Nikolay Alekseevich Nekrasov
Here is the front entrance. On solemn days
Possessed by a servile disease,
A whole city with some kind of fright
Drives up to the cherished doors;
Writing down your name and rank,
Guests are leaving home
So deeply satisfied with myself
What do you think - that is their calling!
And on ordinary days, this magnificent entrance
Poor faces besiege:
Spotlights, place seekers,
And an old man, and a widow.
From him and to him then know in the morning
All couriers with papers are jumping.
Returning, another sings "tram-tram",
And other petitioners are crying.
Once I saw the men came here,
Village Russian people
We prayed to the church and stood far away,
Dangling blond heads to the chest;
The doorman showed up. "Let it go," they say
With an expression of hope and anguish.
He looked at the guests: they are ugly to look at!
Sunburnt faces and hands
Armenian thin on the shoulders,
By knapsack on the backs bent,
Cross on the neck and blood on the legs
Shod in homemade bast shoes
(Know, they wandered for a long time
From some distant provinces).
Someone shouted to the porter: “Drive!
Ours does not like ragged mob!
And the door slammed shut. after standing,
The pilgrims untied the bag,
But the porter did not let me in, without taking a meager mite,
And they went, burning with the sun,
Repeating: "God judge him!",
Spreading hopelessly hands,
And as long as I could see them,
They walked with their heads uncovered ...
And the owner of luxurious chambers
Another dream was deeply embraced ...
You, who consider life enviable
Intoxication with shameless flattery,
red tape, gluttony, game,
Wake up! There is also pleasure:
Take them back! you are their salvation!
But the happy are deaf to good...
The thunders of heaven do not frighten you,
And you hold earthly things in your hands,
And these people are unknown
Inexorable grief in the hearts.
What is this crying sorrow to you,
What are these poor people to you?
Eternal holiday fast running
Life won't let you wake up.
And why? Clickers3 fun
You call the people's good;
Without him you will live with glory
And die with glory!
Serene arcadian idyll4
The old days will roll.
Under the captivating skies of Sicily,
In fragrant tree shade,
Contemplating how the sun is purple
Dive into the azure sea
Stripes of his gold, -
Lulled by gentle singing
Mediterranean waves - like a child
You will fall asleep, surrounded by care
Dear and beloved family
(Waiting for your death with impatience);
Your remains will be brought to us,
To honor with a funeral feast,
And you will go to the grave ... hero,
Secretly cursed by the motherland,
Exalted with loud praise!
However, why are we such a person
Worrying for small people?
Shouldn't we take out our anger on them? -
Safer…More fun
Find some solace...
It doesn't matter what the man will suffer:
So the providence that guides us
Indicated ... yes, he's used to it!
Behind the outpost, in a poor tavern
The poor will drink everything to the ruble
And they will go, begging the road,
And they will groan... Native land!
Name me a place like this
I didn't see that angle.
Wherever your sower and keeper,
Where would a Russian peasant not moan?
He groans through the fields, along the roads,
He groans in prisons, prisons,
In mines, on an iron chain;
He groans under the barn, under the stack,
Under the cart, spending the night in the steppe;
Moaning in his own poor little house,
The light of God's sun is not happy;
Moaning in every deaf town,
At the entrance of courts and chambers.
Come out to the Volga: whose groan is heard
Over the great Russian river?
We call this moan a song -
That barge haulers are towing! ..
Volga! Volga! .. In the spring of high water
You don't flood the fields like that
Like the great grief of the people
Our land is full,
Where there are people, there is a groan... Oh, my heart!
What does your endless moan mean?
Will you wake up, full of strength,
Or, fate obeying the law,
All that you could, you have already done -
Created a song like a moan
And spiritually rested forever? ..
The textbook poem "Reflections at the front door" was written by Nikolai Nekrasov in 1858, becoming one of the many works that the author dedicated to the common people. The poet grew up on a family estate, but because of the cruelty of his own father, he realized very early that the world is divided into rich and poor. Nekrasov himself was among those who were forced to drag out a semi-beggarly existence, as he was disinherited and earned his living on his own from the age of 16. Understanding what it is like for ordinary peasants in this soulless and unfair world, the poet regularly turned to social topics in his works. Most of all, he was oppressed by the fact that the peasants do not know how to defend their rights and do not even know what exactly they can count on under the law. As a result, they are forced to turn into petitioners, whose fate directly depends not so much on the whim of a high-ranking person, but on the mood of an ordinary doorman.
