Dew: "Girl's beauty is like May dew."

our life–dewdrop.

Let only a drop of dew

our life–but still...

Kobayashi Issa

What flies to the ground in the evening, stays on the ground at night, flies away in the morning? The answer to this riddle is simple - it is ROSA. One of the most common phenomena of nature - and it delights and surprises!

Few people have ever enjoyed the spectacle of morning dew: everything glitters under the rays of the rising sun - overflows of all the colors of the rainbow are scattered over the grass. For us, modern people, the nature of its appearance is clear from school, but in legends different peoples dew was poetized, many legends and rituals are associated with it.

In antiquity, dew was symbolically associated with the messenger of the gods, Irida, whose robe consisted of iridescent rainbow-colored dew drops, and with the goddess of the morning dawn, Eos (it was believed that dew – these are the tears of Eos). Slavic peoples believed that dew was sown by mermaids or stars.

But, I think, the attitude to the beauty of the sparkling splendor spilled over the meadow has not changed since those ancient times.

Dew fell on the grass

Went down like smoke

Spread out with a veil

Silver blue.

You won’t get off the path into the grass -

Burns like fire

And heavy dewdrops

And so it rains.

Valentina Panina

The main thing to do in order to have time to see the entire performance is to get up early, as soon as the first rays of the sun appear over the horizon and begin to illuminate the open corners of the meadow.

The first minutes I try to stay dry: it's amazing that this happens every time you go into the dewy grass. But soon, getting wet to the waist, you stop being careful: it's like getting caught in the rain and not being able to quickly hide from it, you continue to move in the chosen direction, as if nothing had happened.

And it is desirable not to combine this event - the search for natural treasures - with anything else. You just need to go to the meadow early in the morning so as not to be distracted by picking berries or mushrooms. The impression should be solid, unique and memorable. The morning fog had almost completely dissipated and fled from sun rays into the lowlands. There the dew will remain for a long time - the sun will not soon take away its sparkling beauty.

Blades of grass stand leaning under the weight of droplets - there are many of them, they sparkle and shimmer - and for diamond shine and the overflow of each drop is the point from which all this luxury is visible in full glory.

It's funny, crouching and slowly turning your head, to stop the admiring gaze on one of the million drops and catch the same bright brilliance of it, the only one in the whole meadow.

The whole earth is covered with cobwebs, they are completely invisible during the day, but now they are filled with large drops that reflect the sky.

The cobwebs hanging between the blades of grass can hardly hold the load of the dew accumulated during the night, and each drop is a lens through which one can see the upside down world.

It is good to meet such a morning on the shore of a reservoir: the sun, reflected from the water, glows in every drop. You will not see such a sight in the meadow.

Dew and its drops have long been endowed with magical and sacred power.

It was believed that bathing in dew in certain days(spring Yuriev day - April 23, Ivan Kupala - July 7) gives strength and beauty. Dew these days was collected from herbs and used in folk medicine. Moisture, accumulating and drying out every day, collects infusions of medicinal herbs. Dew from motherwort can be drunk with cardiovascular diseases, dew from mint will calm the nerves, and almost all internal organs from yarrow. And just walking barefoot in the burning cold of dew is useful, no doubt.

In the ideas of the Slavs, the first dew appears after St. George's Day, that's when it comes out of the ground (or St. George releases it) on the first green. The healing property of this dew is also reflected in the proverbs: “St. George's dew from the evil eye, from seven ailments”; "Be healthy, like St. George's dew!".

In Belarus, early in the morning on St. George's Day, it was customary to walk the dew "taptats", or "cowards". Here is what A.G. Bobrov in his book "Riding in the dew" as a pagan sacrament":

“The dew, used for medicinal purposes, was obviously identified with the “living water” of Russian epics and fairy tales. This is evidenced, for example, by the method of “healing” the epic hero Mikhail Ivanovich Potyk: “Mikhail Potyk, son Ivanovich, swam on four bones into a green meadow, he sailed to the oak cheese. A bird of paradise flew in, sat down on that damp oak, she sang royal songs: “Whoever at this time-time washes with dew from this silk grass, he will be healthy.” Mikhail Potyk son Ivanovich washed his face with dew from this silk grass: his bloody wounds overgrown, he became, well done, healthy as before.

A lot of folk signs associated with dew, and they still serve as our helpers. Here is some of them:

• Big dew in the morning - good weather; no dew - to rain.
• In the litera time, like in the morning there will be no dew, then there will be rain in the afternoon (malor.).
• Dew appears on the grass in the evening - to good weather.
• Quiet, bright night without dew - expect rain the next day.
• Evening dew is good - to the bucket.
• Abundant dew in the morning and evening, without wind - to good weather.
• If there is heavy dew on Ivan Kupala, this is a big harvest of cucumbers.

The whole meadow shines with dew, but in the forest you pay more attention to individual droplets. And how well they decorate all the plants there too! Here is a blooming blueberry glowing in the sun like a lollipop.

The lingonberry bush also adorned itself overnight.

Sleep-grass bowed its head under the weight of moisture accumulated on it.

The cobwebs hung between the branches are now visible from afar and shimmer under the rays of the sun penetrating into the thicket. During the night, dew covers insects too - they are covered with drops of dew and are completely helpless.

In order to carefully examine the usually nimble insects, it is worth squatting down and watching their awakening for a long time. Gradually warming themselves in the sun, they shake off the drops and, turning towards the warmth, come to their senses to begin their ordinary life.

The sun rises, rapidly evaporating the dew - life in dense grasses and in the forest begins another day.

Only the leaves of the cuff and lupine will keep precious dew drops in their "palms" and on the tips of the "fingers" for a long time.

God! Truly your world is wonderful!

Silently, gathering the dew of the field,

my heart, heart full of songs,

without spilling, I will convey to you ...

Vladimir Nabokov

I will be in autumn and winter
I wear a scarf.
If the darling comes -
He'll probably come! -
By the scarf will notice
How I truly love him.
1965

* * *
I go here for a reason -
Here are Alyonushka's places;
And Alyonushkin shore,
And Alyonushkin's pebble.
A yellow leaf circles over the water,
A yellow leaf lies on the water
And the water is black-black,
And you can't see the bottom of the water.
No wonder I come here
I have one problem:
You were born human
Named with a bright name,
But a sorcerer for an indefinite period
I dressed you in the skin of a wolf.
Ah, if I could not
Listen to the secret language of the beast!
Ah, when not to be able, not to dare
I feel sorry for the insidious animals,
How happy I would be
How easy life would be!
But Mother Nature commanded
I can understand any language
And I heard your groan:
You were born human!
... I come here for a reason:
I will unravel my fair-haired braid,
I'll let go of the scythe about the belt,
I will tie a stone with a ribbon,
Together with a gray stone
In the black pool I will go to the bottom.
You know about it, find out!
Days and nights live without sleep!
From sadness do not eat or drink,
But help me out!
Don't bring anyone here
Cast the seine yourself:
There will be a seine with empty water,
There will be a net with thick grass,
Do not worry! For the third time
There will be a net with me just.
From three birches a cassock of dew
Shake it on my face,
Rejoice generously, firmly believe:
You are no longer a beast,
I got you from the bottom
The secret of the evil sorcerer.
... Not yesterday I went to the bottom, -
Ah, at the bottom I've been a long time!
All urgent deadlines have passed,
Grass braided hair
Water poured out my chest -
The seine does not descend.
A tourniquet hit the neck,
And for a long time candles burn for me
In the parent's house...
Why don't you? Why?

It's already purring over the earth,
A dead leaf trembles in the polynya,
The dew of the cassock is freezing.
Wolves howl throughout the forests.
1965

* * *
Let me fall asleep, and let me dream
My dashing happiness...
Vasily Fedorov

My galloping happiness, hello!
Let me wash your hooves!
Give me your head - I'll hug you, maned,
Kiss the unforgotten eyes...
Here, on the paths softened by the rain,
On my impassable roads
Remained holes from chiseled legs -
They are filled with dirty water,
They are washed away by autumn rains,
They are crushed by a cart wheel,
So that before them, my salvation,
I, sad, do not stop.
In order not to drink water from the hoof,
Do not remember any neighing, no stomping,
To not dare to share with me
Brother Alyonushka bitter experience ...

Mother Nature! She doesn't last long
Change white to black
Make your trail the trail of the gray wolf
Release a pack of dogs on the trail.
Only, no matter how she deceives,
No matter how she dominates me,
I'll tell you loud and again:
“My happiness that has galloped away, hello!”
1965

* * *
You were my distance.
You were my height...
Then fell off
Maple leaves,
Then it burned
Showing off, rowan,
And flew quietly
Glowing, web.
In wet lowlands
The fogs swirled
Through the dead bogs
I went, my desired!

