What to do if the neighbors are noisy at night. If you are electrically savvy

ETERNITY OF LIFE STATEMENT…

There are poets whose work does not seem to be very noticeable, does not pretend to speak of it as an exceptional artistic and aesthetic phenomenon, but without them it is difficult to imagine the poetic firmament of literature. In modern Mordovian literature Moksha writer Vladimir Nikolayevich Korcheganov is such a person who has established his name in it for a long time and for a long time.
He was born on March 9, 1941 in the village of Sadovka, Kovylkinsky district of Mordovia. It is difficult to say what influenced the formation of the poetic talent of a village boy. Father, Nikolai Pavlovich, died on the fronts of the Great Patriotic War. In the deaf Primoksha region, life was hungry and cold. However, in the life of little Volodya there were also what we call moments of joy, and they were associated with a craving for beauty, poetic word. According to the recollections of fellow villagers who knew him in childhood, he joined the book very early and spent all his time, free from household and field worries, reading, enjoying the magic artistic word. Perhaps this was facilitated by her mother, Evdokia Maksimovna, who, being completely illiterate, was known in the village as an excellent connoisseur of the oral and poetic creativity of her people, had an amazing gift for storytelling and singing, and not a single village gathering, not a single public holiday could do without her. And it is quite understandable that it was to his mother that the future poet showed his first literary experiments, deserving words of approval and blessing for further work. Time will pass, and Vladimir Nikolayevich will dedicate more than one poem to Evdokia Maksimovna, full of filial love, gratitude and worship for what she gave him, what she taught, taught, gave to her mind and heart.
... And now I walk through life
And I sing of my native land,
And I do not throw words into the wind, -
Mother's advice with me! - Vladimir Nikolaevich admits in one of his best artistic creations, and called: "My mother told me in childhood ...".
The words of the poet’s deep gratitude also to his fellow villagers, who together knew how to celebrate both holidays and weekdays, save and raise children in the hungry hard times with the whole world (“ military childhood"," The ballad of the plowmen "," Native language»); their school teachers Anna Petrovna Kazeeva and Dmitry Ivanovich Polyakov, who gave him not only lessons in knowledge, but also in kindness and justice, instilled love for their native word, tuned in to the present literary creativity, because they saw his penchant for writing, a certain talent and poetic vision of the world. And there was and is in the life of the poet native nature Primokshanya is an eternal source of joy and inspiration
After graduating from Yezhovskaya high school V. Korcheganov connected his life with the Saransk plant "Electric rectifier". He worked as a foundry worker, gasman, operator. At the same time, he studied law faculty Kazan State University. Since 1968 - an employee of the All-Russian Research Institute of Light Sources. A. N. Lodygina.
These were years of accumulation by him not only of new life, but also of creative experience. An aspiring author from the rural outback, finding himself in the center literary life Mordovia, visits the editorial offices of national newspapers and magazines, participates in the work of creative seminars held through the Union of Writers of the Republic, meets with already established Moksha word artists. According to V. Korcheganov himself, especially great help at that stage of his literary development was Yakov Pinyasov, Maxim Beban and Fyodor Atyanin. They noticed the novice writer's love for his native word, his desire for continuous improvement of his skills and never denied him a kind word and advice.
The first result of the young author's search for his place in literature was a collection of poems for children of primary school age "Luganyase-laimonyase" ("Meadow-meadow"), published in 1977. The book is bright, kind, from beginning to end splashes with joyful colors of life. The author conducts a conversation with young readers without any moralizing, simply, clearly and cheerfully - as if on an equal footing, and from this poem they gain even greater confidence and attractiveness. It is no coincidence that the collection drew the attention of the translator to the Russian language Alexei Gromykhin, and the poems of the Moksha poet, retaining their light tone, became the property of the Russian-speaking reader. Even the autumn rain appears in them in warm and joyful colors:
Rain silver grains
Stopped throwing...
Umbrella mushroom opened quickly,
The sun began to shine.
Spikelets of their rays
For the neighborhood gives the whole ...
The same sun in the poet’s poems is “like a huge loaf baked in the dawns” (“The Beginning of the Day”), “smiles” (“Grasshoppers”), and from this even “snowdrop flowers turned blue, they ran into the meadow in a nimble flock” (“Spring »); and above the snowdrops “larks learn spring songs” (“Snowdrops”); the summer rain plays tricks, it will hang a miracle rainbow in the sky in a serpentine pattern (“Rain”), and then suddenly and unexpectedly autumn comes, “... September comes like a red fox in the morning” (“Beginning of September”), “and they fly like commas, yellow leaves in the garden" ("September"), "and here again snow-white winter is with us, and we build fortresses from snow" ("Winter"). The poet skillfully conveys the surprisingly pure, spontaneous world of childhood, where the little peanut "let ... go to kindergarten" still goes, "but with a broom already" is friends ("Janitor"); another dreams of flying to distant stars and planets (“Ships”)”; in the dreams of the third - following the example of an older brother, become a sailor ("Big Brother"); and the mischievous Vovka, despite the fact that “to be again his father’s spanking”, since he forgot about all the lessons, “rushes ... from a long hill - he has fun from the heart” (“Vovka”), and “Masha is fun. Doesn't cry. Masha lives happily. She puts on a dress for the doll and, like a mother, sings to her ”(“ Masha ”). By all appearances, a kind assistant to her mother is growing, such as in the poem of the same name:
It smells like spring today!
Mom has a day off!
To go to work tomorrow
Mom vigorously leave,
We must take care of her:
Wash all dishes
Vacuum the floor in the house
Wash and cook soup!
Let from everyone, from all worries
Mother will rest now!
Today in the house - I'm for my mother ...
Here!..
Gradually, Korcheganov, the poet, expands and deepens his creative searches, begins to write not only for children, but also for adults, raises topics that cover the most different sides our life.
Accordingly, the palette of artistic and visual means, poetic images has become much richer in his lyrics. V. Korcheganov was talked about among readers and critics, along with A. Gromykhin, other well-known Russian poets (S. Makarov, I. Deordiev, S. Skachenkov) actively joined in the translations of his poems, the composers of Mordovia did not bypass them with their attention .
They attracted them with their lyricism, musicality, melody. Thus were born songs based on the verses of V. Korchiganov “My Spring”, “I sing about Mordovia ...”, “Letter to a Poet”, “Willow”, “Rowan Bleeding”, “May Bird Cherry”, “Mother”, “Song of Happiness”, which can often be heard performed by amateur and professional artists and collectives of the republic. This is no coincidence, it is enough to quote from the above songs even a few lines:
I'm happy when they bloom
There are gardens in my village.
And quietly melt over the river
Rays of a reddish star ...

Chorus:
Happiness is just a little:
This is the home road...
It's spring and winter...
This is the smile of the Beloved! ..
Song of happiness
It is felt that the smile of the Beloved is really important for the poet, and he constantly refers to Her exciting image in his poems, confessing: “I want to collect all the tenderness of flowers and give, Beloved, to You! ..”; “You disturb me alone, like a Muse, live in me, like a quivering impulse ...” (“Songs of the Heart”); “Your letters are music to my soul!” ("I miss you …"); "I'm afraid to lose you! You are alone, only alone! .. ”(“ Beloved ”); “My love keeps roaming, does not come off, brightening, to nothing ...” (“Guardian Angel”); “Even if you say:“ No! ”, It’s still good !!!” (“Etude on a cosmic flower…”); “Spring day in nature breathes gently ... And I miss you again ...” (“Spring day ...”).
Even in the light shining in the evening window of the beloved, the lyrical hero seems to think: “I love!” (“Keep me warm”). At times, this Love even acquires some kind of cosmic scope: “You and I are one flower! Maybe cosmic!..” (“Etude on a cosmic flower…”). For the lyrical hero, the feeling of Love is so great, all-consuming that he is even ready to burn like a comet in its burning depths: “Give me at least a sip of burning love! ..” (“I am sad ...”), singing at the top of his voice , at the same time, the life-giving power of Love-Forget-Me-Not:
When I was dying of longing
And life tormented me terribly,
With a movement of the sacrificial hand
Forget-me-not saved me...
forget-me-not
And now, when he has long entered the time of maturity and wisdom, the poet especially appreciates that Love, where everything - both joys and sorrows - is divided in half, and it is precisely this Love that he calls to keep sacred and bear all his life:
How the moon smiled at us then,
In the predawn silence of the river.
And the future seemed bright
Like glare on a moon wave.
We share joys together, sorrows,
And I hurry home from work.
Like our love is just the beginning
Like the first date with you.
First love
The poet's poems about Mother and Russia are also filled with a great feeling of Love. And as a truly grateful son, he prays to God for one thing: that his mother, who until now, “when ... puts her hand on her shoulder, fatigue will disappear immediately,” would always “be healthy! ..” (“Perhaps I, as before, , unlucky ...") and "... just to make Russia younger! ..", because "life is always bright with Russia! .." ("Youth").
And largely because he has them, “the heart composes gentle songs - to people and stars, to a quiet river ...” (“No, gloomy thoughts will not take me ...”). The poet is immensely grateful to fate for the fact that she gave him a large number of real friends who are “sometimes more precious than even a brother”, and he is ready to share with them even “life - and that one ... in half” (“It’s good to talk with friends ...”).
His real friends are, first of all, the sons and grandsons of those who, in the harsh years of the Great Patriotic War, defended their native land with weapons in their hands. Many left and did not return, “for all time” remaining in the hearts of their wives and mothers with an unmeasurable grief (“Mother”), and only photographs where they are still young are “merged with the memory of mothers with the pain of the righteous!” ("Photograph").
The poet carefully carries the feat of the heroes of war and home front through all his poetic creativity (« Last letter”, “Wounds of War”, “Father’s Willows”, “Ballad of Fire”, “Victory Day”, “Memory”, “Not Forgotten”, “Soldier’s Mother”, “Ballad of Signalers”, “Tankman”, “June Morning "). At the same time, he is often worried about why the memory of this feat is weakening every year, most often we remember the winners only on great days. This motive sounds with particular pain in the poem "The Old Blacksmith":
... Died in the forge of the old
lonely blacksmith,
Not having lived up to the Victory -
Died like in a war...
Bloody rowan ...
The war was suffocating...
Time blindly rippled
As always...
And horses don't roam here...
Our villages are withering away...
Who will remember the forge?
Only rowan -
And everything...
A poet-citizen who grew up and was brought up in the conditions of Soviet reality, V. Korchiganov also writes with pain about the fate of modern Russia. He very keenly perceives the changes taking place in the country, which, unfortunately, are not always positive, which do not fit well with the concepts of goodness and justice. Therefore, at times the poet's voice acquires a mournful tone:
I'm tired of living and always doubting.
Where is the homeland to which he was betrayed?
“Which country should I give myself to?” -
My son asks me about this.
And again the pain in the vise compresses the heart ...
And again tears ... God, my God!
My country is not healing at all ...
And again the clouds over my country.
"I'm tired of living and always doubting..."
Many people talk about this household level, but very few find the courage to declare it publicly.
And the poet's voice acquires a completely different tone when he writes about his contemporaries - people of labor, since it is quite justified that he continues to believe that only real labor - labor for your own joy, for the benefit of your family, for the well-being of your homeland - is a measure of the true morality of a person. , the basis of the prosperity of the whole society. Therefore, his voice sounds in these verses sincerely, uplifted, like an exciting song. V. Korcheganov does not hide his reverence for a man of labor, for whom it is not so much the material side of the matter that is important, but the feeling of joy and satisfaction from what has been done, respect from society. Therefore, in the poems of the poet, even iron “sings in every way”, “shavings ... ring with a string” (“Labor”), and to the builder, who raised “like a wondrous miracle, hundreds of new buildings”, “the birch bowed in the wind” (“Builder”) . With no less love, V. Korchiganov sings of representatives of other professions (“Dedication to the Doctor”, “District Officer”, “Singer”, “Guys from the OMON”, “On Our Street”, etc.). He himself is grateful to fate for the fact that let him “spring is long gone, hiding somewhere”, but:
... it was not in vain that cast
in the accomplishments of the youth of the year,
and like golden awards
calluses swollen from work.
And with a feeling of deep satisfaction he admits:
Let fatigue come sometimes
but I left a trace in my life!
In the branches of fate, the fruits remained,
Although the flowers are long gone ...
Spring is gone
At the same time, one cannot fail to note such a feature of the poet’s “productive” poems: in them, the creativity of labor is often shown against the background and in close relationship with nature, as if the Almighty himself helps a person in his good deeds. This is especially emphasized in the poem "Rain":
Where there is a sea, where there is a river,
That's where the clouds are born.
The wind drives them around the world
And collects in clouds
Then from them, from cumulus,
And the pouring rain is pouring down.
And all the crops, all the fields
He irrigates with moisture,
And the earth pleases people
Good harvest.
There are in the creative baggage of the poet and purely landscape poems. Even some of the examples we have given children's collection"Meadow-meadow" show that these poems are filled with the joy of being, the exciting beauty of already established or just awakening nature. However, they are all equally lyrical and melodic, each in its own way affects the soul and heart. Some have only a few lines, not a big study, and - the whole world amazing colors, in their constant changeability and fleetingness affirming the eternity of life. Therefore, the poet calls for a closer communion with nature, to strive for fusion with it, to look more often even at the mountain ash, which "resurrect goodness in us", help to brighten "a rusty soul ..." ("Rowan").
But doesn’t the following poem of the poet help to brighten the soul - “She is not a beauty ...” ?! There is so much purity, spontaneity, chastity in it, and at the same time some kind of merry mischief:
She's not a beauty
Don't pass by - but don't
ugly...you'll regret it later!
In love with Lieutenant
sweet little girl.
All guys from crazy,
and laughs out loud
Will faithful wife,
From a Mordovian village
warm your soul with it...
weird girl!
The poems of V. Korcheganov “Terdikht paksyan panchfne” (“The flowers of the field are calling”) and “Makar atyan tevots” (“The case of grandfather Makar”) are also significant in their own way. They affirm the ideas of goodness, justice, continuity and indissolubility of generations.
Along with creative searches in poetry, V. Korcheganov actively manifests himself in prose.
In total, he published about ten collections of poems, poems, short stories, fairy tales and novellas in Moksha and Russian. In addition to “Luganyase-laimonyase (“Meadow-meadow”), these are: Sudban tyashte” (“Star of Destiny”, 1977, “Ozhuka, monts” (“Wait, I myself”, 1980), “My friend is the sun” (1984 ), "Spring" (1986), "Penalty Kick" (1988), "Magic Bag. Owner of the Spring" (1995), "Unquenchable Light" (1998), "Warmth of the Soul" (2000), "People's Fates" (2007 ).
And now, dear reader, before you - A new book member of the Writers' Union of Russia Vladimir Nikolaevich Korcheganov. I wonder what it's about?
Will we open?
Vasily Demin,
doctor philological sciences,
Professor.