In one of the houses of St. Petersburg, petitioners are especially frequent, because the governor lives here. But getting to him is not an easy task, since a formidable doorman stands in the way of the petitioners, shod in "home-made bast shoes". It is he who decides who is worthy of a meeting with an official, and who should be persecuted in the neck, even despite the meager offering. Such an attitude towards petitioners is the norm, although the peasants, naively believing in the myth of the good master, blame his servants for everything and leave without having achieved justice. However, Nekrasov understands that the problem lies not in the porters, but in the representatives of power themselves, for whom there is nothing sweeter than "rapture with shameless power." Such people are not afraid of the "thunders of heaven", and they easily solve all earthly problems with the power of their own power and money. The needs of ordinary people are of no interest to such officials at all, and the poet focuses on this in his poem. The author is outraged that there is such a gradation in society, because of which it is impossible to achieve justice without money and a high social status. Moreover, the Russian peasant is a constant source of irritation and a reason for anger for such bureaucrats. No one thinks about the fact that it is precisely on the peasants that the whole of modern society is based, which is not able to do without free labor. The fact that all people, by definition, are born free, is deliberately concealed, and Nekrasov dreams that someday justice will still prevail.
From under the hand of the classic came a large number of poems written under a strong impression. This was also the work “Reflection at the front door”, which was born within a few hours.
Reflections at the front door
Here is the front entrance. On solemn days
Possessed by a servile disease,
A whole city with some kind of fright
Drives up to the cherished doors;
Writing down your name and rank,
Guests are leaving home
So deeply satisfied with myself
What do you think - that is their calling!
And on ordinary days, this magnificent entrance
Poor faces besiege:
Spotlights, place seekers,
And an old man, and a widow.
From him and to him then know in the morning
All couriers with papers are jumping.
Returning, another sings "tram-tram",
And other petitioners are crying.
Once I saw the men came here,
Village Russian people
We prayed to the church and stood far away,
Dangling blond heads to the chest;
The doorman showed up. "Let it go," they say
With an expression of hope and anguish.
He looked at the guests: they are ugly to look at!
Sunburnt faces and hands
Armenian thin on the shoulders,
By knapsack on the backs bent,
Cross on the neck and blood on the legs
Shod in homemade bast shoes
(Know, they wandered for a long time
From some distant provinces).
Someone shouted to the porter: “Drive!
Ours does not like ragged mob!
And the door slammed shut. after standing,
The pilgrims untied the bag,
But the porter did not let me in, without taking a meager mite,
And they went, burning with the sun,
Repeating: "God judge him!",
Spreading hopelessly hands,
And as long as I could see them,
With their heads uncovered...
And the owner of luxurious chambers
Another dream was deeply embraced ...
You, who consider life enviable
Intoxication with shameless flattery,
red tape, gluttony, game,
Wake up! There is also pleasure:
Take them back! you are their salvation!
But the happy are deaf to good...
The thunders of heaven do not frighten you,
And you hold earthly things in your hands,
And these people are unknown
Inexorable grief in the hearts.
What is this crying sorrow to you,
What are these poor people to you?
Eternal holiday fast running
Life won't let you wake up.
And why? Clickers fun
You call the people's good;
Without him you will live with glory
And die with glory!
Serene arcadian idyll
The old days will roll:
Under the captivating skies of Sicily,
In fragrant tree shade,
Contemplating how the sun is purple
Dive into the azure sea
Stripes of his gold, -
Lulled by gentle singing
Mediterranean waves - like a child
You will fall asleep, surrounded by care
Dear and beloved family
(Waiting for your death with impatience);
Your remains will be brought to us,
To honor with a funeral feast,
And you will go to the grave ... hero,
Secretly cursed by the motherland,
Exalted with loud praise!
However, why are we such a person
Worrying for small people?
