Andrey (15:10:00 09/03/2011):
*My Motherland - Great Russia*
Russia - Holy Motherland
I love you with all my soul
Russia - you are the abode of paradise
I'm proud of the Great Country
From the West to the Celestial Empire
With the glow of the northern nights
Nature's beauty is wonderful
Native land, there is no other land
The people of Russia are wise and honest
Valor has been proven for centuries
In severe battles - Winner
Spirit, will, strength showed
Long-suffering Fatherland
Grail of spiritual purity
Generous, not capricious
Cultures of color and kindness
Russia - Holy Motherland
I love you with all my soul
Russia - you are the abode of paradise
I'm proud of the Great Country
Best wishes,
Andrey Malyshev
Alexander (17:19:00 13/03/2011):
Russia is on fire
Russia is burning
Everything is okay -
The government is telling us.
The people are dying out
The population drinks
Reform in Russia
It's been a long time coming.
Homeless people
Hungry children
Is he still alive?
Who in the world is like that?
But United Russia
Stubbornly insists -
Democracy in Russia
Will win.
Poverty and lawlessness
Lawlessness of officials -
New Russia
A hard lot.
It's not the forest that's burning,
Russia is burning!
Everything is okay -
The government is telling us.
Not normal anymore
And for a very long time,
Resign
Since you don't care.
How do you like this?
Lina (12:57:59 04/07/2011):
Here's some bullshit, here's what I found. here the warm field is filled with rye, here the dawns splash in the palms of the meadows. here the golden-winged angels of God descended from the clouds on rays of light. and the earth was watered with holy water, and the blue expanse was overshadowed with a cross. and we have no homeland, except Russia - here is mother. here is the temple, This is my father's house.
Anastasia (21:32:00 04/28/2011):
This room is now quiet and calm
The clock strikes nine o'clock bom-bim-bom for the ninth time
I'm lying in my bed, looking up
Dreams are flying somewhere in the house, flying into my door
I fall asleep calmly and watch my sweet dream
I wake up early in the morning and don’t remember anything!
Alena (20:13:00 03/05/2011):
All the poems are cool and I want to write my own, here it is!
My motherland!
You are alone in the world
my motherland
There is no one more beautiful than you
my motherland
You are like a star in the sky
my motherland
You will live forever
I know this
And I want to say
that I love you
My motherland.
k.m. (15:07:00 07/05/2011):
At the front the trench smelled of arable land,
In the rear, the trench smelled of arable land.
And the soil absorbed the groans.
With flour ground from flour,
Trains were loading to the front.
And there was its own suffering,
And the funerals returned
In the artel of widow's labor,
Georgy Anev (19:58:00 08/20/2011):
It hurts to hear how some people scold the country, to which my answer is...
Our homeland is Russia.
There is no need to scold your homeland
The country is not to blame for anything
Russia is our mother
Hope, faith, honor and glory.
But there are people, unfortunately
Indulging your vices
They are in a hurry to shift the blame
To my homeland, without knowing shame
We have a great country
Brotherhood of peoples and religions
Here are our ancestors, our Rus'
We don't need someone else's land.
Georgy Anev.
Svetlana Nesterenko (20:55:59 01/10/2011):
* * * My small homeland: there are nightingales outside the window, At night the huge stars sleep close to the ground. At dawn, a ray of sun will sneak through the window, To stroke my face as an uninvited guest, Try to wake me up: “Come on, sleepyhead, get up! Look how the dawn is born like a scarlet fairy tale!” But then the old shutters outside the window creak, - Mom is in no hurry to let the window through the day. And from this care and unspeakable affection, peace enters the heart, and it is so tremblingly sweet to know that here you are desired and, as before, loved, protected from all troubles and misfortunes by your father’s house.
Svetlana Nesterenko (21:00:35 01/10/2011):
Country roads. Villages, country roads gather dust, swirl, - Sometimes you can’t get to the one dear to your heart. There is a plantain on the overgrown path, remembering the bare feet running. There in the front garden, in a secret place, a gift is hidden - a simple ring. Simple, more expensive than which there is none, Even in comparison of the years passed. There are dewy grasses and apples of childhood, There the heart is filled with bright tenderness. There, a white-trunked row was once planted by the Father's hand and beckons. If you drink there, you won’t get drunk with Living Water. There joy awaits me from meeting you. There, to every blade of grass, warmed by Love, a generous summer comes to visit... ...Villages, country roads - Dumb, alive, Distant, warm, And dear.
Svetlana Nesterenko (21:03:03 01/10/2011):
Oh, this wonderful world! Oh, this wonderful world of Russian depth - Fields, forests, hills and valleys, Lakes, rivers, mountains and plains, Places of legends and legends of Russia And monuments of ancient times. Oh, this wonderful land of flowers and songs, And springs with clear water, With the scent of wormwood and soft grass, With a huge sky over our native land, The world of childhood, fairy tales... How wonderful you are!
Svetlana Nesterenko (21:04:40 01/10/2011):
My land! In the expanses of the marvelous expanse of grass and bird paradise. - I am the son of your steppes, my Fatherland! - I am your daughter, my generous fatherland! I will kneel divinely before the transparent, clean spring, I will enthusiastically listen to the trills of the Spring Wizards - the nightingales. And the rustling of grass, and the conversation of quiet rivers They will tell me about what is so familiar, They will slow down the running of life for a moment, They will warm me with the affection and warmth of their home, And with the sounds and smells of childhood they will fill everything around, rejoicing and laughing... And this is forever, and this forever: There is a blood and sensual connection with the Fatherland! Live and be well, my Motherland, You will never find another like you! This is where my family has always lived, This is where my father and my mother were born, This is where we went to school in the first grade, This is where we grew up, we cried, we loved, This is where we asked for advice for ourselves And discovered the stars for the first time.
Svetlana Nesterenko (21:08:08 01/10/2011):
Summer. A lilac evening, a damp fog over the river, the wind whispering, caressing, and rustling the leaves. The nightingale clicked, became quiet... And again - not a sound. Somewhere a dog barked, somehow lazy and stupid, and fell silent. And again it’s quiet, the wind caresses the curls, barely noticeably sways, fingering the threads. Here somewhere a fish jumped up. Again the nightingale clicked, And off we went, down the hollows, along the country roads, Nightingale trills pouring out, interrupting each other... Thank you, dear side, For being like this!
Svetlana Nesterenko (21:09:24 01/10/2011):
*** My Russia has Bright lakes, My Russia has ringing streams, Above my Russia the sky will be blue, If we treat it with love.
Svetlana Nesterenko (21:13:49 01/10/2011):
West, north, south, east - the whole earth has spread out a color-carpet - here it is. After all, you, country, are united and strong. Don’t be afraid, don’t be discouraged - believe in yourself. Wake up from sleep and bloom again, Forget the pain and forgive the guilty, Get up from your knees, I ask you, my Rus', Allow yourself to become a beauty, Rus'. Look around - there's only one like this! Remember - that means what the soul can do! In the vastness I sing a hymn to you, Rus'. I admire and am proud of you, Rus'! 05.08.2008
Anya (01:21:00 08/11/2011):
And here is a poem by my good friend and aspiring poet...
Dandelion, birch, path,
the river is close,
distant churchyard, -
Since childhood, everyone has these pictures
ingrained in my memory to the point of pain and tears!
No everyday thunderstorms
they will not be thrown out of my soul...
Dandelion, path, birch-
This is all we call Russia!
Vika Rybalkina (15:28:00 11/19/2011):
There is no better native land.
Zhura-Zhura-Zhuravel
he flew over a hundred lands
flew around, walked around
wings legs strained
we asked Crane
where is the best land
he answered flying by -
There is no better land than Rodnova.
Thank you very much for this verse even though I’m 10 years old
Lyudmila (14:26:18 11/25/2011):
My Earth, nurse, shrine! Your crowns are golden domes. They shine brighter than the stars throughout Russia, and the bells are famous for their chimes! You are proud of the people and unity, expanse, breadth, beauty of the steppes, AND KINDNESS AND WISDOM OF THE RUSSIAN HOSPITALITY, GENEROSITY OF THE FIELDS! The enemy, attacking, tore you to pieces, alarm bells rang throughout all of Rus', and you fought desperately for happiness, for every house, for five of YOUR LAND! He wanted to bring us to our knees and desecrate you, the holy mother, but having met with the IRON POWER OF SPIRIT, the enemy was defeated and could not understand: Where did you get the strength of life, hope, faith, courage, love?? Why did your sons fight so bravely and bravely in battles?
Tanya (15:50:00 08/12/2011):
E. Trutneva
***
About the Motherland
What is called my homeland?
I ask myself a question.
The river that winds behind the houses
Or a bush of curly red roses?
That autumn birch tree over there?
Or spring drops?
Or maybe a rainbow stripe?
Or a frosty winter day?
Everything that has been around since childhood?
But it will all be nothing
Without my mother's care, dear,
And without friends I don’t feel the same.
That's what is called the Motherland!
