A.S. Pushkin
Gypsies in a noisy crowd
They wander around Bessarabia.
They are over the river today
They spend the night in tattered tents.
Like a liberty, their lodging for the night is cheerful
And peaceful sleep under heaven;
Between cart wheels
Half hung with carpets
The fire is burning; family around
Is cooking dinner; in the open field
Horses graze; behind the tent
A tame bear lies free.
Everything is alive in the middle of the steppes:
The cares of peaceful families,
Ready in the morning for a short journey,
And the songs of wives, and the cry of children,
And the ringing of a camping anvil.
But here on the nomadic camp
Sleepy silence descends
And you can hear in the silence of the steppe
Only the barking of dogs and the neighing of horses.
The lights are off everywhere
Everything is calm, the moon is shining
One from heaven
And the quiet camp illuminates.
In one tent the old man does not sleep;
He sits before the coals,
Warmed by their last heat,
And looks into the far field,
Steamy at night.
His young daughter
I went for a walk in a deserted field.
She got used to the frisky will,
She will come; but now it's night
And soon the month will leave
Heaven distant clouds, -
Zemfira is not there; and getting cold
Poor old man's dinner.
But here she is; behind her
The young man hurries across the steppe;
The gypsy does not know him at all.
"My father," the maiden says,
I am leading a guest; behind the mound
I found him in the desert
And she called me to the camp for the night.
He wants to be like us gypsies;
The law pursues him
But I'll be his friend
His name is Aleko - he
Ready to follow me everywhere.
Old man
I am pleased to. Stay until the morning
Under the shade of our tent
Or stay with us and share,
As you want. I'm ready
With you to share both bread and shelter.
Be ours - get used to our share,
Wandering poverty and will -
And tomorrow with the morning dawn
In one cart we will go;
Take on any fishing:
Iron kui - il sing songs
And go around the villages with a bear.
Aleko
I'll stay.
Zemfira
He will be mine:
Who will take him away from me?
But it's too late ... a young month
Went in; the fields are covered with mist,
And the dream involuntarily tends me ...
Light. The old man wanders quietly
Around the silent tent.
“Get up, Zemfira: the sun is rising,
Wake up my guest! it's time, it's time!
Leave, children, a bed of bliss! .. "
And the people poured out with a noise;
The tents are dismantled; carts
Ready to go hiking.
Everything moved together - and now
The crowd pours into the empty plains.
Donkeys in baskets
Children playing are carried;
Husbands and brothers, wives, virgins,
And the old and the young follow;
Scream, noise, gypsy choruses,
Bear roar, his chains
impatient clatter,
Rags of bright variegation,
Nudity of children and elders,
Dogs and barking and howling,
Bagpipes talk, skryp carts,
Everything is poor, wild, everything is discordant,
But everything is so alive, restless,
So alien to our dead negs,
So alien to this idle life,
Like the monotonous song of slaves!
The young man looked sadly
To the deserted plain
And grieve for a secret reason
I did not dare to interpret.
With him black-eyed Zemfira,
Now he is a free inhabitant of the world,
And the sun is merrily above it
Shines with midday beauty;
Why does the young man's heart tremble?
What concern does he have?
The bird of God does not know
No care, no work;
Troublesomely does not twist
Durable nest;
In debt, the night slumbers on a branch;
The red sun will rise
The bird hears the voice of God,
Wakes up and sings.
For the spring, the beauty of nature,
The sultry summer will pass -
And fog and bad weather
Late autumn brings:
People are bored, people are sad;
Bird to distant lands
To a warm land, beyond the blue sea
Flies away until spring.
Like a carefree bird
And he, a migratory exile,
I did not know a reliable nest
And I didn't get used to anything.
He was always on the road
Everywhere there was a shelter for the night;
Waking up in the morning, your day
He surrendered to God
And life could not worry
To confuse his heart laziness.
His sometimes magical glory
Manila is a distant star;
Unexpected luxury and fun
Sometimes they came to him;
Over a lonely head
And thunder often rumbled;
But he carelessly under a thunderstorm
And dozed in a clear bucket.
And lived without recognizing power
Fate is insidious and blind;
But God! how the passions played
His obedient soul!
With what excitement seethed
In his tortured chest!
How long, how long have they been pacified?
They wake up: wait!
Zemfira
Tell me my friend you don't regret
About the fact that he gave up forever?
Aleko
What did I leave?
Zemfira
Do you understand:
People of the motherland, the city.
Aleko
What to regret? When would you know
When would you imagine
Captivity stuffy cities!
There are people, in heaps behind the fence,
Don't breathe in the morning chill
Nor the spring smell of the meadows;
Love is ashamed, thoughts are driven,
Trade their will
Heads bow before idols
And they ask for money and chains.
What did I throw? change of excitement,
prejudice sentence,
Crowds insane persecution
Or a brilliant disgrace.
Zemfira
But there are huge chambers,
There are multi-colored carpets,
There are games, noisy feasts,
The dresses of the maidens there are so rich! ..
Aleko
What is the noise of city merriment?
Where there is no love, there is no fun.
And the virgins ... How are you better than them
And without expensive outfits,
No pearls, no necklaces!
Don't change, my gentle friend!
And I ... one of my desires
With you to share love, leisure
And voluntary exile!
Old man
You love us, even though you were born
Among the rich people.
But freedom is not always sweet
To those who are accustomed to bliss.
There is one legend between us:
Was once exiled by the king
Noon resident to us in exile.
(I used to know, but forgot
His clever nickname.)
He was already years old,
But young and alive with a gentle soul -
He had a marvelous gift for songs
And a voice like the sound of the waters -
And everyone loved him
And he lived on the banks of the Danube,
Not offending anyone
Captivating people with stories;
He did not understand anything
And he was weak and timid, like children;
Strangers for him
Animals and fish were caught in nets;
How the fast river froze
And the winter whirlwinds raged
Covered with fluffy skin
They are a holy old man;
But he is to the worries of a poor life
I could never get used to it;
He wandered withered, pale,
He said that the angry god
He was punished for a crime ...
He waited for deliverance to come.
And all the unfortunate yearned,
Wandering along the banks of the Danube,
Yes, bitter tears shed,
Remembering your distant city,
And he bequeathed, dying,
To move south
His longing bones
And death - alien to this land
Unsatisfied guests!
Aleko
So this is the fate of your sons
Oh Rome, oh loud power! ..
Singer of love, singer of the gods
Tell me what is glory?
Grave rumble, laudatory voice,
From generation to generation sound running?
Or under the shadow of a smoky bush
Gypsy's wild story?
Two summers have passed. They also roam
Gypsies in a peaceful crowd;
Everywhere still found
Hospitality and peace.
Despising the shackles of enlightenment,
Aleko is free, like them;
He is without worries in regret
Leads wandering days.
All the same he; the family is still the same;
He, not even remembering previous years,
I'm used to being a gypsy.