***
No, we haven't fallen out of love yet.
We live under our own star...
Watch more often
On mountain ash
And become purer soul!

They remind me of my childhood...
Village...
Good silence...
They did live
Next door...
They cradled the moon...

Let them in the cities -
Other...
But the connection didn't stop at all.
In their nature...
They are GOOD!
And goodness is resurrected in us!

To be better...
To be loved...
To save the globe...
... Look more often at mountain ash!!!...
Shine a rusty soul...

ON OUR STREET

Not some resort
And the submariner
Ace sailor
A beautiful carpenter is building a house,
Brave guy-merry fellow!

Behind
Naval service...
Thanks...
Icons...
He lays a pearl brick,
All movements are easy!

It's no accident, of course...
And the concrete here is not concrete...
gaze
queens here
Boy
Gently irradiated!

The girl looks playfully
Jokes again
With fun...
Means,
It's beautiful in autumn
Together they will move into this house ...

sun beam
On a white dress!
A ray from the sun or from the cheeks?..
Crazy wedding will ring!
What else?
And what else?!

SONGS OF THE HEART

We met at midnight...
How the stars sparkled for us!
And you asked me to write something...
And my heart warmed up.
And the birches
They stood quietly
As if to say
wanted something
Gentle, kind...
And from that time
Since that sweet time
You disturb me alone, like a Muse,
Living in me like a trembling
impulse...
Oh, this golden inevitability!
You alone draw lines in Destiny!
I want to collect
Flowers all Tenderness
And give, Beloved, to You! ..

YOUTH

Youth, like a spring day, has passed.
But there is still a lot of blue in the soul ... What am I? ..
If only to get younger Russia!
And with Russia, life is always bright!

I am not sad from ailments and powder ...
What are these ailments and powders to me ...
Well I carry my Russian burden!!!
There is no more honorable and dearer burden!

I will not bend under this burden!
Youth is gone. But enough power...
If only to get younger My Russia!!!
Blossom, Young Rus'!!!...

THE LIGHT IS NEGOTIABLE...

There is an amazing light in your eyes!
Light unquenchable? Light unceasing?
I believe: Love will not come to naught,
How your desired image does not melt ...

You told me a distant star!
You told me with a desired heart ...
Glow with UNEARTHLY TENDERNESS -
Light unquenchable!
The world is unceasing!

I MISS YOU...

Evening... The wind drives
The snow is gray...
Where are you, my love?!
What, oh, what's wrong with you?!...

Do you hear how the heart
Ardent knocking?!
Write a line...
Do not be silent...

Your letters are music
For my soul!
Or have you forgotten everything?!
Write!!!...

After all, love is forever!
You are alone in destiny!
.
..I would like this evening
Fly to you...

OLD SMITH

There is no forge for a long time,
What stood behind our village ...
And the path is overgrown with swan
Forgetting about the past...

Only the mountain ash burns with fire,
Remembers the old blacksmith...
And he can tell everything about him -
To end...

How early he got up
How to forge victory
Like a crutch
At midnight
Moaning alone...

Died in an old forge
Lonely blacksmith.
Not having lived up to the Victory -
Died like in a war...

Bloody rowan...
The war was suffocating...
Time blindly rippled
As always...

And horses don't roam here...
Our villages are withering again...
Who will remember the forge?
Only rowan -
And everything...

STUDY ON A COSMIC FLOWER...

You look like a star!
All of you - from the radiance!
I always go to you
In thoughts and desires!

So many, so many years
Heart disturbed!
Even if
You say "No"
Still good!!!

I saved you in my soul!
Delicate, chaotic...
You and I are one flower!
Maybe space!

I'm upset...
You don't love me anymore...
Why fell out of love?
I now
Live alone
Among the rags of life,
With gray-haired melancholy
Look at the door...
And listen
Listen,
Listen,
Listen:
May be,
Your footsteps will sound...
But only
Sorrow
instill
In a sick soul!
Give
Even a sip
Burning love!

"I'm tired of living and always doubting ...
Where is the Motherland to which he was betrayed?
To which fatherland should I surrender myself? -
My son asks me about this.

And again the pain in the vise compresses the heart ...
And again tears ... God, my God!
My country is not healing at all ...
And again the clouds over my country...

LOVE SONG

I melt from your embrace
I share my dream with you.
With you I -
Forever Young!!!
Oh, how fresh your dress flutters!
And I can't take my lips off you.
I would become a cold ice floe without you...
ABOUT! I will never leave you!!!
Whisper to me that I always love you!

DARLING

I'm afraid to lose you!
You are the one, the only one!
I live again, as if on pins and needles ...
I'm hardly going to be cool...

And your fate is mine!
And your hand is in mine!
And your soul is in mine!
Kiss me soon!
And we will forget the fuss...
The evening is getting softer...
You are alone-
In my destiny!
I can live without you
Grim!..
Darling!..

Spring day
In nature breathes gently...
And I miss you again...
And it's all like a dream!
How inevitable!
Are you alone
Alone in my Destiny?!
Haven't seen you for a long time...
Where are you?
With whom you are?
But I believe
What are you coming to me...
I bow down to you
And you will be in star ribbons
My rebellious hands
Burn in fire...

There is no sadness, no fun ...
Something new
Entered my soul...

flew away
Like a cloud of spring
From me you
To spite yourself...

You will suffer
You will repent...
As long as you smile...

It's not always
Dreams Come True.
I know:
soon you
Boil off...

And rowan already
shattered,
Flew all over in the wind...
Out of love?..
you again
Love me!!!

I don't call you, I don't call you

FORGET-MENT

When I was dying of longing
And life tormented me terribly,
With a movement of the sacrificial hand
Forget-me-not saved me...

No, not a flower -
He is very small...
He's fragile...
And weary wither...
I called you forget-me-not
Longing for sweet desires...

Let you forget and leave
And me at night
It's creepy again
Standing on the edge of the table
In an old glass
Forget-me-not...

Here we go
Bright days...
Summer, where
Where are you going?..
Tired soul
Worrying again...
You are at least a little
Wait a minute...

Well, after autumn
It will be winter.
That's how it is in life
Withered our...

sadly wandering
Among the fallen maples...
In a tired heart
Corns sum...

It's good to talk with friends.
Do not dissemble
And give warmth.
Only rarely
Together with friends -
It's like it's different
It's a shame to live...

Gently friend
I'll take your hand.
And let's forget
Life is a mess.

friend at times
More than even a brother -
I will trust
Completely him!

I'm always glad
Loyal friends.
people
What they don't dig
Vile pits...

Here again
"Shumbrat!" I hear native...

Life - and that
I'm with a friend - in half! ..

breathe
Cold coolness
dawns,
Lulling silence...

For my village
Summer is leaving
wings
Green
Waving...

It's all gone...
And only in the soul - corns,
Yes, gray thoughts about everything ...

died down
My life is a storm...
Autumn is sick
Entering an old house...

MY SPRING

Have some whiskey...
And I won't sleep again
Remembering the past...
But I believe in Russia
Like in spring.
And spring-
Always young!

flourish,
Favorite country!
Collect
Lost powers...
After all, in this world
You are alone
For me, spring
MY RUSSIA!

When she
Put your hand on your shoulder
Fatigue disappears immediately.
Oh mom!
For you, I'm still small ...
And you're afraid
Envy and evil eye.

Maybe me,
As before, useless
And I forgot the threshold
Native blood...
I know:
You do not love
Loud words...
But please, Lord
May you be healthy!

WINTER STUDY

Empty, without apples, branches
Draws on the windows of winter ...
I don't close my eyelids again
And gently go crazy ...

I think about my beloved
Which is far...
And my winters are all visible...
And the heart is so hard! ..

I'm happy,
When they bloom
Sick gardens in the village
And quiet
Melting over the river
Rays of a reddish star ...

Good thoughts come...
And again, at odds with himself,
Ordinary earthly life...

All my days are red dates!
Let there be no orders on the chest ...
But how much do you need
When you
Halfway to the truth?!

EVENING IN THE VILLAGE

I remember: the village, the evening ...
The moon floats over the river...
Your hair flows over your shoulders.
And there is silence all around...

And the eyes are so familiar!
They beckon me and make me drunk!
Where are you now, my beautiful?!
By which fire are you sitting?..

My curls are already silver...
So much sad silver! ..
Why do I still dream
Those distant evenings?

GUARDIAN ANGEL

Again tenderness
Souls open...
All vain -
Passed...
I whisper before sleep
Like a prayer
Your sacred name!
Let it be late
We met...
What...
Perhaps such a fate?
You have become more precious to me!
I won't forget you!
So it is necessary, probably, nature
For stellar thousands of years...
My love keeps on spinning
Doesn't go away, brighter, vanishes...
And the years are quieter, more visible.
Nothing can be returned to us...
But the name, beloved name,
Will forever be in your heart!

LETTER TO A POET

Breathe white cherry
May sunrise...

Lonely by the window
A star has fallen...

Your letters in me
My favorite poet!
I always remember you...

I remember your hands...
And your lips...
Oh, how mournfully the nightingale sings!..
We hardly ever meet...
But my heart hurts so much!
Know: for a long time she became yours!

Lonely in the hut...
May dawn only
Nightingale
Yes, there is a star in the window ...
Your songs are in me
My favorite poet!
I always remember you!

Do not forget the mother of the son
All thoughts -
Only about him!

And in dreams he sees again:
Again, the son is in his own home ...

Did not die in that bloody
Forty-first year...

And wake up - from sorrow
Unbearable!..

He will not come, dear!
In the forty-first year
I got up forever, epic,
Blocking the trouble
So that in the Russian expanses
She didn't love...

Mother's grief
For all times!
Grief will become an epic
The connection of centuries will not be interrupted ...
He sees his son's mother again...
Praying again... Waiting...

Prayers live!
Memory will cope with the war!
The battles are not over
The son is coming home!

What's wrong with me, I don't know...
But I don't go by myself
Just listen, my dear
Your voice...

My feelings-
YOUNG!!!
In heart -
Trembling tremor...

to your album
I put flowers
And I hope:
You will understand everything!
You open the album gently -
Like your youth
Returning inevitably...

I adore you!!!
Do you remember how the moon turned pale
Are we jealous of you?..

So many years have flown by!
God, how bright the moon!
How wise and stupid!

And you again -
QUEEN!!!
... As soon as I hear your voice ...

No they won't take me
Dark thoughts.

Heart open
Live-stubble...
I rejoice in the sun!
Enjoying the life!
I live quietly...

Heart composes
Gentle songs -
People and stars
Quiet river...

And that's why I -
Delicate sorcerer!
Is it a magician
Will he be sad?

Ah, to what
The whole earth is beautiful!
Breathe blue space!
Know:
I live for one I Russia!
Only for Russia
My magic!

Neither old age nor slumber will take the heart ...
Life is beautiful only in reality!
I love work - up to a sweat!
That's probably why I live!

All hands on strength!
All soul power!
I can't be otherwise!
I work for Mother Russia!
We are all, we are all indebted to her!

Be generous, niva!
And the earth is beautiful!
No enemy will be terrible
If on the land of Mother Russia
There will be so many faithful hard workers! ..

I am a MOKSHANIN!

I am a moksha!
And I'm proud of it!
My people - patient and kind -
Supports great Rus',
Like the silver-bearded Atlas...
I am a moksha!

Grace in our quiet land.
Nightingales sing after Moksha...
In the old house, my mother is waiting for me.
What is the temptation to me overseas?! ..
I am a moksha!
The people will always be in friendship.
No one can take away his power.
With all my heart I believe in Russia!
By this faith the soul lives!
I am a moksha!

I'm proud of my destiny!
My people are hardworking and kind
Supports great Rus',
Like the silver-bearded Atlas...
I am a moksha!

NATIVE LANGUAGE

I thank my mother
What do I say in Moksha.
From the word "mother" a speech arose ...
And, like a mother,
We all need to protect it
And glorify in songs!

My tongue is bright and great
Like Russian, like any language!

PHOTOS

Autumn gilding...
My heart hurts...
Back to an old photo
Mother looks sadly...

And in the picture - three sons ...
The war will not return them ...
Rowan bleeds.
She seems to be in grief.

Mother escorted to the front
Young sons...
The photo trembled again
She's so hot!

Do photographs cry?
They are crying... They are getting sicker...
The pain of the righteous is merged
In memory of mothers!

Three sons will not return...
And sadness can not be relieved ...
Quietly crying mountain ash
Bleeding again...

I remember
I remember that crazy year...
Autumn...
Our station...
We are escorting father to the front ...
He waves his cap to us ...

Childhood ended at the same moment.
God, how much we experienced!
Instead of children's fun games
We plowed on bulls ...

And the father did not come from the war -
Was killed in forty-five...
Joy of the glorious Victory and shock -
Returned to the village
Two soldiers!
It was about fifty...
Do not measure our grief ...
...The guys are being escorted off to serve.
And flowers, and a sea of ​​​​smiles ...