To always be side by side
Everyone who supports will smile,
Who needs me too
How do you like the verse?
Guest (15:26:00 01/04/2012):
To know, experience and taste everything
Smell, taste and look:
We are such a restless people!
We are such a pathfinder people!
On a difficult, dangerous path:
Has a storm broken over you,
Is it impossible to find a road in the sands, -
Take heart!
Comrades hand
They will hold out at the decisive hour.
This is our custom!
Follow the animal's trail,
Explode unruly granite:
We are such a restless people!
We are such a pathfinder people!
And no matter what happens to you
On a difficult, dangerous path:
Did the boat crash on the rocks?
Did a snowstorm catch up on the road, -
Take heart!
Comrades hand
They will hold out at the decisive hour.
Always and everywhere for each other -
This is our custom.
meikeli jordan (17:15:00 04/25/2012):
class windov estident quest pleistes....
In short, an outlet... About the Motherland
What is called my homeland?
I ask myself a question.
The river that winds behind the houses
Or a bush of curly red roses?
That autumn birch tree over there?
Or spring drops?
Or maybe a rainbow stripe?
Or a frosty winter day?
Everything that has been around since childhood?
But it will all be nothing
Without my mother's care, dear,
And without friends I don’t feel the same.
That's what is called the Motherland!
To always be side by side
Everyone who supports will smile,
Who needs me too
Lilek) (23:08:00 04/28/2012):
There was black bread, which was sweeter than muffins,
There was military labor, simple and terrible:
At the front the trench smelled of arable land,
In the rear, the trench smelled of arable land.
The women harnessed themselves to the heavy plow,
And the soil absorbed the groans.
With flour ground from flour,
Trains were loading to the front.
And there was its own suffering,
And the funerals returned
In the artel of widow's labor,
In villages on the remote side.
I liked this verse
Mira (21:35:00 04/12/2012):
My homeland is Kazakhstan!
There are azure skies and snowy mountains,
Endless fields, golden expanses.
Sunsets like in a fairy tale and starry nights,
Sunrises are as clear as the eyes of a beauty.
There are free winds and fast rivers,
Bright sun, wide steppes.
Holy lakes beckoning with mystery
And the grape vines have twisted patterns.
The traditions of our ancestors are sacredly preserved there
And bad people are rare.
There is joy there, so much joy! Trouble is not a problem.
Guests are always welcome in every home.
There are different nations living in the world there,
There are eternal values - knowledge and work.
You are the best on earth
Motherland - glory to you!
You ask where it is, I will answer you!
In a short but convincing speech:
"Osy magan uly Otan,
Kasietti zher Kazakstan!" this is my answer to Vasya, who believes that there are no poems about Kazakhstan!
Lizok Kabanova Yurevna (17:17:05 13/12/2012):
In short, an outlet... About the Motherland What is called my Motherland? I ask myself a question. The river that winds behind the houses, Or the bush of curly red roses? That autumn birch tree over there? Or spring drops? Or maybe a rainbow stripe? Or a frosty winter day? Everything that has been around since childhood? But it will all be nothing without my mother’s dear care, and without friends everything is not the same for me. That's what is called the Motherland! So that we will always be close to everyone who will support and smile, who needs me too
Alena Alyaeva (21:31:51 12/19/2012):
What is called my homeland? I ask myself a question: And this is what in my city, My beloved river, forests, my plains, everyone has their own homeland, But it’s only good, Always. This is my Motherland!
magician (09:55:32 12/04/2013):
Hello, Russia is my homeland! How joyful I am under your foliage! And there is no singing, but I clearly hear the choral singing of the Invisible singers. . . It was as if the wind was driving me across it, across the entire earth - through villages and capitals! I was strong, but the wind was stronger, and I couldn’t stop anywhere. Hello, Russia is my homeland! Stronger than storms, stronger than any will, Love for your barns by the stubble, Love for you, a hut in an azure field. For all the mansions I will not give up My low house with nettles under the window. How peacefully the sun set in my upper room in the evenings! How the whole expanse, heavenly and earthly, Breathed through the window with happiness and peace, And breathed the glorious antiquity, And rejoiced under the showers and heat! .
Katrin (23:10:40 11/10/2013):
I am in the 4th grade and I learned the verse by heart - zhura-zhura crane! It flew around 100 lands. It flew around, walked around its wings, and worked its legs. We asked the crane where the best land was, and it answered as it flew, there is no better native land!!!
Mikhail (16:06:48 13/04/2014):
I learned that I have a huge family - And a path, and a forest, Every spikelet in the field! The river, the blue sky - This is all mine, dear! I love everyone in the world! This is my homeland! Vladimir Orlov
Vika (15:43:43 03/06/2014):
Small forest. Steppe. And they gave it. Moonlight to all ends. Then suddenly the spill bells began to sob again. An unsightly road, but beloved forever. along which every Russian person has traveled a lot. Oh you sleigh! What a sleigh! The ringing of frozen aspen trees, My father is a peasant, Well, I am a peasant son! I don’t care about fame or the fact that I’m a poet. I haven’t seen this stunted area for many years. Anyone who has seen at least once, This land and this expanse, is glad to kiss almost every birch tree’s leg! How can I not shed tears If, with a wreath of shame and ringing, The youth of Russian villages will have fun nearby.
Maguska;) (19:32:45 08/12/2014):
Who needs poems about Dagestan:) Dagestan, my native land How much you have suffered For centuries you have been beaten by the war But you have not become weaker! I remember my grandfather’s words... Don’t take the shortcut Only do good deeds Don’t drown in sin And we must know and remember our Fathers to appreciate the works So that Dagestan becomes free From the demonic horde You will protect us, O Allah We will be faithful to you From the ashes InshaAllah will rise We will be happy dreams 2. On my land, where flowers bloom, Where fields are eared to the sound of the winds, Where bow and honor to the old people, like saints, are presented to them by their grandchildren forever and ever. On my land, where the springs gurgle, And kumuz and zurna sing loudly and loudly, Still the kunaks sit together, And the blue of the sky is still just as beautiful. And with dawn, the fields are illuminated by rays, like white ribbons weaving a braid. And the cicadas chirp in the moonless night, breaking its silence for the hundredth time. This is how a proud eagle soars above the top, A horseman soars stately in a fiery dance. Giving the horseman a confused and timid look, like a white mountain swan flying. And I can’t forget the clean air in the mountains, And the surf that brings wave after wave, And so often I see my father’s house in my dreams, And my city, forgotten, but still dear...
Ruslana (17:57:43 09/04/2015):
Hills, copses, meadows and fields - Our native, green land, the land where I took my first step, where I once went to the fork in the road. And I realized that this Expanse of fields is a piece of my great Fatherland. The poem is called Native Land from the section poem about the Motherland.
Gennady Malinsky (13:58:48 03/04/2016):
Hello! I wanted to offer my poem (for free) to the “Poems about the Motherland” section. I think the content of the poem fits perfectly with the “Day of Knowledge” and other patriotic events. /2015/06/24/5649 Poet Gennady Malinsky Our Rus' - it is beautiful everywhere From Baltiysk to the Kuril hills Our native country spreads out. There are many places in it, distant and close. After all, it is called Russia. Her strength is at the walls of Stalingrad, Beauty in the silhouettes of birches And in the jerk of an interplanetary step Gagarin exalted Her name. I admired the sunset in the taiga, walked through the Orenburg steppe. The domes that are decorated with gold continue to burn over Moscow. In the green expanses of the Kuban I saw the arable land of wide fields, Discovering more and more new facets of my vast homeland. It has been clear to me for a long time, since my youth, And I am firmly convinced of one thing - Our Rus' - it is beautiful everywhere - Let us preserve our home forever.
VICTORIA (10:33:15 04/24/2016):
RUSSIA - THERE ARE NO MUCH MORE THAN YOU, VET YOU ARE THE ONE MY COUNTRY IN THE WORLD YOU ARE NOT THE BEAUTIFUL VET YOU ARE THE ONLY MY COUNTRY AND THAT YOU ARE MUCH TO ME AND I LOVED YOU (LOVE) BECAUSE THAT'S ONE OF MY COUNTRY HOW GOOD IT WAS WITH YOU FOR THESE LIVES YEARS
Svetlana Korol
TARGET: To form a sense of pride for the Motherland, for the people. Fostering a caring attitude towards the history of the people.
Tasks: Ensure the formation of a holistic picture of the world. Introducing to the cultural heritage of multinational Russia. Develop children's speech, enrich vocabulary through songs and poems. Develop emotional responsiveness to musical works.
Preliminary work: reading poems about war, cranes, listening to music and songs of the war years, talking about Rasul Gamzatov, viewing albums and photographs about the war.
Equipment: Slide presentation "Monuments white cranes» , bird costumes for dancing, sheets of white paper, scissors, felt-tip pens.
Children enter the hall to the music. Waltz.
Children's poems about crane.
1) So autumn is knocking on our door,
A gloomy cloud, cold rain,
And it will never come back,
Summer with a warm ray of sunshine.