He loves their canopy for the night,
And the ecstasy of eternal laziness,
And their poor sonorous language.
A bear, a fugitive from his native lair,
Shaggy guest of his tent,
In the villages, along the steppe road,
Near the Moldavian court
In front of the crowd
And dances heavily, and roars,
And the chain gnaws at the tiresome;
Leaning on the staff of the road,
The old man lazily beats tambourines,
Aleko leads the beast with the singing,
Zemfira villager bypasses
And they take their free tribute.
The night will come; they are all three
Uncut millet is cooked;
The old man fell asleep - and everything is at rest ...
The tent is quiet and dark.
The old man warms in the spring sun
Already cooling blood;
At the cradle, the daughter sings love.
Aleko listens and turns pale.
Zemfira
Old husband, formidable husband,
Cut me, burn me:
I am firm; not afraid
No knife, no fire.
Hate you,
I despise you;
I love another
I'm dying in love.
Aleko
Be quiet. I'm tired of singing
I don't like wild songs.
Zemfira
Don't you love? what do I care!
I sing a song for myself.
Cut me, burn me;
I won't say anything;
Old husband, formidable husband,
You don't recognize him.
He is fresher than spring
Hotter than a summer day;
How young and brave he is!
How he loves me!
How caressed him
I'm in the stillness of the night!
How they laughed then
We are your gray hair!
Aleko
Shut up, Zemfira! I am satisfied...
Zemfira
So you understand my song?
Aleko
Zemfira
You are free to get angry
I sing a song about you.
Leaves and sings: Old husband and so on.
Old man
So, I remember, I remember - this song
During our complicated,
For a long time in the fun of the world
She sings among people.
Wandering on the steppes of Cahul,
It used to be on a winter night
My sang Mariula,
Before the fire shaking daughter.
In my mind last summer
Hour by hour darker, darker;
But this song was born
Deep in my memory.
Everything is quiet; night. decorated with the moon
Azure south sky,
Old man Zemfira awakened:
“Oh my father! Aleko is scary.
Listen: through a heavy dream
And he groans and weeps."
Old man
Don't touch him. Keep quiet.
I heard a Russian legend:
Now midnight sometimes
The sleeper is short of breath
home spirit; before dawn
He leaves. Sit with me.
Zemfira
My father! he whispers: Zemfira!
Old man
He is looking for you in a dream:
You are dearer to him than the world.
Zemfira
His love disgusted me.
I'm bored; the heart of the will asks -
Oh, I ... But be quiet! do you hear? is he
Another name pronounces...
Old man
Zemfira
Do you hear? hoarse moan
And a fierce rattle! .. How terrible! ..
I will wake him up...
Old man
in vain
Do not drive the night spirit -
He will leave on his own...
Zemfira
He turned
He got up, calls me ... woke up -
I go to him - goodbye, sleep.
Aleko
Where have you been?
Zemfira
She sat with her father.
Some kind of spirit tormented you;
In a dream your soul endured
torment; you scared me
You, sleepy, gnashed your teeth
And called me.
Aleko
I dreamed about you.
I saw that between us...
I saw terrible dreams!
Zemfira
Don't believe in false dreams.
Aleko
Oh, I don't believe in anything
No dreams, no sweet assurances,
Not even your heart.
Old man
About what, young madman,
What are you sighing about all the time?
Here people are free, the sky is clear,
And wives are famous for their beauty.
Do not cry: longing will destroy you.
Aleko
Father, she doesn't love me.
Old man
Take comfort, friend: she is a child.
Your despondency is reckless:
You love bitterly and hard
And the heart of a woman is joking.
Look: under a distant vault
The free moon walks;
All over nature in passing
Equally radiance she pours.
Look into any cloud
It will illuminate him so magnificently -
And now - it has already passed into another;
And that will be a short visit.
Who will show her a place in the sky,
Saying: stop there!
Who will say to the heart of a young maiden:
Love one thing, don't change?
Take comfort.
Aleko
How she loved!
How gently bow to me,
She is in the wilderness
Spent the night hours!
Full of children's fun
How often sweet babble
Or with an intoxicating kiss
She is my reverie
I knew how to disperse in a minute! ..
So what? Zemfira is wrong!
My Zemfira has cooled down!…
Old man
Listen: I'll tell you
I am a story about myself.
Long, long time ago, when the Danube
The Muscovite has not yet threatened -
(See, I remember
Aleko, old sadness.)
Then we were afraid of the Sultan;
And Pasha ruled Budjak
From the high towers of Ackermann -
I was young; my soul
At that time she was seething with joy;
And not one in my curls
The gray hair has not yet turned white, -
Between young beauties
One was ... and for a long time she,
Like the sun, I admired
And finally called mine...
Ah, quickly my youth
Flashed like a falling star!
But you, the time for love, has passed
Even faster: only a year
Mariula loved me.
Once near Cahul waters
We met a strange camp;
Those gypsies, their tents
Having broken near ours at the mountain,
We spent two nights together.
They left on the third night, -
And, leaving the little daughter,
Mariula followed them.
I slept peacefully; dawn flashed;
I woke up, no girlfriend!
I'm looking for, I'm calling - and the trace is gone.
Longing, cried Zemfira,
And I cried - from now on
All the virgins of the world have disgusted me;
Between them never my gaze
I didn't choose my girlfriend
And lonely leisure
I have not shared with anyone.
Aleko
How are you not in a hurry
Immediately after the ungrateful
And predators and her insidious
Didn't you plunge a dagger into the heart?
Old man
For what? freer bird youth;
Who can keep love?
By succession joy is given to all;
What was, will not be again.
Aleko
I am not like that. No, I'm not arguing
I won't give up my rights!
Or at least enjoy revenge.
Oh no! when over the abyss of the sea
I found a sleeping enemy
I swear, and here is my leg
Would not spare the villain;
I'm in the waves of the sea, without turning pale,
And I would push the defenseless;
Sudden terror of awakening
With a ferocious laugh reproached,
And long for me to fall
Ridiculous and sweet would be the rumble.
young gypsy
One more...one kiss...
Zemfira
It's time: my husband is jealous and angry.
Gypsy
One thing ... but not share! .. goodbye.
Zemfira
Farewell, until you come.
Gypsy
Tell me, when will we meet again?
Zemfira
Today, as the moon sets,
There, behind the mound over the grave ...
Gypsy
Deceive! she won't come!
Zemfira
Here he is! run!.. I'll come, my dear.
Aleko is sleeping. In his mind
A vague vision plays;
He, waking up in the darkness with a cry,
Jealously stretches out his hand;
But a broken hand
There are enough cold covers -
His girlfriend is away...
He stood up with trepidation and heeded ...
Everything is quiet - fear embraces him,
Both heat and cold flow through it;
He gets up, leaves the tent,
Around the carts, terrible, wandering;
Everything is calm; the fields are silent;
Dark; the moon has gone into mist,
Slightly glimmering stars the wrong light,
A little dew is a noticeable trace
Leads to distant mounds:
He goes impatiently
Where the ominous trail leads.
