where did they come from?
Two hefty arms
They put a bucket of wine,
They piled up a mountain of bread
And they hid again.
“Why are there no cucumbers?”
“Why is there no hot tea?”
“Why is there no cold kvass?”
Everything appeared suddenly...
The peasants got loose
They sat down by the tablecloth.
There's a feast here!
Kissing for joy
They promise each other
Don't fight in vain,
But the matter is really controversial
According to reason, according to God,
On the honor of the story -
Don't toss and turn in the houses,
Don't see any wives
Not with the little guys
Not with old people,
As long as the matter is moot
No solution will be found
Until they find out
No matter what for certain:
Who lives happily?
Free in Rus'?
Having made such a vow,
In the morning like dead
The men fell asleep...
Chapter I. POP
Wide path
Furnished with birch trees,
Stretches far
Sandy and deaf.
On the sides of the path
There are gentle hills
With fields, with hayfields,
And more often with an inconvenient
Abandoned land;
There are old villages,
There are new villages,
By the rivers, by the ponds...
Forests, floodplain meadows,
Russian streams and rivers
Good in spring.
But you, spring fields!
On your shoots the poor
Not fun to watch!
“It’s not for nothing that in the long winter
(Our wanderers interpret)
It snowed every day.
Spring has come - the snow has had its effect!
He is humble for the time being:
It flies - is silent, lies - is silent,
When he dies, then he roars.
Water – everywhere you look!
The fields are completely flooded
Carrying manure - there is no road,
And the time is not too early -
The month of May is coming!”
I don’t like the old ones either,
It’s even more painful for new ones
They should look at the villages.
Oh huts, new huts!
You are smart, let him build you up
Not an extra penny,
And blood trouble!..
In the morning we met wanderers
All more people small:
Your brother, a peasant-basket worker,
Craftsmen, beggars,
Soldiers, coachmen.
From the beggars, from the soldiers
The strangers did not ask
How is it for them - is it easy or difficult?
Lives in Rus'?
Soldiers shave with an awl,
Soldiers warm themselves with smoke -
What happiness is there?..
The day was already approaching evening,
They go along the road,
A priest is coming towards me.
The peasants took off their caps.
bowed low,
Lined up in a row
And the gelding Savras
They blocked the way.
The priest raised his head
He looked and asked with his eyes:
What do they want?
“I suppose! We are not robbers! -
Luke said to the priest.
(Luka is a squat guy,
With a wide beard.
Stubborn, vocal and stupid.
Luke looks like a mill:
One is not a bird mill,
That, no matter how it flaps its wings,
Probably won't fly.)
“We are sedate men,
Of those temporarily obliged,
A tightened province,
Terpigoreva County,
Empty parish,
Nearby villages:
Zaplatova, Dyryavina,
Razutova, Znobishina,
Gorelova, Neelova -
Bad harvest too.
Let's go on something important:
We have concerns
Is it such a concern?
Which of the houses did she survive?
She made us friends with work,
I stopped eating.
Give us the right word
To our peasant speech
Without laughter and without cunning,
According to conscience, according to reason,
To answer truthfully
Not so with your care
We'll go to someone else..."
– I give you my true word:
If you ask the matter,
Without laughter and without cunning,
In truth and in reason,
How should one answer?
"Thank you. Listen!
Walking the path,
We came together by chance
They came together and argued:
Who has fun?
Free in Rus'?
Roman said: to the landowner,
Demyan said: to the official,
And I said: ass.
Kupchina fat-bellied, -
The Gubin brothers said,
Ivan and Metrodor.
Pakhom said: to the brightest
To the noble boyar,
To the sovereign minister.
And Prov said: to the king...
The guy's a bull: he'll get in trouble
What a whim in the head -
Stake her from there
You can’t knock it out: no matter how much they argue,
We did not agree!
Having argued, we quarreled,
Having quarreled, they fought,
Having caught up, they changed their minds:
Don't go apart
Don't toss and turn in the houses,
Don't see any wives
Not with the little guys
Not with old people,
As long as our dispute
We won't find a solution
Until we find out
Whatever it is - for certain:
Who likes to live happily?
Free in Rus'?
Tell us in a divine way:
Is the priest's life sweet?
How are you - at ease, happily
Are you living, honest father?..”
I looked down and thought,
Sitting in a cart, pop
And he said: “Orthodox!”
It is a sin to grumble against God,
I bear my cross with patience,
I’m living... but how? Listen!
I'll tell you the truth, the truth,
And you have a peasant mind
Be smart! -
“Begin!”
– What do you think is happiness?
Peace, wealth, honor -
Isn't that right, dear friends?
They said: “Yes”...
- Now let's see, brothers,
What is butt peace like?
I have to admit, I should start
Almost from birth itself,
How to get a diploma
the priest's son,
At what cost to Popovich
The priesthood is bought
Let's better keep quiet!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .Page 3 of 11
. . . . . . . . . .
Our roads are difficult.
Our parish is large.
Sick, dying,
Born into the world
They don’t choose time:
In reaping and haymaking,
In the dead of autumn night,
In winter, in severe frosts,
And in the spring flood -
Go wherever you are called!
You go unconditionally.
And even if only the bones
Alone broke, -
No! gets wet every time,
The soul will hurt.
Don't believe it, Orthodox Christians,
There is a limit to habit:
No heart can bear
Without any trepidation
Death rattle
Funeral lament
Orphan's sadness!
Amen!.. Now think.
What's the peace like?..
The peasants thought little
Giving the priest a rest,
They said with a bow:
“What else can you tell us?”
- Now let's see, brothers,
What honor is there for the priest?
The task is delicate
I wouldn't anger you...
Tell me, Orthodox,
Who do you call
Foal breed?
Chur! respond to demand!
The peasants hesitated.
They are silent - and the priest is silent...
-Who are you afraid of meeting?
Walking the path?
Chur! respond to demand!
They groan, shift,
- Who are you writing about?
You are joker fairy tales,
And the songs are obscene
And all sorts of blasphemy?..
Mother-priest, sedate,
Popov's innocent daughter,
Every seminarian -
How do you honor?
To catch whom, like a gelding,
Shout: ho-ho-ho?..
The boys looked down
They are silent - and the priest is silent...
The peasants thought
And pop with a wide hat
I waved it in my face
Yes, I looked at the sky.
In the spring, when the grandchildren are small,
With the ruddy sun-grandfather
The clouds are playing:
Here's the right side
One continuous cloud
Covered - clouded,
It got dark and cried:
Rows of gray threads
They hung to the ground.
And closer, above the peasants,
From small, torn,
Happy clouds
The red sun laughs
Like a girl from the sheaves.
But the cloud has moved,
Pop covers himself with a hat -
Be in heavy rain.
And the right side
Already bright and joyful,
There the rain stops.
It's not rain, it's a miracle of God:
There with golden threads
Hanks of skeins are hung...
“Not ourselves... by parents
That’s how we…” – Gubin brothers
They finally said.
And others echoed:
“Not by ourselves, by our parents!”
And the priest said: “Amen!”
Sorry, Orthodox!
Not in judging your neighbor,
And at your request
I told you the truth.
Such is the honor of a priest
In the peasantry. And the landowners...
“You are past them, landowners!
We know them!
- Now let's see, brothers,
Where does the wealth come from?
Is Popovskoye coming?..
At a time not far away
Russian Empire
Noble estates
It was full.
And the landowners lived there,
Famous owners
There are none now!
Been fruitful and multiply
And they let us live.
What weddings were played there,
That children were born
On free bread!
Although often tough,
However, willing
Those were the gentlemen
They did not shy away from the arrival:
They got married here
Our children were baptized
They came to us to repent,
We sang their funeral service
And if it did happen,
That a landowner lived in the city,
That's probably how I'll die
Came to the village.
If he dies accidentally,
And then he will punish you firmly
Bury him in the parish.
Look, to the village temple
On a mourning chariot
Six horse heirs
The dead man is being transported -
Good correction for the butt,
For the laity, a holiday is a holiday...
But now it’s not the same!
Like the tribe of Judah,
The landowners dispersed
Across distant foreign lands
And native to Rus'.
Now there's no time for pride
Lie in native possession
Next to fathers, grandfathers,
And there are many properties
Let's go to the profiteers.
Oh sleek bones
Russian, noble!
Where are you not buried?
In what land are you not?
Then, the article... schismatics...
I'm not a sinner, I haven't lived
Nothing from the schismatics.
Fortunately, there was no need:
In my parish there are
Living in Orthodoxy
Two thirds of the parishioners.
And there are such volosts,
Where there are almost all schismatics,
So what about the butt?
Everything in the world is changeable,
The world itself will pass away...
Laws formerly strict
To the schismatics, they softened,
And with them the priest
The income has come.
The landowners moved away
They don't live in estates
And die in old age
They don't come to us anymore.
Rich landowners
Pious old ladies,
Which died out
Who have settled down
Near monasteries,
Nobody wears a cassock now
He won’t give you your butt!
No one will embroider the air...
Live with only peasants,
Collect worldly hryvnias,
Yes, pies on holidays,
Yes, holy eggs.
The peasant himself needs
And I would be glad to give, but there’s nothing...
And then not everyone
And a nice peasant penny.
Our benefits are meager,
Sands, swamps, mosses,
The little beast goes from hand to mouth,
Bread will be born on its own,
And if it gets better
The damp earth is the nurse,
So a new problem:
There is nowhere to go with the bread!
There's a need, you'll sell it
For sheer trifle,
And then there’s a crop failure!
Then pay through the nose,
Sell the cattle.
Pray, Orthodox Christians!
Great trouble threatens
And this year:
The winter was fierce
Spring is rainy
It should have been sowing long ago,
And there is water in the fields!
Have mercy, Lord!
Send a cool rainbow
To our heavens!
(Taking off his hat, the shepherd crosses himself,
And the listeners too.)
Our villages are poor,
And the peasants in them are sick
Yes, women are sad
Nurses, drinkers,
Slaves, pilgrims
And eternal workers,
Lord give them strength!
With so much work for pennies
Life is hard!
It happens to the sick
You will come: not dying,
The peasant family is scary
At that hour when she has to
Lose your breadwinner!
Give a farewell message to the deceased
And support in the remaining
You try your best
The spirit is cheerful! And here to you
The old woman, the mother of the dead man,
Look, he's reaching out with the bony one,
Calloused hand.
The soul will turn over,
How they jingle in this little hand
Two copper coins!
Of course, it's a clean thing -
I demand retribution
If you don’t take it, you have nothing to live with.
Yes a word of comfort
Freezes on the tongue
And as if offended
You will go home... Amen...
Finished the speech - and the gelding
Pop lightly whipped.
The peasants parted
They bowed low.
The horse trudged slowly.
And six comrades,
It's like we agreed
They attacked with reproaches,
With selected large swearing
To poor Luka:
- What, did you take it? stubborn head!
Country club!
That's where the argument gets into! -
"Nobles of the bell -
The priests live like princes.
They're going under the sky
Popov's tower,
The priest's fiefdom is buzzing -
Loud bells -
For the whole God's world.
For three years I, little ones,
He lived with the priest as a worker,
Raspberries are not life!
Popova porridge - with butter.
Popov pie - with filling,
Popov's cabbage soup - with smelt!
Popov's wife is fat,
The priest's daughter is white,
Popov's horse is fat,
The priest's bee is well-fed,
How the bell rings!”
Page 4 of 11
here's your praise
A priest's life!
Why were you yelling and showing off?
Getting into a fight, anathema?
Wasn't that what I was thinking of taking?
What's a beard like a shovel?
Like a goat with a beard
I walked around the world before,
Than the forefather Adam,
And he is considered a fool
And now he’s a goat!..
Luke stood, kept silent,
I was afraid they wouldn't hit me
Comrades, stand by.
It came to be so,
Yes, to the happiness of the peasant
The road is bent -
The face is priestly stern
Appeared on the hill...