2) The cold drives to distant countries,
Flocks of ringing feathered friends,
And they fly caravans of cranes,
A guttural cry can only be heard from the fields.
3) Quietly, mournfully, the birds say goodbye,
They don’t take off, frolicking into the skies,
Only sparrows and tits scurry about,
4) They began to purr cranes,
In the clear blue sky,
Let's fly, migratory
Following the sun and warmth.
5) Zhura, zhura, crane, he flew over a hundred lands,
Flew around and around, strained his wings and legs,
We asked crane: “Where is the best land?”
He answered as he flew: “There is no better native land”
Children sit on chairs.
1 teacher: Hello, dear guests! Hello guys! Today we have gathered to learn about interesting things holiday. White Crane Festival- a day of poetry and blessed memory of all soldiers who fell on the battlefields. Every year on October 22 this the holiday is celebrated in Russia.
2 teacher: White Crane Festival- one of the most exciting and touching holidays. Initiator, appearance the holiday became a national poet, writer, politician Rasul Gamzatov Gamzatov,
1 teacher: To tell about you, so few who lived.
I know: I'm the only one alive
There were many of you who passionately loved life.
Fallen friends on the battlefield.
So that the memory on earth does not die,
I guess I survived
Peers who have lived so little!
Comrades of my distant days.
2 teacher: By studying the history of Russia, we can see how many wars and battles the Russian land and the Russian people had to endure. Let us today turn over the pages of our state, and literary works will help us with this.
"The Tale of Igor's Campaign"- the most famous monument of ancient Russian literature, describing the battle of the Polovtsian hordes and the Russian people.
1 teacher: Let us begin, brothers, this story
From old Vladimir to present Igor.
He strained his mind with strength,
He sharpened his heart with courage,
Filled with the military spirit,
And he brought his brave regiments
To the Polovtsian land for the Russian land.
2 teacher: Before the Russian land had time to free itself from one enemy, a new threat loomed over Russia. The rich Russian lands were decided to be captured by the knights of the Teutonic Order. The Russian army led by Prince Alexander Nevsky defeated the enemy. The famous battle was called the Battle of the Ice.
1 teacher: Nature wakes up after a long sleep, The beautiful maiden spring is dear to the heart. At this time, at sunrise, the Teutonic Order flew in from beyond the western border to fight with Alexander Nevsky.
2 teacher: During the times of Ancient Rus' there were still many bloody wars and battles. One of these battles is the Battle of Kulikovo. In 1380, Mamai, who claimed the power of the khan, decided to raid Rus', but our army, led by Dmitry Donskoy, defeated the enemy. Many literary works are devoted to this battle.
1 teacher: "Under the cover of thick fog
The Russian army closed the circle
The sounds of battle trumpets echoed
The wind began to sway the banners.
They began to persuade Dmitry
Do not engage in battle with the enemy
He replied: “My dear friends
As I tell you to fight for your Motherland,
When will I start hiding my face!
No, said the Russian prince,
It doesn't suit me to preserve myself,
When will you, my warriors, give your lives for the people!”
2 teacher: Speaking about the history of Russia, it is impossible not to mention the largest battle of the Patriotic War of 1812 between the Russian and French armies - the Battle of Borodino.
According to the recollections of a French general who participated in the Battle of Borodino, Napoleon often repeated a similar phrase: “The Battle of Borodino was the most beautiful and most formidable, the French showed themselves worthy of victory, and the Russians deserved to be invincible”
1 teacher: Tell me, uncle, it’s not for nothing that Moscow, burned by fire,
Given to the Frenchman? After all, there were battles,
Yes, they say, even more!
No wonder all of Russia remembers Borodin Day!
2 teacher: This year marks the 203rd anniversary of the Battle of Borodino.
2015 marked celebration 70th anniversary of Victory Day of the Soviet people in the Great Patriotic War over the fascist invaders. The price of victory was extremely high, the war ruined many states, and the human losses were enormous. More than 20 million people laid down their lives for a peaceful sky.
1 teacher: Just think, once upon a time during the war
You want it, believe it or not.
The soldiers ran screaming
Under the bullets of grief and loss.
And their mothers were waiting for them at home
With an open soul at the door,
But their soldiers were returning,
Only with a wedge white cranes.
Dance « white cranes»
2 teacher: The crane is a symbol, which represents light and spirituality in most cultures. For example, in Japan it symbolizes prosperity and longevity, in China it symbolizes immortality, and among African peoples this bird is considered a messenger of the gods. This image has a similar meaning in Christian culture - goodness, order, loyalty and patience. Flight crane symbolizes liberation, both spiritual and physical
teacher: Guys, what do you know about cranes? Where does he live? crane? Who knows where they spend the winter? cranes? Did you hear the voice crane? (audio recording)
Children's answers.
1 teacher: New literary holiday contributes to strengthening the centuries-old traditions of friendship between peoples and cultures of multinational Russia. In recent years holiday acquired an all-Russian scale. It is no coincidence that many monuments were erected in different parts of the former Soviet Union white cranes.
And in the Caucasus there is such a thing belief: the souls of fallen warriors turn into white cranes.
Slideshow with monuments (15 slides)
1 teacher: Uneasy at heart, anxious
The cranes fly so sadly
It’s impossible to take your eyes off them -
These are the souls of dead soldiers,
2 teacher: There is a monument in Japan that depicts a girl holding crane.
A story about a girl who died in Japan.
2 teacher: We invite you guys, in memory of all the dead children of our land, to make cranes and release them into the sky with the most cherished desire that there will never be war on the whole earth again.
Manufacturing cranes using the origami method.
Consolidation cranes on balloons.
1 teacher: We are commanded to remember the fallen,
About the defenders of our land.
Your souls are bright, pure
Carried to heaven cranes.
After the lesson on a walk, we will run these with you cranes into the sky with the balloons.
2 teacher: In 1968, Rasul Gamzatov wrote a poem « Cranes» . Inspired by this work, composer Jan Frenkel, in turn, wrote music. This is how a song of the same name appeared, which the world heard performed by Mark Bernes. This song is dedicated to the soldiers who died on the battlefields in the Great Patriotic War, these heroic people are compared by the authors with wedge: flying cranes.
Performance of the song « Cranes»
1 teacher: It has long been customary in Rus' to light candles in memory of the dead. So let our candles burn for all those who died (minute of silence)
Children read poems about Russia.
1) There is no more beautiful land in the world,
There is no homeland, the world is brighter,
Russia, Russia, Russia,
What could be dearer to the heart!
2) Russia! Like a blue bird
We protect and honor you,
And if they violate the border, we will protect you with our breasts.
3) We are for the whole planet
Turned green like a garden
To serve calmly,
Peaceful Motherland, soldiers!
4) Let there never be war,
Let the calm cities sleep,
Let our forests ring out,
5) Let there be peace throughout the whole earth!
May there always be peace
So that we can grow for glorious deeds,
For happiness and work!
1 teacher: On the day of peace and poetry, unity and harmony
Let's forget all the grievances, look to the heavens
There are flocks there cranes flying like a white symphony
Looking at the trail, they so want to believe in miracles.
Thank you for your attention.
(children give cranes for guests)
I already wrote about the Cossack rebel version of the song (), and below there is also the “pioneer” version - the song of the first pioneers...
Here is an interesting article (http://catherine-catty.livejournal.com/109012.html):
I recently came across the beginning of “The Crane” in a book, a teaser that tells about the distinctive features of the Russian guards and army regiments, as well as cadet corps. It was compiled in the 19th - early 20th centuries, the text was periodically changed and supplemented. As a curious person, I decided to read the full version. Having found and familiarized myself with it, I cried with laughter for half an hour, and the next day at work I periodically giggled, remembering individual verses. I can’t resist, I’m posting it. Just in case: the song is indecent in places. So, "Crane".
Let's get together, friends,
Let's sing about the crane!
Chorus:
Zhura-zhura-zhura my,
The crane is young.
Let's start with the first regiments -
From the foolish cavalry guards.
Cavalry guards are fools
The ceilings are supported.
(Her Majesty Empress Maria Feodorovna's Cavalry Regiment, St. Petersburg. Options: tall, dudak. Dudak is a steppe bird like a turkey, bustard. Under Alexander I, the gender was formed from soldiers “from 2 arshins to 10 vershoks, but not less than 8, and perhaps according to need 7". That is, the standard height of a cavalry guard is from 187 centimeters; we will not consider the case of “extreme need.”
Cavalry guards. 1804-1806
Of the regiments, the thinnest -
That is the Life Guards Cavalry Regiment.
And who knows a lot about women?
This is a glorious Horse Regiment!
(L-Guards Cavalry Regiment, St. Petersburg. Tonny (obsolete) - stylish, respectful of manners.)
And who is slim and very nice?
This is a yellow cuirassier.
Who is the cashier at the station?
This is a yellow cuirassier.
(L-Guards, His Majesty's Cuirassier Regiment, Tsarskoe Selo.)