And beasts and reptiles
crawled down,
But I walked like a garden -
You were my height!
Bushes and thorns
Grabbed by the dress
But - is it better? -
You were my distance!
I walked without bending
By white blizzards
I walked smiling
Not walking, but flying!
And the time has come:
You are close! You're near!
...Deadbeat,
With fading eyes,
Like a black shard
burnt planet,
You are stone and cold:
No happiness, no light.
Oh what happened?
Who stole, hid
All that glowed
And who is to blame for that -
Is it my selflessness?
Are your trains?
...You were my height!
You were my distance!
1965

* * *
By the river in the morning whitened aftermath
Indifferently touched the frozen leaf...
Before my eyes, the crossing was carried away -
Two logs thrown over the island.

The wind whistles and tears, and snowflakes are like bullets!
Do not escape under the alder, do not escape in the willow,
... And on that island - the chirping of July,
The swaying of daisies on that island.

I go down to the water - from the palms to wash, -
The icy water is ugly and muddy.
... And behind that island, like a living, flows
The one you want to drink to the bottom.

It's time for me to go under a reliable roof,
Listen winter winds growing howl.
... And on that island, like the sun, came out
My favorite ... He waves his hand from a distance.

Oh, why am I, without thinking sensibly,
By the seething water - without a coat and boots?
Well, before my eyes, the crossing was carried away -
Two logs thrown over an island...

From winter, from the earth, I break away with a push ...
I'm sailing to you, my long-awaited, wait!
I'm already approaching your island,
Island!

The island sank under water.
1965

* * *
Out of habit
Do not write to me:
Feelings are not matches:
Chirkay carcasses.
Comparable to feeling
Fire only:
Don't hide
Don't run away!

Oh, it was on fire!
It was - what!
Everything has passed...
In bitter smoke
Quietly extinguished
Following disaster
Heads, coals,
The ashes are gray.

The corners will disappear.
Ashes have sprouted!
I can't resurrect
I am not Christ.
What are you writing?
What are you waiting for?
Looking for the past
You hardly find it.

No matter how I look -
After the disaster
Small, pocket
Match you.
And under the bench
They can drop
And for a penny
They can buy.
Out of habit
Don't write to me.
Feelings are not matches:
Chip-carcasses!
1965

* * *
A fast train is not a red trotter,
A distant city is not a meadow for a night...
Well, well, well! Well, well, well! Well, well, well!
Confirm the wheels of the oncoming one.

Phlegmatic compartment neighbor,
Collapsed, snoring early in the morning ...
And in the evening my nightingale sang
And danced with me to the talyanka.

Tok-tok-tok! Tok-tok-tok! Tok-tok-tok!
Stay, groom, without a bride:
Our friendship green sprout
Whether it will bloom without meetings is unknown.

Cold and pale sheets
Under the state-owned - for the night - a blanket ...
And the night is still my mother
She covered it with her sheepskin coat.

Knock-Knock! Knock-Knock! Knock-Knock!
The anxiety is getting stronger and clearer:
The abandoned meadow is running wild,
The field road will grow.

And the years will flow like water;
Hold - you can’t think of a way!
And never ever again
I will not get off at the Childhood Station.

Chok-chok-chok! Chok-chok-chok! Chok-chok-chok!
Not hooves - wheels, but still ...
And a nightlight burns in the ceiling,
It looks like a blue star.
1966

BIRCH
She grew up beautiful
grew tall,
She was broken -
She dried up.
She was broken
In winter, by the way.
Brooks woke up:
"Get up and hello!" -
The winds woke
The birds woke up
But dead branches
Don't wake up...
But the stump remained
And I heard the birds
And guessed
That is alive and breathing.
Pulled like a braga
He's getting harder
living moisture
into living roots.
But the juice is intoxicating
Not needed by the stem
Barely getting up
Flowing to the ground...
I fall down
To stump lips
I am hugging
Hand stump,
And I drink like a beer
Hiding the tears
native moisture
native birch.
I know sorrow
I'm on fire
Live, root
I'll be the stem!
I am continuation
Your living
Your bloom
With your leaves
And everything that perishes
It fades in me
Your juice will rise
Save, straighten...
1966

WILLOW
I willow commoner -
To the ground is not whimsical.
Not adored by anyone
Nothing is fenced
From the spring flood,
From the mockingbird
From the midnight wind
I went up on a rock
Under the river grumbling,
I held on to the sandstone,
And the gravel was not affectionate
To my fragile fingers.
In the spring, the sandstone was washed -
I thought I was dead!
Diving between the ice floes -
Died, perished
Without a clan and without a tribe,
Without flower and without seed...
But the ice floes melted
They left me to lie
No roots, no branches,
Without memory, without knowledge.
It didn't take long for me to believe
That washed ashore again
Yes, the kidney survived
Live baby, baby.
The sun warmed up more -
Hatched Alyonushka!
Over lean loams
Again I stand - a blade of grass.
And here - and livestock, and pastures ..,
She took it all out and grew up again.
And careless from the heat
Already kept the little river;
Saved cattle from the gadfly.
The girls will go on the water -
I will give them flexible twigs:
“Come on, come on, come on
On pester-dials,
So that there was something for redheads! -
Yes, men with carts
One day they were driving by.
The horses were merrily driven
Shaft something and cracked
One. That driver
Got a sharpened ax
And well, cut the shaft
From my stem.
I didn’t cry, they say, have mercy,
Since it came in handy
Let it be so... I got rid of it.
Fed up, pissed off.
(Because I knew exactly:
In the shaft, I am fragile.
Do not regret - throw away
Only up to the courtyard will they dig.)
But in the stable yard
I was put into action:
Fence, you see, in manure and mud -
Don't hold it up - you could fall.
One end pointed

I was stuck in the ground
Changed in the fence...
Yes, I'm not offended.
She endured everything - grew again,
From a peg -
To heaven!
Vivacious!
Mighty!
... And everyone calls -
Weeping...
1966

HAPPY
I don't watch the time
I don't wear gold.
Golden - on the goddess,
Where the ink is gathering dust
Where is the spider with the cross on the back
Weaves cobwebs,
Where is the forgotten icon
Looks sad and mournful...
I don't watch the time
I wake up, a little light
And, throwing on what you have to,
In the dew I run to the well.
Slightly creaking gate
A little chilly,
Slightly rising sun
Golden in the hut of the window.
Chickens jumping from a perch
They now have a place in the garden.
In the courtyard with a sloping horn
A cow pushes through the door.
Wait already, Pestrukha,
I will feed you, doyuhu,
I'll set you free
I'll just make a drink.
I'll lead you free
I'll cook more food
I will season with onions, I will season with salt,
Edokov - a full feast!
This one is a groom, this one is a carpenter,
This one is a cultural enlightener,
This one - though not soon -
Will become a combine operator in the field, -
God bless!
And out and wives
Vish got into the habit, dudes,
Ride on the meadow day kazhny
All by car and by car!
And walking would not have weakened!
Well, where is my rake?
Eco, it's cramped in the back,
Well, where is my place?

Again noon, again evening,
Again morning near the stove ...
I sat down - barely got up,
Greyed - did not see:
The time was not observed
I didn't wear gold...
Why get dusty in gold? -
I will give them to the young!
1966

ICE-SNOWFLOW

Lace artel "Snowflake"
Vologda

Quietly falling snowflakes
On thin ice.
I'll break off a piece of ice
Where's the sweet follower.
blue, blue,
Blue ice...
Bad dear acts -
Loves, but does not marry.
Can the ice floe melt
If you take a long breath.
Can leave a pretty one
If you don't hold on tight.
Can the ice break
If dropped on the floor.
May the darling get angry
If you push hard.
Silver snowflake
It glitters on ice.
Only a breeze will blow -
The snowflake will fly away.
Lots of snow Lots of snow
And the snowflake is one!
I follow a lot, I follow a lot
And the trace is visible!
How beautiful is this -
White on blue!
Mommy asked me
What am I doing in the kitchen?
I have a sin in my eyes
I am guilty:
This ice floe with a snowflake
Hidden in the fridge.
My mother did not scold me
Just laughed.
Went for bobbins
The thread has worn out.
“You can not melt the ice
And don't scare away the snowflake
Expensive to amuse
And don't fool yourself!" -
I'm at my mother's lace
The craft has taken over
Today the lace is alive
Brought dear:
Snowflake on the trail
Hexagonal.
Pleased the berry -
I live happily.
1966

FIRST SNOW
I'm standing on the shore.
The river carries sludge.
On the other, desired, shore
I can't move:
No log, no bridge,
No perch, no raft!
And in the forest behind our river
Beauty settled.
Was until now
This bur is like all burs:
With strawberries and mushrooms
Yes, with bark scales.
And I went there
without much work,
I forded the river,
After all, the river is nonsense!
And I carried it home
How recently, my God! -
Now mushrooms, then strawberries,
That rowan leaf is carved.
And today - that's the trouble! -
Water level with the shore
And so it turns, and so it turns,
Sunxia - vanish without a trace.
It's a circle wheel
Spread by Beauty,
To not get close to her
Neither shod nor barefoot.
They step - it is necessary to sew
Or live again.
hung on the trees
Look what lace -
Primordial whiteness!
Unspeakable novelty!
Many, many sky today
Spent the treasury!
Here comes Santa Claus
Yes, it will drive where it is necessary, a nail,
Everything will be arranged, everything will be arranged,
There will be, therefore, a bridge.
... So I stand on the shore,
I console myself as much as I can.
I would swim - I don’t feel sorry for myself -
Yes, I'll save the beauty.
1966

RASH, SNOW...
Rash, snow, melt,
Oh yes, fall again!
... I was Pylaeva,
And now - Smirnova.

