V a n I (in a coachman's coat).
Dad! who built this road?
Papa (in a coat with a red lining),
Count Pyotr Andreyevich Kleinmichel, my dear!
Conversation in the car
Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
The ice is fragile on the icy river
As if melting sugar lies;
Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not faded yet,
Yellow and fresh lie like a carpet.
Glorious autumn! frosty nights,
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi
And moss swamps, and stumps -
All is well under the moonlight
Everywhere I recognize my dear Rus' ...
I quickly fly along cast-iron rails,
I think my mind...
Good papa! Why in charm
Keep Vanya smart?
You let me in the moonlight
Show him the truth.
This work, Vanya, was terribly huge
Not on the shoulder alone!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is his name.
He leads armies; at sea by ships
Rules; drives people to the artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind the shoulders
Stonecutters, weavers.
He drove the masses of the people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle,
Calling to life these barren wilds,
The coffin was found here.
Straight path: the mounds are narrow,
Poles, rails, bridges.
And on the sides, all the bones are Russian ...
How many of them! Vanya, do you know?
Chu! terrible exclamations were heard!
Stomp and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran over the frosty glass...
What's there? Crowd of the Dead!
They overtake the cast-iron road,
Then the sides run.
Do you hear the singing? .. "On this moonlit night
We love to see our work!
We tore ourselves under the heat, under the cold,
With an eternally bent back,
Lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
Were cold and wet, sick with scurvy.
We were robbed by literate foremen,
The bosses were crushed, the need was crushing ...
We have endured everything, God's warriors,
Peaceful children of labor!
Brothers! You are reaping our fruits!
We are destined to rot in the earth ...
Do you all remember us, the poor, with kindness
Or have you forgotten a long time ago? .. "
Do not be horrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from mother Volga, from Oka,
From different parts of the great state -
These are all your brothers - men!
It's a shame to be shy, to close with a glove,
You are no longer small! .. Russian hair,
You see, he is standing, exhausted by a fever,
Tall sick Belarusian:
Lips bloodless, eyelids fallen,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Forever knee-deep in water
The legs are swollen; tangle in hair;
I am pitting my chest, which is diligently on the spade
From day to day leaned all century ...
You look at him, Vanya, carefully:
It was difficult for a man to get his bread!
Didn't straighten his hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically rusty shovel
Frozen ground hammering!
This noble habit of work
We would not be bad to adopt with you ...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect the man.
Do not be shy for the dear homeland ...
The Russian people carried enough
Carried out this railroad -
Will endure whatever the Lord sends!
Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will pave the way for himself with his chest.
The only pity is to live in this beautiful time
You won't have to, neither me nor you.
At this moment the whistle is deafening
He squealed - the crowd of the dead disappeared!
"I saw, dad, I'm an amazing dream, -
Vanya said - five thousand men,
Russian tribes and breeds representatives
Suddenly they appeared - and he said to me:
"Here they are - our road builders! .."
The general laughed!
"I was recently in the walls of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw Saint Stephen in Vienna,
Well... did the people create all this?
Excuse me this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a bit wild.
Or for you Apollo Belvedere
Worse than an oven pot?
Here are your people - these terms and baths,
A miracle of art - he pulled everything away!
"I'm not talking for you, but for Vanya..."
But the general did not object:
"Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! a wild crowd of drunkards! ..
However, it's time to take care of Vanyusha;
You know, the spectacle of death, sadness
It is a sin to revolt a child's heart.
Would you show the child now
light side..."
Happy to show!
Listen, my dear: fatal works
It's over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working people
Gathered in a close crowd at the office ...
They scratched their heads hard:
Each contractor must remain,
Truant days have become a penny!
Everything was entered by ten's men in a book -
Did he take a bath, was the patient lying:
"Maybe there's too much here now,
Yes, come on! .. " They waved their hands ...
In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Fat, squat, red as copper,
A contractor is walking along the line on a holiday,
He goes to see his work.
The idle people make way decorously...
Sweat wipes the merchant from the face
And he says, akimbo pictorially:
"Okay ... something ... well done! .. well done! ..
With God, now home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to workers
And - I give arrears! .. "
Someone cheered. Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer... Look:
With a song, the foremen rolled a barrel ...
Here even the lazy could not resist!
Unharnessed the people of the horses - and the merchant
With a shout of "Hurrah!" sped along the road...