If you seduce an old lady
You need to ask the Gatchina resident.
Who knows a lot about old ladies?
Cuirassier Blue Regiment.
(Lieutenant Guards Cuirassier Regiment of Her Majesty, Gatchina.)
They take barriers best -
These are horse grenadiers.
Who drinks Madeira to excess?
These are horse grenadiers!
(Long Guards Horse Grenadier Regiment. G. Peterhof.)
Who is not drunk twice a day,
That one, excuse me, is not a lancer!
Always cheerful, always drunk
Her Majesty's Lancer.
All handsome and brawlers
Life Guards Lancers.
(L-Guards Ulansky Her Majesty Empress Alexandra Feodorovna Regiment, Peterhof.)
Who is the first liar in Europe?
That's the Life Guards Dragoons.
(Long Guards Dragoon Regiment, Peterhof, meaning the regiment commander, the swaggering Count Keller.)
Dressed up like doormen
Tsarskoye Selo Hussars.
The life hussars drink one
Only champagne wine.
(Lieutenant Guards Hussar Regiment of His Majesty, Tsarskoe Selo.)
Dragging the mentik to the market -
This is the Grodno hussar.
(L-guards Grodno Hussar Regiment, Warsaw)
Always cheerful, always drunk
His Majesty's Lancers.
(His Majesty's L-Guards Uhlan Regiment, Warsaw.)
Who are the first warriors?
Those are the Life Guards Cossacks.
(His Majesty's L-Guards Cossack Regiment, St. Petersburg)
Who are these ragamuffins?
Those are the Life Guards Atamans.
(L-Guards Atamansky Regiment of His Imperial Highness the Heir to the Tsarevich, St. Petersburg)
Who started the terrible howl there?
His Majesty's Convoy.
(His Imperial Majesty's Own Convoy, St. Petersburg.)
Who mares f...t terribly?
The Life Guards are in reserve!
(Guards reserve cavalry regiment, village of Krechevitsy, Novgorod province.)
It itches like a woman
First Preobrazhensky Regiment.
(Long Guards Preobrazhensky Regiment)
And Semenov’s faces
They look like oat coulis.
Who stole the chicken?
Our Semyonovsky corporal.
(Long Guards Semenovsky Regiment)
All Izmailovsky faces
They look like coulis with oats.
(Long Guards Izmailovsky Regiment)
Servants loyal to the king
These are our huntsmen.
Shit with eagles masters
Our guard ranger.
The king's first thieves
Well done lifeguards.
(L-Guards Jaeger Regiment)
Wears dirty underwear
All Moscow rudeness.
(L-Guards Moscow Regiment)
The regiment that is the most vile
That's the Grenadier Life Guards.
(L-Guards Grenadier Regiment.)
Clumsy and sopats
Guard soldiers in Pavlovsk.
And snub noses are like calves -
These are Pavlovian guys.
(Long Guards Pavlovsk Regiment. Snub-nosed guys were recruited into it, focusing on the emperor’s profile.)
Which regiment is the worst?
This is the Finnish Guard.
(L-Guards Finnish Regiment)
I don’t sing about Warsaw residents -
They are spoiling my guards.
Happy to play cards
Guards first brigade.
(L-Guards 1st Artillery Brigade, St. Petersburg)
Champion at all shooting
Our rifle division.
(Guards Rifle Artillery Division, Strelna.)
A loach is walking around Tver,
That's a Moscow life dragoon.
Forever cheerful, forever young -
That's a Moscow life dragoon.
(1st Moscow Life Dragoon Regiment of Emperor Peter the Great, Tver. Option: According to Milionnaya...)
Not apartments, but toilets
The Novotroitskys have cuirassiers.
Where is the parking lot as a toilet?
The Ekaterinoslavskys have cuirassiers.
(4th Dragoon Novotroitsk-Ekaterinoslav General Field Marshal Prince Potemkin-Tauride Regiment, until 1860 - cuirassier.)
Fat bellies as merchants
Cuirassiers are Glukhovites.
(6th Dragoon Glukhovsky Regiment of Empress Catherine II, until 1860 - cuirassier, Ostroleka.)
Who are the biggest assholes?
Cuirassiers from Astrakhan.
(8th Astrakhan Dragoon General-Field Marshal Regiment of Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich, until 1860 - cuirassier, Tiraspol.)
Who the f...k puts the gloss on?
That dashing Finnish dragoon.
(20th Finnish Dragoon Regiment, Vilmanstrand.)
Chinese women who the f...t?
He goes to the Primorsky regiment.
(Primorsky Dragoon Regiment, Novokievskoe.)
The scarlet lapel beckons the maidens
To the residents of St. Petersburg in the city of Rzhev.
(1st Uhlan Petrograd Field Marshal General Prince Menshikov Regiment, Rzhev.)
Bullies, hooligans
Petrograd lancers.
They only drink full glasses
Life-Kurland lancers.
(2nd Life Ulan Courland Regiment of Emperor Alexander II, Gura-Kalvaria.)
Instead of x...I have one wound
At the Smolensk Ulan.
(3rd Uhlan Smolensk Emperor Alexander III Regiment, Vilkovishki.)
Where Ai flows like a river,
That Lithuanian regiment is dashing.
Who is famous for its beauty?
That Lithuanian regiment is dashing.
(5th Lithuanian Lancers of His Majesty King Victor Emmanuel III Regiment, Simbirsk.)
He drinks a barrel and is not drunk
Yellow Yamburg Lancer.
(14th Ulan Yamburg Her Imperial Majesty Grand Duchess Maria Alexandrovna, regiment, Kielce.)
All the merchants are in a fever
Blue Sumy Hussar.
(1st Sumy Hussar Regiment of General Seslavin, Moscow.)
Of the regiments, the regiment is hellishly b...
Life Hussar Pavlogradsky.
Dragging the mentik to the market
Pavlograd Life Hussar.
(2nd Life Hussar Pavlograd Regiment of Emperor Alexander III, Suwalki.)
Who knows a lot about wines?
The third glorious Holguin regiment.
(3rd Hussar Elisavetgrad Regiment of Her Imperial Highness Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna, Mariampol.)
They hit the face at full speed
In the Mariupol regiment.
(4th Hussar Mariupol Regiment of Empress Elizabeth Petrovna, Bialystok.)
Where are the immortal Hungarians,
The c...s are cracking and tearing there.
Who wore the English device?
That's an Alexandrian hussar.
(5th Alexandrian Hussar Regiment of Her Majesty Empress Alexandra Feodorovna, Samara. Wore black uniforms.)
Who drinks to the sound of a guitar?
These are the Kulneva hussars.
They lavish charms on the ladies -
These are the Kulneva hussars.
(6th Klyastitsky Hussar Regiment of General Kulnev, Pultusk.)
Drinking buddies are dashing
Belarusians are daring.
(7th Belorussian Hussar Regiment of Emperor Alexander I, Vladimir-Volynsky.)
Who has a giant penis?
That's an Ingrian hussar.
(10th Ingrian Hussar Regiment, Chuguev.)
With an eternally drunken head -
That Akhtyrets is a daring guy.
(12th Hussar Akhtyrsky Regiment of General Denis Davydov, Mezhibuzhye.)
Who is born with an athlete's fervor,
That's why Narva should be a hussar.
(13th Hussar Narva Wolf, Sedlec, regiment commander Baron O. A. von Stempel introduced horse racing and equestrian competitions in the regiment, which marked the beginning of horse racing in the Russian Imperial Cavalry.)
After vodka they eat lobster -
Those are the Mitavian hussars.
(14th Mitau Hussar Regiment, Czestochowa.)
Light scarlet dolman -
He's a Ukrainian idiot.
Wine steam instead of brain
Ukrainian hussars.
(15th Hussar Ukrainian Regiment, Wloclawsk.)
They lavish charms on the maidens -
Those are the Irkutsk hussars.
(16th Hussar Irkutsk Regiment, Riga)
And who wants to live like a king?
The one in the Chernigov Hussars.
(17th Chernigov Hussar Regiment of Grand Duke Mikhail Alexandrovich, Orel.)
Vodka extinguishes the heat of the heart
Stupid Nezhin hussar.
(18th Hussar Nezhinsky Regiment, Yelets.)
Which regiment is the heaviest?
Undoubtedly Crimean equestrian.
(Crimean Horse Regiment, Simferopol.)
He understands a lot about b...yah
Dagestan cavalry regiment.
(Dagestan Cavalry Regiment, Temir-Khan-Shura village.)
Like inflated assholes
All Pavlons go on vacation.
Who are the first Hamlons?
That's right, Pavlons.
We walk across the field -
Red-faced Peacocks.
Who is Pavlov's lackey?
Those are the Shmargons' sword belts.
(Pavlovsk Military School, St. Petersburg.
1917 version: Who are the defenders of the crown? Noble Pavlons.)
Kiev cadets
Shit with eagles masters.
(Kiev Military School.)
And they look like a sack of oats
All Vladimir faces.