But I can't watch without crying
When they wave their pilot...
No matter how they have to
Lie down on the evil pillboxes...

Like again
Cruel lead
Not whipped
In our arable land...
me at night
Father is dreaming.
He is a cap
Waving me...

GUYS FROM OMON

Yes, they are brave and strong

Glorious militia of the country -
These are the guys
strong guys,
You will still hear
About them!

You will still hear about them
About the heavy weekdays of the fire,
Bullet, knife, noose and brass knuckles
In your life
They won't leave a trace!

Yes, they protect our peace,
They shed their blood sometimes.
Low bow to them
For hard work!
road,
Terribly expensive
Our peace...

They are brought in zinc coffins.
To them
Fate is not kind.
The tears of the young bride ...
road,
Terribly expensive
Our peace!

Yes, they are brave and strong
And they were in difficult alterations ...
Glorious militia of the country -
These are the guys
strong guys,
You will still hear
About them!

MY PUSHKIN...

My Pushkin!
You are with me,
Don't replace you
Nobody!
I believe that you
Not 200...
You are forever 37!
You are like a beam
good light
Against the background of vulgar nonsense
Me, a Moksha poet,
Inspire again
To poetry!
you make me
beautiful,
Lead like a wise man
Older brother!
Shumbrat, Poet!
Shumbrat! Shumbrat!
You are the true light
Russia!

You are beautiful nightingales
They sing at Moksha's clear-faced ...
You will be forever! - great
All your poems are immortal!

The destiny of the poet is to be himself,
Not submitting to evil fate ...
My Pushkin
I am always with you,
And you always
Always alive
How it should be
Prophet!
As long as Russia exists in the world,
While the planet is still alive
To you, as a Light-poet
Will be rewarded
Righteous honor!

My Pushkin!
You are with me,
Don't replace you
Nobody!
I believe that you
Not 200...
You are forever 37!

THE JOY OF LIFE

Breathe life
happy flowers,
Gently embraces all living ...
Just never
Won't be with us
Enjoy life boys
Burn for us
In the battles of the past
Not having time
Lay down your lines...
Seems,
That their shadows roam again.
Of the past
Don't count the steps...
And not all
Enemies Defeated...

THE STAR IS GOING OUT AGAIN…

The stars are falling, falling...
Ah, that starry shiver...
Why,
Why in my memory
Are you living well?

Young!
Beautiful!!!
And - holy, I say! ...
And love
You
I can hardly keep...

You are alone,
Like a poet's muse!
And - more -
soul!
But again
No answer…
The star goes out again
A little breath...

Again a stellar entanglement
Embraced by the eye…
How do we
Forever with you
Be together,
Together?

No answer…
And I'm not happy with life...
What are the stars
So passionately and gently burning?

Try weigh love...
Can you find the scales?
Love…
Love…
You color my life!
Oh my God,
How we loved each other!
I still
I still love you!
My love -
You are a sunny song!
And fortunately
Multipath trail...
So what,
That we are not together!
Love you!
And here is the line!

YOUR BIRCH

On your birches
I look out the window.
And on the street soon
Spring will come!

And your birches
They will be so green!
And me again
Dream
Spring dreams...

You will be in these dreams again
Young, good...
And calling your eyes
Feel the soul again!

In the meantime, birches
They wave branches to me ...
And like me, dream again
About gentle spring...

Ah, birches! Birches -
Memories of first love...
Ah, young soul
Talk about love!

Past your windows
I'll go very quietly.
And you on the porch
I'll put another star...

Open the doors in the morning
Smile at the rays...
And the birches will whisper
What we know...

SPRING

Sun tenderness
Radiated…
March
Drunk you and me!
And your eyes
ignite
Starfall await
Fire!
Ah, your eyes!
How many secrets are in them!
How much tenderness
Blue!
I would die instantly
Without your love!
Well stay some more
a little
With me!
And spring is calling
Creek!
And she is like you
Young!
Forever-
GENTLE!
Forever-
NEW!
And I'm in trouble with her -
No problem!

Never let life
Doesn't end
Starfall
Waiting for fire!
Sun tenderness
Radiated!
March intoxicates
You and me!

FRECKLES

Spring kissed the girl
And on the cheeks
left freckles.
That girl
Entered my dreams
And now she
Girlfriends envy.

In her freckles
The sun's gentle light.
In her eyes -
The radiance of the unearthly ...
And the girl -
Just 17 years old!
Do you even know what it is!

We drown everything
NEAR…

Is it in him
Will we perish?

We need
be kinder
And then
We will die completely!

Believe
TO BEAUTY!
Otherwise there is no life...

Don't quit
INTO EMPTINESS
given to us
Planet!

She is for everyone
ONE!
Another
It won't be anymore!…

… But Black Satan
Judith and Judith...
SINGER
I dedicate to M.N. Antonova
In your songs
Sincere, sonorous -
The essence of the people and their dreams.
Became
Our gentle lark
with voice
Pearl beauty.

You sing -
And the winds are getting younger.
And sadness and discomfort go away ...
On the ground
There are no more beautiful singers!
And they
Not like you, they sing!

Of marvelous songs
gentle rays
edge of birches
They glorify...
Your voice
Sounds in my soul
And me, the poet, inspires!

LOVE SONG

I melt from your embrace
I share with you
With your dream...
With you I -
FOREVER YOUNG!
Oh how fresh
Your dress flutters!

And from you
Don't rip my lips off.
I would be without you
Cold ice…
ABOUT! Never
I won't leave you!
Whisper to me
What do you want
I always love!

HEART SONG

They said goodbye to you at midnight.
Above us
The stars sparkled.
And you asked me
Something to write...

Now about you alone
Birch trees rustle and rustle,
Composing songs of the heart...
And I dream about you!

Dreams turn into lines...
And your lips
Everyone is dreaming!
Good!
Expensive!
Whisperer of my nights...
When are those May nights
Will they return to us forever?
I only sing about you!
I am your eternal nightingale!

Everyone is waiting for you!
I'm waiting...
And in the heart - sadness ...
And in the spring park
Where we wandered
your footprints...
I remember them by heart...
your footprints...

I'm here again
I'm wandering alone again...
And, like a dull candle, I burn,
And my heart is tight
In the chest...

Ile never
I don't love you?!

Very very
Loves Light
Chocolate candies…
If there are no sweets -
Roar…
Calm down, Svetik-Sveta!
Teeth are ruined
Candies!
Have you forgotten about this?
You need teeth
Sorry!
How will you
Without teeth
Gnawing radishes and carrots? ...

BEAR

Spring!
Spring!
It's time to get up!
Is it possible to
So much sleep?
Take a walk in the forest
Bear,
Say hello to the bunny
wolf,
Squirrel and fox...
All the animals in the big forest!
You are so many
Didn't see it!
And in the den
Slept and slept...

Pine -
Like a red needle!
You look:
In the forest of needles
How many!
But this one -
Above all!
You can barely see the top!
Wants to plunge into the cloud
Pointed pine!
But butting is not good -
You are the sister of the cloud!
But the pine is swaying
And again…
Butting!…

CLOUDS

Rinse
plump sides
There are big clouds in the pond.
And I'm standing
I look at them
Not understanding them, big ...
This was not the case anywhere:
They are in the sky and in the water!
And here and there
Both there and here
They float lightly!…

I'M DRAWING…

I am a snowflake
I'll draw...
I love drawing so much!
And also a big moon
And frosty dawn!
On a tiny leaf
I will fit everything in the world ...
Let the dawn fail -
I'm not sad at all!
Will
In the evening again
To draw again!

ASSISTANT

smells
Today is a spring day!
To go to work tomorrow
Mom vigorously leave,
Necessary
Take her worries:
Wash all dishes
Vacuum the floor in the house
wash
And cook soup!
Let from everyone
From all worries
Today mom
Rest!
Today in the house - I'm for my mother ...
Here!…

Wanders
cloud
Over the meadow...
And already threatened
Rain!
Gotta leave quickly
Svetka and Natalka...
What's in vain
To piss off the cloud?
You are not blotters!

SUN

sun-sun,
Let's
Because of the clouds
Get out!
We are all waiting
Your rays!
What are you bringing
Friends!?…

RINGS

On a sheep
On a sheep
Again - white rings!
And she was offended
Grandma cut her hair!
It's good that the sheep
Rings grow so fast!
And granny
Whole evening
Fine yarn is spun…
- Really from rings?!
- From the rings ...
Here…
Grandmothers love it
From rings
Mittens!…

not easy
peasant bread
Very!
Peasant in the field
Days and nights...
Bread does not exist
Easily.
After all - like a wrinkle
Furrow!

lived
Cocky Goose.
He couldn't
No fights!
He is with everyone
Could fight...
could fight
Just!
It's good that you are
Doesn't look like Goose!

Our Zinochka
Again
Became a sneak
Call for!
And she gave her word
What will fix...
So what?
Began to sneak
Again!
Give away all friends
Ready...
What are you, Zinochka,
Are you crying?
If you betray
You guys for pranks
Will
call me a scavenger
Without you
Until old age!

Look:
Like a turkey
Gently looks
For girlfriends!
As if
To put it mildly,
Not a turkey
And the King of the Court!
I would moderate my arrogance a little:
After all, he is sick with arrogance!
Turkeys
Such
Eat
However, in each
School!

Likes to catch flies
Spider,
He can not
Live
No flies...
Today
To your networks
He lured two at once!
Oh friends
For sure
Will destroy greed
Spider!

MY SPRING

Have some whiskey. And I won't sleep again.
Remembering the past with the soul.
I believe in Russia as in spring!
And spring is always young! 2 times

Chorus:
My spring,
My spring is Russia!
She is one
Forever is my destiny!
She, as of old, will master all adversity!
And I believe in Russia, as in myself 2 times

Blossom, beloved country!
Gather the faded forces...
After all, in this world you are alone
For me, spring is my Russia 2 times

Chorus is the same

I SING ABOUT MORDOVIA…

Noisy bread in my land,
Gilded birches are burning ...
I sing about Mordovia!
I sing about her 2 times
All my life hunting

Chorus:
I sing about Mordovia.
There is no edge, more beautiful for the soul!
I love her with all my heart - 2 times
The beautiful sister of Russia.

Gardens bloom, fields rustle,
How good it is on the starry Moksha ...
Blossom: My Mordovia, 2 times
Let your birches rustle ...

Chorus is the same
The soul commands to sing about you.
I can't imagine my destiny without you...
I am the nightingale of your land! 2 times
You are dearer to me than life.

Chorus is the same

LETTER TO A POET

The May dawn breathes white bird cherry ...
Lonely, a star descended to the window ...
Your letters are in me, my favorite poet!

Chorus:
I remember the dawn over spring Moksha:
Our faces in the river reflected the water ...
I love you dearly, beloved poet!
I remember you, I always remember you! 2 times

I remember your hands and lips...
Oh, how mournfully the nightingale sings
It is unlikely that we will meet, but the soul hurts so much!
Know, for a long time, know, for a long time she became yours! 2 times

Chorus is the same

Alone in the hut ... only the May dawn,
Nightingale, yes, a star descended to the window
Your letters are in me, my beloved pet!
I remember you, I always remember you! 2 times

Chorus is the same

Willows whisper over the river,
What a night! - look,
Come out with me
Listen to the wind until dawn.

Chorus:
Come out, my dear!
You look like spring!
You shine with beauty...
I love you one! 2 times

You come across the sky
Our path is one.
Stars of heavenly strawberries
Both grainy and large!

Chorus is the same

Red berries from the sky
A meteorite will slide...
Am I waiting in vain?
A fire burns in my heart!

Chorus is the same

ROWAN BLOOD

Autumn gilding...
My heart hurts...
Back to an old photo
Mother looks sadly...

Chorus:
Three sons will not return.
The war will not return them ...
rowan bleeds,
Like in those days! 2 times

Remembers how she saw off
Mother to the front of sons...
The photo trembled again
She's so hot!

Chorus is the same

Do photographs cry?
They are crying... They are getting sicker...
The pain of the righteous is merged
In memory of mothers!

Chorus is the same

Quietly crying mountain ash
Bleeding again...
Three sons will not return...
And sadness can not be relieved ...

When she puts her hand on her shoulder
Fatigue disappears immediately ...
Oh mom! For you, I'm still small ...
And you are afraid of envy and the evil eye. 2 times

Chorus:
The cherries will bloom again in our garden,
The moon will rise over the spring frozen village...
Mother! You again
Avert trouble ... 2 times
Your gentle hands
I remember holy warmth!

Perhaps, as before, I am unlucky.
And I forgot the threshold of my native shelter ...
I know you don't like big words...
But, Lord, let you be healthy! 2 times

Chorus is the same

MAY BIRTHDAY

May bird cherry blossoms...
And already, for a year now
My father sees gray hair in her
And - yesterday's war ...

Chorus:
No, I didn't fight.
But the flames of war
My childhood burned
Mournful fire...
We are children of war!
We are the tears of the country!
And trouble came
Every home!… 2 times

Instead of legs - sick crutches!
And the awards never arrived...
But the war is not over yet!
The stars shine on you like orders!
Chorus is the same

My old veterans
Remember you cruel enemies!
And the war is not over yet!
Stars shine for us like orders!

Chorus is the same

Let gently every year
May cherry blossoms!
And the fire will not scorch her!
What is the memory, the memory burns like that?!

GREEN-EYED SPRING

I won't be able to sleep again
Or happiness will dream ...
green-eyed spring
Knock on the window!

Chorus:
Spring is always green!
And at least someone will drive you crazy!
I will fall in love with her, of course, immediately ...
But why doesn't she come? 2 times

Oh, how many winters there were in my life!
And autumns have been ...
I lived with one desire
For spring to come!

Chorus is the same

You are the only one left in my heart!
Don't fall in love with someone else...
But what about spring, my spring
Don't knock on the window?