With a broom
swept the porch,
Rustled in the hay,
Fired up the stove.
in a hasty whisper
Woke up her husband
Other chores
All to him, - to whom?
Manage the guys
Yes, so that without a roar!
Move the grips
Dress up the cow.
...Oh, and the snow fell!
Drowned! not without reason
At night the wind howled
He thumped furiously.
Wick shy
Flutters in the lantern.
At least save him!
Blown away... Wow, goblin!
I tried to get out
Without fire. Where is it!..
Came back - shake out
Snow and take a shovel.
Buried, crumpled,
Fumbled in the dark -
Hard groped:
The trail melted.
Announced, mother,
Here is the glory of God:
Still not in a hurry
Start the road.

Frost powdered
Door. familiar and dear,
Met the bright morning
Bucket chime.
Among the cows - hooting
Naughty comrades.
This, if without swearing,
Also as a gift.
And goodness grew in the soul,
And while milking
Each of the cows
She said something.
They stood listening
Affectionately simple
Her milk is thicker
Give away: worth it!
Heifers are absurd
Suddenly they subsided
Seen off kindly
Sad eyes.

Only raked out of the nursery,
Hears: "Evdokia!" -
I wiped my hands with hay
Came out: “Who are they?” -
Both unfamiliar
Like city
Is it not from the regional committee,
What Basques?
A little embarrassed: “Did you click?” -
They answer: "Exactly!" -
"Well, go home, if? .." -
They laughed: "Urgent!" -
Third, unnoticed
Clicked the device:
"Photo secured!" -
Dunya - guilty:
"I'm undressed,
To wait a little,
I'll go out like a bajona, -
What is joy to whom?
Three are smiling.
“Good! And without a brooch
You are our beauty
It's not about the clothes."
From the sleeve of a sweatshirt
shook off the rubbish,
Knocked down boots
Sat in a car.
In a passenger car - how long?
Five minutes - and home!
Children "Volga" touched,
Cleaned with straw
Slightly powdered
Wings and wheels...
admiring eyes
flared up with a question
Shast - and in the hut, sweethearts,
And in front of everyone they interpret:
"Mommy, and mommy,
We would like this!” -
Smiled: "Will
smart, big,
Buy now, kids.
Everyone in a car!

Melted in my heart,
It seems like it should be.
I put the samovar
And in a jacket with an award
(With Star and Lenin),
In a pleated skirt
Put on...
As ordered
Highlighted the brow.
They drove through the snow
They filmed everything:
That is closer to the pines,
That's away again.
Ran for a bathrobe -
They took off in a bathrobe.
She squinted in the mirror:
"Oh, come on, and that's enough?"
(“It’s not the same, however, I am!” -
Thoughts run.)
Again, they remove everything:
With a shawl and without a shawl.
On the face (tired!) - a shadow,
Seems like crazy...
Released, thank those
To the stove, to the samovar.

Here is the "white-headed"
Here is the finished table...
“Oh, I forgot, right, I:
I have cows!
Excuse me, guests! -
And darted into the canopy:
"I'll run to Tonyushka,
I'll ask you to replace it."

“... What to tell?
After all, you know.
And yes, just remember...
Is it about the trip?
As from the hands of Budyonny
Did you receive an order?
Come on, it's convenient for you
About cows first? -
"Inwardly!" - insisted
Bold black-browed. -
“Well ... was - Pylaeva,
And now - Smirnova ... "

The glass glows through
Lost a little.
What do you remember about tea?
For wine - it affected.

"I was Pylaeva
In the girls something: blazed!
Not one charmed -
Didn't get close!
Because - where is it,
What if he's not cute?
Not alive, not fighting?

I loved to dance!
As a venture in the meadow -
People look: Basco!
And I'll run to the farm -
Duck again with a dance!
I'll crush fractions,
I dared around the circle!
I drill, I choose to drill -
What I wish!
Boot worn out
So knocks that off the dress
Peas are falling:
There is someone to collect them!
There was, yes there was
Happiness, it came across!
That's why I sang
That's why it danced.
Only it was - yes it's gone
With a boy to work.
Parted hard
But they parted amicably.
Five years waiting for him -
Dear, dear,
Vicious, dark-haired...
I believed in the word
Confirmed by letters:
"I will serve - I will come:
Not in spring, so in autumn,
If not Thursday, then Wednesday.
I did not say longing
And walked proudly
My milk record!
My sports record!
Took what she could
Every minute:
Things will go well -
I'll please him!
... He returned home
Early dawn spring.
Came back, yes - another,
Oh, not the same, not the former!
The ceilings shook
Feet stumbled
Broken heels...

“We are not on the road.
You, Dunyakha, - he says, -
Became famous
Offense from you now
I will have a lot.
You will now go
meetings, congresses,
Today - there, and tomorrow - here,
Don't warm up the place.
Through this, I'm leaving
I'm leaving, that is.
There will be time - I will write. -
And went. On the train.
I didn't call him.
No, she didn't.
"Don't be bored, Pylaeva!" -
"I'll try, honey."

May was noisy. Grass grew.
Everything is dry dry.
In a month or two
They gave me a Hero.
I remember how on a saucer,
in the middle of the hall
With Katerina Furtseva
"Russian" danced.
Shoes - not worn!
Brand new dress!
Peas are falling -
Someone to pick them up...
And now I'm married
For Vanya Smirnov.
He is a man by all means.
Gold. Mechanic.
I always get tired
Deed and advice.
Only I - as a disabled person,
Something whines somewhere.
And grow - I'm not growing,
Remembering youth
And to the new Star -
No, I don't apply.
The old wound hurts -
I do not hide a secret:
In the heart of the same dynamite
Yes, there is no fire.
What is there to hide -
They also see cows:
Pylaeva departed,
Smirnov began.
1966

IN KIRILLOVSKY MONASTERY
Chilled, frostbitten,
And melted, and sleeps ...
Only Siverskoye Lake
The sever wind stirs.

Light, light over the waves
Poplar white fluff.
Only - with iconic faces -
Ten willows, dry old women.

Poplars look our way:
Wide and far!
Only willows, like nuns,
Like praying for someone.

The monastery towers slumber,
Slumbering rusty crosses
Low crypts collapsed,
The dark cells are empty.

Monolithic walls are crying.
In the cracks of menacing loopholes
Curious beaks look
Gray-winged peaceful birds...

Is it all not to your heart's content?
Is it green to the heart?
Siverskoye Lake is walking,
Wrinkles a bright forehead.

So he until the autumn,
Before the ice cold
It's hard to worry about questions
Wash away the sins of the gods
And a piece of red
Like a small fire
Throw from shaft to shaft,
Like from palm to palm.
1966

* * *
Ah, the fishermen, overslept the dawn -
Now boil the floats!
Ah, suitors, they gave Zoya -
Now bite your elbows!

All accordions cry about Zoya
And all the bayans are singing:
To miss such a girl -
Ah, forty through fifty!

And maybe it's not too late
Turn things back?
Or maybe it's not serious
Not the one, perhaps, the addressee?

But Zoya passes with a challenge
Let alone, for now - alone,
Under "In the garden, in the garden ...",
What pours from her window.