Shouldn't we take our anger out on them? -
Safer...More fun
Find some solace...
It does not matter that the peasant will suffer;
So the providence that guides us
Indicated ... yes, he's used to it!
Behind the outpost, in a poor tavern
The poor will drink everything to the ruble
And they will go, begging the road,
And they will groan... Native land!
Name me a place like this
I didn't see that angle.
Wherever your sower and keeper,
Where would a Russian peasant not moan?
He groans through the fields, along the roads,
He groans in prisons, prisons,
In mines, on an iron chain;
He groans under the barn, under the stack,
Under the cart, spending the night in the steppe;
Moaning in his own poor little house,
The light of God's sun is not happy;
Moaning in every deaf town,
At the entrance of courts and chambers.
Come out to the Volga: whose groan is heard
Over the great Russian river?
We call this moan a song -
That barge haulers are towing! ..
Volga! Volga! .. In the spring of high water
You don't flood the fields like that
Like the great grief of the people
Our land is full,
Where there are people, there is a groan... Oh, my heart!
What does your endless moan mean?
Will you wake up, full of strength,
Or, fate obeying the law,
Everything that you could, you have already done, -
Created a song like a moan
And spiritually rested forever? ..
The history of the creation of the poem
According to the memoirs of contemporaries, the poem "Reflection at the front door" was written at a time when Nikolai Alekseevich was in a spleen. This is how Panaeva saw him, with whom he lived for more than ten years. She described this day in her memoirs, telling that the poet spent the whole day on the couch, without even getting up. He refused to eat and did not want to see anyone, so there was no reception that day.
Avdotya Panaeva recalled that, disturbed by the behavior of the poet, the next day she woke up earlier than usual and decided to look out the window to see what the weather was like outside. The young woman saw peasants on the porch waiting for the front door opposite the poet's house to open. Prince N. Muraviev lived in this house, who at that time served as the Minister of State Property. Despite the fact that the weather was rainy, damp and overcast, the peasants sat on the steps of the front porch and waited patiently.
Most likely, they came here early in the morning, when the dawn was just beginning to rise. From their dirty clothes it was easy to understand that they had come from afar. And they probably had only one goal - to petition the prince. The woman also saw how suddenly a porter appeared on the steps, who began to sweep and drove them out into the street. But the peasants still didn’t leave: they hid behind the ledge of this entrance and, freezing, moving from foot to foot, getting wet to the skin, pressed against the wall, trying to hide from the rain, expecting that, perhaps, they would still be accepted, listened to , or at least take a petition.
Panaeva could not stand it and went to the poet to tell him the whole situation. When Nikolai Nekrasov went to the window, he saw how the peasants were driven away. The janitor and the summoned policeman pushed them in the back, trying to clear them out of the porch and, in general, the yard as quickly as possible. This greatly outraged the poet, he began to pinch his mustache, and he did this when he was very nervous, and compressed his lips tightly.
But he could not watch for a long time, so he very soon moved away from the window, and, thinking, again lay down on the sofa. And exactly two hours later he read Avdotya his new poem, which was originally called "At the front door." Of course, the poet changed a lot in the picture that he saw in reality, and added fiction to raise the themes of retribution and biblical and righteous judgment. Therefore, this poetic plot has a symbolic meaning for the author.
But censorship could not miss such a poetic Nekrasov creation, so it simply corresponded for five years and went from hand to hand, rewritten by hand. In 1860 it was published in one of the literary magazines, but without specifying the author. Herzen, who contributed to the printing of this Nekrasov poem, in his magazine "The Bell", below the text of the verse, also wrote a note in which he said that poems were rare in their magazines, but
"the poem is impossible not to place."
The attitude of the author to his work
In his story, the poet shows a simple and ordinary situation for that time, when the peasants become humiliated and insulted. The situation depicted by the author, for the customs and practices of that time, was commonplace and familiar to many contemporaries. But Nikolai Alekseevich turns it into a whole story, which is based on real and truthful facts.
The poet shows his attitude to the fact that the peasants, accustomed to humiliation, do not even try to protest. They, like silent slaves, moderately allow themselves to be bullied. And this habit of theirs also horrifies the poet.