CHAPTER II. RURAL FAIR
No wonder our wanderers
They scolded the wet one,
Cold spring.
The peasant needs spring
And early and friendly,
And here - even a wolf howl!
The sun does not warm the earth,
And the clouds are rainy,
Like milk cows
They're walking across the sky.
The snow has gone and the greenery
Not a grass, not a leaf!
The water is not removed
The earth doesn't dress
Green bright velvet
And like a dead man without a shroud,
Lies under a cloudy sky
Sad and naked.
I feel sorry for the poor peasant
And I’m even more sorry for the cattle;
Having fed meager supplies,
The owner of the twig
He drove her into the meadows,
What should I take there? Chernekhonko!
Only on Nikola Veshny
The weather has cleared up
Green fresh grass
The cattle feasted.
It's a hot day. Under the birch trees
The peasants are making their way
They chatter among themselves:
“We’re going through one village,
Let's go another - empty!
And today is a holiday,
Where have the people gone?..”
Walking through the village - on the street
Some guys are small
There are old women in the houses,
Or even completely locked
Lockable gates.
Castle - a faithful dog:
Doesn't bark, doesn't bite,
But he doesn’t let me into the house!
We passed the village and saw
Mirror in green frame:
The edges are full of ponds.
Swallows are flying over the pond;
Some mosquitoes
Agile and skinny
Leaping, as if on dry land,
They walk on the water.
Along the banks, in the broom,
The corncrakes are creaking.
On a long, shaky raft
Thick blanket with roller
Stands like a plucked haystack,
Tucking the hem.
On the same raft
A duck sleeps with her ducklings...
Chu! horse snoring!
The peasants looked at once
And we saw over the water
Two heads: a man's.
Curly and dark,
With an earring (the sun was blinking
On that white earring),
The other is horse
With a rope, five fathoms.
The man takes the rope in his mouth,
The man swims - and the horse swims,
The man neighed - and the horse neighed.
They're swimming and screaming! Under the woman
Under the small ducklings
The raft moves freely.
I caught up with the horse - grab it by the withers!
He jumped up and rode out into the meadow
Child: white body,
And the neck is like tar;
Water flows in streams
From the horse and from the rider.
“What do you have in your village?
Neither old nor small,
How did all the people die out?”
- We went to the village of Kuzminskoye,
Today there is a fair
And the temple holiday. -
“How far is Kuzminskoye?”
- Yes, it will be about three miles.
“Let's go to the village of Kuzminskoye,
Let's watch the fair!" -
The men decided
And you thought to yourself:
"Isn't that where he's hiding?
Who lives happily?..”
Kuzminskoe rich,
And what’s more, it’s dirty
Trading village.
It stretches along the slope,
Then it descends into the ravine.
And there again on the hill -
How can there not be dirt here?
There are two ancient churches in it,
One Old Believer,
Another Orthodox
House with the inscription: school,
Empty, packed tightly,
A hut with one window,
With the image of a paramedic,
Drawing blood.
There is a dirty hotel
Decorated with a sign
(With a big nosed teapot
Tray in the hands of the bearer,
And small cups
Like a goose with goslings,
That kettle is surrounded)
There are permanent shops
Like a district
Gostiny Dvor…
Strangers came to the square:
There are a lot of different goods
And apparently-invisibly
To the people! Isn't it fun?
It seems there is no godfather,
And, as if in front of icons,
Men without hats.
Such a side thing!
Look where they go
Peasant shliks:
In addition to the wine warehouse,
Taverns, restaurants,
A dozen damask shops,
Three inns,
Yes, “Rensky cellar”,
Yes, a couple of taverns.
Eleven zucchinis
Set for the holiday
Tents in the village.
Each has five carriers;
The carriers are good guys
Trained, mature,
And they can’t keep up with everything,
Can't cope with change!
Look what? stretched out
Peasant hands with hats,
With scarves, with mittens.
Oh Orthodox thirst,
How great are you!
Just to shower my darling,
And there they will get the hats,
When the market leaves.
Over the drunken heads
The spring sun is shining...
Intoxicatingly, vociferously, festively,
Colorful, red all around!
The guys' pants are corduroy,
Striped vests,
Shirts of all colors;
The women are wearing red dresses,
The girls have braids with ribbons,
The winches are floating!
And there are still some tricks,
Dressed like a metropolitan -
And it expands and sulks
Hoop hem!
If you step in, they will dress up!
At ease, newfangled women,
Fishing gear for you
Wear under skirts!
Looking at the smart women,
The Old Believers are furious
Tovarke says:
“Be hungry! be hungry!
Marvel at how the seedlings are soaked,
That the spring flood is worse
It's worth up to Petrov!
Since women began
Dress up in red calico, -
The forests don't rise
At least not this bread!”
- Why are the calicoes red?
Have you done something wrong here, mother?
I can't imagine! -
“And those French calicoes -
Painted with dog blood!
Well... do you understand now?..”
They were jostling around the horse,
Along the hill where they are piled up
Roe deer, rakes, harrows,
Hooks, trolley machines,
Rims, axes.
Trade was brisk there,
With God, with jokes,
With a healthy, loud laugh.
And how can you not laugh?
The guy is kind of tiny
I went and tried the rims:
I bent one - I don’t like it,
He bent the other one and pushed.
How will the rim straighten out?
Click on the guy's forehead!
A man roars over the rim,
"Elm club"
Scolds the fighter.
Another came with different
Wooden crafts -
And he dumped the whole cart!
Drunk! The axle broke
And he began to do it -
The ax broke! Changed my mind
A man with an ax
Scolds him, reproaches him,
As if it does the job:
“You scoundrel, not an axe!
Empty service, nothing
And he didn’t serve that one.
All your life you bowed,
But I was never affectionate!”
The wanderers went to the shops:
They admire handkerchiefs,
Ivanovo chintz,
Harnesses, new shoes,
A product of the Kimryaks.
At that shoe shop
The strangers laugh again:
There are goat shoes here
Grandfather traded with granddaughter
Five times about the price
Page 5 of 11
asked
He turned it over in his hands and looked around:
The product is first class!
“Well, uncle! two two hryvnia
Pay up or get lost!” -
The merchant told him.
- Wait a minute! - Admires
An old man with a tiny shoe,
This is what he says:
- I don’t care about my son-in-law, and my daughter will remain silent,
I feel sorry for my granddaughter! Hanged herself
On the neck, fidget:
“Buy a hotel, grandpa.
Buy it!” – Silk head
The face is tickled, caressed,
Kisses the old man.
Wait, barefoot crawler!
Wait, spinning top! Goats
I'll buy some boots...
Vavilushka boasted,
Both old and young
He promised me gifts,
And he drank himself to a penny!
How my eyes are shameless
Will I show it to my family?..
I don’t care about my son-in-law, and my daughter will remain silent,
The wife doesn’t care, let her grumble!
And I feel sorry for my granddaughter!.. - I went again
About my granddaughter! Killing himself!..
The people have gathered, listening,
Don't laugh, feel sorry;
Happen, work, bread
They would help him
And take out two two-kopeck pieces -
So you will be left with nothing.
Yes, there was a man here
Pavlusha Veretennikov
(What kind, rank,
The men didn't know
However, they called him “master”.
He was very good at making jokes,
He wore a red shirt,
Cloth girl,
Grease Boots;
Sang Russian songs smoothly
And he loved listening to them.
Many have seen him
In the inn courtyards,
In taverns, in taverns.)
So he helped Vavila -
I bought him boots.
Vavilo grabbed them
And so he was! - For joy
Thanks even to the master
Old man forgot to say
But other peasants
So they were consoled
So happy, as if everyone
He gave it in rubles!
There was also a bench here
With paintings and books,
Ofeni stocked up
Your goods in it.
“Do you need generals?” -
The burning merchant asked them.
“And give me generals!
Yes, only you, according to your conscience,
To be real -
Thicker, more menacing."
“Wonderful! the way you look! -
The merchant said with a grin, -
It’s not a matter of complexion...”
- What is it? You're kidding, friend!
Rubbish, perhaps, is it desirable to sell?
Where are we going to go with her?
You're being naughty! Before the peasant
All generals are equal
Like cones on a spruce tree:
To sell the ugly one,
You need to get to the dock,
And fat and menacing
I'll give it to everyone...
Come on big, dignified ones,
Chest as high as a mountain, eyes bulging,
Yes, for more stars!
“Don’t you want civilians?”
- Well, here we go again with the civilians! -
(However, they took it - cheaply! -
Some dignitary
For a belly the size of a wine barrel
And for seventeen stars.)
Merchant - with all respect,
Whatever he likes, he treats him to it
(From Lubyanka - the first thief!) -
I sent down a hundred Bluchers,
Archimandrite Photius,
Robber Sipko,
Sold the book: “The Jester Balakirev”
And "English my lord" ...
The books went into the box,
Let's go for a walk portraits
According to the All-Russian kingdom,
Until they settle down
In a peasant's summer cottage,
On a low wall...
God knows why!
Eh! eh! will the time come,
When (come, desired one!..)
They will let the peasant understand
What a rose is a portrait of a portrait,
What is the book of the book of roses?
When a man is not Blucher
And not my foolish lord -
Belinsky and Gogol
Will it come from the market?
Oh people, Russian people!
Orthodox peasants!
Have you ever heard
Are you these names?
Those are great names,
Wore them, glorified them
People's intercessors!
Here's some portraits of them for you
Hang in your gorenki,
“And I would be glad to go to heaven, but the door
This kind of speech breaks in
To the shop unexpectedly.
- Which door do you want? -
“Yes, to the booth. Chu! music!.."
- Let's go, I'll show you! -
Having heard about the farce,
Our wanderers have also gone
Listen, look.
Comedy with Petrushka,
With a goat and a drummer
And not with a simple barrel organ,
And with real music
They looked here.
Comedy is not wise
However, not stupid either
Resident, quarterly
Not in the eyebrow, but straight in the eye!
The hut is completely empty.
People are cracking nuts
Or two or three peasants
Let's exchange a word -
Look, vodka has appeared:
They'll watch and drink!
They laugh, they are consoled
And often in Petrushkin’s speech
Insert an apt word,
Which one you can't think of
At least swallow a feather!
There are such lovers -
How will the comedy end?
They'll go behind the screens,
Kissing, fraternizing,
Chatting with musicians:
“Where from, good fellows?”
- And we were masters,
They played for the landowner.
Now we are free people
Who will bring it, treat it,
He is our master!
“And that’s it, dear friends,
Quite a bar you entertained,
Amuse the men!
Hey! small! sweet vodka!
Liqueurs! some tea! half a beer!
Tsimlyansky - come alive!..”
And the flooded sea
It will do, more generous than the lord's
The kids will be treated to a treat.
It is not the winds that blow violently,
It is not mother earth that sways -
He makes noise, sings, swears,
Swaying, lying around,
Fights and kisses
People are celebrating!
It seemed to the peasants
How we reached the hillock,
That the whole village is shaking,
That even the church is old
With a high bell tower
It shook once or twice! -
Here, sober and naked,
Awkward... Our wanderers
We walked around the square again
And by evening they left
Stormy village...
CHAPTER III. DRUNKEN NIGHT
Not a barn, not a barn,
Not a tavern, not a mill,
How often in Rus',
The village ended low
Log building
With iron bars
In small windows.
Behind that landmark building
Wide path
Furnished with birch trees,
It opened right there.
Not crowded on weekdays,
Sad and quiet
She's not the same now!
All along that path
And along the roundabout paths,
As far as the eye could see,
They crawled, they lay, they drove.
Drunk people were floundering
And there was a groan!
Heavy carts hide,
And like calfs' heads,
Swinging, dangling
Victory heads
Asleep men!
People walk and fall,
As if because of the rollers
Enemies with buckshot
They're shooting at the men!
Silent night is falling
Already out into the dark sky
Moon, really
Page 6 of 11
writes a letter
Lord is red gold
On blue on velvet,
That tricky letter,
Which neither wise men
It's buzzing! That the sea is blue
Silences, rises
Popular rumor.