Seems hard to cheer up the picture
Draw, General?
Vanya (in a coachman's coat). Dad! who built this road?
Papa (in a coat with a red lining). Count Pyotr Andreyevich Kleinmichel, my dear!
Conversation in the car
Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
The ice is fragile on the icy river
As if melting sugar lies;
Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not faded yet,
Yellow and fresh lie like a carpet.
Glorious autumn! frosty nights,
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi
And moss swamps, and stumps -
All is well under the moonlight
Everywhere I recognize my dear Rus' ...
I quickly fly along cast-iron rails,
I think my mind...
II
"Good dad! Why in charm
Keep Vanya smart?
You let me in the moonlight
Show him the truth.
This work, Vanya, was terribly enormous, -
Not on the shoulder alone!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is his name.
He leads armies; at sea by ships
Rules; drives people to the artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind the shoulders
Stonecutters, weavers.
He drove the masses of the people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle,
Calling to life these barren wilds,
The coffin was found here.
Straight path: the mounds are narrow,
Poles, rails, bridges.
And on the sides, all the bones are Russian ...
How many of them! Vanya, do you know?
Chu! terrible exclamations were heard!
Stomp and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran over the frosty glass...
What's there? Crowd of the Dead!
They overtake the cast-iron road,
Then the sides run.
Do you hear the singing? .. "On this moonlit night
We love to see our work!
We tore ourselves under the heat, under the cold,
With an eternally bent back,
Lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
Were cold and wet, sick with scurvy.
We were robbed by literate foremen,
The bosses were crushed, the need was crushing ...
We have endured everything, God's warriors,
Peaceful children of labor!
Brothers! You are reaping our fruits!
We are destined to rot in the earth ...
Do you all remember us, the poor, with kindness
Or have you forgotten for a long time? ..“
Do not be horrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from mother Volga, from Oka,
From different parts of the great state -
It's all your brothers - men!
It's a shame to be shy, to cover yourself with a glove.
You are no longer small! .. Russian hair,
You see, he is standing, exhausted by a fever,
Tall, sick Belarusian:
Lips bloodless, eyelids fallen,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Forever knee-deep in water
The legs are swollen; tangle in hair;
I am pitting my chest, which is diligently on the spade
From day to day leaned all century ...
You look at him, Vanya, carefully:
It was difficult for a man to get his bread!
Didn't straighten his hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically rusty shovel
Frozen ground hammering!
This noble habit of work
We would not be bad to adopt with you ...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect the man.
Do not be shy for the dear homeland ...
The Russian people carried enough
Carried out this railroad -
Will endure whatever the Lord sends!
Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will pave the way for himself with his chest.
The only pity is to live in this beautiful time
You won't have to - neither me nor you.
III
At this moment the whistle is deafening
He squealed - the crowd of the dead disappeared!
"I saw, dad, I'm an amazing dream, -
Vanya said - five thousand men,
Russian tribes and breeds representatives
Suddenly they appeared - and he said to me:
“Here they are, the builders of our road! ..””
The general laughed!
- I was recently in the groans of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw Saint Stephen in Vienna,
Well... did the people create all this?
Excuse me this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a bit wild.
Or for you Apollo Belvedere
Worse than an oven pot?
Here are your people - these terms and baths,
A miracle of art - he pulled everything away! -
"I'm not talking for you, but for Vanya..."
But the general did not object:
- Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! a wild crowd of drunkards! ..
However, it's time to take care of Vanyusha;
You know, the spectacle of death, sadness
It is a sin to revolt a child's heart.
Would you show the child now
The bright side... -
IV
“Glad to show!
Listen, my dear: fatal works
It's over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working people
Gathered in a close crowd at the office ...
They scratched their heads hard:
Each contractor must remain,
Truant days have become a penny!
Everything was entered by ten's men in a book -
Did he take a bath, was the patient lying:
"Maybe there's just too much here now,
Yes, you go! .. “They waved their hands ...
In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Fat, squat, red as copper,
A contractor is walking along the line on a holiday,
He goes to see his work.
The idle people make way decorously...
Sweat wipes the merchant from the face
And he says, akimbo pictorially:
"Okay ... something ... well done! .. well done! ..
With God, now home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to workers
And - I give arrears! ..“
Someone cheered. Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer... Look:
With a song, the foremen rolled a barrel ...
Here even the lazy could not resist!
