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I have a drive where he Rubtsov Chitat their stihi.Ya listen to him иногда.Тяжело.Действительно tears flow of themselves.
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Until the end, The quiet of the cross Let the soul Stay clean! Before this Yellow, a backwater Party of the birch My, Before stubble Cloudy and sad In the days of autumn Sad rain Before this Strict village councils Before this Flock near the bridge, Before all Antique white light I swear: My soul is pure. Let it Remain clean Until the end, Before the death of the cross! Nikolay Rubtsov |
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Soul stores
+ + + ... Oh, kind of humble and dear! Birch, the cottage on knolls And, reflected the depth, Like a dream a century, the temple of God. Oh, Russia - a great astrologer! As the stars do not topple from the heights, Since age silently leaks, Not touching this beauty, As if this kind of ancient Once captured In his heart, which keeps The beauty of old times ... Nikolay Rubtsov - Church of the Intercession on the Nerl, Bogolyubov, Vladimir-Suzdal Rus. |
Вложений: 2
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In the blackened beams of the horizon I look at the neighborhood those Where she saw the soul Ferapont Something of God in the earth's beauty. And once emerged from the dreams, Of the praying of the soul, As grass, like water, like birch, Marvel marvelous in the Russian wilderness! And the sky-earth Dionysius Appearing from neighboring lands, This is a wonderful miracle raised Before the features hitherto unprecedented ... Stood motionless on the trees, And daisies shone in the gloom, And it seemed to me to this village Something most sacred on earth ... Nikolay Rubtsov - Ferapontovo, Vologda region. |
Вложений: 1
Russian spark
+ + + Immersed in a lingering cold, Snow around me numb! Numb little spruce And the sky was dark with no stars. What a wilderness! I was the one living, One living in the vast field of the dead! Suddenly, the soft light (Dreaming, or what?) Gleamed in the desert, as a watchdog ... I was just like a snowman, Entering the house (the last hope!) And heard, shaking the snow: - Here is a furnace for you and warm clothes ... Then the owner listened to me But in a dim view Life was short, And, still sitting by the fire, She just seemed to have dozed off ... How many yellow shots in Russia In such a simple and gentle rim! And suddenly revealed to me and struck Orphan's sense of family photos: Fire, earth hostility chock-full of - And close all the soul forgets! .. - Tell me, dear, will there be war? - And I said: - Probably will not happen. - God bless, God forbid ... After all, everyone can not please, A benefit of contention will not arrive ...- And then again: - There will be, you say? - No, - I say - probably will not. - God bless, God forbid ... For a long time for me She watched as the deaf-mute, And, without raising his head a gray, Again, sat quietly by the fire. What she dreamed of? All that white light It may be that stood in front of her at that moment? .. But I am deaf strumming coins Interrupted the old vision ... - The Lord be with you! We do not take money! - Well, - I say - I wish you health! Paid for all the good good, Paid for all the love love ... Thank you for a modest Russian light, For what you in anticipation of anxiety Burn for those who are in the roadless From all friends desperately far away For the fact that, with good faith, friendly ties, Among the great anxiety and robbery Burn, burn, like a good soul, Burn in the dark - and there you peace ... Nikolay Rubtsov |
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From the bridge the road goes uphill. And on the mountain - how sad! - Lie the ruins of the cathedral, Seems to be sleeping bygone Russia. Bygone Russia! Not in those years, whether Our day, as if his chest, Was reared as freedom, Always flickering in front! What kind of life otlikovala, Otgorevala moved away! And yet I hear from the saddle How is blowing here than Russ lived. Everything is so much fun and powerful Here the guys get on the stirrups, In the evening, warm and clear, As in those old days ... Nikolay Rubtsov |
Вложений: 1
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I love when noise birch When the leaves fall from the birches. Yes, sir, and run over tears The eyes, otvykshie of tears ... All wake up in the memory involuntarily Resound in the heart and blood. Will once joyful and painful, If someone whispers of love. Only the most wins prose. As if the wind blows gloomy days. Because noise is the same birch Over the grave of my mother ... In war, my father killed a bullet. But in our village, near the fence - With the wind and the rain was like a beehive, Here's a late fall of ... Russ, my love your birch: From the early years I lived with them and grew! And run over because the tears The eyes, otvykshie of tears ... Nikolay Rubtsov |
Вложений: 1
Vologda landscape
+ + + I live near an empty church On the slope of the shore, And the city panorama Open the whole front of me. Landscape, changing the appearance, I could see the whole of the Throughout the mysterious greatness Its deep antiquity. There, beyond the river, dumping logs, Crane, a mountain of sand, And hurry - hour one never knows! - Rinse with women catwalk Her underwear - full to the edge Baskets of this kind, And by and wave surges, Flying boats and howl. Gardens. Yellowing of the building Between the verdant gardens And the dark, as if out of devotion, Quarter aging in yards, Architectural someone's opus Among the quarter ... Thick smoke ... And third, it seems, the bus Runs through the sixth. Where to build a bridge, where they dig a hole Everywhere in this cry of crows, And interrupts the panorama Impassive sky. Ending only on this slope, Are everywhere poplar And there, shining in the mist sinks The head of the Kremlin silent ... Nikolay Rubtsov - Vologda Kremlin. |
tchaika, Thanks for the interesting story. It would be nice to see it with my own eyes, but there's still time! It is very interesting as are the opening of exhibitions in a museum like the Louvre! I was at the opening of the Carnival of Henri Marquet, but I think the scale is different. Very interesting to see and hear - you can really good! :)
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