“And we give fifty dollars to the clerk:
The request has been made
To the head of the province..."
"Hey! The sack fell from the cart!”
“Where are you going, Olenushka?
Wait! I'll also give you some gingerbread,
You are as agile as a flea,
She ate her fill and jumped away.
I couldn’t stroke it!”
“You are good, royal letter,
Yes, you’re not writing about us...”
“Move aside, people!”
(Excise officials
With bells, with plaques
They rushed from the market.)
“And I mean this now:
And the broom is rubbish, Ivan Ilyich,
And he will walk on the floor,
It will spray wherever!
“God forbid, Parashenka,
Don't go to St. Petersburg!
There are such officials
You are their cook for a day,
And their night is crazy -
So I don’t care!”
“Where are you going, Savvushka?”
(The priest shouts to the sotsky
On horseback, with a government badge.)
- I’m galloping to Kuzminskoye
Behind the stanov. Occasion:
There's a peasant ahead
Killed... - “Eh!.. sins!..”
“You’ve become thinner, Daryushka!”
- Not a spindle, friend!
That's what the more it spins,
It's getting potbellied
And I’m like every day...
"Hey guy, stupid guy,
Ragged, lousy,
Hey love me!
Me, bareheaded,
Drunk old woman,
Zaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally!
Our peasants are sober,
Looking, listening,
They go their own way.
In the middle of the road
Some guy is quiet
I dug a big hole.
“What are you doing here?”
- And I’m burying my mother! -
"Fool! what a mother!
Look: a new undershirt
You buried it in the ground!
Go quickly and grunt
Lie down in the ditch and drink some water!
Maybe the crap will come off!”
“Come on, let’s stretch!”
Two peasants sit down
They rest their feet,
And they live, and they push,
They groan and stretch on a rolling pin,
Joints are cracking!
Didn't like it on the rolling pin:
"Let's try now
Stretch your beard!”
When the beard is in order
They reduced each other,
Grabbing your cheekbones!
They puff, blush, writhe,
They moo, squeal, and stretch!
“Let it be to you, damned ones!
You won’t spill water!”
Women are quarreling in the ditch,
One shouts: “Go home
More sick than hard labor!”
Another: - You're lying, in my house
Worse than yours!
My eldest son-in-law broke my rib,
The middle son-in-law stole the ball,
A ball of spit, but the thing is -
Fifty dollars was wrapped in it,
And the younger son-in-law keeps taking the knife,
He's about to kill him, he's going to kill him!..
“Well, that’s enough, that’s enough, dear!
Well, don't be angry! - behind the roller
It can be heard nearby. -
I’m okay... let’s go!”
Such a bad night!
Is it right or left?
From the road you can see:
Couples are walking together
Isn't it the right grove that they're going to?
The nightingales are singing...
The road is crowded
What later is uglier:
More and more often they come across
Beaten, crawling,
Lying in a layer.
Without swearing, as usual,
Not a word will be uttered,
Crazy, obscene,
She is the loudest!
The taverns are in turmoil,
The leads are mixed up
Scared horses
They run without riders;
Little children are crying here.
Wives and mothers grieve:
Is it easy from drinking
Should I call the men?..
Our wanderers are approaching
And they see: Veretennikov
(What goatskin shoes
Gave it to Vavila)
Talks with peasants.
The peasants are opening up
The gentleman likes:
Pavel will praise the song -
They will sing it five times, write it down!
Like the proverb -
Write a proverb!
Having written down enough,
Veretennikov told them:
“Russian peasants are smart,
One thing is bad
That they drink until they are stupefied,
They fall into ditches, into ditches -
It’s a shame to see!”
The peasants listened to that speech,
They agreed with the master.
Pavlusha has something in a book
I wanted to write already.
Yes, he showed up drunk
Man, he is against the master
Lying on his stomach
I looked into his eyes,
I kept silent - but suddenly
How he will jump up! Straight to the master -
Grab the pencil from your hands!
- Wait, empty head!
Crazy news, unscrupulous
Don't talk about us!
What were you jealous of!
Why is the poor thing having fun?
Peasant soul?
We drink a lot from time to time,
And we work more.
You see a lot of us drunk,
And there are more of us sober.
Have you walked around the villages?
Let's take a bucket of vodka,
Let's go through the huts:
In one, in the other they will pile up,
And in the third they won’t touch -
We have a drinking family
Non-drinking family!
They don’t drink, and they also toil,
It would be better if they drank, stupid ones,
Yes, conscience is like that...
It’s wonderful to watch how he bursts in
In such a sober hut
A man's trouble -
And I wouldn’t even look!.. I saw it
Are Russian villages in the midst of suffering?
In a drinking establishment, what, people?
We have vast fields,
And not much generous,
Tell me, by whose hand
In the spring they will dress,
Will they undress in the fall?
Have you met a guy
After work in the evening?
To reap a good mountain
I set it down and ate a pea-sized piece:
"Hey! hero! straw
I’ll knock you over, move aside!”
Peasant food is sweet,
The whole century saw an iron saw
He chews but doesn't eat!
Yes, the belly is not a mirror,
We don’t cry for food...
You work alone
And the work is almost over,
Look, there are three shareholders standing:
God, king and lord!
And there is also a destroyer
Fourth, be meaner than the Tatar,
So he won’t share
He'll gobble it all up alone!
The third year is upon us
The same inferior gentleman,
Like you, from near Moscow.
Records songs
Tell him the proverb
Leave the riddle behind.
And there was another one - he was interrogating,
How many hours will you work per day?
Little by little, by a lot
Do you shove pieces into your mouth?
Another one measures the land,
Another in the village of inhabitants
He can count it on his fingers,
But they didn’t count it,
How much each summer
The fire is blowing into the wind
Peasant labor?..
There is no measure for Russian hops.
Have they measured our grief?
Is there a limit to the work?
Wine brings down the peasant,
Doesn't grief overwhelm him?
Work isn't going well?
A man does not measure troubles
Copes with everything
No matter what, come.
A man, working, does not think,
Which will strain your strength.
So really over a glass
Think about what's too much
Will you end up in a ditch?
Why is it shameful for you to look,
Like drunk people lying around
So look,
Like being dragged out of a swamp
Peasants have wet hay,
Having mowed down, they drag:
Where horses can't get through
Where and without a burden on foot
It's dangerous to cross
There's a peasant horde there
According to the Kochs, according to the Zhorins
Crawling with whips -
The peasant's navel is cracking!
Under the sun without hats,
In sweat, in mud up to the top of my head,
Cut by sedge,
Swamp reptile-midge
Eaten into blood, -
Are we prettier here?
To regret - regret skillfully,
To the master's measure
Don't kill the peasant!
Not gentle white-handed ones,
And we are great people
At work and at play!..
Every peasant
The soul is like a black cloud -
Angry, menacing - and it would be necessary
Thunder will roar from there,
Bloody rains,
And it all ends with wine.
A little charm went through my veins -
And the kind one laughed
Peasant soul!
There is no need to grieve here,
Look around - rejoice!
Hey guys, hey
Page 7 of 11
young ladies,
They know how to take a walk!
The bones waved
They reeled my darling out,
And the bravery is brave
Saved for the occasion!..
The man stood on the bolster
He stamped his little shoes
And, after being silent for a minute,
Admiring the cheerful
Roaring crowd:
- Hey! you are a peasant kingdom,
Hatless, drunk,
Make noise – make more noise!.. -
“What’s your name, old lady?”
- And what? will you write it in a book?
Perhaps there is no need!
Write: “In the village of Basovo
Yakim Nagoy lives,
He works himself to death
He drinks until he’s half dead!..”
The peasants laughed
And they told the master,
What a man Yakim is.
Yakim, wretched old man,
Once lived in St. Petersburg,
Yes, he ended up in jail:
I decided to compete with the merchant!
Like a piece of velcro,
He returned to his homeland
And he took up the plow.
It's been roasting for thirty years since then
On the strip under the sun,
He escapes under the harrow
From frequent rain,
He lives and tinkers with the plow,
And death will come to Yakimushka -
As the lump of earth falls off,
What's stuck on the plow...
There was an incident with him: pictures
He bought it for his son
Hung them on the walls
And he himself is no less than a boy
I loved looking at them.
God's disfavor has come
The village caught fire -
And it was at Yakimushka’s
accumulated over a century
Thirty-five rubles.
I’d rather take the rubles,
And first he showed pictures
He began to tear it off the wall;
Meanwhile his wife
I was fiddling with icons,
And then the hut collapsed -
Yakim made such a mistake!
The virgins merged into a lump,
For that lump they give him
Eleven rubles...
“Oh brother Yakim! not cheap
The pictures worked!
But to a new hut
I suppose you hung them?”
- I hung it up - there are new ones, -
Yakim said and fell silent.
The master looked at the plowman:
The chest is sunken; as if pressed in
Stomach; at the eyes, at the mouth
Bends like cracks
On dry ground;
And to Mother Earth myself
He looks like: brown neck,
Like a layer cut off by a plow,
Brick face
Hand - tree bark,
And the hair is sand.
The peasants, as they noted,
Why are you not offended by the master?
Yakimov's words,
And they themselves agreed
With Yakim: – The word is true:
We should drink!
If we drink, it means we feel strong!
Great sadness will come,
How can we stop drinking!..
Work wouldn't stop me
Trouble would not prevail
Hops will not overcome us!
Is not it?
“Yes, God is merciful!”
- Well, have a glass with us!
We got some vodka and drank it.
Yakim Veretennikov
He brought two scales.
- Hey master! didn't get angry
Smart little head!
(Yakim told him.)
Smart little head
How can one not understand a peasant?
Do pigs walk around? zemi -
They can’t see the sky forever!..
Suddenly the song rang out in chorus
Daring, consonant:
Ten three young men,
They're tipsy and don't lie down,
They walk side by side, sing,
They sing about Mother Volga,
About brave daring,
About girlish beauty.
The whole road became silent,
That one song is funny
Rolls wide and freely
Like rye spreading in the wind,
According to the peasant's heart
It goes with fire and melancholy!..
I'll go away to that song
I lost my mind and cried
Young girl alone:
“My age is like a day without the sun,
My age is like a night without a month,
And I, young and young,
Like a greyhound horse on a leash,
What is a swallow without wings!
My old husband, jealous husband,
He's drunk and drunk, he's snoring,
Me, when I was very young,
And the sleepy one is watching!”
That's how the young girl cried
Yes, she suddenly jumped off the cart!
"Where?" - the jealous husband shouts,
He stood up and grabbed the woman by the braid,
Like a radish for a cowlick!
Oh! night, drunken night!
Not light, but starry,
Not hot, but with affectionate
Spring breeze!
And to our good fellows
You weren't in vain!
They felt sad for their wives,
It's true: with my wife
Now it would be more fun!
Ivan shouts: “I want to sleep,”
And Maryushka: “And I’m with you!” -
Ivan shouts: “The bed is narrow,”
And Maryushka: “Let’s settle down!” -
Ivan shouts: “Oh, it’s cold,”
And Maryushka: - Let's get warm! -
How do you remember that song?
Without a word - we agreed
Try your casket.
One, why God knows,
Between the field and the road
A thick linden tree has grown.
Strangers crouched under it
And they said carefully:
"Hey! self-assembled tablecloth,
Treat the men!”
And the tablecloth unrolled,
Where did they come from?
Two hefty arms:
They put a bucket of wine,
They piled up a mountain of bread
And they hid again.
The peasants refreshed themselves.
Roman for the guard
Stayed by the bucket
And others intervened
In the crowd - look for the happy one:
They really wanted
Get home soon...
CHAPTER IV. HAPPY
In a loud, festive crowd
The wanderers walked
They shouted the cry:
"Hey! Is there a happy one somewhere?
Show up! If it turns out
That you live happily
We have a ready-made bucket:
Drink for free as much as you like -
We'll treat you to glory!.."