Unharnessed the people of the horses - and the merchant
With a cry of "Hurrah!" I rushed along the road ...
Seems hard to cheer up the picture
Draw, general? .. "
I once had a chance to hear a mocking: In the USSR they built socialism-communism and, remember, they taught: “It’s a pity that neither I nor you will have to live in this beautiful time”?
To be honest, I did not find an answer, simply because I forgot where these lines came from, which of course are known to many. I was firmly convinced that they had nothing to do with the Soviet slogans about the construction of communism - the very time of the construction of communism was positioned as beautiful, and decades later, many will agree that this was indeed the case. But the lines sounded classical and associated with the school curriculum. And so it turned out - Russian classical literature, 19th century, Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov, the poem "Railway".
I think that the one who laughed at the Soviet past also did not remember the original source. The once memorized lines surfaced in the memory themselves, or maybe one of the unscrupulous anti-Soviet propagandists used a catchphrase and did not miss.
Nekrasov is loved in Russia - a singer of Russian nature, the Russian people, its traditions and original culture, Nekrasov enriched Russian poetry by introducing speech turns of the common people into it. Nekrasov has been known since childhood - “Grandfather Mazai and hares”, “A peasant with a marigold” ... And Nekrasov also admired a Russian woman who “stops a galloping horse”, and a Russian peasant too - a hard worker, patient sufferer, deserving the greatest respect.
Nekrasov is known by many as a sincere folk mourner and intercessor. His piercing poems about the hard lot of the Russian people can leave few people indifferent.
And today, sweeping Nekrasov readings are held annually in Russia - real holidays of Russian culture. Russian culture, and especially literature, is rich in names, but Nekrasov's contribution is huge and undeniable - this has been going on since Soviet times, when more than half a century after the death of the poet, the complete collection of his works was first published.
But do all connoisseurs of Russian culture remember today that Nekrasov was one of Lenin's favorite poets, and that the notorious agent of the tsarist gendarmerie, Thaddeus Bulgarin, in one of his denunciations, called Nekrasov "the most desperate communist"? For what? Despite the increased attention of censorship to the works and journals published by Nekrasov, despite the fact that the poet was associated with the revolutionary democrats of his time, the tsarist authorities could not incriminate him with anything. Nekrasov was engaged in literary activity, was a fairly successful publisher.
This means that the point is in the verses, because of which today, following Lenin, we will call Nekrasov "an old Russian democrat", and even more agree with the assessment of the tsar's scammer. For what? For what he saw, felt or understood, took from life itself the most important and unchanged in the ideology that still worries the rulers of the unjust world - the oppressed people can free themselves only and will definitely come to this, sooner or later.
The lines from the Railway, quoted so out of place by the critic of Soviet life, who is obviously inspired by the bright rattles of modern life, unambiguously confirm the above.
Do not be shy for the dear homeland ...
The Russian people carried enough
Carried out this railroad -
Will endure whatever the Lord sends!
Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will pave the way for himself with his chest.
The only pity is to live in this beautiful time
You won't have to, neither me nor you.
Of course, this passage is not able to reflect the whole meaning that Nekrasov put into his truly revolutionary poem - revolutionary in its truthfulness of describing reality, where the grandiose results of the overwork of the common people are appropriated by "counts" and other "merchants", where the surviving exhausted builders (" many in a terrible struggle ... they found a coffin here for themselves") remained and owed to the contractor, and he, out of the kindness of his generous soul, having assessed the results, forgave the working people for the arrears, and even offered them a barrel of wine. Well, the most piercing sound was made at the end - the grateful people rolled the benefactor in their arms ...
Unharnessed the people of the horses - and the merchant
With a cry of "Hurrah!" sped along the road...
Seems hard to cheer up the picture
Draw, General? .. -
With bitter sarcasm, the poet addresses his interlocutor, who, instead of pictures of sadness and death, asked to describe for his little son the bright sides of the construction of the road.
It seems to me alone that there is something relevant even today in Nekrasov's exposition of the laws and realities of the life of Russian society in the 60s of the century before last?
I won’t be surprised if the relevance of Nekrasov’s poetry is not seen by many today. I’ll even assume the opposite - for the majority, what Nekrasov wrote about, things of bygone days, past so long ago that you can retroactively regret the Russian peasant who suffered from the shackles of serfdom, and after the reform did not win much, but retained his Russian the soul that Nekrasov did not sing of? And he retained his craving for noble work, which is also sung by Nekrasov.