And all doubts are swept aside
With one brow.
All young! Golden!
"And she won't be mine anymore..."
1966

TELL
In the black bath in the morning
Rub the heel with a pebble -
To be frisky on the leg,
To be the first in the meadow.
Under a proverb
I'll drink kvass on the shelf -
Give, kvass with a proverb,
I'm in good health!
What will remain in the bucket -
I'll throw it on the rock.
So that in the bath - the spirit of leavened,
To me - the groom Basque!
I will give a watch to my sister-in-law
Silk dress - mother-in-law,
On the shirt - to the brothers,
Gloomy Stepin brothers:
"Do not frown, brethren,
After all, living with me is a divya!
I'm not a feisty wasp
Not a cunning fox
I am a dewdrop
Birch from the forest!
You, sister, do not look askance,
Don't be stingy with words
Living with me is fun
I know a lot of songs!
You mother-in-law
Do not knock with a grip, -
I am your base
I love Stepanushka!
1966

AN EYE FOR AN EYE
The attendants have arrived!
Correspondents are moving in!
And the students are very
At eyeglasses, they scatter.
On the floors - flashing,
Near the porch - festivities,
And it was - on their lasso
Do not pull out of the building:
Everyone was sitting with books
Pissed over abstracts
They didn’t call love to themselves -
There was no time to love
There was no one to love.
Your classmates -
Is it hope? Is it a joy? -
Come on the cabbages!

And the guys to the shifters
Sly smile:
The attendants have arrived!
Correspondents are moving in!
1966

* * *
Thaw in Vologda:
Karr! Karr!
Drank from the trace:
March. March.
We turn on the bird
Sodom.
We are moving
To your house.
In the old, abandoned -
Sor. Trash.
...Not in a good way
Living is a shame.
Old, past
Smolder, be ashamed.
...Not in a good way
Living is a shame.
The mirror is dancing:
It has a beam.
In the future it seems
There are no clouds.
light cloud -
Yes, in vain.
In a solar hoop
Stan straight!
Bird applause
Second out loud!
Who is in isolation
That one is deaf.
Our house is not a card house
All up!
We live decently:
Hold on!
1966

* * *
Good evening, little river,
Good evening!
I'm careless again
Straight shoulders.
Re-colored hair
Intertwined.
Not a wormwood - an ear
All insults.
Not tears - dews
All sorrows...
Barefoot again -
On sandstone.
Not to be found again
Bottom and ford
I'll throw myself from a flat stone
Into your waters
Meeting the swift jet,
Bold, sharp!
... Do the parents know
What are we sisters?
And they will know whether
Are you happy with the similarity?
swaddled, swaddled,
And as a reward -
Eternal desire
running away
From the gate where they gave us
By name.
...To your porch
Father, mother,
Don't knit a river
Don't have it!
Do not push into the rooms -
Get sick!
Will become a still
Or puddle...
Into the rocky mountains
In the dry land of the steppe,
Let go - clean
And live!
Through the thickets-pits,
Through the stones
To the sea-ocean
Or to a guy
The rivers are running!
Just a murmur
Yes, shy twigs
Following - swing ...
1966-1970

* * *
My whisper grew to a scream
And I continue to be silent.
Strawberries bloom in the forests
The she-wolf leads the cubs.
Rosehip, then scarlet, then red,
It burns with silent fire.
Only bees, buzzing loudly,
Until the night they work in it.
Attached to the bee buzz,
So as not to break out a cry,
“I won't! I won't! I won't!" -
I whisper, biting my tongue.
I know that if not joy
At the heart of events and dreams,
That scream is just a weakness
Powerless call for help.
... I substitute a bucket under the spring -
Calm, bright and kind,
“It will pass! It'll fly by!" - sings
A living stream of silver.
Bending down, I'll drink from the palms -
Delicious spring water!
And again I accidentally remember
About all spring labors.
And, strangely calming down again,
With a bucket I will rise to the eel,
And I will work honestly
To have a conversation with people.
1966

SQUIRREL
Played the colors of the morning
Dawns shone over the river.
I went - not to Olympus Parnassus,
But - on the corner. And - behind the line.

Falling off the cliff into the river
Sand and clay from under my feet
And the bells swayed
And the clover moved.

There, at the top, on the steepest -
Under the old spruce - my hut,
Stump, and my most writing,
The luckiest pencil.

From there you can see the whole village
Meadows, fields, river play,
There the sounds seem more melodious,
Sorrows seem easy.

But, frozen in a semi-angle,
Standing: attracted attention
Tail flickering bonfire
And black coal eyes.

Wait, happy moment!
Thanks to fate in my soul,
I hasten to use the shadow,
Become invisible ... But - in vain:

Where are you, squirrel, gone
Among the swaying branches?
I haven't been in love for so long
Your carefree playfulness!

Anxiously peering into the spruce,
Far from inspiration
But the closed green slumbers:
No flame, no ember.

Peace is gone. Half a day in idleness
I spend watchful
But a muse is a muse, like a squirrel,
Doesn't show up anymore.

End up in anticipation
And disbelieving in myself
I'm going to cut firewood at the bathhouse,
To make up for the day's gap.

Then I row dry hay,
Then I reap the grass for the calf,
And gradually I forget
And I don't expect anything.

Seriously watering cabbage
Seriously weeding onions
And I even sing something
I am happy about something ... and suddenly:

The red-haired Faithful burst into barking!
Seriously heeding his anxiety,
And I looked up at the tree...
Such a reality is more beautiful than a dream!

I look, almost crying from happiness,
I'm going crazy with joy:
My luck came to me
She found me herself!

The boys hang on the fence
Any desire is exhausted
Catch a flickering bonfire
And black coal eyes.

Look at him - they will knock him down, offend!
With stones, with sticks stand ...
But nothing will come of them;
After all, I am the owner of the tree.

And in the evening, when outside the house,
Cooking dinner, burning a fire
The flame looks familiar to me
And intelligible - muses conversation.
1966

* * *
Tell
About Kizhi!
They say it's a fabulous island!
And another such
You won't find it anywhere else.
But through the snow there
They say it's not easy to get there.
We have to wait until spring
To sail across wide waters.

Tell
About Kizhi!
Spring is still very far away;
Young winter
Just coming into play...
I'm ready to take the risk!
But it's time to do without risk:
gray hair
And your unbowed head.

Tell
About Kizhi!
Well, at least not in detail, but briefly!
What kind of temples are
What kind of heads are burning on the temples.
It might happen again
I can't get to them in the spring,
Because I'm sorry
As always, circumstances, brother.

Tell
About Kizhi!
So that all circumstances are dust!
So that all the lack of time
Leisure turned into one!
To these Kizhi
I rushed, not knowing fear,
Like an arrow from a bowstring
Like a captive bird - from the hands ...
1967-1983

* * *
I'm not lazy on the street
Run out into the cold.
"Worker" yes "Clever"
Praises mother.
And I walk gloomy:
I can't do nothing
And I can't think of things
Outside the house, in the snow:
Water has been applied to the tub,
Firewood is stored
Behind brooms is similar ...
And in the house until spring
All the knees are frozen
Completely frosted!
Do not look out for Mikolonki,
Live now as you like.
Or maybe he is under the windows
Walking around?
Come in, though chilly, but
Doesn't dare?
Or maybe he is with a rival,
Until you see it?!
I'll go push the woodpile
Let me translate again.
1967

DATE
Here's the chill in the evening:
I'm terribly baked on the oven!
Severe frost: birch gnawed,
I took up the ribs.

Mom said: "Daughter,
Don't go out of the house at night!" -
And I loop - tar,
Yes, on the street.
Yes, running over the woodpile:
After all, today is Sunday!
The skirt is ironed in the morning -
Waiting for tea-dinner!
The door did not give out - did not creak,
Mother did not see - did not break out.
My boots ran
"Squeaks-squeaks!" - Visit Alenka.
Somewhere out there, in the middle of the drag,
He walks and freezes near the Christmas trees,
Patiently waiting,
It warms up with anticipation.
"Squeaks-squeaks!" my boots...
We ran! Where is Alenka?
...In the silence undisturbed
The sky is fenced with forest.
In the clouds the moon is fooling around
It will show itself, it will hide.
Wait, moon, don't hide!
Shine on, don't be foolish!
Let me take a closer look around.
Is the darling hurrying from afar?
I look back: have I lost my way,
Is he hiding behind a bush?
... No, it didn’t happen, it didn’t go:
On the sumets, the snow is even.
The whole road is covered...