Some readers may consider in his story the call to rebellion, which the poet, as a patriot of his beloved country and suffering people, created in such an interesting poetic form. And now, when his patience has already reached a certain peak, he calls on his people to rise up against slavery and injustice.
The main idea that Nekrasov is trying to convey is that the people will not be able to break through, or even stand at the front door.
You need to act differently.
Basic images and expressive means
The main image of the entire Nekrasov poem is, first of all, the author himself, whose voice sounds constantly, and the reader feels his attitude to everything that happens and to the problem that he raises. But nevertheless, he does not name himself, and creates his image as if he speaks not from himself, but as if hidden behind reality, behind those pictures of the world that he draws with the help of expressive means. In every detail you can see the author, who is trying to emphasize his attitude to reality.
The characters in the Nekrasov story are different. Most of them are united by one thing - suffering and a hero. The author divides all the petitioners who are at this front entrance into two groups: someone comes out singing something pleasant to himself, and the second group of people usually comes out crying.
And after such a division, the second part of his story begins, where he immediately directly says that once it was he, the poet Nikolai Nekrasov, who happened to see. With each new line in the plot, the voice of the author grows, who has become an unwitting witness to human grief and servility. And the poet's voice sounds strong and angry, because he feels himself not at all as a witness, but as a participant in all this.
It is enough to read the characteristics that the author gives to the peasants who came with the petition. They wait, do not ask for it, and when they are not accepted, then, resigned to this, they dutifully wander on. And soon the author takes the reader to those rooms where the peasants could not get. The writer shows the life of such an official who continues to humiliate the peasants, considering himself superior to them.
In the third part of the Nekrasov plot, one can also hear the grief of the poet himself, who is indignant and protests against such an attitude towards the peasants. But how does the official feel, who so easily drives the peasants away? And here the author uses expressive means to make his monologue more lively and visual:
⇒Expression.
⇒Complex sentences.
⇒ Rhetorical exclamations and questions.
⇒Dactylic rhyme.
⇒Alternation of anapaests: three-foot and four-foot.
⇒ Conversational style.
⇒Antithesis.
Analysis of the poem
The author tries to show the contrast between the life of a well-fed official who is engaged in gambling, gluttony, constant lies and falsehood in everything, and a completely different opposite life among the peasants who do not see anything good.
The life of a peasant is tragic, and prisons and prisons are always ready for the peasant. The people are constantly oppressed, that's why they suffer so much. Such a strong nation perishes at the will of officials, whose generalized portrait is shown in the poem.
Nikolai Nekrasov is outraged by such a long patience of the common people. He tries to become their protector, because they themselves do not resent and do not grumble. He calls on the poet and the official to think again, to finally remember their duties, because his task is to serve for the good of the motherland and the people who live here. The author is indignant at the fact that such orders reign in his beloved country, what lawlessness, and hopes that this will all stop soon.
But the author addresses not only the official, but also the people themselves, who are silent. He asks him how much more he can endure and when, finally, he will wake up and stop being filled with grief and suffering. After all, their terrible moan is heard throughout the country, and it is terrible and tragic.
The indignation of the poet is so great, and the faith is so strong that the reader has no doubts - justice will prevail.
Reflections at the Front Door (1858)
The very title of the poem (“Reflections…”) points to the odic traditions of Lomonosov and Derzhavin. However, the traditions are rethought by Nekrasov, Nekrasov's "high" words are not unambiguous, as in Lomonosov's. In the text of the poem, there is a clear echo with Derzhavin's ode "The Nobleman". From the first lines, the poet denounces false solemnity, “the parade of servility, the triumph of servility”:
Here is the front entrance.
On solemn days
Possessed by a servile disease,
A whole city with some kind of fright
Drives up to the cherished doors;
Writing down your name and rank,
Guests are leaving home
So deeply satisfied with myself
What do you think - that is their calling!
And on ordinary days, this magnificent entrance
Poor faces besiege:
Spotlights, place seekers,
And an old man and a widow.