Such unheard of speeches
Sober people laughed
And drunk people are smart
Almost spat in my beard
Zealous screamers.
However, hunters
Take a sip of free wine
Enough was found.
When the wanderers returned
Under the linden tree, calling out a cry,
People surrounded them.
The dismissed sexton came,
Skinny as a sulfur match,
And he let go of his laces,
That happiness is not in pastures,
Not in sables, not in gold,
Not in expensive stones.
“And what?”
- In good humor!
There are limits to possessions
Lords, nobles, kings of the earth,
And the wise's possession -
The entire city of Christ!
If the sun warms you up
Yes, I’ll miss the braid,
So I'm happy! -
“Where will you get the braid?”
- Yes, you promised to give...
“Get lost!” You’re being naughty!..”
An old woman came
Pockmarked, one-eyed,
And she announced, bowing,
How happy she is:
What's in store for her in the fall?
Rap was born to a thousand
On a small ridge.
- Such a large turnip,
These turnips are delicious
And the whole ridge is three fathoms,
And across - arshin! -
They laughed at the woman
But they didn’t give me a drop of vodka:
“Drink at home, old man,
Eat that turnip!”
A soldier came with medals,
I'm barely alive, but I want a drink:
- I'm happy! - speaks.
“Well, open up, old lady,
What is a soldier's happiness?
Don’t hide, look!”
- And that, firstly, is happiness,
What's in twenty battles
I was, not killed!
And secondly, more importantly,
Me even in times of peace
I walked neither full nor hungry,
But he didn’t give in to death!
And thirdly - for offenses,
Great and small
I was beaten mercilessly with sticks,
Just feel it and it’s alive!
"On the! drink, servant!
There's no point in arguing with you:
You are happy - there is no word!
Came with a heavy hammer
Olonchan stonemason,
Broad-shouldered, young:
- And I live - I don’t complain, -
He said, “with his wife, with his mother.”
We don't know the needs!
“What is your happiness?”
- But look (and with a hammer,
He waved it like a feather):
When I wake up before the sun
Let me wake up at midnight,
So I will crush the mountain!
It happened, I can’t boast
Chopping crushed stones
Five silver a day!
Groin raised "happiness"
And, having grunted quite a bit,
Presented to the employee:
“Well, that’s important! won't it be
Carry with this happiness
Is it hard in old age?..”
- Look, don’t boast about your strength, -
The man said with shortness of breath,
Relaxed, thin
(The nose is sharp, like a dead one,
Skinny hands like a rake,
The legs are long like knitting needles,
Not a person - a mosquito). -
I was no worse than a mason
Yes, he also boasted of his strength,
So God punished!
Got it
Page 8 of 11
contractor, beast,
What a simple child,
Taught me to praise
And I’m stupidly happy,
I work for four!
One day I wear a good one
I laid bricks.
And here he is, damned,
And apply it hard:
"What is this? - speaks. -
I don’t recognize Tryphon!
Walk with such a burden
Aren’t you ashamed of the fellow?”
- And if it seems a little,
Add with your master's hand! -
I said, getting angry.
Well, about half an hour, I think
I waited, and he planted,
And he planted it, you scoundrel!
I hear it myself - the craving is terrible,
I didn’t want to back away.
And I brought that damn burden
I'm on the second floor!
The contractor looks and wonders
Shouts, scoundrel, from there:
“Oh well done, Trofim!
You don't know what you did:
You took one down at the very least
Fourteen pounds!
Oh, I know! heart with a hammer
Beating in the chest, bloody
There are circles in the eyes,
My back feels like it's cracked...
They are shaking, their legs are weak.
I've been wasting away since then!..
Pour half a glass, brother!
“Pour? Where is the happiness here?
We treat the happy
What did you say!”
- Listen to the end! there will be happiness!
“Why, speak up!”
- Here's what. In my homeland
Like every peasant,
I wanted to die.
From St. Petersburg, relaxed,
Crazy, almost without memory,
I got into the car.
Well, here we go.
In the carriage - feverish,
Hot workers
There are a lot of us
Everyone wanted the same thing
How do I get to my homeland?
To die at home.
However, you need happiness
And here: we were traveling in the summer,
In the heat, in the stuffiness
Many people are confused
Completely sick heads,
Hell broke out in the carriage:
He moans, he rolls,
Like a catechumen, across the floor,
He raves about his wife, mother.
Well, at the nearest station
Down with this!
I looked at my comrades
I was burning all over, thinking -
Bad luck for me too.
There are purple circles in the eyes,
And everything seems to me, brother,
Why am I cutting up peuns!
(We are also bastards,
It happened to fatten up a year
Up to a thousand goiters.)
Where did you remember, damned ones!
I already tried to pray,
No! everyone is going crazy!
Will you believe it? the whole party
He's in awe of me!
The larynxes are cut,
Blood is gushing, but they are singing!
And I with a knife: “Fuck you!”
How the Lord has had mercy,
Why didn't I scream?
I’m sitting, strengthening myself... fortunately,
The day is over, and by evening
It got cold - he took pity
God is above the orphans!
Well, that's how we got there,
And I made my way home,
And here, by God's grace,
And it became easier for me...
-What are you bragging about here?
With your peasant happiness? -
Screams broken to his feet
Yard man. -
And you treat me:
I'm happy, God knows!
From the first boyar,
At Prince Peremetyev's,
I was a beloved slave.
The wife is a beloved slave,
And the daughter is with the young lady
I also studied French
And to all kinds of languages,
She was allowed to sit down
In the presence of the princess...
Oh! how it stung!.. fathers!.. -
(And started the right leg
Rub with your palms.)
The peasants laughed.
“Why are you laughing, you fools?”
Unexpectedly angry
The yard man screamed. -
I'm sick, should I tell you?
What do I pray to the Lord for?
Getting up and going to bed?
I pray: “Leave me, Lord,
My illness is honorable,
According to her, I am a nobleman!
Not your vile sickness,
Not hoarse, not hernia -
A noble disease
What kind of thing is there?
Among the top officials in the empire,
I'm sick, man!
It's called a game!
To get it -
Champagne, Bourgogne,
Tokaji, Hungarian
You need to drink for thirty years...
Behind the chair of His Serene Highness
At Prince Peremetyev's
I stood for forty years
With the best French truffle
I licked the plates
Foreign drinks
I drank from the glasses...
Well, pour it! -
“Get lost!”
We have peasant wine,
Simple, not overseas -
Not on your lips!
Yellow-haired, hunched over,
He crept timidly up to the wanderers
Belarusian peasant
This is where he reaches for vodka:
- Pour me some manenichko too,
I'm happy! - speaks.
“Don’t bother with your hands!
Report, prove
First, what makes you happy?”
– And our happiness is in the bread:
I'm at home in Belarus
With chaff, with bonfire
He chewed barley bread;
You writhe like a woman in labor,
How it grabs your stomach.
And now, the mercy of God! -
Gubonin has his fill
They give you rye bread,
I'm chewing - I won't get chewed! -
It's kind of cloudy
A man with a curled cheekbone,
Everything looks to the right:
- I follow the bears.
And I feel great happiness:
Three of my comrades
The teddy bears were broken,
And I live, God is merciful!
“Well, look to the left?”
I didn’t look, no matter how hard I tried,
What scary faces
Neither did the man make a face:
- The bear turned me over
Manenichko cheekbone! -
“And you compare yourself with the other one,
Give her your right cheek -
He’ll fix it...” – They laughed,
However, they brought it.
Ragged beggars
Hearing the smell of foam,
And they came to prove
How happy they are:
– There’s a shopkeeper at our doorstep
Greeted with alms
And we’ll enter the house, just like that from the house
They escort you to the gate...
Let's sing a little song,
The hostess runs to the window
With an edge, with a knife,
And we are filled with:
“Come on, come on - the whole loaf,
Doesn't wrinkle or crumble,
Hurry up for you, and hurry up for us...”
Our wanderers realized
Why was vodka wasted for nothing?
By the way, and a bucket
End. “Well, that will be yours!
Hey, man's happiness!
Leaky with patches,
Humpbacked with calluses,
Go home!”
- And you, dear friends,
Ask Ermila Girin, -
He said, sitting down with the wanderers,
Villages of Dymoglotov
Peasant Fedosey. -
If Yermil doesn’t help,
Will not be declared lucky
So there’s no point in wandering around...
“Who is Yermil?
Is it the prince, the illustrious count?”
- Not a prince, not an illustrious count,
But he’s just a man!
“You speak more intelligently,
Sit down and we'll listen,
What kind of person is Yermil?”
- And here’s what: an orphan’s
Yermilo kept the mill
On Unzha. By court
Decided to sell the mill:
Yermilo came with the others
To the auction room.
Empty buyers
They quickly fell off.
One merchant Altynnikov
He entered into battle with Yermil,
Keeps up, bargains,
It costs a pretty penny.
How angry Yermilo will be -
Grab five rubles at once!
The merchant again a pretty penny,
They started a battle;
The merchant gives him a penny,
And he gave him a ruble!
Altynnikov could not resist!
Yes, there was an opportunity here:
They immediately began to demand
Deposits third part,
And the third part is up to a thousand.
There was no money with Yermil,
Did he really mess up?
Did the clerks cheat?
But it turned out to be rubbish!
Altynnikov cheered up:
“It turns out it’s my mill!”
"No! - says Ermil,
Approaches the chairman. -
Is it possible for your honor
Wait for half an hour?
- What will you do in half an hour?
“I’ll bring the money!”
-Where can you find it? Are you sane?
Thirty-five versts to the mill,
And an hour later I'm present
The end, my dear!
“So, will you allow me half an hour?”
- We’ll probably wait an hour! -
Yermil went; clerks
The merchant and I exchanged glances,
Laugh, scoundrels!
To the square to the shopping area
Yermilo came (in the city
It was a market day)
He stood on the cart and saw: he was baptized,
On all four sides
Shouts: “Hey, good people!
Shut up, listen,
I’ll tell you my word!”
The crowded square became silent,
And then Yermil talks about the mill
He told the people:
“Long ago the merchant Altynnikov
Went to the mill,
Yes, I didn’t make a mistake either,
I checked in the city five times,
They said: with
Page 9 of 11
rebidding
Bidding has been scheduled.
Idle, you know
Transport the treasury to the peasant
A side road is not a hand:
I arrived penniless
And lo and behold, they got it wrong
No rebidding!
Vile souls have cheated,
And the infidels laugh:
“What in the world are you going to do?
Where will you find money?
Maybe I’ll find it, God is merciful!
Cunning, strong clerks,
And their world is stronger,
The merchant Altynnikov is rich,
And everything cannot resist him
Against the worldly treasury -
She's like a fish from the sea
For centuries to catch - not to catch.
Well, brothers! God sees
I'll get rid of it that Friday!
The mill is not dear to me,
The offense is great!
If you know Ermila,
If you believe Yermil,
So help me out, or something!..”
And a miracle happened:
Throughout the market square
Every peasant has
Like the wind, half left
Suddenly it turned upside down!
The peasantry forked out
They bring money to Yermil,
They give to those who are rich in what.
Yermilo is a literate guy,
Put your hat full
Tselkovikov, foreheads,
Burnt, beaten, tattered
Peasant bank notes.
Yermilo took it - he didn’t disdain
And a copper penny.
Still he would become disdainful,
When did I come across here
Another copper hryvnia
More than a hundred rubles!
The entire amount has already been fulfilled,
And people's generosity
Grew: - Take it, Ermil Ilyich,
If you give it away, it won’t go to waste! -
Yermil bowed to the people
On all four sides
He walked into the ward with a hat,
Clutching the treasury in it.
The clerks were surprised
Altynnikov turned green,
How he completely the whole thousand
He laid it out on the table for them!..
Not a wolf's tooth, but a fox's tail, -
Let's go play around with the clerks,
Congratulations on your purchase!