I didn't listen to my mom.
1967

* * *
Green floodplain
Toima is streaming,
For that one for Toima -
Oh my golden...
Do you remember, Toima,
How to envy everyone
We are by your water
Washed with him
And how drunk
From your water we
And they knew how to burn
Fires without smoke.
Not a guy with a girl
Not a girl with a guy
A - a banner with a staff,
Ivan da Marya!
What is with us today? -
Two halves:
Banner without a flagpole -
A piece of satin.
Ivan without Marya -
One lilac!
Not every couple
Two colors - news.
Let the staff be a piece of wood
Satin - a new thing,
But singing is not singing
And life is awkward.
Green floodplain
Toima is streaming,
For that one for Toima -
Oh my golden...
1967

* * *
How many winters, how many years already
We are on different sides!
You torture the knowledgeable
Have I changed.
What will they answer you
I'm not guessing...
Behind the white nights
See my sadness.
Behind the bars of my roads -
Across and across
(To the living - yes with whips!) -
See my pain.
Like an indefinite recluse
Free willy paradise,
Everyone dreams of me, I remember
Our days are evenings.
multi-star nights
The stars are falling...
What did they prophesy?
Fall on my soul?
See beyond the silence
Multi-array
All sorrow, all despair
Take a look and forgive.
Has changed?
Maybe!
But please don't call
change - change
Neither you nor love.
1967

AUTUMN
So much, they say
Berries, -
Can be collected per day
For a year!
Not lingonberries - grapes!
ripe
The neighbor is already tired
Whole!
Yes blueberries three buckets
sweet,
Yes soaked in the morning
Tub:
Know the neighbor and her
daughters
They will bring the burden again
By the night...
mine is torn
Heart,
Also, the heart is not a pod
Pepper!
Flew like smoke
Summer,
And not a berry in the house
There is not.
Dries up - empty! -
Tues.
But where am I, where

Favorable conditions for this are a clear sky and a surface covering that easily gives off heat, such as grass.


Especially strong dew formation occurs in tropical regions, where the air in the surface layer contains a lot of water vapor and, due to the intense nighttime thermal radiation of the earth, is significantly cooled.


Frost forms at low temperatures.


The air temperature below which dew falls is called the dew point.



The word dew comes from an ancient Slavic root meaning "water". This root is also preserved in such words as irrigate, mermaid, channel, the name of the river Ros, and also, according to one version, in the ethnonym Russians.



Source: en.wikipedia.org

magical properties dew


Water on certain days (Christmas, New Year. Candlemas, on Maundy Thursday and on the day of Ivan Kupala) was generally considered sacred among the Slavs, especially if it was collected under certain conditions: this should be done before sunrise, preferably before everyone else (“unopened water”), while it was forbidden to pour this water from a bucket or scoop a second time; it was also necessary to remain silent when transferring water into the house.

Dew was also revered as sacred, as evidenced by the expressions cited by V.I. d.


In Russian dialects, the use of the word “dew” is recorded “in combinations associated with calendar rites, signs and beliefs and expressing the belief that dew has a wonderful healing power (therefore, they run around it, wallow, try to water cows, horses in order to save or give im strength beautiful view etc.)".

In Slavic incantations, in the initial part of the text, known as “wonderful dressing”, there is a motif of “washing with dew” (along with “wiping” with light, stars or dawn), and in general, dew is often referred to as a magical substance in origin or purpose (“added” St. Yegoriy or “released” by his mother; collected by the Mother of God; she “falls” on an apple tree in the vray garden; illnesses pass on her; the Mother of God walks on her and Yegory rides; Christ waters the snakes with it; she is “knocked down” by three cripples; “licks off” sun, etc.).


Dew, used for medicinal purposes, was obviously identified with the "living water" of Russian epics and fairy tales. This is evidenced, for example, by the method of “healing” the epic hero Mikhail Ivanovich Potyk: “Mikhail Potyk, the son of Ivanovichon, swam on four bones into a green meadow, he sailed to the oak cheese. A bird of paradise flew in, sat on that one on a damp oak, a peleon of royal songs: “Whoever at this time-temporarily washes with dew from this silk grass, he will be healthy.” Mikhail Potyk, son Ivanovich, washed himself with dew from this silk grass: his bloody wounds overgrown, he became, well done, healthy as before.

"Yurievskaya" dew



According to traditional ideas, dew appears on plants only after the earth first "dissolves", "opens" on St. George's Day; she comes out of the ground (or St. George releases her: “Yuri brings down the dew”) along with the first greenery. According to T.A.Agapkina, "the magical contact with this first dew becomes the main goal of the ritual "walking in the living"". "Yurievskaya" dew in folk beliefs was revered as healing: "Yurievskaya dew from the evil eye, from seven ailments"; "Ride on the dew"; "Be healthy, like St. George's dew!"


In the Slavic tradition, ritual detours of the fields on St. George's Day everywhere included the collection of dew, which was later used, in particular, as medicine; the collection of dew was also aimed at "selecting / increasing the yield, milk yield."

Slavic "witches", known under different names, on St. George's Day collected dew from the fields of the Bulgarians and the Macedonians, Western Slavs, in the Carpathians and near Eastern Slavs. For the latter, the collection of dew on the night before St. George's Day was carried out with a “strainer (fabric for filtering milk), a piece of linen, a skirt hem, a towel, a tablecloth”; “The dew was taken to the barn, given to the cow to drink or sprinkled on the cattle.”

Along with the collection of dew, throughout the territory of Ukraine and Belarus on St. George's Day, rolling (somersaulting) on ​​the ground (winter shoots) occurs, and a significant part of St. George's "walking in the zhito" was somehow associated with dew, and sometimes "rolling on dew" is noted. .


In Belarus, early in the morning on St. George's Day, it was customary to walk around the dew "taptats" or "cowards". It should be borne in mind that, in general, one of the main ways of "taking away the harvest" is that "the witch goes to the field shortly after the dew has fallen on the crops, rolls around them naked," and then collects the dew and uses it magically, or transfers her to your barn.


At the same time, among the Russians, “rolling in the dew” on St. George’s Day was recorded only in the Smolensk province: “Women go out in droves to Yagorya in the field and ride naked across the field.” According to V.K. Sokolova, "Belarusian influence is possible here."



In some Slavic lands, the motif of taking milk with the help of specially collected dew is found in beliefs. dedicated not to St. George's Day, but to Good Thursday (Good Friday): "collecting dew and herbs from foreign fields", "dragging a rope through the dew from someone else's barn to one's own." With the collected dew, "the witches sprinkled or watered their cattle or washed their cows' udders", and also brewed "a potion from the collected herbs" on it.


By the 19th - early 20th centuries, the Russians retained only separate echoes of the Kupala ritual, "its main elements were transferred to other holidays." The analogue of Ivan Kupala's day in Russia is considered to be Yarilin's Day (a conspiracy before Petrovsky Lent, June 4), partly Petrov's Day, but the "Ivan's Day" holiday itself was known everywhere.


So, for example, everywhere in the Russian folk tradition the custom of bathing on Ivanov's day has been preserved, and the eve of the holiday (the day of church memory of St. Agrafena "Kupalnitsy", June 23, old style - July 6, new style) became the time from which they started bathe; It was believed that until that day the water was still cold. Sometimes bathing was replaced by dousing, but for the northern Russian regions, along with bathing, bathing was obligatory,30 for which special brooms were prepared, “into which they inserted various flowers and herbs, especially Ivan da Marya.”


As you know, participants in the East Slavic Kupala rite, recorded quite fragmentarily, wove and dressed their heads in wreaths, decorated themselves with plants; they got a “living fire” and made a fire, sang and danced around it, jumped over the fire in pairs, inhaling the smoke of herbs thrown into the fire and trying not to separate their hands, and, finally, they collected dew and rode on it: on the holiday of Ivan Kupala they went “under Ivanov dew", "to collect dew" ("a girl's custom on the night of Ivan Kupala to collect rosu and wash it so that "guys chase"). In other places, “the day of Ivan Kupala was also called Yarila. They douse themselves with water, collect dew (italics mine. - A. B.), bathe with the horses.

"Ivan's dew" in the folk tradition was considered healing: it was used "to drive away any pain", for example, they washed their eyes and were treated for acne and acne on the face; on the Kupala night “collecting a dish” or in milk jugs; led the tablecloth around dewy grass and then squeezed it out.

In the calendar mythology of the Kupala cycle, the motif of “taking away milk by witches” is also known by collecting dew identified with milk (on the night of Kupala Eve). B.A. Rybakov rightly noted: “Many details of the rite convince us that this Kupala festival was connected not only with the sun, in honor of which the famous Kupala bonfires were lit from the“ live fire ”, but also with dew, which is a daily irrigation of grains eared at that time. On the Kupala night, they draw dew, wash themselves with dew, and even drag tablecloths through the dew for a magical purpose.