Chorus is the same

SONG ABOUT HAPPINESS

I'm happy,
When they bloom
There are gardens in my village.
And quiet
Melting over the river
Rays of a reddish star ...

Chorus:
Happiness is just a little:
This is the road to the native home ...
It's spring and winter...
This is the smile of the Beloved! ...
Happiness... happiness! 2 times

Good thoughts come
And again at odds with himself.
I admire, as before, I am life,
Ordinary earthly life...

Chorus is the same

All my days are red dates!
Let there be no orders on the chest ...
But how much do you need
When you
Halfway to the truth?!

Chorus is the same

Translation from Moksha by A. Gromykhin

LITTLE JAGER

(story)

Translation from Moksha by A. Terentiev

Dimka had just jumped off the train, which had stopped at a small half-station, and almost ran towards the forest, which was darkening nearby.
He hasn't been here in a while!
The clear blue sky seemed to him the deepest bell ringing with the trills of larks.
When he entered the forest, he inhaled the chilly air, green with leaves and flowering herbs, he completely got tired of rushing to the cordon, where he came to his grandfather the huntsman. From the city, he sent a telegram to his grandfather in advance. Now grandfather is probably already sitting on the porch of the forest cordon and looking at the road, waiting for him, Dimka. Or maybe he is already walking towards, and in front, sniffing the road dust, the dog Baikal is running.
Big dog Baikal!
Dimka imagined how Baikal, breathing heavily from the heat, sniffs the forest road, learning the news: has anyone passed, has it passed?
Unnoticed Dimka reached a fork in the road. Here he was overtaken by the creak of cart wheels and the snort of a horse. Two men were sitting on the cart, talking businesslike about something. Having noticed Dimka, they fell silent.
“Probably to grandfather,” Dimka thought, “for firewood. Grandfather is a forester, he will show them a place for cutting dead wood, he knows everything in the forest.
Dimka loves the forest himself. But the forest is a complete mystery to him. Why is a beautiful oak tree growing among birch trees? What wind brought him here? However, the wind has nothing to do with it, the birch trees may have been brought here by the wind, but acorns do not fly like birch seeds.
The cordon was already close. But for some reason, grandfather was in no hurry to meet, and Baikal was not visible.
Coming closer, Dimka froze, as if a pine needle had pierced his heart: the windows of the forester's house were boarded up crosswise with boards, where the beehives stood, only broken pieces of spongy wax honeycombs lay. What happened here?
Hearing a rustle behind him, Dimka was frightened. But when he saw Baikal merrily wagging its tail, he was delighted. And when he noticed grandfather with a double-barreled shotgun and a backpack on his shoulder, he joyfully exclaimed:
Grandfather! - Dimka rushed to his grandfather. He pulled him to him, gently stroked his head, saying:
It seemed to me in my heart that you would go here, and not to the village. You see, I don't live here anymore.
Why?
So the authorities decided. Say, it makes no sense to keep a cordon here, the village is close. - Grandfather looked around the boarded up house, waved his hand: - Let's go to the village, granddaughter, your grandmother has been waiting for you.
For some reason, my grandfather was silent along the way. But before, he always told Dimka different stories about animals and birds, naming flowers and herbs. They walked for a long time through the forest. Grandfather suddenly stopped and asked:
Yes, you, granddaughter, must be hungry. Let's sit down and have lunch.
He unzipped his backpack, took out food, they ate and fell apart on the grass. Dimka picked a little blue flower, sniffed it, counted the petals, and asked:
Grandfather Misha, do you know how many flowers are in the forest?
Grandpa smiled and smoothed his mustache.
Did you miss the flowers in the city? Nobody knows how many there are in the forest. Well, like the stars in the sky.
Yes, - Dimka sighed, - the teacher told us that it is impossible to count all the stars: some go out, others are born ... And they go out again. Still, I wonder how many flowers are in the forest?
There should be as much as needed for bees, bumblebees and other insects that drink nectar and collect honey.
Only for honey and need flowers? - Dimka, remembering grandfather's honey, involuntarily licked his lips.
Haven't you ever been sick?
I was sick. My throat hurt. Mom called the doctor.
Had to, probably, all sorts of pills to gnaw?
I had to. I don't like them. Bitter.
There is little sweetness in them, that's true. But on the other hand, you were cured... And some medicines are just made from flowers and herbs.
I remembered, - said Dimka, - when a snake bit Baikal last year, he ran into the forest and chewed some kind of grass. And he also recovered. But I still don't like snakes.
Do you ask them if they love you? It is not necessary to step on them, it is better not to interfere with their life ... Let's go, I will show you where the snakes live.
Dimka reluctantly got up from the grass. It didn't take long to reach the serpent dwelling. It was a shallow ravine overgrown with grass. Baikal became agitated and whined.
He remembers where the snakes live, - said the grandfather. - If you, Dimka, are afraid, stay here, and now I ...
Grandfather, raking the tall grass with his hands, stepped into the ravine, walked around there, bent down, and Dimka saw how grandfather had a snake writhing in his hands, clasping his elbow.
Drop it, drop it soon! Sting! Dima shouted.
They know who to bite, - grandfather answered, leaving the ravine.
The boy backed away.
Don't be afraid, it's not a viper, but really. He is not poisonous. There are a lot of them here:
I'm not afraid of already, - Dimka calmed down, - at our school, in a corner of nature, there is already. He has a yellow spot on his head; but snakes don't. I just can't stand snakes!
Well, in vain. After all, snakes are useful creatures, doctors make medicines from their poison. In addition, without snakes, trees in the forest would live poorly.
Why?
Snakes eat mice, and they spoil the young shoots, gnaw the bark.
Grandfather released the snake to the ground, and like a piece of black rope, he slid down to his lair.
And if the snake is completely divorced? – asked Dimka. – There will be nowhere to pass in the forest.
They won’t get divorced, - the grandfather objected, - they also have enemies, hedgehogs, for example ...
Dimka was not lucky this summer. He made it to the third grade successfully. His mother promised to let him go to his grandfather for the whole summer, but the weather seemed to be angry with Dimka: it rained for almost two months in a row. Soon back to school, and Dimka spent most of the holidays at home: he made models of ships and read books. Finally, his mother released him to the cordon. But Dimka was not lucky with the weather in the village either: it began to rain and poured incessantly all day. I didn’t want to go out into the street, the boots immediately became heavy from the mud. And there was nothing to go into the forest and think, there every bush will be doused from head to toe with dampness. Only in the morning the clouds unloaded from the water, the sky cleared up, the earth began to smoke, and began to dry out quickly. And in the evening, when the lights were lit in the houses, Dimka went out into the street. Far away, at the other end of the village, an accordion was playing. Dimka decided to visit his friend Slavik. When grandfather took Dimka to the cordon in the forest, Slavik often went with them.
Today, for some reason, he did not unlock the door for a long time.
Now, now, wait a minute, he said frightened outside the door, as if Dimka had taken him by surprise.
Dimka waited patiently on the porch. It seemed to him that Slavik had already pushed back the bolt, but then a dog's squeal and growl were heard behind the gate. It was Baikal, who came with Dimka, who managed to grapple with some dog passing along the street. Dimka wanted to run away from the porch and disperse the angry dogs. But suddenly something rumbled in the house. Slavik shouted loudly. Dimka quickly flew into the house. The smell of burning hit his nose. Slavik stood by the stove and rubbed his eyes with his hands. Nearby, on the window, a curtain burned. Dimka was confused. But, seeing a bucket of water, he splashed water on the fire. Then he noticed that another curtain was burning, and a tablecloth on the table. The fire was getting closer to the stack of old newspapers on the cupboard. Slavik rubbed his eyes and screamed. Dimka began to push him towards the door, but he was blinded by the smoke, resisted, continued to shout. Dimka also screamed. At his voice, Baikal ran into the house, grabbed Slavik by the trouser leg and pulled him to the door. From the open window, flames shot out: it was the newspapers that caught fire. Slavik coughed, rubbed his burnt eyes with his hands, smearing tears and soot all over his face.
Fire! Fire! shouted Dimka.
The neighbors came running. Under the window was a barrel of water, and the fire was extinguished.
Everyone asked Dimka why the fire broke out, but he himself did not know why. Already at midnight, Slavik's mother came running, also asked questions, cried, said that Slavik would probably go blind now: after the fire, he was taken to the city hospital in a passing car.
I'm to blame, I'm to blame, - she complained to her grandfather and grandmother Anyuta, - I stayed up with the neighbors. Behind them, - she glanced at Dimka, - you need an eye and an eye, how much mind is still!
For a long time Dimka could not fall asleep. He will doze off a little, then he will immediately dream of a fire in which Slavik is burning, and again the Lady drags him out of the fire, saves him again. Or Slavik saves Dimka, as was the case last year.
They went to the river to swim. And there the shepherds drove a flock of sheep to the watering place. Dimka wanted to stroke one curly lamb. But Dimka was attacked by a ram. If Slavik had not driven the ram away with a twig, Dimka would have had a hard time.
If only Slavik's eyes didn't burn out! Dimka thought, and finally fell asleep.
In the morning, grandma Anyuta said that a rumor was circulating in the village that Slavik set fire to a can of gasoline, and everything came from that. Dimka did not know whether to believe or not to believe? In his haste, he did not notice any jar yesterday. Maybe she was. Maybe Slavik wanted to light the stove, dropped a match on the jar, and that's the fire! But he himself will tell everything when he returns from the hospital. Who knows when he'll be back?
Dimka was sad. He lazily leafed through the latest issue of the Young Naturalist magazine, then set to work on the book that his grandfather had advised him to read the day before. Grandpa has a big library. Almost all books are about forest birds and animals, about flowers. He keeps them locked up in a closet. Grandfather handed Dimka the coveted key, but at the same time he warned: "
If you go anywhere, lock the closet, otherwise once Grandma Anyuta distributed half of the library around the village, then collected it for six months. And I need books to work!
Dimka opened the book "Secrets of Nature" - it was called. But as soon as I started reading, Baikal barked in the yard. At the gate the postwoman was stomping. Grandpa came out.
She handed him a letter.
"Maybe it's from my mom?" Dima thought.
Here, read it, - the grandfather gave an envelope to his grandson.
On the corner of the sheet was the stamp of the Moscow Zoo. Dima's heart skipped a beat. But the letter was not addressed to him, but to his grandfather. Dimka printed it out.
“Dear Mikhail Petrovich! – wrote the employee of the zoo. – Please accept our gratitude for the cubs you gave us last summer. They are alive and well. If you are in Moscow, by all means come to us with your grandson, look at the cubs, at Mishka and Masha ... "
Dimka and Grandpa looked at each other with a smile, paused, remembering how last year they saved the lives of two cubs.
Things went like this: they went for mushrooms. Dimka saw how his grandfather loaded his gun with buckshot before leaving and was surprised: did the wolves show up in the area? He did not know that last autumn grandfather came across bear tracks near one mushroom place. Deciding to visit this place, the grandfather took a gun just in case. Having filled their baskets with milk mushrooms, they were already returning home, when suddenly Baikal barked, running ahead. At night there was a strong, probably the last summer thunderstorm, the bushes and grasses were still wet, drops from the branches flew up to Dimka's collar, he did not want to climb into the thicket, but grandfather climbed ahead through the bushes, and Dimka hurried after him, barely dragging a heavy basket. Baikal barked angrily, anxiously. Having got out into the clearing, grandfather and Dimka froze: under a pine tree felled by lightning, something shaggy, brown was motionlessly spread out. And two brown lumps moved side by side.
Oh no no no! Grandpa shook his head sadly. - That's the trouble! Thunder killed the bear. Orphaned bear cubs.
Dimka was afraid to approach the pine tree. Pressed down by a split trunk, a she-bear with a snarled mouth seemed to be alive. But blue flies were already hovering over her.
Calm down! - Grandfather yelled at Baikal, shook mushrooms out of his basket and put squealing bear cubs into it.
Poor things, - said the grandfather, - you have nothing to give. Be patient, we'll feed you at home.
Dimka was delighted with the cubs. He immediately decided that he would take one with him to the city. Friends will be surprised! Oh, and they will envy! They have dogs. And Dimka will have a real bear! The boy decided that at first the bear cub would live in his bedroom, and when he grew up, they would transfer him to his father's garage. Dimka will teach all sorts of tricks, and then he will perform with him in the circus.
To give the cubs milk to drink, the grandfather went to the village.
Bear cubs, bear cubs! the boys shouted. Dimka walked with his head thrown back proudly.
From that day on, village boys and even some girls crowded under their windows from morning to evening. Grandma Anyuta grumbled:
Honey, or what, they feed you here? All the chickens were scared away, chickens are afraid to come up to the house!
Grandfather made a pen for cubs from an iron mesh under the window. Made the door. Passers-by joked: "The zoo is open!" And some enviously grinned: “Anyway, the cubs will not survive, the bear is a forest animal!”
Dimka did not listen to envious people. Together with Slavik, they took care of the cubs: they fed them milk from a bottle with a nipple, and then they began to feed them with berries, sweets, and bread. The bears ate everything.
When there was a week left before the end of the holidays, Dimka had already chosen a larger basket in which he would take one bear cub to the city. But one day an uncle in a hat came to the village in a passenger car. He came straight to their house, went up to the cage, snapped his fingers on it, looked at the cubs, smiled:
Good animals! Better not to find.
Dimka and Slavik smiled too.
Let them out for a walk? the stranger asked.
But how! - the grandfather answered for the guys, who went out onto the porch. - But very naughty.
Nothing, - said the man, - they will have even more fun with us.
Dimka was dumbfounded. He guessed: the cubs will be taken away somewhere. Grandfather looked at him, sighed and invited the stranger into the house. There they talked about something at the table for a long time. Only later did Dimka find out that after capturing the cubs, his grandfather went into the forest, buried the bear, and when he returned, wrote a letter to Moscow. The stranger came about the grandfather's letter. He was a zookeeper.
Dima's tears and persuasions did not help: he had to part with the cubs. It was a pity for them. It seemed to Dimka that no one could take care of the cubs better than him and Slavik, which in big city they get sick and die.
But just now this letter came from the zoo, and Dimka was delighted: the cubs are alive!
Shall we go to Moscow? Grandpa asked.
When? Dima burst out.
Next summer.
Okay, Dimka agreed, although he was ready to go to the capital even now.