Yes, Yermil Ilyich is not like that,
Didn't say too much.
I didn’t give them a penny!
The whole city came to watch,
Like on market day, Friday,
In a week's time
Ermil on the same square
People were counting.
Remember where everyone is?
At that time things were done
In a fever, in a hurry!
However, there were no disputes
And give out a penny too much
Yermil didn’t have to.
Also - he himself said -
An extra ruble, whose God knows!
Stayed with him.
All day with my money open
Yermil walked around and asked:
Whose ruble? I didn’t find it.
The sun has already set,
When from the market square
Yermil was the last to move,
Having given that ruble to the blind...
So this is what Ermil Ilyich is like. -
“Wonderful! - said the wanderers. -
However, it is advisable to know -
What kind of witchcraft
A man above the whole neighborhood
Did you take that kind of power?”
- Not by witchcraft, but by truth.
Have you heard about Hellishness?
Yurlov's prince's patrimony?
“You heard, so what?”
- It is the chief manager
There was a gendarmerie corps
Colonel with a star
He has five or six assistants with him,
And our Yermilo is a clerk
Was in the office.
The little one was twenty years old,
What will the clerk do?
However, for the peasant
And the clerk is a man.
You approach him first,
And he will advise
And he will make inquiries;
Where there is enough strength, it will help out,
Doesn't ask for gratitude
And if you give it, he won’t take it!
You need a bad conscience -
To the peasant from the peasant
Extort a penny.
In this way the whole patrimony
At the age of five Yermil Girina
I found out well
And then he was kicked out...
They deeply pitied Girin,
It was hard to get used to something new,
Grabber, get used to it,
However, there is nothing to do
We got along in time
And to the new scribe.
He doesn't say a word without a thrasher,
Not a word without the seventh student,
Burnt, from the funhouses -
God told him to!
However, by the will of God,
He did not reign for long, -
The old prince died
The prince arrived when he was young,
I drove that colonel away.
I sent his assistant away
I drove the whole office away,
And he told us from the estate
Elect a mayor.
Well, we didn't think long
Six thousand souls, the whole estate
We shout: “Ermila Girina!” -
How one man is!
They call Ermila to the master.
After talking with the peasant,
From the balcony the prince shouts:
“Well, brothers! have it your way.
With my princely seal
Your choice is confirmed:
The guy is agile, competent,
I’ll say one thing: isn’t he young?..”
And we: - There is no need, father,
And young, and smart! -
Yermilo went to reign
Over the entire princely estate,
And he reigned!
In seven years the world's penny
I didn’t squeeze it under my nail,
At the age of seven I didn’t touch the right one,
He did not allow the guilty one to do so.
I didn’t bend my heart...
“Stop! - shouted reproachfully
Some gray-haired priest
To the storyteller. - You're sinning!
The harrow walked straight ahead,
Yes, suddenly she waved to the side -
The tooth hit the stone!
When I started to tell,
So don't throw out words
From the song: or to wanderers
Are you telling a fairy tale?..
I knew Ermila Girin..."
- I suppose I didn’t know?
We were one fiefdom,
The same parish
Yes, we were transferred...
“And if you knew Girin,
So I knew my brother Mitri,
Think about it, my friend."
The narrator became thoughtful
And, after a pause, he said:
– I lied: the word is superfluous
It went wrong!
There was a case, and Yermil the man
Going crazy: from recruiting
Little brother Mitri
He defended it.
We remain silent: there is nothing to argue here,
The master of the headman's brother himself
I wouldn't tell you to shave
One Nenila Vlaseva
She cries bitterly for her son,
Shouts: not our turn!
It is known that I would shout
Yes, I would have left with that.
So what? Ermil himself,
Having finished recruiting,
I began to feel sad, sad,
Doesn’t drink, doesn’t eat: that’s the end of it,
What's in the stall with the rope
His father found him.
Here the son repented to his father:
“Ever since Vlasyevna’s son
I didn't put it in the queue
I hate the white light!
And he himself reaches for the rope.
They tried to persuade
His father and brother
He’s all the same: “I’m a criminal!
The villain! tie my hands
Take me to court!”
So that worse doesn't happen,
The father tied the hearty one,
He posted a guard.
The world has come together, it is noisy, noisy,
Such a wonderful thing
Never had to
Neither see nor decide.
Ermilov family
That's not what we tried,
So that we can make peace for them,
And judge more strictly -
Return the boy to Vlasyevna,
Otherwise Yermil will hang himself,
You won't be able to spot him!
Yermil Ilyich himself came,
Barefoot, thin, with pads,
With a rope in my hands,
He came and said: “It was time,
I judged you according to my conscience,
Now I myself am more sinful than you:
Judge me!
And he bowed to our feet.
Neither give nor take the holy fool,
Stands, sighs, crosses himself,
It was a pity for us to see
Like him in front of the old woman,
In front of Nenila Vlaseva,
Suddenly he fell to his knees!
Well, everything worked out fine
Mister strong
There is a hand everywhere; Vlasyevna's son
He returned, they handed over Mitri,
Yes, they say, and Mitriya
It's not hard to serve
The prince himself takes care of him.
And for the offense with Girin
We put a fine:
Fine money for a recruit,
A small part of Vlasyevna,
Part of the world for wine...
However, after this
Yermil did not cope soon,
I walked around like crazy for about a year.
No matter how the patrimony asked,
Resigned from his position
I rented that mill
And he became thicker than before
Love to all the people:
He took it for the grind according to his conscience.
Didn't stop people
Clerk, manager,
Rich landowners
And the men are the poorest -
All lines were obeyed,
The order was strict!
I'm already in that province
Haven't been in a while
And I heard about Ermila,
People don't brag about them,
You go to him.
“You’re passing through in vain,”
The one who argued has already said it
Gray-haired pop. -
I knew Ermila, Girin,
I ended up in that province
Five years ago
(I've traveled a lot in my life,
Our Eminence
Translate priests
Loved)… With Ermila Girin
We were neighbors.
Yes! there was only one man!
He had everything he needed
For happiness: and peace of mind,
And money and honor,
An enviable, true honor,
Not purchased either
Page 10 of 11
money,
Not with fear: with strict truth,
With intelligence and kindness!
Yes, just, I repeat to you,
You are passing in vain
He sits in prison...
“How so?”
- And the will of God!
Have any of you heard,
How the estate rebelled
Landowner Obrubkov,
Frightened province,
Nedykhanev County,
Village Tetanus?..
How to write about fires
In the newspapers (I read them):
"Remained unknown
Reason” – so here:
Until now it is unknown
Not to the zemstvo police officer,
Not to the highest government
Neither the tetanus themselves,
Why did the opportunity arise?
But it turned out to be rubbish.
It took an army.
The Sovereign himself sent
He spoke to the people
Then he’ll try to curse
And shoulders with epaulets
Will lift you high
Then he will try with affection
And chests with royal crosses
In all four directions
It will start turning.
Yes, the abuse was unnecessary here,
And the caress is incomprehensible:
“Orthodox peasantry!
Mother Rus'! Father Tsar!
And nothing more!
Having been beaten enough
They wanted it for the soldiers
Command: fall!
Yes to the volost clerk
A happy thought came here,
It's about Ermila Girin
He said to the boss:
- The people will believe Girin,
The people will listen to him... -
“Call him quickly!”
…………………………….
Suddenly a cry: “Ay, ah! have mercy!"
Suddenly sounding out,
Disturbed the priest's speech,
Everyone rushed to look:
At the road roller
Flog a drunken footman -
Caught stealing!
Where he is caught, here is his judgment:
About three dozen judges came together,
We decided to give a spoonful,
And everyone gave a vine!
The footman jumped up and, spanking
Skinny shoemakers
Without a word, he gave me the traction.
“Look, he ran like he was disheveled! -
Our wanderers joked
Recognizing him as a baluster,
That he was bragging about something
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Notes
Kosushka – ancient measure liquid, approximately 0.31 liters.
The cuckoo stops cuckooing when the bread begins to spike (“choking on the ear,” people say).
Floodplain meadows are located in the floodplain of a river. When the river that flooded them during the flood subsided, a layer of natural fertilizer remained on the soil, which is why tall grasses grew here. Such meadows were especially valued.
This refers to the fact that until 1869, a seminary graduate could receive a parish only if he married the daughter of a priest who left his parish. It was believed that in this way the “purity of the class” was maintained.
A parish is an association of believers.
Raskolniks are opponents of the reforms of Patriarch Nikon (XVII century).
Parishioners are regular visitors to the church parish.
Mat - building: end. Checkmate is the end of the game in chess.
Airs are embroidered bedspreads made of velvet, brocade or silk, used during church ceremonies.
Sam is the first part of unchangeable compound adjectives with ordinal or cardinal numerals, with the meaning “so many times more.” Bread itself is a harvest that is twice as large as the amount of grain sown.
Cool rainbow - to the bucket; flat - for rain.
Pyatak is a copper coin of 5 kopecks.
Treba - “the performance of a sacrament or sacred rite” (V.I. Dal).
Smelt is a cheap small fish, lake smelt.
Anathema is a church curse.
Yarmonka – i.e. fair.
St. Nicholas of the Spring is a religious holiday celebrated on May 9 according to the old style (May 22 according to the new style).
A religious procession is a solemn procession of believers with crosses, icons, and banners.
Shlyk - “hat, cap, cap, cap” (V.I. Dal).
Kabak is “a drinking house, a place for selling vodka, sometimes also beer and honey” (V.I. Dal).
A tent is a temporary space for trade, usually a light frame covered with canvas, and later with tarpaulin.
French chintz is a crimson-colored chintz usually dyed using madder, a dye made from the roots of a herbaceous perennial plant.
Equestrian – part of the fair where horses were traded.
Roe deer is a type of heavy plow or light plow with one ploughshare, which rolled the earth in only one direction. In Russia, roe deer was usually used in the northeastern regions.
A cart machine is the main part of a four-wheeled vehicle or cart. It holds the body, wheels and axles.
A harness is a part of the harness that fits the sides and croup of a horse, usually made of leather.
Kimryaks are residents of the city of Kimry. At the time of Nekrasov, it was a large village, 55% of whose residents were shoemakers.
Ofenya is a peddler, “a petty trader peddling and delivering to small towns, villages, villages, with books, paper, silk, needles, with cheese and sausage, with earrings and rings” (V.I. Dal).
Doka is a “master of his craft” (V.I. Dal).
Those. more orders.
Those. not military, but civilians (then civilians).
A dignitary is a high-level official.
Lubyanka - street and square in Moscow, in the 19th century. center wholesale trade popular prints and books.
Blucher Gebhard Leberecht - Prussian general, commander-in-chief of the Prussian-Saxon army, which decided the outcome of the Battle of Waterloo and defeated Napoleon. Military successes made the name of Blucher very popular in Russia.
Archimandrite Photius - in the world Peter Nikitich Spassky, a leader of the Russian church of the 20s. XIX century, was repeatedly joked about in the epigrams of A.S. Pushkin, for example, “Conversation between Photius and gr. Orlova", "On Photius".
The robber Sipko is an adventurer who pretended to be different people, incl. for retired captain I.A. Sipko. In 1860, his trial attracted frenzied public attention.
“Jester Balakirev” is a popular collection of jokes: “Balakirev full meeting anecdotes of a jester who was at the court of Peter the Great."
“The English My Lord” is the most popular work of the 18th century writer Matvey Komarov at that time, “The Tale of the Adventures of the English My Lord George and his Brandenburg Countess Friederike Louise.”
“Goat” is the name given to an actor in the folk theater-booth, on whose head a goat’s head made of burlap was mounted.
Drummer - drumming attracted the audience to performances.
Riga - a barn for drying sheaves and threshing (with a roof, but almost without walls).
Fifty kopecks is a coin worth 50 kopecks.
The Tsar's Charter is the Tsar's letter.
Excise duty is a type of tax on consumer goods.
Sudarka is a lover.
Sotsky was elected from the peasants, who performed police functions.