There are also direct evidence of bathing / skiing on the "Ivanovskaya dew". Describing the Kupala holiday “in the Carpathian Mountains, Sudetes and Kornoposha in the space of several hundred miles”, I.P. Sakharov remarks about its participants: “After jumping over the bonfires, they bathe in the dew,” and “Lithuanian-Russians,” in his words, call this day the dew holiday (“they go to the dew early in the morning on the day of Ivan Kupala”). The name of the holiday of Ivan Kupala "dew" in the Western Russian provinces is also evidenced by V.I. Dahl; bathing in the dew on this day was also noted among the Hutsuls41 and in the areas of contact between the East Slavic and Finnish populations.

In the description of the Kupala rite in "Stoglav" (1551), according to the list known to I.P. Sakharov, it says bluntly: “And every night he walks past, then they go to the grove with a great cry, like demons are washed by dew (my italics. - A.B.).” “Our people are thinking. - wrote the collector - that jumping over the fire eliminates the charm. In bathing in the morning dew, they believe the cleansing of the body and getting rid of diseases.

Timoshkina harmonica
Music by I. Efremov, lyrics by V. Semyornin

People meeting the accordionist say:
“You wouldn’t take the girls with you, Timoshka ...”
But in headscarves, daughters will come out of the gate,
Only an accordion will sing invitingly outside the window.

Chorus: White buttons, sonorous fret.
Everyone is happy to listen.
Many, many years have passed
And there is no sweetness with an accordion!

Slender birches stand in the field,
On the birches, green earrings ring.
Mothers walk for hours at the gate:
Do not drive home Timoshka's girlish round dance.
Chorus.

A girl walks along a stitch path,
And an accordion sings thoughtfully over the shore.
With tesha, my Stesha, stitch on fate,
Oh, it’s not in vain that Timoshka is making his way to you!

Chorus. White buttons, sonorous fret.
Everyone is happy to listen.
Many, many years have passed
And there is no sweetness with an accordion!

I often dream of Saratov
Music by M. Chumakov. Words by V. Alferov

Voices chime,
I often dream of Saratov
Dreaming of cute eyes.

He used to touch the heart,
Sing in Saratov:
“The handkerchief sinks and does not sink,
Slowly floating."
Chorus.

I speak and do not hide
That one dream I live
I want to meet my sweetheart
Not in a dream, but in reality.
Chorus.

There are many guys in the world
The heart is torn to one.
Give me, give me a rocket
I'll fly to him soon!

Chorus: Oh, do not sit, do not lie:
Voices are ringing.
I often dream of Saratov
Dreaming of cute eyes.

Like Grandpa Peter
Music by E. Rodygin. Folk words

Like grandfather Peter
There is no stove, no hearth,
There is no stove, no hearth, yes
One lime board.
Ouch, again,
One lime board.

Like on this board
Lying gray cat
There was a gray cat, yes
Rough tangle.
Oh, one more time
Rough tangle.

How did the cat get used to
To two old women in the cellar,
Steal sour cream and cottage cheese.
Oh, one more time
Steal sour cream and cottage cheese.

How did you notice the cat
Two old women from the window
Let's run after the cat
With a club, with a batog.
Oh, one more time
With a club, with a batog.

How did you hit the cat
Across yes belly -
Our cat turned over, yes
From side to side once heels.
Oh, one more time

From side to side times heels.
Oh, one more time
Oh, one more time!
Ouch!
Dead!

Mitya loves to boast
Music by N. Kutuzov. Words by O. Fadeeva

Mitenka wears a parted hair,
Mitya smokes Belomor cigarettes,
Mitya loves to boast among the guys -
“The girls are all in love with me!”

He walks through the village for a walk.
I saw my neighbor Tanya at the gate.
He must be waiting for an invitation to take a walk,
Indulgence will have to be shown.

Mitya immediately takes on a proud look, -
“So be it, don’t be sad,” he says,
I'm very busy, of course, but for you
I, Tanya, can give you a whole hour!”

And the maiden replied:
“I have never met such an eccentric.
What, right, stupid people you are!
I'm waiting for a cow at the gate from the herd!

Timosha's curls curl
Music by Y. Slonov. Words by A. Salnikov

Timosha's curls curl,
Timosha's curls curl
Golden.

Songs are pouring about Timosha,
Songs are pouring about Timosha
Removed.

He plays the harmonica
He plays the harmonica
Cheer up everyone.
And its all over the area,
And its all over the area
No faster.

All Timosh,
Everyone respects Timosha
For courtesy.
At Timosha's
Timosha has crops
Everyone is amazing.

Under Timosh,
Under Timosha, all the girls
Bloom.
From Timosha,
From Timosha to visit the matchmakers
They're waiting
They are waiting!

Winter storm
Music by S. Tulikov. Words by O. Fadeeva

A blizzard is walking through the village,
Covers the white light
A friend lives across the river
A neighbor lives next to her.

I went to visit my friend,
Is it smart to go astray!
Not to a friend, but to a neighbor
I knocked on the window.

The guy went out on the porch -
Okay, stately, no matter where,
I was embarrassed, of course
What didn't go there.

I apologized for the mistake
He, of course, apologized
To not get lost again
Took me to a friend.

At least fifteen steps
Until the girlfriend's porch,
We honestly admit
We got two hours.

Tomorrow I will visit my friend again
Let me put on my face
And-let there be no blizzard-
I'm definitely confused!

mother-in-law
Music by A. Averkin. Words by L. Shishko

I quarreled with my wife
I thought about getting divorced.
Only with mother-in-law
I'm sorry to say goodbye.

Chorus: My mother-in-law is affectionate,
Ah, my mother-in-law is caring,

Often people me and my wife
Guests are invited.
My wife doesn't go with me
Sends with mother-in-law.
Chorus.

Whatever I buy for my wife
Everything is wrong, everything is bad.
Because of my mother-in-law, I only endure
All her quirks.
Chorus.

Living with a wife is a real pain.
There is an easier way out:
I will divorce my wife
And I'm marrying my mother-in-law.

Chorus: My mother-in-law is affectionate,
Ah, my mother-in-law is caring,
Young, broken, agile.

Yagodinochka
Music by F. Maslov. Words by A. Nedogonov

Berry on ice
And I'm on the beach.
Throw, Andryusha, a twig
I will run to you.
We stand with you
I am under your wing
I will listen to the modest
Love lecture.

To the darling dear
For true love
I gave you a comb
Seventeen teeth.
And Feklusha says.
That the comb will burn
From the fire of the rich -
Redhead guy.

In vain, the milkmaid Feklushechka,
Criticizing:
I'm for darling Andryushechka
I won't shed a tear.
Komsomol took me out
On the straight line,
And Andryusha translated
To your last name.

I'm so energetic
Didn't see it anywhere:
In kisses cute.
Excellent at work.
People know my dear
Such a strategic one.
No wonder I run
For his strategy.

I finished ditties
brave girl,
And for what about Andryushechko
Now I sang
Give out on the vine
For a verse on the workday,
And end the debate
From this point of view.

November in the yard
Music by N. Kutuzov. Words by P. Kosonozhkin

It's a little cold outside in November.
Someone knocked on my window in the evening.
He knocked and said, "Come out for a minute."
If a guy calls, then it’s not a joke.
That's how I responded.
I didn't want to leave, but I went myself.

I go out, he is worth it. And the frost is terrible.
“Like today,” he says, “the night is beautiful!”
And he began his speech quietly and dejectedly.
And I, poor thing, stand, straight all frozen.
That's how I responded.
It seems to be cold, but I liked it myself.

I stood with him, it seems, a little.
I just feel like my feet are freezing.
He himself trembled, the poor thing is cowardly,
And, probably, I would have run away, if not for the cutie.

Neither love nor cotton wool warms in any way.
“If you love,” I say, “do not freeze, but matchmaker!”

Am I too young
Music by A. Abramsky. Words by N. Gerasimova
(text in the collection)

I will sew my own shirt
Music by N. Polikarpov. Words by V. Bokov

I will sew my own shirt
From the nettle leaf
Burn me, nettle, stronger,
To make my heart feel better
For me to forget you.

Curls stopped curling
The left eyebrow turned gray.
Two guitars, third tambourine,
Why do we love girls?
We spoil the blood of the young.

My sweet craftswoman
Cook for the whole village.
Baked such cheesecakes
What about aunts, old women -
Belly vanished.

Give me the oars, give me the boat
Cross the stream.
In the last house there is a nesting doll,
I'll knock, I'll bang on her window,
I am passing the evening.

There are two magpies on the fence,
A sparrow on a mountain ash.
My flying handkerchief
dark blue corner,
I will give it to you.

I love the river for the excitement
And the horse for speed.
I love sweetheart for affection,
For rolling eyes
And also for beauty.