In contrast to Derzhavin's ode (in which petitioners, including a widow, come to the nobleman), Nekrasov has male petitioners - a symbolic image of rural Russia. The poet draws the extreme degree of poverty, grief and humiliation of the peasants. “The cross on the neck and blood on the legs” are a symbol of suffering and asceticism. The porter drives the petitioners away without accepting the "meager contributions."
And they went, burning with the sun,
Repeating: "God judge him!"
Spreading hopelessly hands,
And as long as I could see them,
They walked with uncovered heads.
Then the poet introduces the reader into the chambers of a nobleman, immersed in bliss and luxury. In the poem itself, this part is separated, the size and rhyme change dramatically.
You, who consider life enviable
Intoxication with shameless flattery,
red tape, gluttony, game, -
Wake up!
The description of the nobleman's old age, his "Arkadian idyll" contrasts sharply with the general content of the work. The poet does not allow the nobleman to die in his homeland, in which he is not involved:
Lulled by gentle singing,
Mediterranean wave - like a child,
You will fall asleep, surrounded by care
Dear and beloved family
(Looking forward to your death).
Secretly cursed by the motherland,
Exalted with loud praise!
The tense lyricism of the poem is resolved by a groan-song, in which a generalized image of the Russian land appears:
… motherland,
Name me a place like this
I didn't see that angle.
Wherever your sower and keeper,
Where would the Russian peasant moan!
At the climax of the poem, the theme of the Volga appears - the eternal heroine of Russian folk songs:
Come out to the Volga: whose groan is heard
Over the great Russian river?
We call this moan a song -
That barge haulers go tow.
Volga! Volga! .. In the spring of high water
You don't flood the fields like that
Like the great grief of the people
Our land is full,
Where there are people, there is a groan...
The poem ends with a painful question addressed to the people:
…Eh, hearty!
What does your endless moan mean?
Will you wake up, full of strength,
Or, fate obeying the law,
All that you could, you have already done -
Created a song like a moan
And spiritually rested forever? ..
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The poetic feat of Nekrasov consisted in the fact that he sang without embellishment about Russia, about the people; the poet could never come to terms with the fact that the people are powerless, oppressed. He dedicated his lyre to the people.
The poem "Reflections at the Front Door" (1858) is one of the best examples of the poet's civic lyrics.
The history of the creation of the poem "Reflections at the front door" is as follows. Once, from the window of his apartment on Liteiny Prospekt in St. Petersburg, Nekrasov watched a scene of a policeman and janitors driving away a group of peasant petitioners from the entrance of the house where the Minister of State Property M.N. Muravyov lived. The policeman and the janitors pushed them in the back. They hid behind the ledge of the entrance, stood, considering their next steps. According to the memoirs of A.Ya. Panaeva, Nekrasov nervously pursed his lips, moved away from the window, and after a while read her the poem "Reflections at the front entrance."
.
The main theme of the poem is reflections on the fate of the people. Is the people capable of fighting for a just world order, or is it “spiritually reposed forever”?
The plot line of the poem is as follows: ordinary Russian peasants approach the front entrance (to the doors of power). They deeply believe that they will find help and support from the sovereign official, that he will deal with their complaints. But they are not allowed even to the doors of the nobles. Walkers sincerely believe in the integrity of the tsar and his entourage, and therefore they have come a long way across Russia, this is clearly evidenced by the fact that they have "blood on their feet." The climax of the poem is a reflection on the theme of "the fate of the people." The piece ends with a question.
Compositionally, the poem is divided into five strophoids, in which there are 40, 8, 4, 25, 40 lines, respectively. This compositional solution is quite original.
The first line of the poem is very specific: “Here is the front entrance ...” The scene is determined - this is the front entrance of a rich house. It is to this entrance on solemn days that people drive up to pay their respects. They leave notes in a special book. Satisfied with themselves, they go home.
And on weekdays, at this entrance you can see completely different faces - “wretched”. Who are they? Searchlights, place seekers, deep old men...
Once ordinary Russian peasants came up to the front door. They were noticed by the lyrical hero, who for the first time declared himself in just three words: “Once I saw ...” The goal of the walkers is to get an appointment with an influential nobleman, but the doorman does not let them through. He looked around at the approaching - their appearance is unsightly. Someone prompted the doorman the solution: "Drive." And the walkers set off with nothing...