A spindle is a hand-held tool for spinning yarn.
Tat – “thief, predator, kidnapper” (V.I. Dal).
Kocha is a form of the word “humock” in the Yaroslavl-Kostroma dialect.
Zazhorina - snow water in a hole along the road.
Pletyukha - in northern dialects - a large, tall basket.
Pastures - in Tambov-Ryazan dialects - meadows, pastures; in Arkhangelsk - belongings,
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property.
Compassion - state of mind, conducive to mercy, goodness, goodness.
Vertograd of Christ is synonymous with paradise.
Arshin is an ancient Russian measure of length equal to 0.71 m.
Olonchanin is a resident of Olonets province.
Peun is a rooster.
A cockerel is a person who fattens roosters for sale.
Truffle is a round-shaped mushroom growing underground. The French black truffle was especially highly prized.
Bonfire – woody parts of flax, hemp, etc. stems.
End of introductory fragment.
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Poem by N.A. Nekrasov’s “Who Lives Well in Rus',” which he worked on for the last ten years of his life, but did not have time to fully implement, cannot be considered unfinished. It contains everything that made up the meaning of the poet’s spiritual, ideological, life and artistic searches from his youth to his death. And this “everything” found a worthy—capacious and harmonious—form of expression.
What is the architectonics of the poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'”? Architectonics is the “architecture” of a work, the construction of a whole from individual structural parts: chapters, parts, etc. In this poem it is complex. Of course, the inconsistency in the division of the enormous text of the poem gives rise to the complexity of its architectonics. Not everything is written down, not everything is uniform and not everything is numbered. However, this does not make the poem any less amazing - it shocks anyone capable of feeling compassion, pain and anger at the sight of cruelty and injustice. Nekrasov, creating typical images of unjustly ruined peasants, made them immortal.
The beginning of the poem -"Prologue" — sets a fabulous tone for the entire work.
Of course, this is a fairy-tale beginning: who knows where and when, who knows why, seven men come together. And a dispute flares up - how can a Russian person live without a dispute? and the men turn into wanderers, wandering along an endless road to find the truth, hidden either behind the next turn, or behind the nearest hill, or even completely unattainable.
In the text of the “Prologue,” whoever doesn’t appear, as if in a fairy tale: a woman - almost a witch, and a gray hare, and small jackdaws, and a chick warbler, and a cuckoo... Seven eagle owls look at the wanderers in the night, the echo echoes their cries, an owl, a cunning fox - everyone has been here. Groin, examining the small birdie - a chick warbler - and seeing that she is happier than the man, decides to find out the truth. And, as in a fairy tale, the mother warbler, rescuing the chick, promises to give the men plenty of everything they ask for on the road, so that they can only find the truthful answer, and shows the way. “Prologue” is not like a fairy tale. This is a fairy tale, only a literary one. So the men make a vow not to return home until they find the truth. And the wandering begins.
Chapter I - "Pop". In it, the priest defines what happiness is - “peace, wealth, honor” - and describes his life in such a way that none of the conditions of happiness fit it. The misfortunes of peasant parishioners in poor villages, the revelry of landowners who left their estates, the desolate life of the locality - all this is in the priest’s bitter answer. And, bowing low to him, the wanderers move on.
In Chapter II wanderers at the fair. The picture of the village: “a house with the inscription: school, empty, / Packed tightly” - and this is in a village “rich, but dirty.” There, at the fair, a phrase familiar to us sounds:
When a man is not Blucher
And not my foolish lord—
Belinsky and Gogol
Will it come from the market?
In Chapter III "Drunken Night" The eternal vice and consolation of the Russian serf peasant is described with bitterness - drunkenness to the point of unconsciousness. Pavlusha Veretennikov appears again, known among the peasants of the village of Kuzminskoye as “the gentleman” and met by wanderers back there, at the fair. He records folk songs, jokes - we would say, collects Russian folklore.
Having written down enough,
Veretennikov told them:
“Russian peasants are smart,
One thing is bad
That they drink until they are stupefied,
They fall into ditches, into ditches—
It’s a shame to see!”
This offends one of the men:
There is no measure for Russian hops.
Have they measured our grief?
Is there a limit to the work?
Wine brings down the peasant,
Doesn't grief overwhelm him?
Work isn't going well?
A man does not measure troubles
Copes with everything
No matter what, come.
This man, who stands up for everyone and defends the dignity of the Russian serf, is one of the most important heroes of the poem, the peasant Yakim Nagoy. This surname - speaking. And he lives in the village of Bosovo. Travelers learn the story of his unimaginably difficult life and ineradicable proud courage from local peasants.
In Chapter IV wanderers wander through the festive crowd, bawling: “Hey! Isn’t there a happy one somewhere?” - and the peasants will respond by smiling and spitting... Pretenders appear, coveting the drink promised by the wanderers “for happiness.” All this is both scary and frivolous. Happy is the soldier that he was beaten, but not killed, did not die of hunger and survived twenty battles. But for some reason this is not enough for wanderers, even though it would be a sin to refuse a soldier a glass. Other naive workers who humbly consider themselves happy also evoke pity and not joy. The stories of the “happy” people are becoming scarier and scarier. There even appears a type of princely “slave”, happy with his “noble” disease - gout - and the fact that at least it brings him closer to the master.
Finally, someone directs the wanderers to Yermil Girin: if he is not happy, then who will be! The story of Ermil is important for the author: the people raised money so that, bypassing the merchant, the man bought himself a mill on the Unzha (a large navigable river in the Kostroma province). The generosity of the people, who give their last for a good cause, is a joy for the author. Nekrasov is proud of the men. Afterwards, Yermil gave everything to his people, the ruble remained ungiven - no owner was found, but the money was collected enormously. Yermil gave the ruble to the poor. The story follows about how Yermil won the people's trust. His incorruptible honesty in the service, first as a clerk, then as a lord’s manager, and his help over many years created this trust. It seemed that the matter was clear - such a person could not help but be happy. And suddenly the gray-haired priest announces: Yermil is sitting in prison. And he was put there in connection with a peasant revolt in the village of Stolbnyaki. How and what - the wanderers did not have time to find out.
In Chapter V - “The Landowner” — the stroller rolls out, and in it is indeed the landowner Obolt-Obolduev. The landowner is described comically: a plump gentleman with a “pistol” and a paunch. Note: he has a “speaking” name, as almost always with Nekrasov. “Tell us, in God’s terms, is the life of a landowner sweet?” - the wanderers stop him. The landowner's stories about his “root” are strange to the peasants. Not exploits, but outrages to please the queen and the intention to set fire to Moscow - these are the memorable deeds of illustrious ancestors. What is the honor for? How to understand? The landowner's story about the delights of the former master's life somehow does not please the peasants, and Obolduev himself recalls with bitterness the past - it is gone, and gone forever.
To adapt to a new life after the abolition of serfdom, you need to study and work. But labor - not a noble habit. Hence the grief.
"The last one." This part of the poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'” begins with a picture of haymaking on water meadows. A noble family appears. The appearance of an old man is terrible - the father and grandfather of a noble family. The ancient and evil Prince Utyatin lives because his former serfs, according to the story of the peasant Vlas, conspired with the noble family to imitate the old serf order for the sake of the prince’s peace of mind and so that he would not deny his family an inheritance due to the whim of old age. They promised to give the peasants water meadows after the death of the prince. The “faithful slave” Ipat was also found - in Nekrasov, as you have already noticed, and such types among the peasants find their description. Only the man Agap could not stand it and cursed the Last One for what it was worth. The feigned punishment at the stable with lashes turned out to be fatal for the proud peasant. The last one died almost before the eyes of our wanderers, and the peasants are still suing over the meadows: “The heirs are fighting with the peasants to this day.”
According to the logic of the construction of the poem “Who Lives Well in Rus',” what follows is, as it were, herThe second part , entitled"Peasant Woman" and having its own"Prologue" and your chapters. The peasants, having lost faith in finding someone happy among the men, decide to turn to the women. There is no need to retell what kind and how much “happiness” they find in the lot of women and peasants. All this is expressed with such depth of penetration into a woman’s suffering soul, with such an abundance of details of fate, slowly told by a peasant woman, respectfully called “ Matryona Timofeevna, she’s the governor’s wife,” which at times either moves you to tears or makes you clench your fists in anger. She was happy on her first night as a woman, and when was that!
Weaved into the narrative are songs created by the author on a folk basis, as if sewn on the canvas of a Russian folk song (Chapter 2. “Songs” ). There the wanderers sing with Matryona in turn, and the peasant woman herself, remembering the past.
My hateful husband
Rises:
For the silk lash
Accepted.
Choir
The whip whistled
Blood spattered...
Oh! cherished! cherished!
Blood spattered...
The married life of a peasant woman matched the song. Only her husband's grandfather, Savely, took pity and consoled her. “He was lucky too,” recalls Matryona.
A separate chapter of the poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'” is dedicated to this powerful Russian man -"Savely, the hero of the Holy Russian" . The title of the chapter speaks about its style and content. A branded, former convict, an old man of heroic build speaks little, but aptly. “To not endure is an abyss, to endure is an abyss,” are his favorite words. The old man buried the German Vogel, the lord's manager, alive in the ground for atrocities against the peasants. Savely’s collective image:
Do you think, Matryonushka,
Is the man not a hero?
And his life is not a military one,
And death is not written for him
In battle - what a hero!
Hands are twisted in chains,
Feet forged with iron,
Back...dense forests
We walked along it and broke down.
What about the breasts? Elijah the prophet
It rattles and rolls around
On a chariot of fire...
The hero endures everything!
In the chapter"Dyomushka" the worst thing happens: Matryona’s little son, left at home unattended, is eaten by pigs. But this is not enough: the mother was accused of murder, and the police opened up the child in front of her eyes. And it’s even more terrible that the innocent culprit in the death of his beloved grandson, who awakened the tormented soul of his grandfather, was Savely the hero himself, already a very old man, who fell asleep and neglected to look after the baby.
In Chapter V - “She-Wolf” — the peasant woman forgives the old man and endures everything that remains in her life. Having chased the she-wolf who carried away the sheep, Matryona's son Fedotka the Shepherd takes pity on the beast: hungry, powerless, with swollen nipples, the mother of the wolf cubs sits down on the grass in front of him, suffers a beating, and the little boy leaves her the sheep, already dead. Matryona accepts punishment for him and lies under the whip.
After this episode, Matryona’s song lamentations on a gray stone above the river, when she, an orphan, calls out to her father and mother for help and comfort, complete the story and create the transition to a new year of disasters -Chapter VI “Difficult Year” . Hungry, “She looks like the kids / I was like her,” Matryona recalls the she-wolf. Her husband is drafted into a soldier without a deadline and without a queue; she remains with her children in her husband’s hostile family - a “freeloader”, without protection or help. The life of a soldier is a special topic, revealed in detail. The soldiers flog her son with rods in the square - you can’t understand why.
A terrible song precedes Matryona's escape alone into the winter night (head "Governor" ). She threw herself backward onto the snowy road and prayed to the Intercessor.
And the next morning Matryona went to the governor. She fell at her feet right on the stairs to get her husband back, and gave birth. The governor turned out to be a compassionate woman, and Matryona and her child returned happy. They nicknamed her the Governor, and life seemed to be getting better, but then the time came, and they took the eldest as a soldier. “What else do you need? — Matryona asks the peasants, “the keys to women’s happiness... are lost,” and cannot be found.
The third part of the poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'”, not called that, but having all the signs of an independent part - dedication to Sergei Petrovich Botkin, introduction and chapters - has a strange name -"A Feast for the Whole World" . In the introduction, some semblance of hope for the freedom granted to the peasants, which is not yet visible, lights up the face of the peasant Vlas with a smile almost for the first time in his life. But its first chapter is"Bitter times - bitter songs" - represents either a stylization of folk couplets telling about hunger and injustices under serfdom, then mournful, “lingering, sad” Vakhlat songs about inescapable forced melancholy, and finally, “Corvee”.