Golden-gold
Music by N. Kutuzov. Words by A. Novoselsky

Like in a village near a river
Dry girlish hearts:
Our girls were carried away
Restless boy.
On a spree-combat,
On the plot-fire,
And no one will say "red",
They say it's golden.

Chorus: Oh yes, boy-boy,
restless spark,
Why are you single
Golden-gold?

Newspaper came from Moscow
It has a note about a sweetheart.
I know without newspapers
There is nothing better in the world.
Darling immediately became proud,
Haven't looked at it since then.
I said: “Wait! There's something ahead!"
Chorus.

Only the guy was not proud
He is the one who fell in love with me
I didn't dare to admit
That's why I didn't look.
On the path on the steep
bathed in moonlight,
Over the silver river
Golden explained.
Chorus.

All the girlfriends were angry
They called the cute redhead.
He's not red at all.
It's girls' envy
Because my dear
Forever with me now.
Let's play this wedding
We'll live to be golden.

Chorus: Oh yes, boy boy,
restless spark,
You are not single now
Golden-gold?

Lyrical choruses
Music by L. Bakalov, Lyrics by V. Semyornin

I don't know, I don't know
I do not know what is happening with me:
I notice every night
Golden forelock in a wave.

Over the river, over the river
Behind the river is a hillside.
In vain we went there
Admire the space!

Two daisies, two daisies
I stealthily plucked
Oh, I guessed, I saw
That I'm not nice to you.

curtain, curtain,
Curtain on the window.
And now you have a fiancee
All this is known to me!

Fly away, fly away
Cranes are melting in the sky.
Oh, where we walked with you,
All paths are overgrown.

I don't tolerate cheating
Music by G. Ponomarenko. Words by V. Burygin

Dawn swam in the Volga,
The dawn has already come
I'm exhausted in anxiety,
Why isn't there cute.

And I'm a girl - Volzhanochka can't stand treason.

My dear explained to me
whole year in love big,
And yesterday I met -
Walked down the street with another.
Chorus.

To apologize today
My dear came to me
She says that her sister was walking
With him on the right side.
Chorus.

Advise, girlfriends,
How to punish a zaletka.
I will allow him on weekdays
Just walk with grandma.

Chorus: Oh, zaletka, take care of my love.
And I'm a Volzhanochka girl, I can't stand treason.

Sill
Music by O. Agafonov. Words by A. Vladimirov

Lie down, lie down!
Lying down!
For the village of the whole trouble,
Sleeping lying on the stove,
Eats pancakes and kalachi
Eats pancakes and kalachi.
Lie down, lie down!
Get out to work.
“Hunting lies on the stove!”
He lay for seven years
Smashed into seven pounds,
Smashed into seven pounds!
Lie down, lie down!
With onions and mushrooms
He ate pies
I wanted to lie down more comfortably
Yes, the oven crumbled
Yes, the oven broke!
Lie down, lie down!
Got out a lot:
The whole hut was on fire.
He screams: "I'll burn, I'll burn,
I won't open the door
I won't open the door!"
Lie down, lie down!
People came running
Whatever they poured
On the corners, on the risers
poured out half a river,
Poured out half a river!
Lie down, lie down!
Failed into the underground:
“I have learned to appreciate work!
I will give out two workdays a day,
Just let me out
Just let me out!"
Lie down, lie down!
Became diligent late
Do not lift you to us, lie down,
Tractors would help
Yes, it's time for us to work
Yes, it's time for us to work!

My dear
Music by V. Nazimov. Words by T. Alekseeva

The meadow smells of mint
There is a party going on.
The accordion player stepped into the circle.
Girls! Attention!

Chorus: My good
Better songs compose.
Play and sing
Look at me.

Oh and the fire guy!
He is famous for his work.
And stretch the accordion
Like it even more.
Chorus.

In vain, boy, you are cunning.
Still can't hide
Whose window are you looking at?
Who are you worried about.
Chorus.

Waiting in vain for love
You linger without an answer.
You call me -
You are right not to repent.

Chorus: My good
Better songs compose.
Play and sing
Look at me.

Autumn suffering
Music by Yu. Guryev. Words by V. Semyornin

Our land has completed the task,
And the suffering is over.
The suffering begins
A series of high-profile weddings!

We love dating
Oh, talk with a friend,
Sighs and suffering.

Everyone calls you bride
Not the first year in the village,
Why do you look sad
Ali dear does not take?
Chorus.

The stars in the sky are poked,
Lanterns are lit below.
My love is for marriage
Will be taken to town soon!
Chorus.

The shutters are clapping their hands
Staring all at home eyes
With bells, with harmonies
There is a wedding on carts!

Chorus: Oh, how in the spring of starlings,
We love dating
Oh, talk with a friend,
Sighs and suffering.

Rural Cinderella
Music by V. Kikta. Words by V. Kuznetsov

The cheerful sun has set
The day hid behind the mists.
Come out, my rural Cinderella,
Put on urban boots.
A warm wind caresses your hands
Beyond the river the forests are calling,
You are not Cinderella in a simple dress,
You are our Russian beauty.

You have rich chambers -
These are your groves and fields.
This is the sky above the white house
And the earth is in peace of wheat.
You put your head on my shoulder
Let's wander together to the dawn,
You don't look like Cinderella at all
You are more beautiful than overseas queens!

Goodbye love!
Music by N. Gorlov. Words by V. Semyornin

SHE: We walked over the river,
Everyone interfered with the nightingale.
My eyes were blinking
Not to your side.
HE: Good, of course, eyes,
Yes, they are blinking in the wrong place.
I will make this public
Without any labor.
TOGETHER: Chorus: Apparently, joy is with you
We are not a sister at all.
Goodbye love
It's time to part!

SHE: No answer, no hello
I'll leave everything myself!
You have summer in your heart
I have winter in my chest!
HE: So go on your skis,
If it's covered in snow.
Oh, love is better than redheads,
To all the beauties out of spite!
TOGETHER: Chorus.

SHE: How hard it is to part,
If the heart is not understood
If all his wealth
Only exchange for quarrels.
HE: To all the girls for edification
I rejected your love
Made me a date
After the rain on Thursday.

TOGETHER: Chorus: Apparently, joy is with you
We are not a sister at all.
Goodbye love
It's time to part!

My falcon has flown
Music by A. Averkin. Words by V. Tatarinov

The ray of sunset goes out,
Meadow in a thin haze.
Over the river guys
They are waiting for their friends.
I just don't need
Hurry to the sweetheart -
My falcon has flown
Didn't say to be sad.

silent willow,
Above the river is peace.
Oh how happy
I was with you!
This is our happiness
I will keep.
My falcon has flown
Didn't say to be sad.

In the blue-blue sky
Where the end of the earth
you drive a car
Away from me.
And let not just
I live apart
My falcon has flown
Didn't say to be sad.

I know that you believe
You are my love.
If you can wait
Days run faster.
high high
A thread winds in the sky.
My falcon has flown
Didn't say to be sad.

Dew fell on the grass
Music by N. Kutuzov. Words by N. Palkin

Dew fell on the grass
A young month has surfaced.
I told my beloved
It's time to go home.

He just doesn't want to go.
And in the eyes of the guy sadness.
He says in the dark night:
"I'm afraid to walk alone."

The poor man got upset
Everything sighs in silence.
And probably out of fear
Clings to me.

I'm sorry to leave the boy
I look into his eyes:
"Don't worry, calm down
So be it, I will."

The dew trembled on the grass
I walked with a guy, slowly.
Seen off until dawn
Until the dawn came up.

Since then, as they say,
We live together with the guy.
He's afraid to walk alone
So we both walk.

Bath Siberian
Music by V. Temnov. Words by O. Levitsky

So it was in Siberia
Every Saturday
They like to soar in the cold
Until the seventh sweat.

Chorus: Let's go to steam, steam,
To not grow old.
That will be laughter -
From the steam room to the snow.
Bathhouse Siberian Best of all.

From gate to gate
Know in every home
Broom does not beat to death,
Steam doesn't break bones.
Chorus.

How good is the frost
Eh, more like a sleigh.
You won't find better in the world
Our Russian bath.

Chorus: Let's go to steam, steam,
To not grow old.
That will be laughter -
From the steam room to the snow.
Bath Siberian
The best.

Went to Matana
Words and music by M. Litvinov

I'm known to be a nice guy
I go to the river for the river.
It will be eight miles away (Oh yes!)*
I carry an accordion with me.

Went to Matana on a date
And quietly sang songs: "La, la, la."
I hooked my foot on a bump (Well, yes!?)
And I flew into the ravine.

And the next night
I went along the other path.
And again touched the bump (Ugh! Yes!)
With the same foot.