The second strophoid is separated from the first by an ellipsis. It begins with the adversative union "a". "And the owner of luxurious chambers ...". What is he doing? He is in deep sleep. Ordinary peasants left, “burning with the sun”, which means that the sun is already at its zenith, and the nobleman is still sleeping. The motive of sleep is one of the key motives in the poem "Reflections at the front door". The life of the "owner of luxurious chambers" is a dream. “Wake up…” — its author calls.
In the third, small strophoid, the author again makes a sharp turn from the world of wealth to the world of poverty. From an influential nobleman, embraced by a deep sleep, to unknown people carrying "grief in their hearts."
In the next part of the poem, the intonations are sharp, assertive, extremely specific. There is an appeal to the one who owns the luxurious chambers:
“What is this crying sorrow to you,
What are these poor people to you?..”
The accusations brought against the accused person are serious and severe. Those who appreciate flattery and endless entertainment will never understand ordinary people. To the moan of the people they are deaf. For them, life is an eternal holiday. To see clearly, to wake up this eternal holiday does not give.
In terms of genre, the third and fourth strophoids are invective. (Invective is a form of literary work, sharply accusatory). There is an angry pathos, a direct appeal to the addressee of the denunciation, lines that include a curse:
“And you will go to the grave ... hero,
Secretly cursed by the fatherland ... "
In the final strophoid, piercing and frank, Nekrasov, addressing the people, asks:
“Will you wake up, eh, full of strength? ..”
It was bitter for the poet to see the obedience of the people, who did not even dare to grumble at their fate. The poem ends with deep thoughts. Yes, the people are powerless, but not crushed. The thought of the powerless position of the people is inseparable in the poem from the thoughts of the dormant, but true forces of the people. Nekrasov was convinced that the time would come when the people would “wake up”, throw off the shackles of slavery.
The main idea of the poem
"Reflections at the front door" - the idea of the incompatibility of a worthy human existence and lack of rights.
Topics, raised by Nekrasov in the poem “Reflections at the front door”, are the themes of compassion, the humiliation of the people, their downtroddenness, long-suffering, arbitrariness, awakening.
contrasts in a poem:
- "the owner of luxurious chambers" and the destitute poor, "small people",
- a rich house with a front, magnificent entrance and a poor house, "poor tavern",
- the wide Volga and the wide people's grief (even the mighty Volga does not flood the fields on such a scale, how wide the people's grief).
Issues works
The philosophical problems raised in the work are the essence of the national character, the problems of human happiness.
Size and rhyme
The poetic size of "Reflections at the front door" is a multi-footed anapaest. Rhyme schemes vary: the work begins with a ring scheme (abba), followed by a cross (abab). Next come variations of the adjacent, cross and ring rhyme scheme. The lines use both masculine and feminine rhymes.
Means of artistic expression
Epithets - "solemn days", "cherished doors", "village Russian people", "ragged mob", "poor tavern", "luxurious chambers".
Metaphors - "Luxurious porch", "thin Armenian", "wretched faces", "blatant grief", "advanced days".
Metonymy - "The whole city ... is driving up."
Common expressions - "come out", "bags" (knapsacks), "as long as".
Rhetorical figures (rhetorical appeals) - “Volga! Volga!”, “Native land!”, “Oh, my heart!”.
Exclamations - "Drive!", "Awake!", "Get them back!"
Stylistic figure - anaphora
“He groans across the fields…”
"He groans in prisons ..."
"He groans under the barn..."
Multiple anaphora (repetition at the beginning) “groans” multiplies the perception of life as an unbearable burden.
The poem "Reflections at the front door" to me liked those that it is written on a special nerve. It does not idealize the Russian peasant, but it does not offend him either. Nekrasov appreciates the peasant, he understands that it is through the efforts of such peasants that the basis of social welfare is created. For a detailed drawing of the picture, the classical genre framework of poetry was cramped for Nekrasov. Therefore, he created the work “Reflections at the front door”, where different genres organically coexist: elegy, song, invective, philosophical ode (“Oh, hearty! What does your endless moan mean?”). A work of this kind is of particular interest.