A separate chapter - a story“About the exemplary slave - Yakov the Faithful” - begins as if about a serf peasant of the slave type who interested Nekrasov. However, the story takes an unexpected and sharp turn: unable to bear the insult, Yakov first started drinking, fled, and when he returned, he took the master into a swampy ravine and hanged himself in front of his eyes. The worst sin for a Christian is suicide. The wanderers are shocked and frightened, and a new dispute begins - a dispute about who is the worst sinner of all. Ionushka, the “humble praying mantis,” tells the story.
A new page of the poem opens -"Wanderers and Pilgrims" , for her -"About two great sinners" : a tale about Kudeyar-ataman, a robber who killed countless souls. The story is told in epic verse, and, as if in a Russian song, Kudeyar’s conscience awakens, he accepts hermitage and repentance from the saint who appeared to him: to cut off a century-old oak with the same knife with which he killed. The work takes many years, the hope that it will be possible to complete it before death is weak. Suddenly, the well-known villain Pan Glukhovsky appears on horseback in front of Kudeyar and tempts the hermit with shameless speeches. Kudeyar cannot stand the temptation: the master has a knife in his chest. And - a miracle! — the century-old oak tree collapsed.
The peasants are starting a dispute about whose sin is worse—the “noble” or the “peasant.”In the chapter “Peasant Sin” Also, in an epic verse, Ignatius Prokhorov talks about the sin of Judas (the sin of betrayal) of a peasant elder, who was tempted by the bribe of the heir and hid the owner’s will, in which all eight thousand souls of his peasants were set free. The listeners shudder. There is no forgiveness for the destroyer of eight thousand souls. The despair of the peasants, who recognized that such sins were possible among them, pours out in song. “Hungry” is a terrible song - a spell, the howl of an insatiable beast - not a person. A new face appears - Grigory, the young godson of the headman, the son of a sexton. He consoles and inspires the peasants. After sighing and thinking, they decide: It’s all to blame: strengthen yourself!
It turns out that Grisha is going “to Moscow, to the new city.” And then it becomes clear that Grisha is the hope of the peasant world:
“I don’t need any silver,
Not gold, but God willing,
So that my fellow countrymen
And every peasant
Life was free and fun
All over holy Rus'!
But the story continues, and the wanderers witness how an old soldier, thin as a sliver, hung with medals, rides up on a cart of hay and sings his song - “Soldier’s” with the refrain: “The light is sick, / There is no bread, / There is no shelter, /There is no death,” and to others: “German bullets, /Turkish bullets, /French bullets, /Russian sticks.” Everything about the soldier’s lot is collected in this chapter of the poem.
But here is a new chapter with a cheerful title"Good times - good songs" . Savva and Grisha sing a song of new hope on the Volga bank.
The image of Grisha Dobrosklonov, the son of a sexton from the Volga, of course, unites the features dear to Nekrasov friends - Belinsky, Dobrolyubov (compare surnames), Chernyshevsky. They could sing this song too. Grisha barely managed to survive the famine: his mother’s song, sung by the peasant women, was called “Salty.” A piece watered with a mother's tears is a substitute for salt for a child dying of hunger. “With love for the poor mother / Love for all the Vakhlachin / Merged, - and at the age of fifteen / Gregory already knew firmly / That he would live for the happiness / Of his wretched and dark native corner.” Images of angelic forces appear in the poem, and the style changes dramatically. The poet moves on to marching tercets, reminiscent of the rhythmic tread of the forces of good, inevitably pushing back the obsolete and evil. The “Angel of Mercy” sings an invocation song over a Russian youth.
Grisha, waking up, goes down to the meadows, thinks about the fate of his homeland and sings. The song contains his hope and love. And firm confidence: “Enough! /Finished with the past settlement, /Finished settlement with the master! / The Russian people gather their strength / And learn to be citizens.”
“Rus” is the last song of Grisha Dobrosklonov.
Source (abbreviated): Michalskaya, A.K. Literature: Basic level: 10th grade. At 2 p.m. Part 1: study. allowance / A.K. Mikhalskaya, O.N. Zaitseva. - M.: Bustard, 2018
Year of writing:
1877
Reading time:
Description of the work:
The well-known poem Who Lives Well in Rus' was written in 1877 by the Russian writer Nikolai Nekrasov. It took many years to create it - Nekrasov worked on the poem from 1863-1877. It is interesting that Nekrasov had some ideas and thoughts back in the 50s. He thought of capturing in the poem Who Lives Well in Rus' as much as possible everything he knew about the people and heard from people’s mouths.
Below read a summary of the poem Who Lives Well in Rus'.
One day, seven men converge on a highway - recent serfs, and now temporarily obliged "from adjacent villages - Zaplatova, Dyryavina, Razutova, Znobishina, Gorelova, Neelova, Neurozhaika and also." Instead of going their own way, the men start an argument about who lives cheerfully and freely in Rus'. Each of them judges in his own way who is the main lucky person in Rus': a landowner, an official, a priest, a merchant, a noble boyar, a minister of sovereigns or a tsar.
While arguing, they do not notice that they have taken a detour of thirty miles. Seeing that it is too late to return home, the men make a fire and continue the argument over vodka - which, of course, little by little develops into a fight. But a fight does not help resolve the issue that worries the men.
The solution is found unexpectedly: one of the men, Pakhom, catches a warbler chick, and in order to free the chick, the warbler tells the men where they can find a self-assembled tablecloth. Now the men are provided with bread, vodka, cucumbers, kvass, tea - in a word, everything they need for a long journey. And besides, a self-assembled tablecloth will repair and wash their clothes! Having received all these benefits, the men make a vow to find out “who lives happily and freely in Rus'.”
The first possible “lucky person” they meet along the way turns out to be a priest. (It was not right for the soldiers and beggars they met to ask about happiness!) But the priest’s answer to the question of whether his life is sweet disappoints the men. They agree with the priest that happiness lies in peace, wealth and honor. But the priest does not possess any of these benefits. In the haymaking, in the harvest, in the dead of autumn night, in the bitter frost, he must go to where there are the sick, the dying and those being born. And every time his soul hurts at the sight of funeral sobs and orphan's sadness - so much so that his hand does not rise to take copper coins - a pitiful reward for the demand. The landowners, who previously lived in family estates and got married here, baptized children, buried the dead, are now scattered not only throughout Rus', but also in distant foreign lands; there is no hope for their retribution. Well, the men themselves know how much respect the priest deserves: they feel embarrassed when the priest reproaches him for obscene songs and insults towards priests.
Realizing that the Russian priest is not one of the lucky ones, the men go to a holiday fair in the trading village of Kuzminskoye to ask people about happiness. In a rich and dirty village there are two churches, a tightly boarded up house with the sign “school”, a paramedic’s hut, a dirty hotel. But most of all in the village there are drinking establishments, in each of which they barely have time to cope with thirsty people. Old man Vavila cannot buy goatskin shoes for his granddaughter because he drank himself to a penny. It’s good that Pavlusha Veretennikov, a lover of Russian songs, whom everyone calls “master” for some reason, buys him the treasured gift.
Male wanderers watch the farcical Petrushka, watch how the ladies stock up on books - but not Belinsky and Gogol, but portraits of unknown fat generals and works about “my lord stupid.” They also see how a busy trading day ends: widespread drunkenness, fights on the way home. However, the men are indignant at Pavlusha Veretennikov’s attempt to measure the peasant against the master’s standard. In their opinion, it is impossible for a sober person to live in Rus': he will not withstand either backbreaking labor or peasant misfortune; without drinking out of anger peasant soul It would rain bloody rain. These words are confirmed by Yakim Nagoy from the village of Bosovo - one of those who “works until they die, drinks until they die.” Yakim believes that only pigs walk on the earth and never see the sky. During the fire, he himself did not save the money he had accumulated throughout his life, but the useless and beloved pictures hanging in the hut; he is sure that with the cessation of drunkenness, great sadness will come to Rus'.
Male wanderers do not lose hope of finding people who live well in Rus'. But even for the promise of giving free water to the lucky ones, they fail to find them. For the sake of free booze, both the overworked worker, the paralyzed former servant who spent forty years licking the master’s plates with the best French truffle, and even ragged beggars are ready to declare themselves lucky.
Finally, someone tells them the story of Yermil Girin, the mayor in the estate of Prince Yurlov, who earned universal respect for his justice and honesty. When Girin needed money to buy the mill, the men lent it to him without even requiring a receipt. But Yermil is now unhappy: after the peasant revolt, he is in prison.
The ruddy sixty-year-old landowner Gavrila Obolt-Obolduev tells the wandering men about the misfortune that befell the nobles after the peasant reform. He remembers how in the old days everything amused the master: villages, forests, fields, serf actors, musicians, hunters, who completely belonged to him. Obolt-Obolduev talks with emotion about how on the twelve holidays he invited his serfs to pray in the master's house - despite the fact that after this he had to drive the women away from the entire estate to wash the floors.
And although the men themselves know that life in serfdom was far from the idyll depicted by Obolduev, they still understand: the great chain of serfdom, having broken, hit both the master, who was immediately deprived of his usual way of life, and the peasant.
Desperate to find someone happy among the men, the wanderers decide to ask the women. The surrounding peasants remember that Matryona Timofeevna Korchagina lives in the village of Klin, whom everyone considers lucky. But Matryona herself thinks differently. In confirmation, she tells the wanderers the story of her life.
Before her marriage, Matryona lived in a teetotal and wealthy peasant family. She married a stove-maker from a foreign village, Philip Korchagin. But the only happy night for her was that night when the groom persuaded Matryona to marry him; then the usual hopeless life of a village woman began. True, her husband loved her and beat her only once, but soon he went to work in St. Petersburg, and Matryona was forced to endure insults in her father-in-law’s family. The only one who felt sorry for Matryona was grandfather Savely, who was living out his life in the family after hard labor, where he ended up for the murder of a hated German manager. Savely told Matryona what Russian heroism is: it is impossible to defeat a peasant, because he “bends, but does not break.”
The birth of Demushka's first child brightened Matryona's life. But soon her mother-in-law forbade her to take the child into the field, and the old grandfather Savely did not keep an eye on the baby and fed him to pigs. In front of Matryona's eyes, judges who came from the city performed an autopsy on her child. Matryona could not forget her firstborn, although after that she had five sons. One of them, the shepherd boy Fedot, once allowed a she-wolf to carry away a sheep. Matryona accepted the punishment assigned to her son. Then, being pregnant with her son Liodor, she was forced to go to the city to seek justice: her husband, bypassing the laws, was taken into the army. Matryona was then helped by the governor Elena Alexandrovna, for whom the whole family is now praying.
By all peasant standards, Matryona Korchagina’s life can be considered happy. But about the invisible mental storm It is impossible to tell the story that passed through this woman - just like about unpaid mortal grievances, and about the blood of the firstborn. Matryona Timofeevna is convinced that a Russian peasant woman cannot be happy at all, because the keys to her happiness and free will are lost to God himself.
At the height of haymaking, wanderers come to the Volga. Here they witness a strange scene. A noble family swims to the shore in three boats. The mowers, having just sat down to rest, immediately jump up to show the old master their zeal. It turns out that the peasants of the village of Vakhlachina help the heirs hide the abolition of serfdom from the crazy landowner Utyatin. The relatives of the Last-Duckling promise the men floodplain meadows for this. But after the long-awaited death of the Last One, the heirs forget their promises, and the whole peasant performance turns out to be in vain.