The days passed, the weather was fine, it didn’t rain either in the evening or at night. The swallows began to fly high. Before sunset, grandfather brought home fishing rods, began to straighten floats and fishing lines. “Hurrah,” Dimka exulted, “let’s go fishing tomorrow!”
His grandfather woke him at dawn, as soon as the herd was driven through the village.
Get up, get up, fisherman, sleep well! - the grandfather of the grandson hurried. But Dimka still could not open his eyes, as if someone had sewn up his eyelids with a thread. Dimka was still yawning over a mug of fresh milk. And Baikal, sensing the fees, beat the porch with its tail, hurried the fishermen.
On the way, grandfather explained to Dimka:
I know one fish whirlpool, for a long time, however, I haven’t been there, today we’ll look there. You can pick up fish there.
Why do we need rods then?
Grandpa smiled.
I see you are not a stupid guy ... Maybe we should have taken nonsense?
And what? Maybe bullshit?
Then it would be better to stock up on explosives. All our fish, both big and small, would have hooted, and for others - only fish scales.
Dimka realized that his grandfather was making fun of him, fell silent, and he suddenly remembered Slavik when his grandfather mentioned explosives. But what if Slavik got some explosives somewhere to kill fish, and it exploded? What's wrong with his eyes now? He was taken to Odessa for treatment. Odessa is far away, by the Black Sea.
Dimka thought about his comrade, about the sea, and grandfather led him to a still pool. The water here was blue-blue, the color of heaven.
It's very deep here, - said the grandfather, handing Dimka a shorter fishing rod, - float higher up, make a bottom descent. Catfish and bream lie at the bottom. Maybe you'll pick up one.
Grandfather scattered top dressing over the pool: grain boiled in oil.
Sit still, - reminded Dimka, - although the fish is in the water, it hears well.
They threw their fishing rods, began to wait. From the cliff it was visible how small fishes greedily grab the top dressing, but do not touch the baited hooks.
"Wait," Grandpa whispered. - Sit still.
But there was no silence. Baikal crawled out of the bushes. Resting his front paws in the sand, he dragged a backpack by the strap.
What is it? - the grandfather was surprised. - Whose backpack? Oh you rascal! He dragged someone's backpack, - the grandfather turned to Dimka, - there must be more fishermen here. Wait, I'll be back soon, I'll take the backpack, I'll apologize for the dog.
Grandfather, having taken a backpack in which something tinkled, climbed into the bushes beyond Baikal. Dimka looked at the floats. He wanted to catch at least a perch before the arrival of his grandfather, “to open an account”, but so far he has not pecked.
Dimka! He heard his grandfather's voice. - Come here!
And why do I need him? Dimka got up reluctantly. Maybe he caught a fish with his hands?
Hush, hush, - grandfather whispered when Dimka approached him, - do you see the boat?
I see. - Dimka peered into the coastal bushes. - What about it, grandpa?
Look, there's no one in the boat. There's someone here.
So what? Few fishermen? - Dimka wanted to fish, not to look at someone's boats. But grandfather jumped into the boat, waved to Dimka: “Get in!” - and, quietly moving the oars, he brought the boat out of the bushes, looking into the water overboard.
I knew it! - grandfather pulled out of the water a heavy venter filled with fish - a basket woven from wicker rods with a narrow neck.
Once in such a trap, the fish can no longer get out of it. Behind the first winder, grandfather fished out the second one, shook the fish into the water, and threw the winder back to its original place.
Dimka was sorry for the fish: how much fish soup could be cooked! What carp were!
What will we bring home? - Dimka could not stand it when his grandfather caught the third winder.
We'll catch our own... But think for yourself, if everyone grabs fish from the river with venters, what will be left in it? Frogs? And frogs can be lime. - Grandfather pulled the fourth vent out of the water and again released the fish into the river.
Grandpa, why are you putting the venter into the water again? Dima wondered. - The fish will come back.
Be patient, granddaughter, you will find out. Not a fish, but the fishermen themselves will come across to us.
Soon they swam on the net placed in the water. They took her to the boat. There were no fish in the net. It appears to have been recently installed. Grandfather was angry, scolding himself for the fact that in his forest area he had not yet brought all the poachers to clean water.
They’ll get caught anyway,” he grumbled, “no matter how much the rope twists, the end will come.”
The boat was put in its old place, the rolled net was hidden in the bushes, covered with burdocks.
And now, - said the grandfather, - let's hide. Let's wait a bit.
Dimka, grandfather and Baikal climbed into the thickets and lay down. Baikal also lay down, resting his head on his front paws, blinking, pricking up his ears: he was waiting.
Suddenly, a shot rang out in the distance. With a whistle, a shot lashed down the river. It shook the dew from the bushes.
- They! whispered grandfather. - Ducks are beaten, armed.
He got up and put two yellow cartridges into the barrels of his gun.
Leaves rustled nearby, deadwood crunched, and two poachers came ashore. One carried a gun and a dead duck, blood dripping from its wings. The second, older, with a round belly, jumped into the swaying boat, from the bottom of which water splashed into the crack in a fountain, pushed off with an oar and swam to the place where, near a bunch of reeds, venters hid in the water. Dima's knees trembled with excitement.
What the hell? Round Belly was surprised, pulling out the first winder. “Not a fish! But since the evening they set it! And the second one is empty! And in these too! And the network disappeared somewhere!
Maybe we put the network to the left?
Not really! They robbed us! Round Belly shouted to his comrade. - Robbed while you were chasing a duck! There was no need to go anywhere!
Was it a forester?
Forester? He doesn't show his nose here.
Anyway, you need to reel in fishing rods from here.
Round Belly brought the boat to the shore, tied it to a snag under a bush.
- Where is the backpack? he asked, looking around. - Where's the backpack?
Grandpa got up and fired his gun into the air. Round Belly rushed to his gun, which lay on the grass.
- Get the dog out! squealed the second poacher. Baikal has already slashed his leg.
- Baikal, sit down!
Baikal sat down, but did not stop growling.
Dimka, take their gun. And just try to touch the baby!
We don't hate children. Are we killers? Round Belly smiled forcefully. We are the same people. And we don't poison people with dogs.
Grab the fish! Malkov and those do not spare! - grandfather boiled. - And you, - he turned to the poacher with a round belly, - you have known me for a long time.
It seemed to Dimka that he was also familiar with this fat-bellied poacher and with the second one too. But where did he see them? Oh yes, on the first day of arrival on the way to the cordon. They were in a cart.
I knew for a long time, - grandfather continued, - that you were engaged in dark deeds, but you eluded me all the time. Slippery type you are. Not a man, but a burbot.
I, a citizen huntsman, - objected Round Belly, renamed Burbot, - I have not met you. Not a single act was written on me.
And who at the station meets each train, who offers dried and smoked fish to passengers?
I meet relatives and friends.
They don't take money from family. The police will sort out your family.
Where are the witnesses? – shouted suddenly Burbot. - Where are the witnesses? Boy? He is still unreasonable, you can teach him to give false testimony!
Be quiet! - barked the grandfather. - Venteria are witnesses, your network is a witness. Come on, Mitya, swim, get the winder out.
Dimka untied the boat, swam to the reeds, took out the windlass, shook out one perch that had already come across, and again drove the boat to the shore.
- Put your hands down! - said the grandfather to the poachers. - Come on, take the net, ventery, backpack. Try to run, the dog will catch up. Come on, granddaughter, give them a gun, isn't it loaded?
Dimka brought a gun. Grandpa checked it out.
The gun was empty.
Grandfather entrusted him to carry Dimka.
Forward! Grandpa ordered the poachers. Loaded with veils, nets and rucksacks, they looked like porters. - Step march!
Under the escort of grandfather, Dimka and a crowd of street children, whose bellies burst with laughter, the poachers were taken to the regional department.

The next morning, Dimka and grandfather went fishing again. This time it was a good bite. Before the sun had risen above the forest, Dimka and grandfather's buckets were full. Baikal alone did not take part in fishing, it prowled in the reeds, as if looking for something.
What is he looking for, grandfather? Dimka asked, winding up his fishing rods.
He knows his stuff, let's wait and see.
And for sure, Dimka saw how Baikal scared two ducks out of the reeds.
Baikal, back! - the grandfather reined in the dog.
Why returned? Let him learn to hunt.” Dimka took pity on Baikal.
He's a pretty good tracker too. And hunting is prohibited here. Only three years ago a few ducks settled. If their dogs bother them, they will fly to another place.
Dimka said nothing, looked at the river. How beautiful she is!
What kind of birds have not been here before! - grandfather also looked at the river. - And geese, and ducks ...
Where did they go?
Woe-hunters translated, such as we caught yesterday. Good thing they didn't get to the beavers.
Where do they live?
It's far from here.
I want to look at them.
But me, granddaughter, today I have to go on other matters.
And I will go with Baikal. He conducts.
Grandfather smiled, explained to Dimka which path to follow, where to turn.
- Do not swim there, - he admonished, - there are a lot of snags at the bottom. This was drunk by the beavers. Slowly approach their dam. And then you won't see anything. And give me a fishing rod and a bucket, I'll take it home.
Dimka parted with his grandfather and went along the forest path, looking out for singing invisible birds in the treetops. Noticing a walnut bush, he took pockets full of almost ripe nuts, cracked open one and suddenly thought of Slavik. What's up with him now? If only he could send nuts to the hospital, but Dimka doesn't know the address. Slavik's mother had just left for Odessa and hasn't returned yet. And how interesting it would be to “look at the beavers” with him!
Dimka had already waved away from half a kilometer, when suddenly, very close by, he heard sounds similar to the flapping of wings. The forest hen hobbled along the path. One of her wings seemed to be broken.
“Someone knocked it out... We have to catch it.” In the village, grandfather will cure, Dimka decided.
But it was not there! The chicken ran away. Baikal sat on its tail and moaned, waiting for the order: to catch! But the hen suddenly soared into the air, as if her wing had recovered, and disappeared into the forest.
Ah! - Dimka remembered grandfather's stories. “She took me away from the nest.” There are chicks.
Okay, - the boy waved his hand and went on.
Finally, a beaver river cut through the greenery. But there were no beavers to be seen. Either they heard Dimka, or they slept after night work in their huts, but there was silence over the pool by the dam: no gurgling, no splashing.
Dimka sat, sat in ambush, and left. And how I would like to tell school about beavers! About living, real, and not those in the pictures. “I will definitely come here again, I will see how it is anyway. beavers live! Dimka thought as he walked back to the village.
IV

Dimka sat in the bathroom and diligently rubbed himself with a washcloth. A week has already passed since he returned to the city from the village. I did not want to leave my grandfather, but I had to prepare for classes at school. Tomorrow is the first of September. Oh, how quickly summer has flown by! Dimka splashed in a warm bath, and he himself recalled the sandy bank of a village river. How spacious it is! Not like in a cramped bath!
Dimka lathered his head and then he heard someone ring the bell at the door.
"Who could it be? thought Dimka. Things ... I'm sitting in the bath ... "
And then I heard my mother's hurried steps in the hallway.
He quickly began to rinse his ears.
- Is this the Chibisovs' apartment? a female voice asked.
Dimka looked familiar. But the voice is female.
“This is not for me,” he decided, and again began to diligently lather his head, not listening to the conversation of the elders.
But again it came to him:
Yes, who do you need?
Mom asked as she opened the door.
We need Dima, your son... He comes to our village every summer. He is a friend of Slavik.
Dima's heart almost jumped out of his chest, like a remnant of soap from his hand. He hurriedly slipped under the shower, wiped himself off, jumped out of the bathroom. The mother was already talking to the well-dressed woman in the kitchen. But they were not alone. Slavik was with them!
He beamed.
It's you! - Dima rushed to him. - Cured!
Cured, - smiled Slavik. I can see well now, I don't even have to wear glasses.
I knew that you were in Odessa, but I didn't have your address... Do you want me to give you parrots?
Well, what are you! - Slavik protested. - And you don't feel sorry for it?
But Dimka has already caught a cold.
– I now! he called out from the room.
Dimka dragged into the kitchen a cage with two green-yellow parrots.
Come on, you brothers-robbers, go to another room, Dimka's mother shouted. - And I'll set the table for the guests.
Can I help you, Elena Mikhailovna? asked Slavik's mother.
What are you, what are you! I can handle it myself!
But Slavik's mother did not listen to Elena Mikhailovna, took out a large package with oranges and southern grapes from her travel bag and began to shift the fruit onto the table.
The boys, taking the cage and exchanging knowing glances, went into Dimka's room.
While chores were going on in the kitchen, Dimka and Slavik were sitting side by side on the sofa.
Slavik told how he was treated in Odessa in an eye clinic founded by Professor Filatov. He is a native of Mordovia.
Did your mother live with you in the hospital?
No, in someone's apartment in the city, but she came to me every day. I recovered quickly. The doctor said that I have a strong body. Here, feel what muscles. - Slavik strained his arm bent at the elbow. - And as soon as we arrived here, we immediately came to you. After all, it was you who saved me. If it wasn't for you, I would still be walking like dark night. Being blind, you know how bad it is!
Still would! Is it true that your gas can exploded?
What bank? – Slavik was surprised.
Well, what caused the explosion?
There was no bank. Old women, come on, come up with. I have already told my mother everything. I made the rocket. I took gunpowder from my father, picked out rifle cartridges. He stuffed a rocket with gunpowder, and then you came and the dogs began to fight. For some reason, I put the rocket on a hot stove. That's all.
And I thought…” drawled Dimka and fell silent.
Have you ever swum in the sea? Slavik asked.
Not yet,” Dimka sighed.
And I swam. Easy in the water! Just don't go too far. And who swims, a rescue boat is sent for him.
For what? Dima was surprised.
They will bring you to the shore. And pay the fine.
For what?! Dimka was even more surprised.
“So as not to disturb the order, not to swim far,” explained Slavik.
Dimka wanted to ask if Sdavik saw the warship, but then they were called to the kitchen.
Guys, have lunch!
- We do not want! - unanimously refused, but still had to obey.
At dinner, Slavik's mother kept praising and praising Dimka. Whomever she called him: both a savior and a brave boy. Dimka blushed. He told his mother that Slavik had a fire and that he was in the hospital, but that he also put out the fire; Dimka said nothing: it was embarrassing.
After dinner the friends went for a walk. They walked around the city, looked at the monuments, squares, houses, shop windows, and all the passers-by seemed to them as happy as they are.