What was, was overgrown ... But what is Nekrasov's Russian verse! How many sincere feelings Russian poets have always had! We teach, we teach the national heritage and remember that labor ennobles and exalts a person, and the fruits of his efforts remain alive even after his death, glorifying him for centuries.
Sorry, I cannot but quote here an excerpt from a modern analysis of Nekrasov's poem "Railway", which is offered to schoolchildren today.
“In his poem “Railway”, Nekrasov raises the theme of “noble labor”. In order to reveal this topic in a new way, the author turns to the Christian experience of the holy ascetics. Ascetics are saints, bearers of God's truth, who have always been for the people the personification of the moral ideal. The poet in his poem shows that the asceticism of a simple Russian peasant is in hard physical labor. In peasant ethics, work has always been seen as a necessary and righteous cause.
We tore ourselves under the heat, under the cold,
With an eternally bent back,
Lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
Were cold and wet, sick with scurvy.
But they do it not in order to complain about their hard fate. Rather the opposite. These hardships only emphasize the feat that they accomplished, the righteousness and sublimity of their work. After all, they did it for the common good. Their labors are pleasing to God, and now they are "God's warriors, peaceful children of labor." And they want to believe that their suffering and labor have not been in vain, but have borne fruit. That is why they cry out: “Brothers! You are reaping our fruits! We are impressed by the image of a sick Belarusian... Even after his death, the Belarusian "did not straighten his hunchbacked back", did not forget his habit of work. And it is not for nothing that the poet calls this habit “noble” and advises us to adopt it too.”
A curtain…
No, of course, Nekrasov's legacy as a poet and citizen is priceless. His work had a huge impact on the next generation of progressive Russian and Soviet writers and the entire subsequent revolutionary era. And we are already living in a new era, despite the monstrous gap in the content of social processes, our era has emerged from the previous one, has grown in it. And probably, somewhere something bent or broke here or there, or maybe it was worn out over time, if today Nekrasov can be exalted as a singer of "God's saints", and that wide, clear road that the poet had to pave for himself in his dreams the Russian people themselves, one can imagine the road of hard, humble labor leading to death, and after which they are again ready to work as usual.
Undoubtedly, something has broken if the generation of those who were educated in Soviet times either quotes Nekrasov in an alien context, or does not remember at all who the author of the winged words is and cannot immediately, easily restore historical and poetic justice.
However, I do not think that we should despair too much about this. Nekrasov and other progressive Russian poets and writers cannot work for us even today. Even, as we see, they can be attracted to anyone's service - at will and without their consent.
But of course you need to know them - their thoughts and creativity, their views on life and the surrounding reality, their ability to see and convey what they see with artistic methods so that, with a careful reading of the original without intermediaries, the reader can feel the truth of life through the centuries and learn from representatives of progressive social thought. of the past, the ability to understand precisely one’s time, to know one’s involvement in it, to believe in the power of one’s word and deed.
In this sense, it will also be useful to return or for the first time come into contact with another work by Nekrasov - the elegy "Let the changeable fashion tell us." Here, too, someone will surely hear the actual notes. And it doesn’t matter that we don’t have Nekrasov’s poetic talent - if our current views, thoughts, feelings, dreams and actions are in tune with Nekrasov’s, then the “most desperate communist” of post-reform Russia of the 19th century lived and worked for sure not in vain. But the most important thing is not in vain today and we think so, in our time.
Both mentioned works by Nekrasov - and - are now in our library.
"Repair work on the railway", 1874. Konstantin Apollonovich Savitsky (1845 - 1905) - an active participant in the Association of Traveling Art Exhibitions. His paintings are a vivid protest against the war (“To the War”, 1880), religious dope (“Meeting the Icon”, 1878), and exploitation.
V a n I (in a coachman's coat).
Dad! who built this road?
Papa (in a coat with a red lining),
Count Pyotr Andreyevich Kleinmichel, my dear!
Conversation in the car
Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
The ice is fragile on the icy river
As if melting sugar lies;
Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not faded yet,
Yellow and fresh lie like a carpet.
Glorious autumn! frosty nights,
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi
And moss swamps, and stumps -
All is well under the moonlight
Everywhere I recognize my dear Rus' ...
I quickly fly along cast-iron rails,
I think my mind...