Bypassed the cursed bump
And got a little lost.
Came home a day later (Oh yeah!),
Late for work.

Waited until sunday
And left in the morning.
I finally got there (Oh yeah!)
To Matanina yard.

I go to her gate, -
My friend Fedka, I was winded.
Then everything became clear to me (Oh you!) -
I didn't get to Matana.

Since then, for a fast river
I decided not to go
And then the husband of Matani-Fedka-

Musicians: Can meet and beat!
Soloist: Can meet and beat. Here!

*). In the choir Pyatnitsky, these remarks (words enclosed in brackets) are served by musicians (accordion player and balalaika player) accompanying the soloist's singing.

Novgorod ditties

Girls, sing along
Amuse me,
About my dear
Just remember once.

In the garden the leaves were falling,
In the field lit up
It was a hard minute
When they parted.

I used to be jealous
Now calmed down
Whom did you love to the extreme?
I met with that.

Changed zaletka times,
And won't get it anymore
I will change, I will remember
And he will repent.

Go to the party, yes
I don't have a blue dress.
It was not about the dress -
There is no cute baby.

Girls, the wind is in the field,
Girls, it's raining in the field,
Girls, not our will
You don't love whoever you want.

Voronezh suffering

Oh, my comrade, what is it, Yes, my heart hurts, but there is no peace?
Oh, her eyes, yes, curry, curry, Yes, my heart was enticed.
Oh, the wind is blowing and the forest is shaking, Yes, my dear is angry with me.
Oh, don't go, my dear, you're in the garden, Don't make me annoyed.
Oh, I walked through the forest, I walked up the mountain, Yes, I carried the accordion under the skirt.
Oh, I'll go to the garden and pick a flower, Yes, I'll send a bouquet to my dear.
Oh, why don't you go out, my dear, Or do you want to freeze me?
Oh, remember, dear, how we used to live, But why did we decide to love?

Changed, fits again
Zaanikeevsky choruses

Changed, it works again:
"Allow me to come."
Oh yes, I allow, berry,
Side bypass.

There was a time I suffered
For curly hair.
Oh yes, and now she said to him:
Suffer, curly-haired, yourself.

Baby, don't knock
Darling, don't mess around
Oh yes, under the front window
Don't scratch the cat!

My darling changed me
I said don't care.
Oh yes, I'm such a frog
I can catch it with a sieve.

I wanted to forget, yeah
Will not be forgotten.
Oh, the shirt is white, forelock to the left
Often remembered.

I wanted to plant
A rose next to a lily.
Oh yes, how much more do I have to go
Under your last name?

Siberian refrains

Oh, we know a lot of refrains
We know hundreds and a half.
Oh, we compose them ourselves,
the composers themselves.

Oh baby locked my heart
And he put the keys in his pocket.
Oh, he says, I will not love
And I won't give it to my friend.

Oh, there is no movo Spiri anywhere,
I'm looking all over Siberia.
Oh, the ushers told us
Maybe he's sitting here in the hall.

Oh, don't go, girls, get married,
What is it like to be married;
Oh, they won't give another cute-
Look at one.

Oh, if the boy likes it, -
Live with a sweetheart in a hut.
Oh, but we need a brick house
And so cute cute.
All!

Ryazan jokes

I'll take a look from the window:
Someone is drowning in the river
Only one harmonica
Raises on hand.

Oh, save the harmonist,
The harmonist barely swims.
I don't feel sorry for the harmonist, -
Too bad the accordion is gone.

Nothing worse than falling in love
Who wink much.
Tired of my eyes
note once again
.
Momo something darling
triangular head:
Whatever hat you wear
It's big, it's small.

I'll write something, -
Can you understand dear?
Fall behind, you fall behind -
Can you find better?

Conversation of two friends
Chastushki of the Moscow region

Oh, my friend Manya,
Tell me your secret
When I parted with my beloved, -
Heart beating or not?

Oh, my friend Tonya,
I'll tell you one
When I parted with my beloved, -
The heart was beating like a wave.

Oh, my friend Manya,
What are you worried about
If he changes you
Fall in love with the second one.

Oh, my friend Tonya,
How not to worry!
He has a handsome face
I can't part.

Oh, my friend Manya,
Why break up?
I will help you again
See you sweetheart.

Oh, my friend Tonya,
Convey to Petya
Tell me, the boyfriend bowed,
with whom he was familiar.

Oh, my friend Manya,
I tried to convey
I walked past the window
You can't see him at home.

Oh, my friend Tonya,
You tried hard
You walked past the window
I was afraid to knock.

Oh, my friend Manya,
How will I knock?
His mother will come out
What will I answer?

Oh, my friend Tonya,
You would answer like this:
"Open, mother, the doors,
I am Petya's boyfriend.

Come on, with a booty, my young
Perm choruses Arranged by V. Grigorenko

Beautiful children's poems about dew and dewdrops for toddlers and preschoolers 4-5 years old

N. Silina

Like a drop of tears
They lie on the grass dewdrops.
Maybe it was raining?
Maybe someone was crying?

This night is gone
And shed tears
Didn't want to leave
A day to wake us up!
In vain you, night, cried,
Tears dripped:
The day will come - there will be no tears,
He will leave and you will come.
It happens once a day,
You won't get used to it!

B. Pershutkin

The sun has climbed
in a droplet dew,
droplets of brilliant
the hours are numbered,
not a clock - a moment,
drop-drop
this bright sun
drunk already!

A. Grakhova

droplet dewdrop,
Fell on a reed.
Illuminated by the rays of the sun,
And immediately lit up.
This drop of dew
Washed by the whole family.
Bugs, spiders,
And little fireflies.

T. Goethe

dewdrops clung to
For the tip of a leaf
And did it
Not at all random-
Downstairs waiting
Puddle
Whispered to them ingratiatingly:
-Come on...

L. Erickson

little bead,
droplet - dew,
sun reflection
In blue skies!
Drink insects,
Wash the weed
Yes, roll down the pea
To a bit of another.
I love you, beauty
With a ray inside
On the palms of the grandmother
I will bring: "Look!"

J. Ukleina

Here are invisible fairies
Without laying hands
Every single blade of grass
Decorated all around...
It seemed not dewdrops,
Diamonds in the morning
Glitter in the cobweb,
Swinging in the wind.

S. Shkolnikova

On the grass dew fell,
Went down like smoke
Spread out with a veil
Silver blue.
You won’t get off the path into the grass -
Burns like fire
And heavy dewdrops
And so it rains.

Aunty Au

On a light, thin
A blade of grass
Shine like beads
Transparent dewdrops!
The bug spread its antennae,
Shaken up, slumped
And butterflies about beads
Tell went!

D. Room

Dawn. Dew on the gossamer
Shines like a beaded thread.
It has a spider in the middle
Doesn't move, as if sleeping.
But only the slightest movement
And all the drops will break suddenly ...
And the flies, seeing the necklace,
Find out where the spider lives.

E. Elova

In a droplet dew- bug!
He's probably all wet.
Here's the weirdo! Some strange!
Does he take a bath in the morning?
- There is nothing funny! -
The bug says in response, -
Taking a bath in the morning is good for everyone!
Only ... in a droplet I feel cramped.
I had to stretch my legs
And lie quietly
So that the drop does not run away
And it didn't fall off the leaf.
- But the rays of the sun
Very, very hot!
I have to say goodbye to a bit
She'll be gone soon!
But the bug said in response:
- There is no trouble here!
I know that early in the morning
I'll lie down in the bath again.
Every day before dawn
Sunny and hot summer
Dew appears!
These are miracles!

V. Didenko

Dew on rooftops and trees,
On leaves, branches and in the window,
On thin yellowed stems,
On a crooked wall.
Born quietly at dawn
Living up to the sun
Reminds me in the daylight
Tears running from candles.
Everywhere dew. In frozen drops
Shines, sparkling, silver.
This is how nature washes
Saying goodbye, in the morning with a sound sleep.

F. Polak

Chamomile gave me
In the morning a drop dew,
On the palm - gentle, sweet
Fairy tale pearl!
I look at the gift timidly -
How not to drop it
I wanted to bring to the nest,
To give the bird a drink.
Only a dewdrop bead
Leaked between fingers
And in the flowerbed, at the hollow,
I found a puddle here.
Merging with the stream,
Brings moisture to the grass.
And now in this place
The bell will bloom.

E. Grudanov

August. Morning. Very early
All in the dew is a meadow!
And the grass under that dew
It just turned blue!
The sun will come out and immediately
The whole clearing is like in diamonds:
Instantly dew in thick grass
Flash a rainbow of colors!