PROLOGUE
In what year - calculate
In what land - guess
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 next is quick.
They go - they reproach!
They scream and 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 would probably kiss you the 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 high heavens,
The moon has surfaced, the shadows are black
The road was cut
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 and hug!
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 will soon arrive,
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 hold of it!
Roman is pushing Pakhomushka,
Demyan pushes Luka.
And the two Gubina brothers
They iron the hefty Prov -
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 follow 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,
The night owls are laughing!
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 got lost in 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 began, my heart,
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,
Screams without a tongue!
Wide path
Furnished with birch trees,
Stretches far
Sandy and deaf.
On the sides of the path
There are gentle hills
With fields, hayfields,
And more often with an inconvenient
Abandoned land;
There are old villages,
There are new villages,
By the rivers, by the ponds...
Forests, flood 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?
That she left home,
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?
Amen!.. -
"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 of your 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 live... 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
To the priest's son,
At what cost to Popovich
The priesthood is bought
Let's better keep quiet!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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 where 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.
Letting the priest rest,
They said with a bow:
“What else can you tell us?”
Now let's see, brothers,
What honor to the priest!
The task is delicate
Wouldn't it make you angry?..
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,
They are silent!
- Who are you writing about?
You are joker fairy tales,
And the songs are obscene
And all sorts of blasphemy?..
I'll get a sedate mother,
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
Hanging skeins...
“Not ourselves... by parents
This is how we..." - Gubin brothers
They finally said.
And others echoed:
“Not on your own, but on your 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’re passing them, the 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 performed the funeral service for them.
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, 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 air...
Live with only peasants,
Collect worldly hryvnias,
Yes, pies on holidays,
Yes, eggs, oh Holy One.
The peasant himself needs
And I would be glad to give, but there’s nothing...
And then not everyone
And the peasant's penny is sweet.
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 there is 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, there’s 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
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 God's whole 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!”
- Well, here's what you've praised
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 would have happened that way
Yes, fortunately for the peasant,
The road is bent -
The face is priestly stern
Appeared on the hill...
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?..”
They are 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 peasant'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
Baby: 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?”
Let it be 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 he 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 young guys
Trained, mature,
And they can’t keep up with everything,
Can't cope with change!
Look what's 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 that the seedlings are wet,
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?..”
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
I asked about the price five times,
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 keep silent
, The wife doesn’t care, let her grumble!
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 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!
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 of 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 pictures 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!) -
He 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
Like a rose portrait for 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,
Read their books...
“And I would be glad to go to heaven, but where is 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 full,
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.
The winds do not 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...
“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,
Tattered, lousy,
Hey, love me!
Me, bareheaded,
Drunk old woman,
Zaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally!
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!
“Be it to you, damned ones!”
You won't spill the 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,
Look, he'll kill him, he'll kill him!..
“Well, that’s enough, that’s enough, dear!
Well, don't be angry! - behind the roller
You can hear it nearby -
I’m okay... let’s go!”
Such a bad night!
Is it to the right, is it to the left?
From the road you can see:
Couples are walking together
Isn't it the right grove that they're heading towards?
That grove attracts everyone,
In that grove the vociferous
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?..
At the traffic post
A familiar voice is heard
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'll 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 already wanted to write,
Yes, he turned 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, but 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!”
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!
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?
And pigs walk on the ground -
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 on guard!”
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! 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 - 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...
PROLOGUE
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
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!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
More and more small people:
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?
Amen!.. -"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 of your 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's the butt like? peace?
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!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .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
Letting the priest rest,
They said with a bow:
“What else can you tell us?”- Now let's see, brothers,
What's the butt like? honor?
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,
They are silent!
- 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
Hanging skeins...“Not ourselves... by parents
That’s how we…” – Gubin brothers
They finally said.
And others echoed:
“Not on your own, but on your 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’re passing them, the landowners!
We know them!- Now let's see, brothers,
From where wealth
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 the peasant's penny is sweet.
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!”
- Well, here's what you've praised
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 rainy clouds
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
Baby: 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.
Who can live well in Rus'?
One day, seven men - recent serfs, and now temporarily obliged "from adjacent villages - Zaplatova, Dyryavina, Razutova, Znobishina, Gorelova, Neyolova, Neurozhaika, etc." meet on the main road. Instead of going their own way, the men start an argument about who lives happily 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, bloody rain would pour out of the angry peasant soul. 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 peasants 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 peasants 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 had arrived 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 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 it is impossible to tell about the invisible spiritual storm that passed through this woman - just like about unpaid mortal grievances, and about the blood of the firstborn. Matrena 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 power that he feels in his own soul will still be reflected in it. Such strong souls, like Grisha Dobrosklonov, the angel of mercy himself calls to an honest path. Fate is preparing Grisha “a glorious path, a great name people's defender, 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.