Good papa! Why in charm
Keep Vanya smart?
You let me in the moonlight
Show him the truth.
This work, Vanya, was terribly huge
Not on the shoulder alone!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is his name.
He leads armies; at sea by ships
Rules; drives people to the artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind the shoulders
Stonecutters, weavers.
He drove the masses of the people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle,
Calling to life these barren wilds,
The coffin was found here.
Straight path: the mounds are narrow,
Poles, rails, bridges.
And on the sides, all the bones are Russian ...
How many of them! Vanya, do you know?
Chu! terrible exclamations were heard!
Stomp and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran over the frosty glass...
What's there? Crowd of the Dead!
They overtake the cast-iron road,
Then the sides run.
Do you hear the singing? .. "On this moonlit night
We love to see our work!
We tore ourselves under the heat, under the cold,
With an eternally bent back,
Lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
Were cold and wet, sick with scurvy.
We were robbed by literate foremen,
The bosses were crushed, the need was crushing ...
We have endured everything, God's warriors,
Peaceful children of labor!
Brothers! You are reaping our fruits!
We are destined to rot in the earth ...
Do you all remember us, the poor, with kindness
Or have you forgotten for a long time? .. "
Do not be horrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from mother Volga, from Oka,
From different parts of the great state -
It's all your brothers - men!
It's a shame to be shy, to close with a glove,
You are no longer small! .. Russian hair,
You see, he is standing, exhausted by a fever,
Tall sick Belarusian:
Lips bloodless, eyelids fallen,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Forever knee-deep in water
The legs are swollen; tangle in hair;
I am pitting my chest, which is diligently on the spade
From day to day leaned all century ...
You look at him, Vanya, carefully:
It was difficult for a man to get his bread!
Didn't straighten his hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically rusty shovel
Frozen ground hammering!
This noble habit of work
It would not be bad for us to adopt with you ...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect the man.
Do not be shy for the dear homeland ...
The Russian people carried enough
Carried out this railroad -
Will endure whatever the Lord sends!
Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will pave the way for himself with his chest.
The only pity is to live in this beautiful time
You won't have to, neither me nor you.
At this moment the whistle is deafening
He squealed - the crowd of the dead disappeared!
"I saw, dad, I'm an amazing dream, -
Vanya said - five thousand men,
Russian tribes and breeds representatives
Suddenly they appeared - and he said to me:
"Here they are - our road builders! .."
The general laughed!
“I was recently in the walls of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw Saint Stephen in Vienna,
Well… did the people create all this?
Excuse me this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a bit wild.
Or for you Apollo Belvedere
Worse than an oven pot?
Here are your people - these terms and baths,
A miracle of art - he pulled everything away! ”-
“I’m not talking for you, but for Vanya…”
But the general did not object:
"Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! a wild crowd of drunkards! ..
However, it's time to take care of Vanyusha;
You know, the spectacle of death, sadness
It is a sin to revolt a child's heart.
Would you show the child now
The bright side…
Happy to show!
Listen, my dear: fatal works
It's over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working people
Gathered in a close crowd at the office ...
They scratched their heads hard:
Each contractor must remain,
Truant days have become a penny!
Everything was entered by ten's men in a book -
Did he take a bath, was the patient lying:
“Maybe there is now a surplus here,
Yes, come on! .. ”They waved their hands ...
In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Fat, squat, red as copper,
A contractor is walking along the line on a holiday,
He goes to see his work.
The idle people make way dignifiedly...
Sweat wipes the merchant from the face
And he says, akimbo pictorially:
“Okay ... something ... well done! .. well done! ..
With God, now home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to workers
And - I give arrears! .. "
Someone cheered. Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer... Look:
With a song, the foremen rolled a barrel ...
Here even the lazy could not resist!
Unharnessed the people of the horses - and the merchant
With a cry of "Hurrah!" sped along the road...
Seems hard to cheer up the picture
Draw, General?
V a n I (in a coachman's coat).
Dad! who built this road?
Papa (in a coat with a red lining),
Count Pyotr Andreyevich Kleinmichel, my dear!
Conversation in the car
Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
The ice is fragile on the icy river
As if melting sugar lies;
Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not faded yet,
Yellow and fresh lie like a carpet.
Glorious autumn! frosty nights,
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi
And moss swamps, and stumps -
All is well under the moonlight
Everywhere I recognize my dear Rus' ...