Grave on the side of the road
In the distance it turns white before him ...
There weakening legs
Dragging, we torment with foreboding,
Mouths tremble, knees tremble,
It goes ... and suddenly ... or is it a dream?
Suddenly sees close two shadows
And he hears a close whisper -
Above the desecrated grave.
No, no, wait, wait for the day.
How timidly you love.
Just a minute!
If without me
Will your husband wake up?
Aleko
I woke up.
Where are you going! don't rush both;
You feel good here at the coffin.
Zemfira
My friend, run, run...
Aleko
Wait!
Where, handsome young man?
Lie down!
She plunges a knife into him.
Zemfira
Gypsy
Zemfira
Aleko, you will kill him!
Look, you're covered in blood!
Oh what have you done?
Aleko
Nothing.
Now breathe his love.
Zemfira
No, no, I'm not afraid of you! -
I despise your threats
I curse your murder...
Aleko
Die you too!
Strikes her.
Zemfira
I'll die loving...
East, illuminated by daylight,
Beamed. Aleko over the hill
Knife in hand, bloodied
Sat on a grave stone.
Two corpses lay before him;
The killer had a terrible face.
The gypsies timidly surrounded
His anxious crowd.
The grave was dug to the side.
The wives walked in a mournful succession
And they kissed the eyes of the dead.
The old father sat alone
And looked at the dead
In mute inaction of sadness;
They picked up the corpses, they carried
And in the bosom of the cold earth
They put the youngest couple.
Aleko watched from a distance
For everything ... when did they close
The last handful of the earth,
He silently, slowly bowed
And fell off the stone onto the grass.
Then the old man, approaching, rivers:
“Leave us, proud man!
We are wild we have no laws
We do not torment, we do not execute -
We do not need blood and groans -
But we don't want to live with a killer...
You weren't born for the wild
You only want a will for yourself;
Your voice will be terrible to us:
We are timid and kind in soul,
You are angry and brave - leave us,
Forgive me, peace be with you."
He said - and a noisy crowd
The nomadic camp has risen
From the valley of a terrible night.
And soon everything is in the distance of the steppe
Hidden; only one cart
Poorly carpeted
She stood in the fatal field.
So sometimes before winter,
Foggy, morning time,
When it rises from the fields
The village of late cranes
And with a cry into the distance to the south rushes,
Pierced by deadly lead
One sad remains
Hanging on a wounded wing.
The night has come: in a dark cart
No one put out the fire
Nobody under the roof lift
Didn't sleep until morning.
Epilogue
The magical power of song
In my hazy memory
That's how visions come alive
Either bright or sad days.
In a country where long, long battles
The terrible roar did not stop,
Where are the imperative lines
Russian pointed out to Istanbul,
Where is our old double-headed eagle
Still noisy past glory,
I met in the middle of the steppes
Over the borders of the ancient camps
Carts of peaceful gypsies,
Humble liberty of children.
Behind their lazy crowds
In the deserts I often wandered,
Shared their simple food
And fell asleep before their fires.
I liked the slow ones on campaigns
Their songs are joyful hums -
And long dear Mariula
I repeated the gentle name.
But there is no happiness between you,
Nature's poor sons!
And under tattered tents
There are painful dreams.
And your canopy is nomadic
In the deserts they did not escape from troubles,
And everywhere fatal passions
And there is no protection from fate.
Analysis of the poem "Gypsies" by Pushkin
Wherever A. S. Pushkin was, he always saw themes and plots for new works in the environment. According to contemporaries, he even spent several days in a real gypsy camp during his southern exile. Under these impressions, he began to write the poem "Gypsies", which he completed already in 1824 in Mikhailovsky. The work was not very popular during the life of the poet, but it was highly appreciated by the figures of the Decembrist movement. In the image of Aleko, Pushkin expresses the collapse of romantic ideals.
At the beginning of the work, the gypsy camp symbolizes the realm of freedom and liberty. Gypsies live cheerfully and carefree, there is no power over them. Without a home, they are in constant motion. The absence of laws and strict instructions makes their life easy and not burdensome. Therefore, Zemfira freely brings Aleko to the camp. The traditional society was extremely closed, a stranger could not just enter it and become an equal member. But among the people, who for centuries led a nomadic life, there were peculiar stereotypes of behavior. Gypsies are distinguished by almost unlimited freedom. A girl finds herself a husband in one night, but this does not cause condemnation in anyone.
Pushkin does not indicate the reason why Aleko became an exile. A difficult fate brought him to the gypsy camp. For a long time he was alone, but he found a special charm in this. Leaving the noisy city life, Aleko got rid of power and laws. The simple existence surrounded by nature gave him real happiness. But the author notes that strong passions raged in the young man's chest, which could not find a way out.
Having met Zemfira, Aleko truly fell in love, perhaps for the first time in his life. He gladly joined the camp, as he believed that he had finally found what he was striving for. Aleko tells her beloved about how false and unpleasant life is in an educated society. He is happy with the gypsies and only wants Zemfira to be faithful to him. An ominous warning sounds the story of the girl's father, who predicts that someday Aleko will be drawn to his homeland, and he will show his proud spirit.
The old man's prophecy came true. Zemfira was free from birth. Even the daughter could not keep her near her husband. Gypsies did not recognize marriage chains, so the girl cheated on Aleko. She didn't consider it a serious crime. But Aleko was raised in a different world. He considered revenge necessary and useful, and only death was a worthy punishment. The young man kills his lovers, and the gypsies drive him out of the camp.
Aleko is a vivid example of a romantic hero. His main tragedy is that a proud and independent character cannot find rest anywhere. Even in an absolutely free society, he becomes an outcast. With all his heart striving for liberty, Aleko does not notice that he is denying this right to the woman he loves. His love is based on unconditional submission. By killing Zemfira, Aleko also destroyed his central belief in the inherent freedom of man from birth.