Here, near the village of Vakhlachina, wanderers listen to peasant songs - corvée, hunger, soldier, salty - and stories about serfdom. One of these stories is about the exemplary slave Yakov the Faithful. Yakov's only joy was pleasing his master, the small landowner Polivanov. Tyrant Polivanov, in gratitude, hit Yakov in the teeth with his heel, which aroused even greater love in the lackey’s soul. As Polivanov grew older, his legs became weak, and Yakov began to follow him like a child. But when Yakov’s nephew, Grisha, decided to marry the beautiful serf Arisha, Polivanov, out of jealousy, gave the guy as a recruit. Yakov started drinking, but soon returned to the master. And yet he managed to take revenge on Polivanov - the only way available to him, the lackey. Having taken the master into the forest, Yakov hanged himself right above him on a pine tree. Polivanov spent the night under the corpse of his faithful servant, driving away birds and wolves with groans of horror.
Another story - about two great sinners - is told to the men by God's wanderer Jonah Lyapushkin. The Lord awakened the conscience of the chieftain of the robbers Kudeyar. The robber atoned for his sins for a long time, but all of them were forgiven him only after he, in a surge of anger, killed the cruel Pan Glukhovsky.
The wandering men also listen to the story of another sinner - Gleb the elder, who for money hid the last will of the late widower admiral, who decided to free his peasants.
But it is not only wandering men who think about the people’s happiness. The sexton’s son, seminarian Grisha Dobrosklonov, lives on Vakhlachin. In his heart, love for his late mother merged with love for all of Vakhlachina. For fifteen years Grisha knew for sure who he was ready to give his life to, for whom he was ready to die. He thinks of all the mysterious Rus' as a wretched, abundant, powerful and powerless mother, and expects that the indestructible force that he feels in his own soul will still be reflected in it. Such strong souls as Grisha Dobrosklonov’s are called by the angel of mercy to an honest path. Fate is preparing for Grisha “a glorious path, a great name for the people’s intercessor, consumption and Siberia.”
If the wandering men knew what was happening in the soul of Grisha Dobrosklonov, they would probably understand that they could already return to their native shelter, because the goal of their journey had been achieved.
Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov
Who can live well in Rus'?
PART ONE
In what year - calculate
Guess what land?
On the sidewalk
Seven men came together:
Seven temporarily obliged,
A tightened province,
Terpigoreva County,
Empty parish,
From adjacent villages:
Zaplatova, Dyryavina,
Razutova, Znobishina,
Gorelova, Neelova -
There is also a poor harvest,
They came together and argued:
Who has fun?
Free in Rus'?
Roman said: to the landowner,
Demyan said: to the official,
Luke said: ass.
To the fat-bellied merchant! -
The Gubin brothers said,
Ivan and Metrodor.
Old man Pakhom pushed
And he said, looking at the ground:
To the noble boyar,
To the sovereign minister.
And Prov said: to the king...
The guy's a bull: he'll get in trouble
What a whim in the head -
Stake her from there
You can’t knock them out: they resist,
Everyone stands on their own!
Is this the kind of argument they started?
What do passers-by think?
You know, the kids found the treasure
And they share among themselves...
Each one in his own way
Left the house before noon:
That path led to the forge,
He went to the village of Ivankovo
Call Father Prokofy
Baptize the child.
Groin honeycomb
Carried to the market in Velikoye,
And the two Gubina brothers
So easy with a halter
Catch a stubborn horse
They went to their own herd.
It's high time for everyone
Return on your own way -
They are walking side by side!
They walk as if they are being chased
Behind them are gray wolves,
What's further is quick.
They go - they reproach!
They scream - they won’t come to their senses!
But time doesn’t wait.
They didn’t notice the dispute
As the red sun set,
How evening came.
I'd probably kiss you all night
So they went - where, not knowing,
If only they met a woman,
Gnarled Durandiha,
She didn’t shout: “Reverends!
Where are you looking at night?
Have you decided to go?..”
She asked, she laughed,
Whipped, witch, gelding
And she rode off at a gallop...
“Where?..” - they looked at each other
Our men are here
They stand, silent, looking down...
The night has long since passed,
The stars lit up frequently
In the high skies
The moon has surfaced, the shadows are black
The road was cut
To zealous walkers.
Oh shadows! black shadows!
Who won't you catch up with?
Who won't you overtake?
Only you, black shadows,
You can't catch it - you can't hug it!
To the forest, to the path-path
Pakhom looked, remained silent,
I looked - my mind scattered
And finally he said:
"Well! goblin nice joke
He played a joke on us!
No way, after all, we are almost
We've gone thirty versts!
Now tossing and turning home -
We're tired - we won't get there,
Let's sit down - there's nothing to do.
Let's rest until the sun!..”
Blaming the trouble on the devil,
Under the forest along the path
The men sat down.
They lit a fire, formed a formation,
Two people ran for vodka,
And the others as long as
The glass was made
The birch bark has been touched.
The vodka arrived soon.
The snack has arrived -
The men are feasting!
They drank three kosushki,
We ate and argued
Again: who has fun living?
Free in Rus'?
Roman shouts: to the landowner,
Demyan shouts: to the official,
Luka shouts: ass;
Kupchina fat-bellied, -
The Gubin brothers are shouting,
Ivan and Mitrodor;
Pakhom shouts: to the brightest
To the noble boyar,
To the sovereign minister,
And Prov shouts: to the king!
It took more than before
Perky men,
They swear obscenely,
No wonder they grab it
In each other's hair...
Look - they've already grabbed it!
Roman is pushing Pakhomushka,
Demyan pushes Luka.
And the two Gubina brothers
They iron the hefty Provo, -
And everyone shouts his own!
A booming echo woke up,
Let's go for a walk,
Let's go scream and shout
As if to tease
Stubborn men.
To the king! - heard to the right
To the left responds:
Ass! ass! ass!
The whole forest was in commotion
With flying birds
Swift-footed beasts
And creeping reptiles, -
And a groan, and a roar, and a roar!
First of all, little gray bunny
From a nearby bush
Suddenly he jumped out, as if disheveled,
And he ran away!
Small jackdaws are behind him
Birch trees were raised at the top
A nasty, sharp squeak.
And then there’s the warbler
Tiny chick with fright
Fell from the nest;
The warbler chirps and cries,
Where is the chick? – he won’t find it!
Then the old cuckoo
I woke up and thought
Someone to cuckoo;
Accepted ten times
Yes, I got lost every time
And started again...
Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!
The bread will begin to spike,
You'll choke on an ear of corn -
You won't cuckoo!
Seven eagle owls flew together,
Admiring the carnage
From seven big trees,
They're laughing, night owls!
And their eyes are yellow
They burn like burning wax
Fourteen candles!
And the raven, a smart bird,
Arrived, sitting on a tree
Right by the fire.
Sits and prays to the devil,
To be slapped to death
Which one!
Cow with a bell
That I've been off since the evening
From the herd, I heard a little
Human voices -
She came to the fire and stared
Eyes on the men
I listened to crazy speeches
And I began, my dear,
Moo, moo, moo!
The stupid cow moos
Small jackdaws squeak.
The boys are screaming,
And the echo echoes everyone.
He has only one concern -
Teasing honest people
Scare the boys and women!
Nobody saw him
And everyone has heard,
Without a body - but it lives,
Without a tongue - screams!
Owl - Zamoskvoretskaya
The princess is immediately mooing,
Flies over the peasants
Crashing on the ground,
It’s about the bushes with the wing...
The fox herself is cunning,
Out of womanish curiosity,
Snuck up on the men
I listened, I listened
And she walked away, thinking:
“And the devil won’t understand them!”
Indeed: the debaters themselves
They hardly knew, they remembered -
What are they making noise about...
Having bruised my sides quite a bit
To each other, we came to our senses
Finally, the peasants
They drank from a puddle,
Washed, freshened up,
Sleep began to tilt them...
Meanwhile, the tiny chick,
Little by little, half a seedling,
Flying low,
I got close to the fire.
Pakhomushka caught him,
He brought it to the fire and looked at it
And he said: “Little bird,
And the marigold is awesome!
I breathe and you'll roll off your palm,
If I sneeze, you'll roll into the fire,
If I click, you'll roll around dead
But you, little bird,
Stronger than a man!
The wings will soon get stronger,
Bye bye! wherever you want
That's where you'll fly!
Oh, you little birdie!
Give us your wings
We'll fly around the whole kingdom,
Let's see, let's explore,
Let's ask around and find out:
Who lives happily?
Is it at ease in Rus'?
“You wouldn’t even need wings,
If only we had some bread
Half a pound a day, -
And so we would Mother Rus'
They tried it on with their feet!” -
Said the gloomy Prov.
“Yes, a bucket of vodka,” -
They added eagerly
Before vodka, the Gubin brothers,
Ivan and Metrodor.
“Yes, in the morning there would be cucumbers
Ten of salty ones,” -
The men were joking.
“And at noon I would like a jug
Cold kvass."
“And in the evening, have a cup of tea
Have some hot tea..."
While they were chatting,
The warbler whirled and whirled
Above them: listened to everything
And she sat down by the fire.
Chiviknula, jumped up
And in a human voice
Pahomu says:
“Let the chick go free!
For a chick for a small one
I will give a large ransom."
- What will you give? -
“I’ll give you some bread
Half a pound a day
I'll give you a bucket of vodka,
I'll give you some cucumbers in the morning,
And at noon, sour kvass,
And in the evening, tea!”
- And where, little birdie, -
The Gubin brothers asked,
You will find wine and bread
Are you like seven men? -
“If you find it, you will find it yourself.
And I, little birdie,
I'll tell you how to find it."
- Tell! -
"Walk through the forest,
Against pillar thirty
Just a mile away:
Come to the clearing,
They are standing in that clearing
Two old pine trees
Under these pine trees
The box is buried.
Get her, -
That magic box:
It contains a self-assembled tablecloth,
Whenever you wish,
He will feed you and give you something to drink!
Just say quietly:
"Hey! self-assembled tablecloth!
Treat the men!”
According to your wishes,
At my command,
Everything will appear immediately.
Now let the chick go!”
- Wait! we are poor people
We are going on a long journey, -
Pakhom answered her. -
I see you are a wise bird,
Respect old clothes
Bewitch us!
- So that the peasant Armenians
Worn, not torn down! -
Roman demanded.
- So that fake bast shoes
They served, they didn’t crash, -
Demyan demanded.
- Damn the louse, the vile flea!
She didn’t breed in shirts, -
Luka demanded.
- If only he could spoil... -
The Gubins demanded...
And the bird answered them:
“The tablecloth is all self-assembled
Repair, wash, dry
You will... Well, let me go!..”
Opening your palm wide,
He released the chick with his groin.
He let it in - and the tiny chick,
Little by little, half a seedling,
Flying low,
Headed towards the hollow.
A warbler flew behind him
And on the fly she added:
“Look, mind you, one thing!
How much food can he bear?
Womb - then ask,
And you can ask for vodka
Exactly a bucket a day.
If you ask more,
And once and twice - it will be fulfilled
At your request,
And the third time there will be trouble!
And the warbler flew away
With your birth chick,
And the men in single file
We reached for the road
Look for pillar thirty.
Found! - They walk silently
Straightforward, straight forward
Through the dense forest,
Every step counts.
And how they measured the mile,
We saw a clearing -
They are standing in that clearing
Two old pine trees...
The peasants dug around
Got that box
Opened and found
That tablecloth is self-assembled!
They found it and cried out at once:
“Hey, self-assembled tablecloth!
Treat the men!”
Lo and behold, the tablecloth unfolded,
Where did they come from?
Two hefty arms
They put a bucket of wine,
They piled up a mountain of bread
And they hid again.
“Why are there no cucumbers?”
“Why is there no hot tea?”
“Why is there no cold kvass?”
Everything appeared suddenly...
The peasants got loose
They sat down by the tablecloth.
There's a feast here!
Kissing for joy
They promise each other
Don't fight in vain,
But the matter is really controversial
According to reason, according to God,
On the honor of the story -
Don't toss and turn in the houses,
Don't see any wives
Not with the little guys
Not with old people,
As long as the matter is moot
No solution will be found
Until they find out
No matter what for certain:
Who lives happily?
Free in Rus'?
Having made such a vow,
In the morning like dead
The men fell asleep...