STORIES

cornflower

Vasilka is six years old, but he was brought to kindergarten for the first time. Prior to this, my grandmother was engaged in education. Life was easy for Vasilko. In the mornings, when his father and mother were already at work, Vasilek woke up reluctantly and began to act up:
- Grandmother! Where are you? Come here!
Grandmother will come up to him, stroke his head, caress:
- Oh, you are my little leaf, my handsome sweetheart! Already awake? And overnight, how he grew up! Look how tall he has become! You'll catch up with dad soon!
Cornflower really grew quickly. It became difficult for his grandmother with him: the granddaughter grew, and his whims grew. He did not want to do anything himself, even his grandmother fed him with a spoon. Only when the grandmother went to the store, he got down to business; then the alarm clock will sort it out, then it will sow millet on the floor.
So Vasilko's father said:
- Enough, son, torturing your grandmother. You will go to kindergarten.
Soon he was taken there.
In kindergarten, Vasilko immediately did not like everything. Before he could finish chewing his porridge at breakfast, the teacher ordered all the children to get ready for a walk.
- Well, children, who will get dressed the fastest?
Everyone fled to their wardrobes, and Vasilyok is sitting at the table.
- Come on, Vasilyok, - the teacher smiled, - get dressed, otherwise you will fall behind your friends. Seven do not wait for one!
Vasilyok wanted to disobey, but she took him by the hand and led him to the guys.
- Here is your locker, - she said, - you see, a bunny with a carrot is drawn on it, remember.
Vasilek took clothes out of the locker, dumped them on the floor, and sat down next to him. All the boys and girls are sitting on chairs and putting on their shoes, and he is on the floor trying to lace up his shoes. Does not work. Yes, and for some reason the shoes have become tight, the legs are tight. When Vasilek stood up, everyone laughed.
- Look, his legs are looking in different directions!
He didn't put on his boots!
Vasilyok blushed.
- Cornflower, Sissy! Some girl teased him. “She herself is in hemp, but she teases!” Vasilek thought with resentment and objected:
- Grandma!
The children laughed even louder.
- Do not laugh, - said the teacher, - and you did not succeed at once. Better show him how to properly put on shoes. Who will show?
- I! I! - everyone wanted to show how to put on shoes.
- I myself! Vasilek suddenly said. He even sweated, blushed even thicker, but he put on his shoes correctly. I just couldn’t lace it up, the girl helped.
And the next morning, Vasilyok surprised his grandmother. He washed himself and began to dress himself. I refused my grandmother's help.
"I'll dress myself," he grumbled. - I'm not a grandmother's son. I... my son!

offended tree

The spring sun peeped merrily through the windows of the kindergarten. Its rays played on the curtains like golden butterflies, as if they were calling the guys to go out into the green courtyard as soon as possible. And there - oh, how good!
- Children, come here! - I heard the voice of the teacher.
Finding herself in a circle of babies, she smiled and announced:
- Today we have an interesting job.
Lights lit up in the children's eyes.
- And what, Lyudmila Vasilievna?
We will clean up last year's leaves in the garden.
The guys worked together, raking dry rustling leaves into piles. And only one Tolik Kruglov pretended to work, and he himself walked from birch to birch and finally stopped at a tree on which a starling whistled joyfully. Sveta approached Tolik.
- Look how many leaves around! Why don't you collect?
- What about you? I look at the starling, that's all.
Sveta picked up a few blackened leaves near the trunk and walked away. And Tolik, looking around, pulled the birch down, frightened off the starling and broke off the twig.
- It will be a good slingshot! - Tolik thought and quickly cleared the branch of leaves. He put the flyer in his pocket and, as if nothing had happened, joined the guys, began to help them, and he himself thought about how he would please his older brother with his flyer in the evening. Yesterday my brother found a long rubber band somewhere and said:
- Now you need a flyer. A good slingshot will come out!
Tolik collected leaves and smiled. The brother will make him a slingshot, and they will shoot from it in turn.
- Children! All come here! - Tolik heard the voice of Lyudmila Vasilievna.
The children surrounded the teacher.
- Who broke the branch at the birch? - Lyudmila Vasilievna asked sternly.
The guys looked at each other. Only Tolik, looking down, looked at his yellow sandal, on which the ant was crawling.
- This, probably, Kruglov broke, he approached the birch, - said Sveta Sukhova.
Everyone turned to Tolik. He immediately replied:
- You came too.
Light blinked in confusion.
Then Lyudmila Vasilievna suggested:
- Children, look at your hands.
Everyone looked. Tolik did this too, but was immediately frightened: his palms were smeared with birch greens. Lyudmila Vasilievna did not seem to notice this, and Tolik quickly put his hands in his pockets, but he right hand suddenly pricked herself on a flyer.
“Now count how many fingers you have on your hands,” continued Lyudmila Vasilievna. - Did you count? That's good. There are five fingers on the hand. And if, - she took Tolik's hand out of her pocket. - And if one finger is taken away ... Isn't it a pity?
- It's a pity, Lyudmila Vasilievna.
- Do you think the tree does not feel sorry for its branches?
And Lyudmila Vasilievna said that five years ago the yard around the kindergarten was empty. Kindergarten then just built. Both parents and the children themselves from the older groups planted birch trees in the yard, cared for them, watered and dug them.
- But now someone has taken and offended a tree! Lyudmila Vasilievna sighed.
Tolik lowered his head even lower. And then suddenly he started crying. Now everyone understands who is to blame. Tolik pulled the flyer out of his pocket and whispered through his tears:
- I'll water the birch... It will grow another branch.
- How can we guys believe Tolik? - asked Lyudmila Vasilievna.
The guys were silent.

Fish like a bast

In the afternoon, the guys agreed: to go to bed early in the evening in order to go fishing at dawn.
And so they did.
The morning was chilly. IN clean air the voice of an awakened lark rang like grains of dew.
With buckets, with jars for worms, with fishing rods on their shoulders, the guys joined a group of collective farmers heading for mowing.
- Well, today they will feed us with an ear! - said, looking back at the guys, Uncle Yegor. - What buckets they took! You should grab a barrel!
- Someone who, and Mitka will feed us! Pyotr Ivanovich chuckled. He knew Mitka well: he lived in a neighboring house. - He's a great fisherman! More to look for!
Mitka, who heard the praise, warmed up in his heart. He heard praise from Pyotr Ivanovich for the first time and immediately became proud, felt like a leader.
- I'm not going to fish with you! - he said to the guys when they came to the river. - You make noise, you talk. Vitka's bucket is rattling. This will scare away all the fish.
Mitka left his friends and chose a place for fishing on the sidelines. And they sat side by side on the shore, untangled the fishing lines, baited worms on the hooks and abandoned the fishing rods.
Mitka did not catch fish. It didn't bite, that's all. He moved from place to place, but nothing helped: the float thrown into the water would gurgle, emerge, sway and freeze.
- Lazybones you all! - he scolded uncaught fish. - Sleep some more!
Slowly, from bush to bush, Mitka went far from the guys, found a deep pool overgrown with reeds. From his older brother, he heard that pikes and perches love such thickets. They have enough food here.
Here the fish are fattening. I also heard from my brother that in such pools you can catch a fish the size of a bast shoe.
“I’ll definitely catch one,” Mitka decided. - This is when I catch with all the boys, a trifle comes across. Big fish no noise!
The sun had already begun to bake, like needles, prickling his back, and he was still waiting for the fish to finally start vying to grab the worms. From the heat, Mitka grew mad and began to daydream. He had already seen how he brought a bucket of catch to the mowers. And what a fish! Not fry with a little finger, but pikes - here! - with a whole hand! And among the friends - this was also Mitka's idea - in the buckets there will be only gudgeon minnows.
The mowers will praise Mitka, and in the evening they will tell everyone in the village what a real fisherman he is. Pyotr Ivanovich praised him. He probably saw how Mitka was carrying a bucket from fishing yesterday. True, there were the same minnows. But Mitka filled the bucket with more water, and it was heavy.
Today something and minnows do not peck. The float only trembles from the oncoming breeze. Mitka looks at him hopefully.
There was a rustle in the thick grass behind them. Mitka looked around. It was his friends who made their way to him.
“Why are they following me? Mitka thought about his friends. “They don’t catch it themselves, they decided to catch mine!”
But the guys were without fishing rods. Mitka put his finger to his lips:
- Quiet! Don't scare the fish!
- Did you catch a lot? - Senka asked.
- You'll catch it!
- It's clear! - Senka pulled out some round stuff from his pocket and threw it into the water.
- Ah! Mitka shouted, jumping up. “Since you haven’t caught anything yourself, you won’t let me catch it either!”
- Do not scream! Senka reassured him. - It's not a stone. This is porridge. The fish love it. Now she is on the bait and will swim. We didn’t peck either until we threw porridge into the water.
- Where did you get it? Mitka asked incredulously.
- Mowers gave. They are waiting for your fish, they have already lit a fire.
At this time, the water near the Mitka float surged. Bul-bul - water bells stretched from the bottom.
- You see! - the boys rejoiced. - The fish wanted porridge! See how he plays!
Mitka smiled, picked up the rod from the ground, tensed up, waiting for the bite.
- Lead, lead with a fishing rod, - Senka taught him, - now he will bite.
Mitka began to float on the water. Indeed, someone strongly pulled him out from under the water, even the rod moved out of his hands. Mitka pulled the fishing rod towards himself - it was hard to drag.
- Pike! he shouted. - Pike or catfish!
Mitka jerked his line, and something dark sparkled above the water in the spray of sunshine.
- Burbot! one of the guys shouted.
- Fish like bast shoes! Mitka shouted.
But the spray disintegrated, and the fish, hanging on the hook, suddenly ... twitched its paws.
It was a big frog. Mitka dropped his fishing rod and goggled his eyes. The frog also stared at Mitka.
The guys laughed. And then, seeing how sad Mitka became, they said:
- Don't whine! We caught a lot. Enough for everyone. Let's go take the fish to the mowers.
Mitka followed the guys. I looked back as I walked. The frog, taken off the hook, was no longer on the shore.
- That's the fish! That's so bast! thought Mitka, and he also laughed.

The three of them were friends: Vitya Yuvkin, Vova Akmaev and Misha Kurochkin. And soon Kolya Savin became friends with them. The friends were in fifth grade.
Today they decided to go ice skating after school. They had classes on the second shift. By the time they came home from school, while they were having dinner, while they were getting ready, it was already dark. But this did not stop them in the least: in the winter sky, a full moon peeped through thin clouds.
- Guys, look! The moon is like ice! - Victor said on the way to the river.
- It is not ice at all, - Misha began to argue, - it is covered with dust.
- How do you know? Or have you been to the moon?
- There were astronauts. True, American. There are such mountains!
The guys paused, trying to make out the mountains on the moon. There were no mountains to be seen, only dark spots. But these spots resembled eyes, a mouth... The moon looked like a round-cheeked bun from a fairy tale.
- And what, guys, - said Vitya, - if we were offered to fly to the moon, would we fly?
“I somehow didn’t think about it,” Vova admitted.
“You can still fly there, not so long,” Misha said. - But to fly to Mars and return - it will take three years.
- Yes, don't come back! - Kolya Savin made a snowball and threw it towards the moon. - I'd still fly. Even one!
Their conversation was interrupted: they were already standing on the banks of the Moksha. Ice glittered below. The guys began to ride, overtaking each other, famously turning around, copying the skaters.
The moon shone softly from the sky... But suddenly the silence was broken by some kind of familiar, but still unusual sound.
The guys immediately stopped and began to peer into the darkness, where this sound came from.
- U-U-U! - was heard closer, and the guys realized that it was a cow mooing. But where did she come from at this time?
- Look, it's running here! shouted Vitya. - Maybe you got mad?
- Oh! - Kolya Savin slowly turned around and slipped away on skates to the other side.
And the cow, barely running out onto the ice, slipped and fell on its side. She moaned even more slowly and plaintively, tried to get up, but could not.
The guys, one by one, rolled up to the fallen cow.
- Why did you, empty head, wandered here? - Vitya began to scold the cow.
- It is necessary to raise it, - suggested Vova and took the cow by the horns. - Come on, one or two, they took it! It wasn't there. The cow was heavy.
- And you are dragging her, dragging her to the shore, - the guys heard a female voice, - she will stand on the shore herself.
The guys looked back. A girl in a sweatshirt hurried towards them.
- Come on, guys, to the shore we will drag her little by little. The trouble is with her, her temper is eccentric. A little undersight - on the run!
The guys together somehow dragged the cow along the slippery ice to the shore. Then she, who had just mooed helplessly, jumped to her feet and trotted back to the cowshed.
- Please help her drive to the farm, - the girl asked, - I can't do it alone. Will he suddenly run again?
The guys, standing on the sides, safely escorted her to the collective farm.
- Where is Kolya? - suddenly remembered Savina.
He was not with them. He quietly skated along the other side of the river, looking closely: did the guys take the cow away?
- That's the astronaut! Victor smiled. - And I was going to fly to Mars!