Gypsies in a noisy crowd roam Bessarabia. Today they spend the night over the river In tattered tents. Like liberty, their lodging for the night is cheerful And peaceful sleep under heaven. Between the wheels of carts, Half hung with carpets, A fire burns; family around Preparing dinner; horses graze in the open field; Behind the tent, a tame bear lies free. Everything is alive in the middle of the steppes: The cares of peaceful families, Ready in the morning for a short journey, And the songs of wives, and the cry of children, And the ringing of the camping anvil. But now a sleepy silence descends on the nomadic camp, And one can hear in the silence of the steppe Only the barking of dogs and horses neighing. The lights are extinguished everywhere, Everything is calm, the moon shines Alone from the heavenly heights And the quiet camp illuminates. In one tent the old man does not sleep; He sits in front of the coals, Warmed by their last heat, And looks into the distant field, Covered with night steam. His young daughter went for a walk in a deserted field. She is accustomed to a frisky will, She will come: but now it's night, And soon the month will leave Heaven's distant clouds; Zemfira is gone, and the poor dinner of the old man is getting cold. But here she is. Behind her, the young man hurries along the steppe; The gypsy does not know him at all. “My father,” the maiden says, “I am leading a guest: I found him behind the mound in the desert And invited him to the camp for the night. He wants to be like us, a gypsy; He is pursued by the law, But I will be his friend. His name is Aleko; He is ready to follow me everywhere. Old man I'm glad. Stay until the morning Under the shade of our tent Or stay with us and share, As you wish. I am ready to share with you both bread and shelter. Be ours, get used to our share, Wandering poverty and will; And tomorrow with the morning dawn In one cart we will go; Take up any craft: Iron kui il sing songs And go around the village with a bear. ALEKO I'm staying. Zemfira He will be mine: Who will drive him away from me? But it's too late... a young month Has come; the fields are covered with mist, And the dream involuntarily tends me... ____ Light. The old man quietly wanders Around the silent tent. “Get up, Zemfira: the sun is rising, Wake up, my guest, it's time, it's time! Leave, children, a bed of bliss. And the people poured out with a noise, The tents were dismantled, the carts Ready to go on a campaign; Everything started moving together: and now the Crowd is pouring in the empty plains. Donkeys in loose baskets Children playing are carried; Husbands and brothers, wives, virgins, And old and young follow; Scream, noise, gypsy choruses, The bear's roar, his chains The impatient rattling, The bright variegation of rags, The nudity of children and elders, Dogs and barking, and howling, Bagpipe talk, carts creak - Everything is meager, wild, everything is discordant; But everything is so alive and restless, So alien to our dead negs, So alien to this idle life, Like the monotonous song of slaves. ____ Dejectedly, the young man looked At the deserted plain And be sad for a secret reason I did not dare to interpret for myself. With him is the black-eyed Zemfira, Now he is a free inhabitant of the world, And the sun merrily shines over him With midday beauty; Why does the young man's heart tremble? What concern does he have? The bird of God does not know Neither care nor labor, It does not laboriously weave a long-lasting nest, In debt the night slumbers on a branch; The red sun will rise, The bird hears the voice of God, Starts and sings. Behind the spring, the beauty of nature, The sultry summer will pass - And fog and bad weather Late autumn brings: People are bored, people are sad; A bird to distant lands, To a warm land, beyond the blue sea Flies away until spring. Like a carefree bird And he, a migratory exile, Did not know a reliable nest And did not get used to anything. Everywhere he had a road, Everywhere there was a shelter for the night; Waking up in the morning, He gave his day to the will of God, And in life anxiety could not confuse his laziness of the heart. His sometimes magical glory Manila, a distant star, Unexpectedly, luxury and fun To him were sometimes; Over a lonely head And thunder often rumbled; But he carelessly under a thunderstorm And dozed in a clear bucket. And he lived, not recognizing the power of Fate, insidious and blind; But God, how the passions played with His obedient soul! With what excitement seethed In his exhausted chest! How long, how long have they been pacified? They wake up: wait. ____ Zemfira Tell me, my friend: do you regret that you left forever? ALEKO Why did I leave? Zemfira You understand: People of the motherland, the city. ALEKO What to be sorry about? When would you know. When would you imagine the captivity of stuffy cities! There are people in heaps, behind the fence, They do not breathe the morning coolness, Nor the spring smell of meadows; They are ashamed of love, they drive thoughts, They trade with their will, They bend their heads before idols And they ask for money and chains. What did I throw? Treason excitement, Prejudice sentence, Crowds insane persecution Or a brilliant disgrace. Zemfira But there are huge chambers, There are multi-colored carpets, There are games, noisy feasts, The maidens' dresses are so rich there! ALEKO What's the noise of city merriment? Where there is no love, there is no fun; And the maidens... How you are better than them And without expensive outfits, Without pearls, without necklaces! Don't change, my gentle friend! And I ... my only desire With you to share love, leisure And voluntary exile. Old man You love us, although you were born Among the rich people; But freedom is not always dear to those who are accustomed to bliss. There is one legend between us: The Tsar once exiled a resident of Noon to us in exile. (I used to know, but I forgot His tricky nickname.) He was already years old, But young and alive with a gentle soul: He had a marvelous gift for songs And a voice like the noise of waters. And everyone loved him, And he lived on the banks of the Danube, Without offending anyone, Captivating people with stories. He did not understand anything, And he was weak and timid, like children; Strangers caught animals and fish in nets for him; How the fast river froze And the winter whirlwinds raged, They covered the holy old man with fluffy skin; But he could never get used to the cares of a poor life; He wandered withered, pale, He said that the angry god punished Him for the crime, He waited: will deliverance come. And all the unfortunate yearned, Wandering along the banks of the Danube, Yes, shed bitter tears, Remembering his distant city. And he bequeathed, dying, So that his yearning bones would be transferred to the south, And by death - alien to this land - Not reassured guests. Aleko So this is the fate of your sons, O Rome, O resounding power! Singer of love, singer of the gods, Tell me what is glory? A sepulchral rumble, a laudatory voice, From generation to generation a sound running Or under the shadow of a smoky bush A wild gypsy story? ____ Two years have passed. Gypsies roam in the same way in a peaceful crowd; Everywhere still find Hospitality and peace. Despising the fetters of enlightenment, Aleko is free, as they are; He, without worries and regret, Leads wandering days. He's still the same, the family is still the same; He, not even remembering the previous years, To being a gypsy is used to. He loves their canopy for the night, And the intoxication of eternal laziness, And their poor, sonorous language. A bear, a fugitive from his native lair, A shaggy guest of his tent, In the villages, along the steppe road, Near the Moldavian court Before the cautious crowd And dances heavily, and roars, And gnaws at the tiresome chain. Leaning on a travel staff, The old man lazily beats tambourines, Aleko leads the beast with the singing, Zemfira bypasses the villagers And takes their free tribute; The night will come; all three of them Boil uncut millet; The old man fell asleep - and everything is at peace ... In the tent it is both quiet and dark. ____ An old