(Vladimir Military School, St. Petersburg)
In St. Petersburg for a whole century
A languid stack argues with a whip.
Who is the best dressed?
Nikolaevsky cornet.
(Nikolaev Cavalry School, St. Petersburg, squadron.)
F...t with a roar like bulls.
All Don Cossacks.
(Same thing, Cossack Hundred School.)
Cleverly catch the tripper
All Tver cadets.
(Tver Cavalry School.)
In St. Petersburg it keeps its tone
Only cadet Mikhailon.
(Mikhailovsky Artillery School, St. Petersburg. 1917 version:
How to change an oath?
Ask the Mikhailovtsy.)
Who is immensely stupid and stupid?
This is Junker Konstalup.
(Konstantinovsky Artillery School, St. Petersburg.)
They are building a dump with a bang
Junker engineers.
(Nikolaev Engineering School, St. Petersburg)
In front of the authorities like snakes
The pages squirm.
Who is capable of blackmail?
Well, of course the chamber-page.
(The Corps of Pages of His Imperial Majesty.)
Of all the corps, the most civilian
The first building is Petrograd.
(1st Cadet Corps, St. Petersburg)
Who is a good guy?
That's Peter the Second Cadet.
(2nd Cadet Corps of Emperor Peter the Great, St. Petersburg)
Will fit in with a college girl
Alexandrovsky Khabat.
(Emperor Alexander II Cadet Corps, St. Petersburg.)
Five minutes to the cornet
Nikolaev cadet.
And who is dressed as a clerk?
Nikolaev cadet.
(Nikolaev Cadet Corps, St. Petersburg.
He had blue, not black, trousers, like all cadet corps, with eagles on the buttons without shine.)
Kalach fighter -
The first corps of Muscovites.
(1st Moscow Empress Catherine II Cadet Corps.)
The most important one for mischief
That is the glorious Second Moscow.
(2nd Moscow Emperor Nicholas I Cadet Corps.)
And by all accounts, damn
Alexandrovsky Moscow.
(3rd Moscow Emperor Alexander III Cadet Corps.)
Always together, everything is on you -
Polochans are like Jews.
(Polotsk Cadet Corps.)
Who keeps Peter's covenants?
Those are the Poltava cadets.
(Petrovsky-Poltava Cadet Corps.)
Who goes to university?
This is a Kyiv cadet.
(Vladimir Kyiv Cadet Corps.)
Partachi for crib sheets -
Those are Pskov crammen.
(Pskov Cadet Corps.)
The combatants, the daring -
Those Suvorovites are dashing.
(Suvorov Cadet Corps, Warsaw.)
Who looks straight into the hussars?
That's a cadet from Odessa-mama.
(Odessa Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich Cadet Corps.)
Who are good guys?
Kharitonenki-sumy.
(Sumy Cadet Corps.)
Black as a pipe -
That's Bakhtin's Orlovsky.
(Orlovsky Bakhtin Cadet Corps.)
Who are the best gymnasts?
Those Tiflis residents are all nosey.
(Tiflis Grand Duke Mikhail Nikolaevich Cadet Corps.)
Daring Cossacks -
Those are non-Plyuev guys.
Orenburg Neplyuevsky Cadet (corps.)
Who has been known as a walrus for a hundred years?
This is our Omsk cadet.
(1st Siberian Emperor Alexander I Cadet Corps, Omsk, seniority since 1813)
Who sings and plays everything?
Orenburgsky the Second knows.
(2nd Orenburg Cadet Corps.)
Who has been “without flattery” for a hundred years?
Arakcheevsky cadet.
(Nizhny Novgorod Count Arakcheev Cadet Corps.)
A high school student hits his bangs -
That's our Simbirets on the Volga.
(Simbirsk Cadet Corps.)
And when the fiscal was beaten,
Voronezh was invited.
(Voronezh Grand Duke Mikhail Pavlovich Cadet Corps.)
We've been kicking butts for many summers
To the ancestors of the Volsky cadet.
(Volsky Cadet Corps, for some time it was for penal cadets.)
Yaroslavl residents were also beaten,
But for this to happen is unlikely!
(Yaroslavl Cadet Corps.)
Who keeps the Caucasian style?
He is a cadet from Vladikavkaz.
(Vladikavkaz Cadet Corps.)
In the cold, so to speak,
Irkutsk residents don't care.
(Irkutsk Cadet Corps.)
Rides on a dog skin
Khabarovets on Amur.
(Irkutsk Cadet Corps.)
Dzhigitovka's dear brother
Alexandrovsky Donskoy.
(Don Emperor Alexander III Cadet Corps, Novocherkassk.)
Decorates the Turkmen region
That of the Heir, Tashkent.
(Tashkent His Imperial Highness the Heir to the Tsarevich Cadet Corps.)
Will be remembered for many summers
Serbs of the Crimean cadet.
(Crimean Cadet Corps. Remains of the Poltava and Vladikavkaz Cadet Corps, Strynishche (Yugoslavia). In 1922 merged into the 1st Russian Cadet Corps.)
Unfortunately, I cannot give any explanations; I do not know these realities, except for one or two cases. Like why Semyonovtsy have snub noses or cavalry guards prop up the ceilings. You can learn a little about the traditions of recruiting recruits in the Russian army by reading an excerpt from Ignatiev’s book “50 Years in Service.” The action takes place at the beginning of the 20th century.
“At the entrance to the arena, a good dozen “1st class” recruits were lined up, that is, guys eleven inches tall and taller. The commanders and adjutants of the guards regiments looked at them like a desired delicacy. However, the highest and most powerful ones went to the guards crew in order to represent the fleet with dignity on the rowing boats of the royal yachts. Tall, rougher-looking recruits ended up in the Preobrazhentsy group, blue-eyed blonds in the Semyonovtsy group, brunettes with beards in the Izmailovtsy group, and redheads in the Muscovite group. All of them went to replenish the first, so-called Tsar’s companies.”
So I’m wondering why blue-eyed blonds were recruited specifically to Semenovsky? Because his most famous boss was Emperor Alexander I, who had fair hair and blue eyes? Well, yes, who is talking about what, and the lousy one is about the bathhouse. I'm silent, I'm silent...
P.S. It is usually said that "Crane" is a soldier's song. But somehow it seems to me that the cadets also took part in this.
Pioneer "Crane"
Cranes - cranes
Got off the ground.
Wings raised to the sky,
We left our dear land.
They began to purr in the distance
Cranes are cranes!
Streams run down the hill -
Goodbye winter!
Do you hear someone calling in the distance?
The cranes have returned to us!
Take a closer look: there in the distance
The cranes started dancing!
They stood side by side in a circle,
Jump and jump, and jump and jump!
They stomp their feet,
They'll flap their wings!
Every dance is good -
Very similar to ours:
And cheerful and funny...
Ah!.. How joyful it is in spring!
Grudanov E.
The maple leaves unfolded,
Birch leaves rustle,
Cranes flying moan
They plunge their thoughts into daydreams.
Under your wing there are countries and villages,
Rivers with seas, forests and meadows,
The wind and will greet you,
The Sun and Moon are seeing you off.
Where do you live, beautiful birds,
And you dance your waltzes,
Green calicoes hide you,
Nightingales sing songs to you.
Spectators are captivated by the ball
Graces of wedding days
To all the forest concert hall
Call for an encore of the cranes!
The days of summer are ending.
The cranes are flying away.
The nests were empty in an instant.
The crane cry is melting.
You know, winter is just around the corner...
See you again in the spring!
Kaiser T.
Zhura-zura-Zhuravel!
He flew over a hundred lands.
Flew around, walked around,
Wings, legs strained.
We asked the crane:
“Where is the best land?”
He answered as he flew by:
“There is no better native land!”
The crane has arrived
To old places:
Ant grass
Thick - thick!
And the dawn is over the willow tree,
Clear - clear!
Fun for the crane:
In spring - spring!
Blaginina E.
High under the blue sky
The wedge rushes like a crane.
In the morning amidst the silence
Trumpets can be heard.
The road is far for birds
From the birth threshold,
And their flight is not easy...
So let them be lucky!
Grudanov E.
Cranes are flying high
Over empty fields.
The forests where we spent the summer,
They shout: “Fly with us!”
And in the sleepy and empty grove
The aspen trees are shaking from the cold,
And for a long time the golden leaf
Flies behind a flock of cranes.
Sometimes it seems to me that the soldiers
Those who did not come from the bloody fields,
They once did not perish in this earth,
And they turned into white cranes.
They are still from those distant times
They fly and give us voices.
Isn’t that why it’s so often and sad
Do we fall silent while looking at the heavens?
Today, in the early evening,
I see cranes in the fog
They fly in their own specific formation,
They wandered like people through the fields.
They fly, complete their long journey
And they call out someone's name.
Isn’t that why with the cry of a crane
Has Avar speech been similar since centuries?
A tired wedge flies, flies across the sky -
Flying in the fog at the end of the day,
And in that order there is a small gap -
Maybe this is the place for me!