PART ONE
Chapter 1. Pop
Chapter 2. Rural fair
Chapter 3. Drunken night
Chapter 4. Happy
Chapter 5. Landowner
THE LAST (From the second part)
1. “Petrovka. It's a hot time..."
2. “Our landowner is special:..”
3. “The wanderers followed Vlas;..”
PEASANT WOMAN (From the third part)
Chapter 1. Before marriage
Chapter 2. Songs
Chapter 3. Savely, the Holy Russian hero
Chapter 4. Demushka
Chapter 5. She-Wolf
Chapter 6. Difficult year
Chapter 7. Governor's wife
Chapter 8. The Woman's Parable
A Feast FOR THE WHOLE WORLD
Introduction
1. Bitter times - bitter songs
1.1. Corvee
1.2. About the exemplary slave - Yakov the Faithful
2. Wanderers and pilgrims
2.1. About two great sinners
3. Old and new
3.1. Peasant sin
3.2. Hungry
3.3. Soldatskaya
4. Good time - good songs
4.1. Salty
4.2. Burlak
Part one
In what year - calculate
In what land - guess
On the sidewalk
Seven men came together:
Seven temporarily obliged,
A tightened province,
Terpigoreva County,
Empty parish,
From adjacent villages:
Zaplatova, Dyryaeva,
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 next is quick.
They go - they reproach!
They scream and 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
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 - hug!
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 make it
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 and formed
Two people ran for vodka,
And the others as long as
The glass was made
The birch bark has been touched.
The vodka will soon arrive,
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,
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 hold of 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 Tsar! - 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 follow 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 got lost in 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 began, my heart,
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,
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 roll off your palm,
If you sneeze, you'll roll into the fire,
If I click, you'll roll around dead
But still 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 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 it would be 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 smart bird,
Respect old clothes
Cast a spell on us!”
“So that the peasant Armenians
They were worn, they were not torn down!” -
Roman demanded.
“So that the fake bast shoes
They served and didn’t crash,”
Demyan demanded
“For the louse, vile flea
She didn’t breed in shirts,” -
Luka demanded.
“If only they wouldn’t 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 fathom,
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 come true
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 self-assembled tablecloth!
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 1. 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, flood 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
More and more small people:
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?
Amen!.."
- "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 most serene
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 of your 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
No matter what 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’s 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!”
- “Start!”
“What do you think is happiness?
Peace, wealth, honor -
Isn’t that right, dear friends?”
They said: so...
"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
To the priest's son,
At what cost to Popovich
The priesthood is bought
Let's better keep quiet!
…………………
………………..
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 is the peace of the butt?”
The peasants thought little
Letting the priest rest,
They said with a bow:
“What else can you tell us?”
"Now let's see, brothers,
What is the honor of a priest?
The task is delicate
Wouldn't it 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 creak, shift,
They are silent! “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,
Under the hat is covered,
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
Hanging skeins...
“Not ourselves... by parents
That’s how we…” - Gubin brothers
They finally said.
And others echoed:
“Not on your own, but on your 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’re passing them, the landowners!
We know them!
"Now let's see, brothers,
Where does the wealth come from?
Is Popovskoe 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 performed the funeral service for them.
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 used to be 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 it, but there’s nothing...
And then not everyone
And the peasant's penny is sweet.
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 there is 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, there’s 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
bowed low,
The horse trudged slowly.
And six comrades,
It's like we agreed
They attacked with reproaches,
With selected large swearing
For poor Luka.
“What did you take? stubborn head!
Country club!
That's where the argument gets into!
Nobles bells -
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!
Well, here's what you've praised
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 2. 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 rainy clouds
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?”
They are 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 peasant'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
Baby: 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?”
“Let it be 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 he descends into the ravine,
And then back to 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 great guys,
Trained, mature,
And they can’t keep up with everything,
Can't cope with change!
Look what's 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, strained,
How will the rim straighten out?
Click on the guy's forehead!
A man roars under 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
I asked about the price five times,
He turned it over in his hands and looked around:
The product is first class!
“Well, uncle! two two hryvnia
Pay, or get lost!”
The merchant told him.
“Wait!” Admiring
An old man with a tiny shoe,
This is what he says:
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!
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