Plan for analyzing the poem "Reflections at the front door"
1. Introduction
2. What direction in lyrics does he belong to?
3. The history of the creation of the poem
4. The main idea of the poem "Reflections at the front door"
5. Composition structure
6. Summary of the poem "Reflections at the front door"
7. The main idea of the poem
8. Topics raised in the poem
9. Contrasts in a poem
10. Issues
11. Size and rhyme
12. Means of artistic expression
13. What did you like about the poem?
Here is the front entrance. On solemn days
Possessed by a servile disease,
A whole city with some kind of fright
Drives up to the cherished doors;
Writing down your name and rank,
Guests are leaving home
So deeply satisfied with myself
What do you think - that is their calling!
And on ordinary days, this magnificent entrance
Poor faces besiege:
Spotlights, place seekers,
And an old man, and a widow.
From him and to him then know in the morning
All couriers with papers are jumping.
Returning, another sings "tram-tram",
And other petitioners are crying.
Once I saw the men came here,
Village Russian people
We prayed to the church and stood far away,
Dangling blond heads to the chest;
The doorman showed up. "Let it go," they say
With an expression of hope and anguish.
He looked at the guests: they are ugly to look at!
Sunburnt faces and hands
Armenian thin on the shoulders,
By knapsack on the backs bent,
Cross on the neck and blood on the legs
Shod in homemade bast shoes
(Know, they wandered for a long time
From some distant provinces).
Someone shouted to the porter: "Drive!
Ours does not like ragged black!"
And the door slammed shut. after standing,
The pilgrims untied the bag,
But the porter did not let me in, without taking a meager mite,
And they went, burning with the sun,
Repeating: "God judge him!",
Spreading hopelessly hands,
And as long as I could see them,
With their heads uncovered...
And the owner of luxurious chambers
Another dream was deeply embraced ...
You, who consider life enviable
Intoxication with shameless flattery,
red tape, gluttony, game,
Wake up! There is also pleasure:
Take them back! you are their salvation!
But the happy are deaf to good...
The thunders of heaven do not frighten you,
And you hold earthly things in your hands,
And these people are unknown
Inexorable grief in the hearts.
What is this crying sorrow to you,
What are these poor people to you?
Eternal holiday fast running
Life won't let you wake up.
And why? Clickers fun
You call the people's good;
Without him you will live with glory
And die with glory!
Serene arcadian idyll
The old days will roll.
Under the captivating skies of Sicily,
In fragrant tree shade,
Contemplating how the sun is purple
Dive into the azure sea
Stripes of his gold, -
Lulled by gentle singing
Mediterranean waves - like a child
You will fall asleep, surrounded by care
Dear and beloved family
(Waiting for your death with impatience);
Your remains will be brought to us,
To honor with a funeral feast,
And you will go to the grave ... hero,
Secretly cursed by the motherland,
Exalted with loud praise!
However, why are we such a person
Worrying for small people?
Shouldn't we take out our anger on them? -
Safer...More fun
Find some solace...
It doesn't matter what the man will suffer:
So the providence that guides us
Indicated ... yes, he's used to it!
Behind the outpost, in a poor tavern
The poor will drink everything to the ruble
And they will go, begging the road,
And they will groan... Native land!
Name me a place like this
I didn't see that angle.
Wherever your sower and keeper,
Where would a Russian peasant not moan?
He groans through the fields, along the roads,
He groans in prisons, prisons,
In mines, on an iron chain;
He groans under the barn, under the stack,
Under the cart, spending the night in the steppe;
Moaning in his own poor little house,
The light of God's sun is not happy;
Moaning in every deaf town,
At the entrance of courts and chambers.
Come out to the Volga: whose groan is heard
Over the great Russian river?
We call this moan a song -
That barge haulers are towing! ..
Volga! Volga! .. In the spring of high water
You don't flood the fields like that
Like the great grief of the people
Our land is full,
Where there are people, there is a groan... Oh, my heart!
What does your endless moan mean?
Will you wake up, full of strength,
Or, fate obeying the law,
All that you could, you have already done -
Created a song like a moan
And spiritually rested forever? ..