man in the spring sun warms Already cooling blood; At the cradle, the daughter sings love. Aleko listens and turns pale. Zemfira An old husband, a formidable husband, Cut me, burn me: I am firm, I am not afraid of No knife, no fire. I hate you, I despise you; I love another, I die loving. Aleko Shut up. I'm tired of singing, I don't like wild songs. Zemfira Don't you love? what do I care! I sing a song for myself. Cut me, burn me; I won't say anything; An old husband, a formidable husband, You don't recognize him. He is fresher than spring, Hotter than a summer day; How young and brave he is! How he loves me! How I caressed him in the silence of the night! How we laughed then at your gray hair! Aleko Shut up, Zemfira, I'm happy... Zemfira Did you understand my song? Aleko Zemfira!.. Zemfira You are free to get angry, I sing a song about you. (Exits and sings: Old husband, etc.) ) Old man So, I remember, I remember: this song was composed during our time. For a long time, in the fun of the world, it has been sung among people. Wandering on the steppes of Cahul, Mariula used to sing to her on a winter night, Rocking her daughter in front of the fire. In my mind of the past summer Hour by hour darker, darker; But this song was planted Deep in my memory. ____ Everything is quiet; night; The blue sky of the south is adorned with the moon, Old Man Zemfira is awakened: “Oh my father, Aleko is terrible: Listen, through a heavy dream And he groans and sobs.” Old man Don't touch him, keep quiet. I heard a Russian legend: Now at midnight sometimes The breath of a sleeping person is oppressed by a domestic spirit; before dawn he leaves. Sit with me. Zemfira My father! he whispers: "Zemfira!" The old man He is looking for you in a dream: You are dearer to him than the world. Zemfira His love has disgusted me, I'm bored, my heart asks for will, Already I ...but be quiet! do you hear? he pronounces another name... Old man Whose name is it? Zemfira Do you hear? a hoarse groan And a fierce rattle!.. How awful! I will wake him up. Old man In vain, do not drive the Night Spirit; He will leave on his own. Zemfira He turned, Stood up; calls me; woke up. I go to him. - Goodbye, go to sleep. ALEKO Where have you been? Zemfira was sitting with her father. Some spirit tormented you, In a dream your soul endured Torment. You scared me: You, sleepy, gnashed your teeth And called me. ALEKO I dreamed about you. I saw that between us... I saw terrible dreams. Zemfira Do not believe in sly dreams. Aleko Ah, I don't believe in anything: Not dreams, not sweet assurances, Not even your heart. ____ Old man What, young madman, What are you sighing about all the time? Here people are free, the sky is clear, And women are famous for their beauty. Do not cry: longing will destroy you. Aleko Father, she doesn't love me. Old man Take comfort, friend; she is a child, Your despondency is reckless: You love bitterly and hard, And a woman's heart is joking. Look: under the distant arch Walks the free moon; On the whole of nature in passing Equally radiance she pours. Any cloud will look into it, It will illuminate it so magnificently, And now - it has already passed into another And then it will not visit for long. Who will show her a place in the sky, Saying: stop there! Who will say to the heart of a young maiden: Love one thing, do not change? Take comfort! ALEKO How she loved! How tenderly, bowing to me, She spent the night hours in the desert silence! Children's fun is full, How often with sweet babbling Or intoxicating kiss She knew how to disperse my thoughtfulness In a minute! So what? Zemfira is wrong! My Zemfira has cooled off. Old man Listen: I will tell you a story about myself. Long, long time ago, when the Danube was not yet threatened by the Muscovites (You see: I remember, Aleko, the old sadness) - Then we were afraid of the Sultan; And Pasha ruled Budjak From the high towers of Akkerman - I was young; my soul At that time joyfully boiled, And not one of my curls Still turned white; Among young beauties One was ... and for a long time I admired her, Like the sun, And finally called mine. Ah, my youth quickly flashed like a falling star! But you, the time of love, passed even faster: only a year Mariula loved me. Once, near the Kagul waters, We met a strange camp; Those gypsies, having pitched their tents near ours by the mountain, spent two nights together. They left on the third night, And, leaving their little daughter, Mariula followed them. I slept peacefully; dawn flashed; I woke up: no girlfriend! I'm looking for, I'm calling - and the trace is gone. Longing, cried Zemfira, And I cried! Between them, my gaze has never chosen my girlfriend, And I have not shared my lonely leisure with anyone. Aleko Yes, why didn't you hasten Immediately after the ungrateful one And the predators and her, the treacherous one, Didn't plunge the dagger into the heart? Old Man Why? freer bird youth. Who can keep love? By succession joy is given to all; What was, will not be again. ALEKO I'm not like that. No, without arguing, I will not renounce my rights; Or at least enjoy revenge. Oh no! when over the abyss of the sea I found a sleeping enemy, I swear, and then my foot Would not spare the villain; I am in the waves of the sea, without turning pale, And I would push the defenseless; The sudden horror of awakening Reproached me with a ferocious laugh, And for a long time his fall Would be funny and sweet for me to roar. ____ Young Gypsy One more, one kiss! Zemfira It's time: my husband is jealous and angry. Gypsy One ... but share! goodbye. Zemfira Farewell, until you come. Gypsy Tell me - when is the date again? Zemfira Today; as the moon goes down, There, behind the mound over the grave... The gypsy will deceive! she won't come. Zemfira Run - here he is. I'll come, my dear. ____ Aleko is sleeping. A vague Vision plays in his mind; He, waking up in the darkness with a cry, Jealously stretches out his hand; But a shabby hand grabs the cold veils - His girlfriend is far away ... He stood up with trepidation and listens ... Everything is quiet: fear embraces him, Both heat and cold flow over him; He gets up, leaves the tent, Around the carts, terrible, wanders; Everything is calm; the fields are silent; Dark; The moon has set in the mists, A little misleading light dawns on the stars, A little noticeable trace of dew Leads to distant mounds: Impatiently he goes, Where the ominous trail leads. A grave on the edge of the road Turns white in front of him in the distance, Weakening legs drags there, we languish with foreboding, Mouths tremble, knees tremble, He walks... and suddenly... or is this a dream? Suddenly he sees two shadows close And he hears a close whisper Above the dishonored grave. 1st voice It's time. 2nd voice Wait! 1st voice It's time, my dear. 2nd voice No, no! wait, wait for the day. 1st voice It's too late. 2nd voice How timidly you love. Just a minute! 1st voice You will destroy me. 2nd voice One minute! 1st voice If my husband wakes up without me... Aleko I woke up. Where are you going? don't rush both; You feel good here at the coffin. Zemfira My friend, run, run! Aleko Wait! Where, handsome young man? Lie down! (Stabs a knife into him.) Zemfira Aleko! Gypsy I'm dying! Zemfira Aleko! you will kill him! Look, you're covered in blood! Oh what have you done? Aleko Nothing. Now breathe his love. Zemfira No, that's enough, I'm not afraid of you, I despise your threats, I curse your murder. ALEKO Die, you too! (Amazes her.) Zemfira I will die loving. ____ The East, illuminated by the daylight, shone. Aleko behind the hill, With a knife in his hands, bloodied, Sat on the coffin stone. Two corpses lay before him; The killer had a terrible face; The gypsies timidly surrounded Him with an alarmed crowd; They dug a grave aside, The wives walked in a mournful succession And kissed the eyes of the dead. The old father sat alone And looked at the deceased In mute inaction of sadness; They lifted the corpses, carried them And they put the young couple in the bosom of the cold earth. Aleko looked at everything from a distance. When they were covered with the last handful of the earth, He silently, slowly bowed And fell from the stone onto