Immortal Horn

Maria Petrovna lives alone. Her husband died in the war, and there were no other relatives.
Now she is quite old, long retired. Neighborhood kids call her Baba Masha. Children love her. They are always willing to help with the housework: someone will bring water from the well, someone will water the garden and weed. And often, sitting next to her on a bench, the guys ask grandmother Masha to tell something from their lives. And she has a lot to say.
So today the guys chopped firewood for her, the girls dragged the logs into the barn, and then Baba Masha called her assistants to the veranda to drink tea with raspberry jam. The tea was very tasty! The guys drank a cup and said thank you.
- You should be thanked! - answered Baba Masha. I have been wanting to give you a present for a long time. Apparently, the time has come. Today I will give, so be it. Come here.
She took out a bundle from the chest, turned away the edge of the fabric, and a pioneer horn flashed before the children's eyes.
- Take and take care, - said the grandmother to the children. - This is not a simple horn, you can't buy it in a store. He is very dear to me. This is the memory of the war. And tomorrow we all big celebration: Victory Day. Here I am giving it to you.
The old woman blinked frequently, turned away and pressed a piece of red cloth taken from the forge to her eyes. The children were silent.
- This bugle, guys, - she said, calming down, - a boy gave me in the war, just like you. I then worked as a nurse in Leningrad. In hospital. There was a severe blockade, hunger. The trams didn't run. Once I was walking along Nevsky Prospekt to my home after my shift. I see a boy fall ahead of me. I to him. She felt her pulse: it was pounding. The boy is still alive, just weakened from hunger. On his chest, on a string, was this horn. Later I learned that that evening he, together with his school orchestra, performed in front of the soldiers. His father fought with the Nazis, and his mother was recently killed by a bomb on the street. It was very difficult for him to live alone. When I brought him to the hospital, he woke up and quietly whispered: "Aunt, bread." We fed him what we could. He ate and cried. Then, together with the wounded soldiers, we evacuated him to the mainland. Before sending, he left the bugle with me and asked me to keep it. Said:
- When I get back, I'll play it.
- Where is the boy now? - Svetlanka asked Baba Masha.
- I don't know, granddaughter, I don't know. I never saw my musician again. He is no longer a boy, but an adult. And there is no way to find him, I forgot his last name. Then, during the war, there were many such orphans.
- We will take the bugle to the school, - suggested Vitka, - it will be the horn of our pioneer team.
“Thank you,” Masha said. - Blow the bugle. Trumpet at all your feasts. If that boy is alive, he has not forgotten the voice of his bugle.

There is no punishment worse than indefatigable neighbors, whose holidays smoothly flow into everyday life, and the music does not stop day or night. A lot of “pleasant” moments are given by the tramp overhead and the inexplicable, but, apparently, extremely necessary daily dragging of furniture from corner to corner. In neighborhood conflicts based on noise, millions of copies have been broken. True, as practice shows, lovers of silence are left out of justice: even a court decision (most often too soft) is not executed for years, and apartment “hot spots” continue to be so.

Modern Belarusian multi-apartment construction (with rare exceptions) is a godsend for a spy: the fates of neighbors are intertwined even without their desire, and even the slightest quarrels become public knowledge. Is it possible to do something with concrete boxes to improve their soundproofing characteristics, and how much it will cost, we deal with experts.

- Before taking any action, you need to figure out what kind of noise bothers a person. All subsequent action algorithm, - explains the deputy director of the Acoustic.by group of companies Vladimir Antonovich. - The most common noise is airborne: the sound of a TV, music installation, people talking. Often, residents of high-rise buildings complain about impact noise: neighbors from above just walk on their own floor, and it feels like a herd of horses ran right over their heads. Structural noise is distributed by adjacent structures, you can understand its "greatness" and significance when someone works with a puncher - the sound can even come from a neighboring entrance.

As a rule, different materials are used to eliminate the noise of the first and second types, but there are also universal ones - if you are very “lucky” with your neighbors. It should be remembered that the greatest effect can be achieved if noise isolation is made from the source side, and not the receiver. This rule is especially true for impact noise: if you have "elephants" walking on the ceiling, then the ideal option is to take care of the neighbor's floor, and not your ceiling.

In soundproofing, a simple rule works: the thicker the sound-absorbing layer, the better it will work. A wonderful super-thin and effective material has not yet been invented, no matter what the sellers on the market say and promise. Relatively thin materials are effective only in dealing with impact noise and only, I repeat, from the side of the room located above, that is, under the screed or floor covering. The thickness of such materials usually ranges from 4-20 millimeters. Soundproofing structures with a thickness of 50 millimeters or more, which may include mineral or glass wool, are capable of effectively combating airborne noise. But it is to be included in the composition: wool itself is a rather weak noise insulator.

The ardent love of Belarusians for laminate does not seem to be eradicated: the material is relatively inexpensive, beautiful and easy to install. True, having spent money on boxes with treasured boards, many decide to save on the substrate. Although it is technologically mandatory due to the fact that the laminate significantly enhances the transmission of sounds, it can be very different.

- Substrates under the laminate are designed to save only from impact noise, they do not affect the air in any way,- continues the expert. - So any index indicated in the accompanying documents should be taken only in this context. Having spent money on a good substrate, a person will first of all protect himself from the neighbor's complaints. Who enjoys swearing and scandals?

On any construction market, you can find different options for substrates for laminate, designed to remove the "drum effect". They will differ significantly in value. The most budgetary and meaningless option is polyethylene foam. This material will work for several months and “deflate”: from dynamic impact and contact with air, it will lose its elastic properties, become thin and eventually crumble into dust. More than once I had to visit objects where only scattered pieces were found under a laminate that had lain for several months, which scattered from a light breath. But the sellers promised that the substrate would give the 24 decibels promised under the test report. So it will be, but for a very short time. Therefore, it is not necessary to be surprised that after a period of "calm" the neighbor began to complain about the noise.

A better option is non-woven polyester fiber material. It is denser, without excess air. This is one of the best underlays on the market right now. The trouble is that most often this material is simply laid on the floor, and it must also be brought to the walls to make a floating floor. Unfortunately, few people bother themselves with this - because of this, the soundproofing indicators prescribed in the protocol are sharply reduced. It all depends on the decency of the hired builders: many do not comply with the technology.

Cork underlayment is good for almost everything, except for the price. It is a natural product that does not deform over time and fights impact noise well. But such a substrate is expensive and again useless against airborne noise. That is, the manipulations of gluing cork to the wall (to reduce the neighbor's sound) are absolutely meaningless, this is money thrown away.

But if the neighbor from above did not “compact” his laminate or, God forbid, laid the tiles directly on the concrete base and at the same time does not want to make contact at all, you will have to get rid of the sounds by significantly losing the height of the personal space. In this case, we will no longer talk about 3-4 millimeters of the substrate in someone else's house, but immediately about 120 millimeters on our ceiling.

- An ideal option for all sides is to lay a special soundproofing material under the screed using floating floor technology, and then add a substrate under the laminate. It is generally forbidden to lay tiles directly on a concrete base. There should also be a “pie” under it: a rolled base 5 mm thick “walled up” in a screed or mineral wool with a minimum thickness of 20 mm.

As for the materials that go under the screed, they should not be hard or soft, but rather elastic and work like a spring. One of the acceptable options today is a polyester-based material with a thickness of only 4 millimeters, it is also available with a waterproofing layer.

It must be remembered that in panel houses, developers carry out a minimum of measures for additional soundproofing of the floor; at best, they can lay linoleum on a felt basis. And when the tenants take it off, and then they put tiles or laminate on the bare concrete, hell begins for the neighbors from below,- explains an employee of the group of companies "Acoustic. buy".

According to experts, for professional service Noise elimination is most often addressed by those who have already experienced more than one move or are extremely tired of overly emotional neighbors. There were cases when residents of apartments located one above the other in a new building agreed and equally paid for soundproofing in the floor to the one whose dwelling is higher.

- It is better to think about soundproofing in advance, even at the stage of repair, because after the ceilings are equipped, wallpaper is glued and the flooring is laid, it is impossible to do anything without dismantling the induced beauty,- warns Vladimir Antonovich. - Typical situation: a person calls and asks how to do something to do nothing. How can you help here?

Stories that there is a thin material that can be glued to the wall and it will absorb sound are utopia. All decisions have long been passed and perfected. There is no miracle, and those who decide to make their home quieter will have to come to terms with the fact that they will have to sacrifice usable space. For example, if you isolate a wall, you will have to lose at least 50 millimeters.

People often ask: is it enough to process one wall or do you need everything? There is no single answer, it all depends on the situation. If a neighbor has a home theater with bass installed and operating at full capacity, then one wall, even a very good one, will not be enough. You will also have to isolate the ceiling, since all structures and surfaces are interconnected.

It is impossible to write out a universal prescription in absentia, as well as to calculate the cost of soundproofing work. Even data on the footage of the room will not help much: you still need to find out from which side the noise bothers you, what kind it is, and also conduct an acoustic examination of problem surfaces. But absolute silence, disappointing experts, will still not be achieved: signs of the existence of neighbors will still break through, however, they will become less intrusive and lose the obvious “presence effect”.

- There are many design options for improving the characteristics of housing (only 12 by gender), and the cost of materials with work ranges from 140 thousand to 1.3 million per square meter. In this case, the maximum thickness of sound-absorbing materials can reach 120 millimeters. As for the walls, a construction with a width of 53-83 millimeters is enough to eliminate the most annoying sounds (of course, if the neighbors do not practice endless dances at home).

Often people perform work on the soundproofing device on their own. In this case, they should remember that all solutions are good in the complex. You can’t take them in snatches, in pieces, determining to your taste what is suitable and what is not. Also, from somewhere there was an opinion that the foam placed under the screed saves from impact noise. But this is a myth: only insulation will work, but the benefit in terms of sound insulation will be minimal. And why waste useful centimeters on polystyrene if you can get by with a special material just a couple of millimeters thick? Moreover, in some cases, the foam can also aggravate the situation (if the resonant frequencies coincide with the frequencies emitted by the noise source). The situation is approximately the same with the "foam" fight against airborne noise,- the specialist refutes the speculation.

There are two ways to protect your own ears from extraneous noise transmitted through the walls: using frameless and frame structures. The first option is thinner, the second is cheaper. If the choice fell on a frameless system, then a ready-made panel (a kind of sandwich made of soundproof materials) will be attached directly to the “guilty” wall, which will subsequently be sewn up with soundproof drywall. The cost of work, taking into account materials, is from 700 thousand to 1.5 million per "square".

The frame system excludes a rigid connection with the wall, which, in fact, makes it more combat-ready. True, the minimum thickness of this option is 85 millimeters, which is almost one and a half times more than that of a frameless design. In fact, this is another wall on the slope, and quite weighty.

- In this case, it is necessary to adhere to several basic principles: exclude or minimize a rigid connection with the building structures, use a highly effective sound-absorbing layer, build a massive and heavy cladding that will weigh at least 25-30 kilograms per square meter.

The most difficult thing, according to the company's employees, is soundproofing the ceiling.

- People who choose materials for independent work, it is necessary to correctly perceive the information and separate marketing from reality. The main load on sound insulation is taken by "native" load-bearing structures (ceilings and walls). For example, in terms of airborne noise, a monolithic structure gives up to 55 decibels, a brick wall - 45. To promote the brand, some companies indicate incorrect numbers, summing up the data on the existing sound insulation of walls with material data. So it turns out that a thin rolled material "promises" as much as 47 decibels, while 45 are taken from the indicators of the wall and only 2 is the efficiency of the material itself,- warns Vladimir Antonovich. - Our troubles began when the neighbors from above sold the apartment and moved,- a man shares his experience in arranging soundproofing. - Their place was taken by a single mother with a three-year-old child, who had been running all over the apartment since early morning and could not resist rolling the cars on the wooden floor. And if on weekdays all this was quite tolerable, since our schedules approximately coincided, then on weekends it was impossible to have a normal rest: from 7 in the morning there was a clatter and hubbub overhead. Talking with my mother did not help, the answer was standard: "It's a child."

Therefore, we had to take actions ourselves and strictly within the framework of the available space of the apartment, since at that time it was not possible to change housing. After reading the forums, listening to advice, I decided that I needed to do soundproofing. The following option was chosen: attach special soundproof plates to the ceiling with the help of "umbrellas", and then cover all this "beauty" with a stretch ceiling. The material, resembling mineral wool in appearance, but, according to sellers, having much better characteristics, was bought in a large metropolitan hardware store. The 5 cm wide slabs were wrapped in film, so it was easy to get them home by car.

The next stage - to find workers willing to "nail" soundproofing to the ceiling - did not take much time. But directly the work of two people in an 18-meter room stretched for almost a whole day. As far as I remember, at least five "umbrellas" were attached to one plate. There was a lot of noise and dust. But, fortunately, the material itself, although it seemed quite soft to the touch, did not fall apart into pieces and did not fly around the apartment. Then another guys came and made a stretch ceiling.

Of course, after all the manipulations, we expected a greater effect, we wanted and dreamed of, if not 100% sound neutralization, then at least 80%. But the noise from above just became more muffled. By the way, for some reason, our soundproofing coped with the clatter better than with a machine crawling on the floor. It is curious, but after installing this layer in the room (when no one is making noise from above), it became especially quiet and not so booming, or something. The slabs seem to absorb our own sounds and the sounds from the street. I don’t know if I would have taken this step if I had the opportunity to return everything back: the wow effect did not work out. Perhaps the whole point is that it was necessary to use a frame structure, but, excuse me, the height of the "Khrushchev" ceilings does not allow you to roam. Fortunately, at least they live behind the wall calm people and there is no need to "barricade" from them.

Write more carefully.

Deuce was delighted and whispers to One:

Do you hear? They won't give him a five. They will put the four, but not far from the four to the three. And there, you see, it will come to us with you.

This is clear, - says the Unit. - Where a student yawns at work, there is always a loophole for us.