The day will come, and with a flock of cranes
I will swim in the same gray haze,
Calling from under the sky like a bird
All of you whom I left on earth.
Gamzatov Rasul
Cranes, you probably don’t know
How many songs have been composed about you,
How much up when you fly
Looks with misty eyes!
From the edges of swamps and forests
Schools float into the sky.
Their screams are long and silver,
Their wings are slowly flexible.
Lyrics of their melodious flight
Our book lyrics are stronger.
They fly by, delighting and tormenting,
Brightening up people's faces.
They left me years of memory,
How I stood near the river
And until they melted into blue,
I watched the cranes from under my hand.
The cranes were flying, not the tits,
With whose fluttering the earth is filled...
How many years ago, if you think about it,
I didn’t see a crane in the sky!
It’s like I had a bright dream or
This was a children's fairy tale.
Or they just took it and surrounded it
Adults, serious matters.
Books completely surrounded
Idleness is shameful and alien to me...
Well, I ask the reader,
When have you seen cranes?
So that not just in song, but in person,
Where the grass withers by the river,
So that, forgetting about petty other things,
Everyone looks at them from under their arms.
Cranes!
Swamped with work
Far from cloudy fields,
I live with strange care -
I wish I could see cranes in the sky!
In spring from distant hot countries
The caravan is flying towards us like a wedge.
They are on the road without rest.
Without food there are often nights and days.
Even though it is warmer in southern countries,
but our homeland is nicer.
Waiting for the crane's arrival
their nests are in forest swamps.
And now there are already two eggs in the nest.
Two chicks opened their mouths.
Standing on long legs in the swamp,
Mom and Dad bring them food.
Over the summer the children grow up,
and in a flock they fly away to the south
then, so that in early spring
return to your native land again.
Sosnina Z.
It's quiet by the swamp at noon
The willows rustle gently.
There is a crane on the hill
Teaches cranes.
Only heard over the meadows,
Where the cranes crow:
"One two Three!
Leg push!
Get off the ground!
Zhuravlikha's voice is thin,
There is joy in it, and there is sadness in it.
The youngest crane
He says: “But I’m afraid!”
The mother looked at her son:
“How timid he was!”
She pushed with her long beak
- The little crane flew...
The distances are long!
A difficult path for the cranes!
For the first time in foreign lands
The cranes will fly.
And in the spring you will find them
Where the willows rustle,
At a familiar swamp
With a new flock of cranes.
Baranov S.
Waking up from sad thoughts, eyes
I lift from the ground:
In the dark azure at midnight
The cranes are flying in the village.
From their screams in the distant sky
As if the gospel is coming, -
Hello patriarchal forests,
Hello to the familiar reaches of water!..
There are plenty of these waters and forests here,
There is juicy grain in the fields...
What else? because it's their share
It is not possible to love and think...
Maykov Apollo
In the whirlwind of showers and blizzards
The days rolled into distant distances.
The cranes flew south
And they flew back home.
Leaving Africa in April
To the shores of the father's land,
They flew in a long triangle,
Drowning in the sky, cranes.
Stretching out silver wings
Across the wide firmament,
The leader led to the valley of plenty
Its small people.
But when it flashed under the wings
Lake, transparent through and through,
Black gaping barrel
It rose up from the bushes towards us.
A ray of fire struck the bird's heart,
A quick flame flared up and went out,
And a piece of wondrous greatness
It fell on us from above.
Two wings, like two huge griefs,
Embraced the cold wave
And, echoing the sorrowful sob,
The cranes rushed into the heights.
Only where the stars move,
To atone for one's own evil
Nature returned to them again
What death took with it:
Proud spirit, high aspiration,
Unyielding will to fight -
Everything from the previous generation
Youth passes on to you.
And the leader in a metal shirt
Sank slowly to the bottom,
And the dawn formed over him
Golden glow spot.
Zabolotsky Nikolay
The east flaunted between the swamp trunks
fire-faced...
When October comes, the cranes will suddenly appear!
And the crane cries will wake me up and call me
Above my attic, above the swamp, forgotten in the distance...
Widely throughout Rus', the designated period of withering
They proclaim like a legend from ancient pages.
Everything that is in the soul expresses sobbing to the end
And the high flight of these proud, illustrious birds.
In Rus', harmonious hands are widely waved to the birds.
And the forgetting of the fields, and the loss of the chilling fields -
This will be expressed by everything, like a legend, heavenly sounds,
The flying cry of cranes will be heard far away...
Here they are flying, here they are flying... Open the gates quickly!
Come out quickly to look at your tall ones!
Now they are silent - and again the soul and nature are orphaned
Because - shut up! - no one will express them that way...
Rubtsov Nikolay
In a sky as clear as a page
Birds fly smoothly.
Over the expanses of fields
A wedge of handsome cranes.
Sibirtsev V.
Like a traveler who remained in the steppe,
Having lost my friends in the steppe,
The crane made its way through the winds,
To find the way to a warm region.
Then he walks through the swamp for a long time,
It will flutter as if it knows the way...
Shaking off the drops from the wings of the wolves,
He flies with his chest exposed to the wind.
...Maybe it's easier for the heart to break,
To be exhausted, but still to reach the goal,
Just don't be left alone,
Having lost your comrades along the way!
The cranes fly away
They fly away.
Get off the ground
And they will melt.
They fly far
They're delirious about the south,
Stretched out like days
One after another.
They leave their native land,
They leave.
Will they come back in the spring? —
Who knows...
Maksimchuk L.
Through the evening fog to me under the darkened sky
The cries of the cranes can be heard more and more clearly...
My heart rushed towards them, flying from afar,
From a cold country, from the naked steppes.
Now they are flying close and sobbing louder,
It was as if they brought me sad news...
What inhospitable land are you from?
Did you fly here for the night, cranes?..
I know that country where the sun is already without power,
Where is the shroud waiting, the cold earth
And where in the bare forests the sad wind howls, -
Either my native land, or my fatherland.
Dusk, poverty, melancholy, bad weather and slush,
A gloomy view of people, a sad view of the earth...
Oh, how my soul hurts, how I want to cry!
Stop crying over me, cranes!..
Zhemchuzhnikov Alexey
I'll go out into the field along a long path,
I will disperse unnecessary sadness.
A flock of cranes in the blue sky -
Like a triangular seal.
I love the first clearing,
The stubble of red bearded rye,
Over which it is fun and drunk
The last swifts are darting about.
And the cars are running,
At the forks
Like hay that has crumbled into dust.
Smooth as the backs of soldiers' heads
The wheat fields are shaved.
Cutting through the smoky winter
Lines of country roads,
Writes the coming autumn
An epilogue to the summer gone by.
Pink leaves - along the hummocks,
Morning dew - along the furrow,
And the last rook
Flashes a dot
At the end of the story about suffering.
Summer has said goodbye to us
And it left, taking away the warmth.
Under the silent branches
The whisper of sad grasses is heard...
And they dance farewell
Cranes through the falling leaves:
"Summer! We will guide you!..”
And they fly after him, they fly...
Mishakova M.
Ivikov's cranes
There is a merry feast at Posidonov,
Where did the children of Gela flock to?
Watch the running of horses and the fight of singers,
There was Ivik, a modest friend of the gods.
Him with a winged dream
Apollo sent the gift of song;
And with a lyre, with a light stick
He walked, inspired, towards Isthmus.
His eyes have already been opened
In the distance is Acrocorinth and the mountains,
Merged from the blue skies.
He enters the Posidonov forest...
Everything is quiet; the leaf does not sway;
Only cranes above
The noisy village winds
The countries are midday for spring.
“O companions, your winged swarm,
Until now my faithful guide,
Be a good omen for me.
Having said: sorry! native country,
Visitor to a foreign shore,
I am looking for shelter, just like you;
May Guardian Zeus avert
Trouble from the wanderer's head."
And with firm faith in Zeus
He enters the depths of the forest;
Walking along a dead path...
And he sees the killers in front of him.
He is ready to fight his enemies;
But his hour of fate had arrived:
Familiar with the lyre strings,
He didn't know how to bend a bow.
He calls to the gods and people...
Only the echo repeats the moans -
There is no life in the terrible forest.
“And so I will perish in the prime of my life,
I will rot here without burial
And not mourned by friends;
And there will be no vengeance on these enemies
Neither from gods nor from people."
And he was already struggling with death...
Suddenly... noise from a flock of cranes;
He hears (the gaze has already faded)
Their plaintive, wailing voice.
"You, cranes under the sky,
I call you as a witness!
Let it thunder, attracted by you,
Zeus thunders upon their head."
And they saw the corpse naked;
The killer's hand is distorted
Beautiful facial features.
A Corinthian friend recognized the singer.
“And are you motionless before me?
And on your head, singer,
I imagined with a solemn hand
Put a pine crown."
And the guests of Posidon listen,
That Apollo's confidant fell...
All of Greece is amazed;
For all hearts there is one sadness.
And with a wild roar of frenzy
Prytanov was surrounded by people
And he screams: “Elders, vengeance, vengeance!