the grass. Then the old man, approaching, rivers: “Leave us, proud man! We are wild, we have no laws, We do not torment, we do not execute, We do not need blood and groans; But we don't want to live with a killer. You were not born for a wild lot, You only want freedom for yourself; Your voice will be terrible to us: We are timid and kind in soul, You are angry and bold; - leave us, I'm sorry! May peace be with you." He said, and in a noisy crowd A nomadic camp rose From the valley of a terrible lodging for the night, And soon everything in the distance of the steppe Hid. Only one cart, Poorly covered with a carpet, Stood in the fateful field. So sometimes before the winter, Foggy, morning sometimes, When the village of the late cranes rises from the fields And screaming into the distance to the south rushes, Pierced by fatal lead One sadly remains, Hanging with a wounded wing. The night has come; in the dark wagon no one spread the fire, no one under the roof of the hoist did not rest until morning. EPILOGUE By the magic power of singing In my foggy memory Visions of bright, sad days are revived. In a country where long, long battles A terrible rumble did not stop, Where the Russian pointed out the imperious boundaries of Istanbul, Where our old double-headed eagle Still rustles with past glory, I met in the middle of the steppes Over the borders of the ancient camps Carts of peaceful gypsies, The humble liberty of children. Behind their lazy crowds In the deserts I often wandered, I shared their simple food And fell asleep before their fires. In slow campaigns I loved Their joyful hums of songs - And for a long time I repeated the gentle name of dear Mariula. But there is no happiness between you, poor sons of Nature! And under the tattered tents Tormenting dreams live, And your nomadic canopy In the deserts you have not escaped from troubles, And everywhere fatal passions, And there is no protection from fate.The gypsy camp roams the steppes of Bessarabia. A gypsy family is preparing dinner by the fire, horses are grazing nearby, and a tame bear is lying behind the tent. Gradually everything falls silent and falls into a dream. Only in one tent does the old man not sleep, waiting for his daughter Zemfira, who has gone for a walk in the field. And then Zemfira appears along with a young man unfamiliar to the old man. Zemfira explains that she met him behind the barrow and invited him to the camp, that he is pursued by the law and wants to be a gypsy. His name is Aleko. The old man cordially invites the young man to stay as long as he wants, and says that he is ready to share bread and shelter with him.
In the morning, the old man wakes up Zemfira and Aleko, the camp wakes up and sets off on a journey with a picturesque crowd. The young man's heart shrinks from anguish at the sight of the deserted plain. But what does he yearn for? Zemfira wants to know this. A conversation ensues between them. Zemfira fears that he regrets the life he left, but Aleko reassures her and says that he left "the captivity of stuffy cities" without regret. In the life that he abandoned, there is no love, which means there is no fun, and now his desire is to always be with Zemfira. The old man, hearing their conversation, tells them an old legend about a poet who was once exiled by the king to these lands and languished in his soul in his homeland, despite the love and care of the locals. Aleko recognizes Ovid in the hero of this legend and is amazed at the vicissitudes of fate and the ephemeral nature of glory.
For two years Aleko roams with the camp, free, like the gypsies themselves, not regretting the abandonment. He leads a bear through the villages and thus earns a living. Nothing disturbs the peace of his soul, but one day he hears Zemfira sing a song that confuses him. In this song, Zemfira admits that she has fallen out of love with him. Aleko asks her to stop singing, but Zemfira continues, and then Aleko realizes that Zemfira is unfaithful to him. Zemfira confirms Aleko's most terrible assumptions.
At night, Zemfira wakes up her father and says that Aleko is crying and groaning in her sleep, calling her, but his love has disgusted Zemfira, her heart asks for freedom. Aleko wakes up, and Zemfira goes to him. Aleko wants to know where Zemfira was. She replies that she was sitting with her father because she could not bear the sight of Aleko's mental anguish that he experienced in a dream. Aleko admits that he saw Zemfira's betrayal in a dream, but Zemfira persuades him not to believe in sly dreams.
The old gypsy asks Aleko not to be sad and assures him that longing will destroy him. Aleko admits that the reason for his sadness is Zemfira's indifference to him. The old man consoles Aleko, says that Zemfira is a child, that a woman's heart loves jokingly, that no one is free to order a woman's heart to love one, how to order the moon to freeze in place. But Aleko, remembering the hours of love spent with Zemfira, is inconsolable. He laments that "Zemfira has cooled off", that "Zemfira is unfaithful." For edification, the old man tells Aleko about himself, about how young he was, how he loved the beautiful Mariula, and how he finally achieved reciprocity. But youth quickly passed, even faster - Mariula's love. Once she left with another camp, leaving her little daughter, this same Zemfira. And since then, "all the virgins of the world" have hated the old man. Aleko asks how the old man could not take revenge on the offenders, how could he not plunge a dagger into the heart of the kidnapper and unfaithful wife. The old man replies that nothing can hold love, nothing can be returned, "what was, will not be again." Aleko assures the old man that he himself is not like that, that he cannot give up his rights or even enjoy revenge.
Meanwhile, Zemfira is on a date with a young gypsy. They agree on a new date this night after the moon has set.
Aleko sleeps anxiously and, waking up, does not find Zemfira nearby. He gets up, leaves the tent, he is seized by suspicion and fear, he wanders around the tent and sees a trail, barely visible in the starlight, leading beyond the barrows, and Aleko follows this trail. Suddenly he sees two shadows and hears the voices of two lovers who cannot part with each other. He recognizes Zemfira, who asks her lover to run away, but Aleko stabs him with a knife... Terrified, Zemfira says that she despises Aleko's threats and curses him. Aleko kills her too.
Dawn found Aleko sitting behind a hill with a bloody knife in his hand. There are two corpses in front of him. The tribesmen say goodbye to the dead and dig graves for them. An old gypsy sits in thought. After the bodies of the lovers were interred, he approaches Aleko and says: “Leave us, proud man!” He says that the gypsies do not want to live next to a murderer, with a man who "for himself only" wants freedom.
The old man said this, and the camp soon moved off and disappeared into the distance of the steppe. Only one cart remained in the fatal field. Night fell, but no one laid a fire in front of her and no one spent the night under her roof.
retold
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Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin
Gypsies in a noisy crowd
They wander around Bessarabia.
They are over the river today
They spend the night in tattered tents.
Like a liberty, their lodging for the night is cheerful
And peaceful sleep under heaven.
Between cart wheels
Half hung with carpets
The fire is burning: the family is around
Is cooking dinner; in the open field
Horses graze; behind the tent
A tame bear lies free.
Everything is alive in the middle of the steppes:
The cares of peaceful families,
Ready in the morning for a short journey,
And the songs of wives, and the cry of children,
And the ringing of a camping anvil.
But here on the nomadic camp
Sleepy silence descends
And you can hear in the silence of the steppe
Only the barking of dogs and the neighing of horses.
The lights are off everywhere
Calm down, the moon is shining
One from heaven
And the quiet camp illuminates.
In one tent the old man does not sleep;
He sits before the coals,
Warmed by their last heat,
And looks into the far field,
Steamy at night.