I quickly fly along cast-iron rails,
I think my mind...
Good papa! Why in charm
Keep Vanya smart?
You let me in the moonlight
Show him the truth.
This work, Vanya, was terribly huge
Not on the shoulder alone!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is his name.
He leads armies; at sea by ships
Rules; drives people to the artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind the shoulders
Stonecutters, weavers.
He drove the masses of the people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle,
Calling to life these barren wilds,
The coffin was found here.
Straight path: the mounds are narrow,
Poles, rails, bridges.
And on the sides, all the bones are Russian ...
How many of them! Vanya, do you know?
Chu! terrible exclamations were heard!
Stomp and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran over the frosty glass...
What's there? Crowd of the Dead!
They overtake the cast-iron road,
Then the sides run.
Do you hear the singing? .. "On this moonlit night
We love to see our work!
We tore ourselves under the heat, under the cold,
With an eternally bent back,
Lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
Were cold and wet, sick with scurvy.
We were robbed by literate foremen,
The bosses were crushed, the need was crushing ...
We have endured everything, God's warriors,
Peaceful children of labor!
Brothers! You are reaping our fruits!
We are destined to rot in the earth ...
Do you all remember us, the poor, with kindness
Or have you forgotten a long time ago? .. "
Do not be horrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from mother Volga, from Oka,
From different parts of the great state -
It's all your brothers - men!
It's a shame to be shy, to close with a glove,
You are no longer small! .. Russian hair,
You see, he is standing, exhausted by a fever,
Tall sick Belarusian:
Lips bloodless, eyelids fallen,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Forever knee-deep in water
The legs are swollen; tangle in hair;
I am pitting my chest, which is diligently on the spade
From day to day leaned all century ...
You look at him, Vanya, carefully:
It was difficult for a man to get his bread!
Didn't straighten his hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically rusty shovel
Frozen ground hammering!
This noble habit of work
We would not be bad to adopt with you ...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect the man.
Do not be shy for the dear homeland ...
The Russian people carried enough
Carried out this railroad -
Will endure whatever the Lord sends!
Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will pave the way for himself with his chest.
The only pity is to live in this beautiful time
You won't have to, neither me nor you.
At this moment the whistle is deafening
He squealed - the crowd of the dead disappeared!
"I saw, dad, I'm an amazing dream, -
Vanya said - five thousand men,
Russian tribes and breeds representatives
Suddenly they appeared - and he said to me:
"Here they are - our road builders! .."
The general laughed!
"I was recently in the walls of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw Saint Stephen in Vienna,
Well... did the people create all this?
Excuse me this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a bit wild.
Or for you Apollo Belvedere
Worse than an oven pot?
Here are your people - these terms and baths,
A miracle of art - he pulled everything away!
"I'm not talking for you, but for Vanya..."
But the general did not object:
"Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! a wild crowd of drunkards! ..
However, it's time to take care of Vanyusha;
You know, the spectacle of death, sadness
It is a sin to revolt a child's heart.
Would you show the child now
light side..."
Happy to show!
Listen, my dear: fatal works
It's over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working people
Gathered in a close crowd at the office ...
They scratched their heads hard:
Each contractor must remain,
Truant days have become a penny!
Everything was entered by ten's men in a book -
Did he take a bath, was the patient lying:
"Maybe there's too much here now,
Yes, come on! .. " They waved their hands ...
In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Fat, squat, red as copper,
A contractor is walking along the line on a holiday,
He goes to see his work.
The idle people make way decorously...
Sweat wipes the merchant from the face
And he says, akimbo pictorially:
"Okay ... something ... well done! .. well done! ..
With God, now home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to workers
And - I give arrears! .. "
Someone cheered. Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer... Look:
With a song, the foremen rolled a barrel ...
Here even the lazy could not resist!
Unharnessed the people of the horses - and the merchant
With a shout of "Hurrah!" sped along the road...
Seems hard to cheer up the picture
Draw, General?
About 1120.6 words (+- 224.12 or more)
In addition to Nekrasov's poem Railway, there are other works on this site. Look at them too, for example, an equally beautiful poem by the same writer - Out of town. For convenience, you can use the convenient collection of poems by Nekrasov, in which all works of poetry are arranged in alphabetical order. If you search for the poem Railroad, then it is in the collection under the serial number - 30.