And the Two and the One began to look for such loopholes.

They crept up on one boy, but you can’t approach him. They wanted to get into his notebook, but where is it! The letters stand as if they were in a parade - they all look in one direction, straight, even. The Two and the One were frightened, they backed away. Crept up to another boy, and he mixed everything up. It was necessary to write: "Alyosha took a brush, swept the floor, and threw the chips into the stove."

And he wrote: “Alyosha took a chip, swept the floor, and threw the brush into the stove.”

One and says to Two:

Look at both of these. This threesome will soon be a twosome.

They crept up to the third, and the third looks out the window, the raven counts.

Don't yawn, One! Deuce says. - I don't need this one. Take yourself.

And the Two and the One climbed into the notebooks to the mouths. And the mouth-waterers interfere with listening to good students - they make noise, chatter, look into other people's notebooks.

They see the Four with the Five - it's bad. Behind whole lesson only two boys and one girl got fours, and no one got fives.

What do we do? - say the Five with the Four. - There is no life for us from the Two with the Unit!

And the Two and the One are rejoicing: the Two are dancing on their own for two, and the One is bouncing on one leg.

Yes, they were happy for a short time. The guys took over.

What do we do with these ones and twos? - They say. - You gape for one minute, and they are right there. They will climb into the notebook and do not want to leave. We need to get them out ASAP!

The guys agreed to listen carefully, write diligently.

A little time has passed, and in this class not only the Two with the One, but also the Troika has no place left.

Our business is gone! Deuce says. - Let's go, sister One, look for happiness. And you, middle half, come with us. They say it's not far from a three to a two.

They went all over the school - from corridor to corridor, from stairs to stairs. And towards them deuces and ones from other classes go.

We are not happy in this school, they say. - I'll have to go to another school.

But who needs them - deuces with ones? They weren't allowed anywhere.

Only Troika found a place for herself - in the corner behind the stove. And yes, she's having a hard time. The guys remember that it’s not far from three to two, and from two to one.

There is a lot of noise in the world, but not every noise knows its place. Here, for example, the noise of the sea off the coast rumbles with the surf. Green noise lives in the forest more often, rustles with leaves.

Everyone loves this noise. And there is also a mischievous noise, named Shumigolova. This one always strives to get there where it is not necessary - to the theater, to school. At first he seemed to be small - not Noise, but Shumok, but you look - he grew up, rose to the ceiling, became Big Noise.

Once a teacher went to the library during a break to get books, and ordered the attendants to keep order. As soon as the teacher left, the guys began to run all over the corridor - chasing each other. Here Shumok under the guise and crept up to the guys. He began to grow, grow like a snowball, and turned into Big Noise.

The guards are shouting: "Line up!" And the guys were already so noisy that nothing could be heard. The Big Noise has risen to the ceiling and is standing in the corridor.

With a Big Noise, the guys ran into the classroom, with a Big Noise they sat down at their desks. One is reading, seven are chatting, two are eating bagels, three are humming into their fists.

Shumigolova made such a noise that everyone's head was noisy. And it is already known - where there is a lot of noise, there is little sense.

Because of the Big Noise, the children did not hear how the teacher entered the classroom. She carried a stack of books in her hands. The guys jumped up, but it was too late.

The teacher looked at them and said:

What is this noise? Quiet!

And as soon as she said “quietly”, Big Noise hunched over, cringed and again turned into a small Noise. Mal has become, but everything will not calm down.

Shumok will run along one row, then another. The teacher says: "Shut up!"

And the guys tell each other:

Shumko only this and need to. It grows from every extra word.

Then the teacher shook her head, looked at the class and said:

I thought you were good guys and good books I picked it up for you, and this is how you met me - with noise, with din.

Yes, we do not make noise! - say the guys. - We only speak “quietly” to each other.

But you don't speak. There are forty of you here. If all forty at once in one voice say "quieter" - this will not be quiet, but it will be noisy. Got it?

The guys just nodded their heads.

It became quiet, calm in the classroom ... Shumok completely disappeared, as if it had never existed. He went into the locker room and hid between coats, fur coats and hats. There he lives. While the guys are in the classroom, he is dozing in someone's sleeve. And the guys will come running to the locker room - Shumok will come out, grow up, raise his head to the very ceiling and let's make noise.

But they say that he will be expelled from there soon.

Once upon a time there were two brothers - Lazy and Lazy. And they had a sister Beloruchka.

One morning a mother got ready for work and said to her sons and daughter:

Breakfast is on the table. Lunch is on the stove. Wash dishes after breakfast and lunch.

Okay, Lazy says. - Brother will wash.

Yes, Lodyr says. - Brother will wash.

I'm talking about you, - said Lazy.

And I'm talking about you, - replies the Loafer.

Oh you slackers! mother sighed. We missed school again today. You sit in each class for two years. Your mustache will grow soon.

Well, well, - says Lazy. - You don't need to weed or water them. Let yourself grow!

But my mustache will not grow, - says Beloruchka. - I can sit at least three years in each class.

Mother shook her head.

Oh, my grief, my grief! - speaks. - In old age - three joys: one son is a lazy person, the other is a quitter, and the daughter is a white hand.

She cleaned up the room and went to work.

And Lazy and Loafer - immediately at the table. We ate breakfast and also lunch. They left nothing for Beloruchka. Beloruchka cried. Suddenly he hears a knock on the door.

Go, - says the Lazy Lazy man, - open it.

Open it yourself, - replies Lodyr.

I can't - I've done my leg.

And I sat.

A little time passed - again there was a knock on the door. Even stronger than before.

Hey you, Beloruchka! shouts Lazy. - Open the door! We've done our legs.

Open it yourself, - Beloruchka answers. I haven't had breakfast or lunch yet. I have no strength.

Well, then ask who's there. Are you strong enough for this?

Who's there? - asks Beloruchka.

This is us, - they are responsible for the door, - the pioneers. From school.

What do you need?

They came for you.

Behind us? We are all sick, lying in bed, barely breathing ...

It's a pity, a pity, say the pioneers. - And we came to call you on a school holiday.

How about for a holiday? - the Lazybones and the Loafer were delighted. - Well, wait a minute, we seem to feel a little better. Let's get there.

Good afternoon. I live in Moscow. Apartment house. I live on the floor above, the neighbors are below me. Loud neighbors with a small child (3-4 years old). All activity in their apartment starts after 23.00. The child runs around the apartment, constantly screaming. Can...

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How to make the neighbors not make noise during the daytime?

the neighbors are noisy, and my child sleeps during the day. It was not possible to agree. Is there a law on the violation of silence during the daytime in a private house in Voronezh? Is there an additional "quiet hour" daily 13.00-15.00?

10 August 2018, 10:44, question #2074889 Alexander Petruchenya, Anna

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Noisy neighbors ignoring requests for silence

arose unpleasant situation with housemates - a young couple drove into the apartment, with a slightly shifted schedule of life to the night side. Requests to be quieter are answered politely, but in fact they simply tactfully ignore the comments. On the last...

June 24, 2017, 23:11, question #1677494 Nizovtsev Vladimir, Moscow

800 price
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issue resolved

What are the measures to be taken if the neighbors constantly make noise during the daytime?

Hello. Need your advice. We have problems with our neighbors. Private sector. There used to be one yard. Then they sold half, and divided the yard in half. There is only a fence between us. He hears them from morning to evening screams of ora, children are constantly playing ...

June 21, 2017, 14:30, question #1674130 Ekaterina, Rostov-on-Don

I cut the Internet wire to noisy neighbors, what threatens?

Hello, the neighbors from below constantly get music, how many times they went, knocked on the door, asked to behave normally in this regard, the result is negative, as a result they cut the Internet wire for them, a neighbor came and said that other neighbors on the site ...

Noisy neighbors. What to do?

Good afternoon I have such a situation. Very noisy neighbors live upstairs. They like to take a walk with chants, dances, screams, stomp and all other appropriate drunken festivities until 2-3 in the morning, and sometimes until 5 in the morning. Went up a few times...

700 price
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issue resolved

Noisy neighbors

Hello. I have such a situation. I live in a hostel, when a neighbor is not at home at night, her children yell and listen to music until 3-4 a.m. and this has been going on for about a month. We explain to the children, but they don’t understand. but it's useless...

May 20, 2017, 18:15, question #1642105 Love, Chita-Zabaikalsk

How do I prosecute noisy neighbors who insulted me?

Hello. The neighbors below listened loudly to the music, I went and knocked and asked to be quieter. When they objected and said that the cat and I were stomping all night and would not meet me, I said that then I would contact the police, they poured on me ...

How to force neighbors to comply with the Silence Law?

Good afternoon The problem is the following: the neighbors from above have a child (who looks like 5-7 years old) constantly rushing around, jumping around the apartment, often other mothers with children come to visit them, and this whole kindergarten with screams, squeals rushes over my head ...

Most people in Russia live apartment buildings in which sound insulation is not high. The main problem that residents of such houses face is noisy neighbors who interfere with sleep. To get rid of the noise and live in peace, you need to clearly understand what to do and know the law. This will be discussed in the next article.

Music lovers live in the next apartment. Their love is usually expressed in the form of an endless game on musical instruments at night, too loud listening hard rock etc. If such concerts are held at the time permitted by law, you will have to get used to them, nothing can be done about it.

The neighborhood is under constant renovation. This apartment does not have to be adjoining. Often the noise from punching doorways on the 2nd or 3rd floor is heard by residents of all other floors of the house.

Neighbors make noise on certain days: they celebrate holidays, the arrival of relatives, etc. Usually, these celebrations are accompanied by loud music, dances and drinking songs, which make it very difficult for neighbors to sleep. Good people most often, they give advance warning of upcoming events or apologize the next day for a noisy celebration.

More "criminal" option. Neighbors belong to the category of dysfunctional families: drinking, fighting, screaming and obscene swearing at night. This case violates the rights of all other residents. If desired, it can be resolved by law.

Other sources can also break the silence: loudly working Appliances, noise from falling objects, stomping and loud screams, the crying of a child, which also greatly disturbs the neighbors. In this case, there is nothing to do and there is no one to complain to. After all, it is difficult to explain to a child that you need to sleep at night, but you can’t cry and scream.

When can you make noise?

The issue of noise at night is regulated by the relevant authorities and in different regions may differ.

The law defines the following restrictions:

These rules are invalid in the event that peace is violated by carrying out construction activities and emergency work. Also, continuous repair work can be attributed to this item, only if they last no more than 3 months.

The law also provides that continuous work can last no more than 6 hours, then a mandatory break of 1 hour.

Noise that is not related to the alteration of housing:

• pyrotechnics and fireworks;
• repairs that interfere with sleep at night;
• amplifiers that are installed in shops and cars;
• loud screams at night, whistling, singing.

What to do with neighbors if they make noise all the time? Always noisy neighbors are very disturbing to the residents. But how to deal with them and where to turn?

Neighbors haunt at night

What remains to be done if people turn on their favorite music loudly, yell or talk indecently loudly, making it difficult to sleep? At first, you can peacefully ask the violators to behave more quietly. When pleading doesn't help, you can call the police. But this should be done only after the onset of the established night period, which determines the local law on all administrative violations.

Any officer on duty at the police station must record this call. In a situation where the police do not respond to the call, the fact of the call will still be recorded. Then you can contact the district police officer with a written request to hold these neighbors accountable.

Where to turn when the neighbors haunt during the day. If they constantly make noise during the daytime, do not want to be quieter, it is possible to contact the sanitary and epidemiological supervision so that specialists from the organization measure the level of existing noise inside the applicant's apartment. If the level greatly exceeds the norms established by law, you can safely file a lawsuit in court.

For this you need to have:

• statement to the precinct;
• the conclusion of the sanitary and epidemiological station;
• confirmation of other neighbors, etc.

There are cases when lovers of loud listening to music were evicted from their own apartment for breaking the silence. This is very difficult to do, but it is quite possible to achieve a fine.

Noise is produced by neighbors from above: they move chairs, walk in high heeled shoes, children constantly run around. This is very annoying, but the noise level does not exceed the permissible limits, and it will not be possible to hold them accountable. The only way out here is to talk to the neighbors, explaining that they are very disturbing with this noise. Most of them don't even realize they're making noise. As an option -
advise neighbors to lay a carpet, and start soundproofing the ceiling in your apartment.

Where can you turn when the neighbors make eternal repairs. Any region of the country has a set period of time within which it is allowed to make repairs and make noise. General requirements prohibit repairs on holidays and weekends. For such a violation of the law, the relevant authorities may impose a fine of up to 2,000 rubles.

If the neighbors are very noisy after 19:00, you can call the district police officer. It is necessary to get a couple of witnesses in the person of other neighbors who can confirm that in fact, repairs were going on at that time. The district police officer must take the application seriously, draw it up, and then proceed with this case, which should subsequently be sent to a special administrative commission that issued a fine. What to do if the called district police officer refused to accept the application? And in this situation, you can safely apply to the court.

It is not necessary to take the matter to court.

There is always an opportunity to negotiate peacefully. Some are simply unaware of time limits. Also, if there are small children in neighboring apartments and they need to sleep during the day, or people working the night shift, you can agree with the builders to provide 2-3 hours of silence at lunchtime.

Punishment for those who break the silence. For those who constantly disturb the peace, the law provides, albeit not very severe punishment, but quite backfire. In the event that it is established that the law is nevertheless violated, the district police officer is obliged to draw up a protocol, and then submit it to the court. Where a decision will subsequently be made against the violator and a fine will be determined.

The approximate amount of fines that the law determined for the noise caused:

• from 500 to 2000 rubles. - for citizens;
• 1000 - 5000 rubles. - for officials;
• 3000 - 7000 rubles. - for legal entities.

The constant noise from the neighboring apartment is quite unpleasant and annoying, but it can be dealt with. It is enough to know the law, your rights and try to do everything for a peace treaty with your neighbors.