His young daughter
I went for a walk in a deserted field.
She got used to the frisky will,
She will come: but now it's night,
And soon the month will leave
Heaven distant clouds;
Zemfira is gone, and it's getting cold
Poor old man's dinner.But here she is. Behind her
The young man hurries across the steppe;
The gypsy does not know him at all.
"My father," the maiden says,
I'm leading a guest: behind the barrow
I found him in the desert
And she called me to the camp for the night.
He wants to be like us, a gypsy;
The law pursues him
But I will be his friend.
His name is Aleko; is he
Ready to follow me everywhere.
I am pleased to. Stay until the morning
Under the shade of our tent
Or stay with us and share,
As you want. I'm ready
With you to share both bread and shelter.
Be ours, get used to our share,
Wandering poverty and will;
And tomorrow with the morning dawn
In one cart we will go;
Take on any fishing:
Iron kui il sing songs
And go around the village with a bear.
He will be mine:
Who will take him away from me?
But it's too late ... a young month
Went in; the fields are covered with mist,
And the dream involuntarily tends me ...Light. The old man wanders quietly
Around the silent tent.
“Get up, Zemfira: the sun is rising,
Wake up, my guest, it's time, it's time!
Leave, children, a bed of bliss.
And the people poured out with a noise,
Tents dismantled, carts
Ready to go hiking;
Everything moved together: and now
The crowd pours into the empty plains.
Donkeys in baskets
Children playing are carried;
Husbands and brothers, wives, virgins,
And the old and the young follow;
Scream, noise, gypsy choruses,
Bear roar, his chains
impatient clatter,
Rags of bright variegation,
Nudity of children and elders,
Dogs and barking and howling,
Bagpipes talk, skryp carts -
Everything is meager, wild, everything is discordant;
But everything is so alive and restless,
So alien to our dead negs,
So alien to this idle life,
Like the monotonous song of slaves.The young man looked sadly
To the deserted plain
And grieve for a secret reason
I did not dare to interpret.
With him black-eyed Zemfira,
Now he is a free inhabitant of the world,
And the sun is merrily above it
Shines with midday beauty;
Why does the young man's heart tremble?
What concern does he have?The bird of God does not know
No care, no work
Troublesomely does not twist
durable nest,
In debt, the night slumbers on a branch;
The red sun will rise
The bird hears the voice of God,
Wakes up and sings.
For the spring, the beauty of nature,
The sultry summer will pass -
And fog and bad weather
Late autumn brings:
People are bored, people are sad;
Bird to distant lands
To a warm land, beyond the blue sea
Flies away until spring.Like a carefree bird
And he, a migratory exile,
I did not know a reliable nest
And I didn't get used to anything.
He was always on the road
Everywhere there was a shelter for the night;
Waking up in the morning, your day
He surrendered to God
And in life anxiety could not
To confuse his heart laziness.
His sometimes magical glory
Manila distant star
Unexpected luxury and fun
Sometimes they came to him;
Over a lonely head
And thunder often rumbled;
But he carelessly under a thunderstorm
And dozed in a clear bucket.
And lived without recognizing power
Fate is insidious and blind;
But God, how passions played
His obedient soul!
With what excitement seethed
In his tortured chest!
How long, how long have they been pacified?
They wake up: wait.
Tell me my friend you don't regret
About quitting forever?
What did I leave?
Do you understand:
People of the motherland, the city.
What to regret? When would you know.
When would you imagine
Captivity stuffy cities!
There are people in heaps, behind the fence,
Don't breathe in the morning chill
Nor the spring smell of the meadows;
Love is ashamed, thoughts are driven,
Trade their will
Heads bow before idols
And they ask for money and chains.
What did I throw? change of excitement,
prejudice sentence,
Crowds insane persecution
Or a brilliant disgrace.
But there are huge chambers,
There are multi-colored carpets,
There are games, noisy feasts,
The dresses of the maidens there are so rich!
What is the noise of city merriment?
Where there is no love, there is no fun;
And the virgins ... How are you better than them
And without expensive outfits,
No pearls, no necklaces!
Don't change, my gentle friend!
And I ... one of my desires
With you to share love, leisure
And voluntary exile.
You love us, even though you were born
Among the rich people;
But freedom is not always sweet
To those who are accustomed to bliss.
There is one legend between us:
Was once exiled by the king
Noon resident to us in exile.
(I used to know, but forgot
His clever nickname.)
He was already years old,
But young and alive with a gentle soul:
He had a marvelous gift for songs
And a voice like the sound of the waters,
And everyone loved him
And he lived on the banks of the Danube,
Not offending anyone
captivating people with stories.
He did not understand anything
And he was weak and timid, like children;
Strangers for him
Animals and fish were caught in nets;
How the fast river froze
And the winter whirlwinds raged
Covered with fluffy skin
They are a holy old man;
But he is to the worries of a poor life
I could never get used to it;
He wandered withered, pale,
He said that the angry god
He was punished for a crime
He waited for deliverance to come.
And all the unfortunate yearned,
Wandering along the banks of the Danube,
Yes, bitter tears shed,
Remembering your distant city.
And he bequeathed, dying,
To move south
His longing bones
And death - alien to this land -
Unsatisfied guests.
So this is the fate of your sons
O Rome, O loud power!
Singer of love, singer of the gods
Tell me what is glory?
Grave rumble, laudatory voice,
From generation to generation the sound running
Or under the shadow of a smoky bush
Gypsy's wild story?Two summers have passed. They also roam
Gypsies in a peaceful crowd;
Everywhere still found
Hospitality and peace.
Despising the shackles of enlightenment,
Aleko is free, like them;
He is without worries and regrets
Leads wandering days.
He is still the same, the family is still the same;
He, not even remembering previous years,
I'm used to being a gypsy.
He loves their canopy for the night,
And the ecstasy of eternal laziness,
And their poor sonorous language.
A bear, a fugitive from his native lair,
Shaggy guest of his tent,
In the villages, along the steppe road,
Near the Moldavian court
In front of the crowd
And dances heavily, and roars,
And the chain gnaws boring.
Leaning on the staff of the road,
The old man lazily beats tambourines,
Aleko leads the beast with the singing,
Zemfira villager bypasses
And he takes their free tribute;
The night will come; they are all three
Uncut millet is cooked;
The old man fell asleep - and everything is at rest ...
The tent is quiet and dark.The old man warms in the spring sun
Already cooling blood;
At the cradle, the daughter sings love.
Aleko listens and turns pale.
Old husband, formidable husband,
Cut me, burn me:
I'm strong, I'm not afraid
No knife, no fire.Hate you,
I despise you;
I love another
I'm dying in love.
Be quiet. I'm tired of singing
I don't like wild songs.
Don't you love? what do I care!
I sing a song for myself.
Cut me, burn me;
I won't say anything;
Old husband, formidable husband,
You don't recognize him.He is fresher than spring
Hotter than a summer day;
How young and brave he is!