The villains will be executed, their generation will perish!”
But where is their trace? Who cares
The face of the enemy in a countless crowd
Flowed into the Poseidon Temple?
They curse at the gods.
And who is the despicable robber?
Or did a secret enemy strike?
Only Helios matured sacred,
Illuminating everything from heaven.
With his head raised, perhaps,
Between the noisy crowd,
The villain is hidden at this very hour
And the voice coldly listens to the sorrow;
Or in the temple, on bended knees,
Burns incense with a vile hand;
Or crowded on the steps
Amphitheater behind the crowd
Where, with your eyes fixed on the stage
(The supports can barely hold them back)
Coming from near and far countries,
Noisy like a vague ocean,
Above a row, people sit;
And they move like a forest in a storm,
The passages are seething with people,
Rising to the blue of the sky.
And who will count those of different tribes,
United by this triumph?
They came from everywhere: from Athens,
From ancient Sparta, from Mykin,
From the borders of distant Asia,
From the Aegean waters, from the Thracian mountains...
And sat down in deep silence,
And the choir performs quietly.
According to the ancient rite, it is important
With a measured and drawn-out gait,
Surrounded by sacred fear,
He walks around the theater.
The fingers of children do not march like that;
This is not where their cradle was.
Their camp is a marvelous mass
The limit of the earthly has been crossed.
They walk with drooping heads
And they move with their skinny arms
Candles that give off dark light;
And there is no blood on their cheeks;
Their faces are dead, their eyes are sunken;
And, entwined between their hair,
Echidnas move with a whistling sting,
Revealing a terrible row of teeth.
And they stood around, their gaze sparkling;
And the anthem was sung in a wild chorus,
Fear piercing into the hearts;
And in it the criminal hears: execution!
Thunderstorm of the soul, troubler of the mind,
Erinny's terrible chorus thunders;
And, numb, the viewer listens;
And the lyre, numb, is silent:
“Blessed is he who is ignorant of guilt,
Who is pure in his soul!
We do not dare to follow him;
The road of troubles is alien to him...
But to you, murderers, woe, woe!
Like a shadow, we are behind you everywhere,
With a thunderstorm of vengeance in his eyes,
Terrible creatures of darkness.
Don’t hesitate to hide - we are with wings;
You are in the forest, you are in the abyss - we are behind you;
And, having confused you in their networks,
We throw those torn to pieces into the dust.
Repentance is not your protection;
Your groan, your cry is joy for us;
We will torment you until Cocytus,
But we will not leave you there either.”
And the song of the terrible fell silent;
And lay above those who listened,
Full of goddesses' presence,
Silence over a grave.
And with a quiet, measured foot
They flowed back
Heads bowed, hand in hand,
And slowly disappeared into the distance.
And the viewer is shaky with doubt
Between truth and error -
With fear he thinks of that Power,
Which, in the thick darkness
Hiding, inevitable,
Weaving the threads of fatal nets,
In the depths only the heart is visible,
But hidden from the daylight.
And that’s all, and still in silence...
Suddenly there is an exclamation on the steps:
“Parfeniy, do you hear?.. A scream in the distance -
Those are Ivikov’s cranes!..”
And the sky suddenly became covered with darkness;
And the whole air is noisy from the wings;
And they see... a black stripe
A flock of cranes is flying.
"What? Ivik!..” Everything shook -
And the name Ivika rushed
From mouth to mouth... people are making noise,
Like a stormy abyss of water.
“Our good Ivik! ours, smitten
An unknown enemy, poet!..
What, what is hidden in this word?
And why are these cranes flying?”
And to all hearts in one moment,
It's like a revelation from above,
The thought flashed: “The killer is here;
That is the terrible judgment of the Eumenides;
Vengeance for the singer is ready;
The criminal has betrayed himself.
The one who spoke the word is brought to justice
And the one he was listening to!”
And, pale, trembling, confused,
Convicted by a sudden speech,
The villain is plucked from the crowd;
Before the seat of the judges
He is attracted with his minion;
Confused look, bowed gaze
And vain crying was their answer;
And death was their sentence.
Friedrich Schiller
(Translation by Vasily Zhukovsky)
“The cranes have flown away, the cranes have flown away!
Restaurant song. How much do you need?
So that a man sparkles with a half-drunk tear?
I recognize the singer as a soldier of the same age,
Scorched by the last war.
No, I don’t know him and don’t know him in detail,
What kind of cranes is he yearning for now?
But the melancholy must be both acute and enormous,
If he squeezes a tear from us too.
“The cranes have flown away, the cranes have flown away!!
The cold winds darkened the earth.
Only the flock left amidst storms and blizzards
One with a broken crane wing.”
Well, what kind of crane is there? And what kind of flock is there?
And where did she fly away from him?
There's an apartment, I guess
My daughter is growing up, I guess
The busy wife salts the tomatoes.
And which wing was broken?
And which wing is broken?
But we thought about it. And the wine is not finished.
Our souls were filled with sweet sadness.
“The cranes have flown away, the cranes have flown away!!!
The cold winds darkened the earth.
Only the flock left amidst storms and blizzards
One with a broken crane wing.”
Restaurant song. A vulgar tune.
Well, come on, finish it off, take it back!
Over there, in the far corner, the conversations died down,
The major with the Star on his chest is choking his glass.
The woman also turned pale, biting her lips,
As the chorus repeats, it hurts more and more...
Or does everyone have a flock that has flown away?
Or has everyone fallen behind their cranes?
He will finish singing and return to the night apartment.
People will disperse too. The lights will go out.
Bad weather is noisy. The sky is empty and damp.
Did they really fly away?
Soloukhin Vladimir
RAIN, RAIN, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?..
Rain, rain, where have you been?
- I was floating across the sky with a cloud!
- And then you crashed?
- Oh, no, no, it spilled with water,
Dripped, dripped down, fell -
I fell straight into the river!
And then I sailed far away
In the fast, blue-eyed river,
Loved it with all my heart
Our Motherland is great!
Well, then it evaporated,
Attached to a white cloud,
And I swam, I tell you,
To distant countries, islands.
And now over the ocean
I'm still floating into the distance with the fog!
Enough, wind, keep blowing -
We need to swim back.
To meet the river,
To rush with her into the native forest!
To admire with your soul
Our Motherland is big.
So, wind, my friend,
We are hurrying home with the cloud!
You, wind, urge us on -
Point the cloud towards the house!
Because I miss home...
Come on, I’ll rock the cloud!
I'm in such a hurry to get home...
I'll be back to you soon!
GO OVER THE SEAS AND OCEANS
Go beyond the seas and oceans,
You have to fly across the entire earth:
There are different countries in the world,
But you won’t find one like ours.
Our bright waters are deep,
The land is wide and free,
And the factories thunder without ceasing,
And the fields are noisy, blossoming...
IMMASSIVE COUNTRY
If for a long, long, long time
We're going to fly on the plane,
If for a long, long, long time
We should look at Russia.
We'll see then
And forests and cities,
Ocean spaces,
Ribbons of rivers, lakes, mountains...
We will see the distance without edge,
Tundra, where spring rings.
And then we will understand what
Our Motherland is big,
RUSSIA
Russia is like a word from a song,
Birch young foliage,
There are forests, fields and rivers all around,
Expanse, Russian soul -
I love you, my Russia,
I love you, I understand you deeply
Steppe away the pensive sadness,
I love everything that is called
In one broad word - Rus'.
MOTHERLAND
Hills, copses,
Meadows and fields -
Native, green
Our land.
The land where I made
Your first step
Where did you once come out?
To the fork in the road.
And I realized what it was
Expanse of fields -
A piece of the great
O MOTHERLAND!..
Oh, Motherland! In a dim glow
I catch with my trembling gaze
Your woods, woods -
Everything I love without memory:
And the rustle of the white-trunked grove,
And the blue smoke in the distance is empty,
And a rusty cross over the bell tower,
And a low hill with a star...
My grievances and forgiveness
They will burn like old stubble.
In you alone there is consolation
And my healing.
DOUBLE-HEADED COAT OF ARMS OF RUSSIA
I read a book yesterday
About the treasures of Russia.
And, seeing the double-headed coat of arms,
I quietly asked my mother:
“Why is the eagle two-headed?
Who is the rider on the horse?
I want to know everything in detail!
Tell me, Mommy.”
"Great is our power,
May peace reign forever,
A double-headed eagle looks into the distance,
Protects us from harm.
On horseback - Victorious -
Our holy fighter against evil.
Fierce, large snake
He killed with his spear.
And the Russian coat of arms is painted
In red and gold.
Red is the blood of fallen heroes,
So that you and I can live.
Gold is our wealth:
Bread, ore, fields, forests.
Just to live richer
It takes work and kindness.”
I listened to the stories
About Russia from ancient times
And I decided - not in the world
OUR COAT OF ARMS
Powers in different ways
They decorated their own with coats of arms.
Here is a leopard, a double-headed eagle
And a lion rearing up.
This was the ancient custom -
So that from state emblems
The animal face threatened the neighbors
Bare all your teeth.
Now a beast of prey, now an evil bird,
The likeness, having lost its own,
They squeeze in their paws, threatening,
Striking sword or spear.
Where there have been no lions for centuries,
Lions look fiercely from the coats of arms
Or eagles who can't get enough
One eagle head!
But not an eagle, not a lion, not a lioness
They decorated our coat of arms,
And the golden wreath of wheat,
A mighty hammer, a sharp sickle.
We do not threaten other nations,
But we take care of the spacious house,
Where is there a place under the sky
To everyone who lives by work.
Will not be split by an enemy
Union of peoples never.
The hammer and sickle are inseparable,
Earth, and ear, and star!
HOMELAND
I love my fatherland, but with a strange love!
My reason will not defeat her
Nor glory bought with blood,
Nor the peace full of proud trust,
Nor the dark old treasured legends
No joyful dreams stir within me.
But I love - why don’t I know?
Its steppes are coldly silent,
Her boundless forests sway,
Its river floods are like seas...
On a country road I like to ride in a cart,
And, with a slow gaze piercing the shadow of the night,
Meet on the sides, sighing for an overnight stay,
The trembling lights of sad villages;
I love the smoke of burnt stubble,
A train spending the night in the steppe,
And on a hill in the middle of a yellow field
A couple of white birches.
With joy unknown to many
I see a complete threshing floor
A hut covered with straw
Window with carved shutters;
And on a holiday, on a dewy evening,
Ready to watch until midnight
To dance with stomping and whistling
Under the talk of drunken men.
GOY, YOU, Rus', MY DEAR...
Goy, my dear Rus',
The huts are in the robes of the image...
No end in sight -
Only blue sucks his eyes.
Like a visiting pilgrim,
I'm looking at your fields.
And at the low outskirts
The poplars are dying loudly.
Smells like apple and honey
Through the churches, your meek Savior,
And it buzzes behind the slope
There is a merry dance in the meadows.
I'll run along the crumpled stitch
Free green forests,
Towards me, like earrings,
A girl's laughter will ring out.
If the holy army shouts:
“Throw away Rus', live in paradise!”
I will say: “There is no need for heaven,
Give me my homeland."
SINGING THE CHAEWED HORSES...
The hewn horns began to sing,
The plains and bushes are running.
Again chapels on the road
And funeral crosses.
Again I'm sick with warm sadness
From the oat breeze.
And on the limestone bell towers
The hand involuntarily crosses itself.
About Rus' - raspberry field
And the blue that fell into the river -
I love you to the point of joy and pain
Your lake melancholy.
Cold sorrow cannot be measured,
You're on a foggy shore.
But not to love you, not to believe -
I can't learn.
And I won't give up these chains,
And I won’t part with a long sleep,
When the native steppes ring
Prayer feather grass.
SLEEPING FERRY...
The feather grass is sleeping. Plain dear,
And the leaden freshness of wormwood.
No other homeland
It will not pour my warmth into my chest.
Know that we all have such a fate,
And, perhaps, ask everyone -
Rejoicing, raging and suffering,
Life is good in Rus'.
The light of a magnifying glass, mysterious and long,
The willows are crying, the poplars are whispering.
But no one listens to the crane's cry
He will not stop loving his father's fields.
And now, when the new light
And my life was touched by fate,
I still remain a poet
Golden log hut.
At night, huddled against the headboard,
I see him as a strong enemy
How someone else's youth splashes with newness
To my glades and meadows.
But still, cramped that night,
I can sing with feeling:
Give me in my beloved homeland,
Loving everything, die in peace!
OH MY MOTHER RUSSIA
Oh, my mother, Russia, Rus',
Your golden-domed throne is unshakable,
I love you, I'm proud of you,
Long-suffering and powerful.
Russia, Russia, great power,
Great power, bottomless Rus',
I am in love with Russia, with all my heart, with all my heart
And I will stay with her forever, I swear!
KEY WORDS
We learned in kindergarten
We are beautiful words.
They were read for the first time:
Mom, Motherland, Moscow.
Spring and summer will fly by.
The foliage will become sunny.
Illuminated with new light
Mom, Motherland, Moscow.
The sun shines kindly on us.
Blue is pouring from the sky.
May they always live in the world
Mom, Motherland, Moscow!
THERE IS NO BETTER NATIVE LANDSCAPE
Crane-crane-crane!
He flew over a hundred lands.
Flew around, walked around,
Wings, legs strained.
We asked the crane:
-Where is the best land? –
He answered as he flew by:
- There is no better native land!
MOTHERLAND
Hills, copses,
Meadows and fields -
Native, green
Our land.
The land where I made
Your first step
Where did you once come out?
To the fork in the road.
And I realized what it was
Expanse of fields -
A piece of the great
My fatherland.
RUSSIA
Russia, you are a great power,
Your spaces are infinitely large.
You have crowned yourself with glory for all ages.
And you have no other way.
The lake captivity crowns your forests.
A cascade of ridges in the mountains hides dreams.
The river flow cures thirst,
And the native steppe will give birth to bread.
We are proud of your cities.
From Brest to Vladivostok the path is open.
The glorious capital crowns you,
And St. Petersburg preserves history.
In your land of wealth there is an inexhaustible stream,
The path lies to your treasures.
How little we still know about you.
There is so much we have to study.
HOMELAND
Touching the three great oceans,
She lies, spreading out the cities,
Covered with a grid of meridians,
Invincible, wide, proud.
But at the hour when the last grenade
Already in your hand
And in a short moment you need to remember at once
All we have left is in the distance
You don't remember a big country,
Which one have you traveled and learned?
Do you remember your homeland - like this,
How you saw her as a child.
A piece of land, leaning against three birch trees,
The long road behind the forest,
A small river with a creaky carriage.
Sandy shore with low willow trees.
This is where we were lucky to be born,
Where for life, until death, we found
That handful of earth that is suitable.
To see in it the signs of the whole earth.
Yes. You can survive in the heat, in thunderstorms, in frosts,
Yes, you can go hungry and cold,
Go to death...
But these three birches
You can't give it to anyone while you're alive.
WHAT WE CALL HOMELAND
What do we call Motherland?
The house where you and I live,
And the birch trees along which
We walk next to mom.
What do we call Motherland?
A field with a thin spikelet,
Our holidays and songs,
Warm evening outside the window.
What do we call Motherland?
Everything that we cherish in our hearts,
And under the blue-blue sky
Russian flag over the Kremlin.
HELLO
Hello to you, my native land,
With your dark forests,
With your great river,
And endless fields!
Hello to you, dear people,
Tireless hero of labor,
In the middle of winter and in the summer heat!
Hello to you, my native land!
ABOUT THE HOMELAND, ONLY ABOUT THE HOMELAND
What is this song of weeping birches about?
A melody full of light and tears?
About the Motherland, only about the Motherland.
What's behind the cold granite borders?
The melancholy of birds flying away for the winter?
About the Motherland, only about the Motherland.
In moments of sadness, in times of adversity
Who will take care of us and who will save us?
Motherland, only Motherland.
Who do we need to warm in the bitter cold?
And in difficult days should we feel sorry?
Motherland, dear Motherland.
When we go on interstellar flight,
What is our earthly heart singing about?
About the Motherland, only about the Motherland.
We live in the name of goodness and love,
And the best songs are yours and mine -
About the Motherland, only about the Motherland...
Under the scorching sun and snow dust
And my thoughts and my prayers -
About the Motherland, only about the Motherland.
I NEED TO TALK ABOUT RUSSIA
I need to talk about Russia,
Yes, so that poetry is spoken out loud,
Yes, so much so that you want to repeat it,
The strongest name to say is: Russia!
To pronounce the most powerful names,
Stronger than mother, stronger than love
And it’s gratifying to say on your lips
To the singing waves that turn blue in the distance.
More than once I was alone with you,
Asked for participation, demanded advice,
And you were always my destiny
My star, unique light.
He shone at me from my mother's eyes,
And it entered my chest and penetrated my blood,
And if it went out in my chest,
That heart would burst at that very moment!
IN THE WIDE SPACE
In the wide open space
Before dawn
Scarlet dawns have risen
Over my native country.
Every year it gets more beautiful
Dear countries...
Better than our Motherland
FOR PEACE, FOR CHILDREN
In any part of any country
The guys don't want war.
They will have to enter into life soon,
They need peace, not war,
The green noise of the native forest,
They all need school
And the garden at the peaceful threshold,
Father and mother and father's house.
There's a lot of space in this world
For those who are used to living by hard work.
For all children, for peace, for work!
Let every ear of corn ripen in the field,
Gardens are blooming, forests are growing!
Who sows bread in a peaceful field,
Builds factories, cities,
The one for the children of the orphan's share
OH RUSSIA!
Oh, Russia!
A country with a difficult fate...
I have you, Russia,
Like a heart, alone.
I'll tell my friend too
I will tell the enemy too -
Without you,
Like without a heart
I can't live...