How he loves me!How caressed him
I'm in the stillness of the night!
How they laughed then
We are your gray hair!
Shut up, Zemfira, I'm happy ...
So you understand my song?
You are free to get angry
I sing a song about you.
(Exits and sings: Old Husband, etc.)
So, I remember, I remember: this song
During our complicated.
For a long time in the fun of the world
She sings among people.
Wandering on the steppes of Cahul,
It used to be on a winter night
My sang Mariula,
Before the fire shaking daughter.
In my mind last summer
Hour by hour darker, darker;
But this song was born
Deep in my memory.Everything is quiet; night; adorned with the moon
Azure south sky,
Old man Zemfira awakened:
“Oh my father, Aleko is terrible:
Listen, through a heavy dream
And he groans and weeps."
Don't touch him, keep quiet.
I heard a Russian legend:
Now midnight sometimes
The sleeper is short of breath
home spirit; before dawn
He leaves. Sit with me.
My father! he whispers: "Zemfira!"
He is looking for you in a dream:
You are dearer to him than the world.
His love disgusted me
I'm bored, my heart asks for will
I… but be quiet! do you hear? is he
Another name pronounces...
Do you hear? hoarse moan
And a fierce rattle! .. How terrible!
I will wake him up.
in vain
Do not drive the night spirit;
He will leave on his own.
He turned
got up; calls me; woke up.
I go to him. - Goodbye, go to sleep.
She sat with her father.
Some kind of spirit tormented you,
In a dream your soul endured
Torment. You scared me
You, sleepy, gnashed your teeth
And called me.
I dreamed about you.
I saw that between us...
I saw terrible dreams.
Don't believe in false dreams.
Oh, I don't believe in anything
No dreams, no sweet assurances,
Not even your heart.
About what, young madman,
What are you sighing about all the time?
Here people are free, the sky is clear,
And wives are famous for their beauty.
Do not cry: longing will destroy you.
Father, she doesn't love me.
Take comfort, friend; she is a child
Your despondency is reckless:
You love bitterly and hard
And the heart of a woman is joking.
Look: under a distant vault
The free moon walks;
All over nature in passing
Equally radiance she pours.
Look into any cloud
It will light him up so brightly
And now - it has already moved to another
And that will be a short visit.
Who will show her a place in the sky,
Saying: stop there!
Who will say to the heart of a young maiden:
Love one thing, don't change?
Take comfort!
How she loved!
How gently, bowing to me,
She is in the wilderness
Spent the night hours!
Full of children's fun
How often sweet babble
Or with an intoxicating kiss
She is my reverie
I knew how to disperse in a minute!
So what? Zemfira is wrong!
My Zemfira has cooled off.
Listen: I'll tell you
I am a story about myself.
Long, long time ago, when the Danube
The Muscovite has not yet threatened
(You see, I remember
Aleko, old sadness) -
Then we were afraid of the Sultan;
And Pasha ruled Budjak
From the high towers of Ackermann -
I was young; my soul
At that time, she was seething with joy,
And not one in my curls
Still the gray hair did not turn white;
Between young beauties
One was ... and for a long time she,
Like the sun, I admired
And finally called mine.Ah, quickly my youth
Flashed like a falling star!
But you, the time for love, has passed
Even faster: only a year
Mariula loved me.Once near Kagul waters
We met a strange camp;
Those gypsies, their tents
Having broken near ours at the mountain,
We spent two nights together.
They left on the third night
And, leaving the little daughter,
Mariula followed them.
I slept peacefully; dawn flashed;
I woke up: no girlfriend!
I'm looking, I'm calling - and the trace is gone.
Longing, cried Zemfira,
And I cried! .. from now on
All the virgins of the world have disgusted me;
Between them never my gaze
I didn't choose my girlfriend
And lonely leisure
I have not shared with anyone.
How are you not in a hurry
Immediately after the ungrateful
And predators and her, insidious,
Didn't you plunge a dagger into the heart?
For what? freer bird youth.
Who can keep love?
By succession joy is given to all;
What was, will not be again.
I am not like that. No, I'm not arguing
I will not renounce my rights;
Or at least enjoy revenge.
Oh no! when over the abyss of the sea
I found a sleeping enemy
I swear, and here is my leg
Would not spare the villain;
I'm in the waves of the sea, without turning pale,
And I would push the defenseless;
Sudden terror of awakening
With a ferocious laugh reproached,
And long for me to fall
Ridiculous and sweet would be the rumble.
YOUNG GYPSY
One more, one more kiss!
It's time: my husband is jealous and angry.
One ... but share! goodbye.
Farewell, until you come.
Tell me, when will we meet again?
Today; as the moon sets
There, behind the mound over the grave ...
Deceive! she won't come.
Run - here it is. I'll come, my dear.Aleko is sleeping. In his mind
A vague vision plays;
He, waking up in the darkness with a cry,
Jealously stretches out his hand;
But a broken hand
There are enough cold covers -
His girlfriend is away...
He stood up with trepidation and heeded ...
Everything is quiet: fear embraces him,
Both heat and cold flow through it;
He gets up, leaves the tent,
Around the carts, terrible, wandering;
All calm; the fields are silent;
Dark; the moon has gone into mist,
Slightly glimmering stars the wrong light,
A little dew is a noticeable trace
Leads to distant mounds:
He goes impatiently
Where the ominous trail leads.Grave on the side of the road
In the distance it turns white before him,
There weakening legs
Dragging, we torment with foreboding,
Mouths tremble, knees tremble,
It goes ... and suddenly ... or is it a dream?
Suddenly sees close two shadows
And he hears a close whisper
Above the desecrated grave.
It's time, my dear.
No no! wait, wait for the day.
How timidly you love.
Just a minute!
You will ruin me.
If without me
Husband wakes up...
I woke up.
Where are you going? don't rush both;
You feel good here at the coffin.
My friend, run, run!
Wait!
Where, handsome young man?
Lie down!
(Plunges a knife into him.)
Aleko! you will kill him!
Look, you're covered in blood!
Oh what have you done?
Nothing.
Now breathe his love.
No, that's enough, I'm not afraid of you,
I despise your threats
I curse your murder.
(Strikes her.)
I'll die loving.East, illuminated by daylight,
Beamed. Aleko over the hill
Knife in hand, bloodied
Sat on a grave stone.
Two corpses lay before him;
The killer had a terrible face;
The gypsies timidly surrounded
By his alarmed crowd;
Digging a grave aside
The wives walked in a mournful succession
And they kissed the eyes of the dead.
The old father sat alone
And looked at the dead
In mute inaction of sadness;
They picked up the corpses, they carried
And in the bosom of the cold earth
They put the youngest couple.
Aleko watched from a distance
For all. When did they close
The last handful of the earth,
He silently, slowly bowed
And fell off the stone onto the grass.
Then the old man, approaching, rivers:
“Leave us, proud man!
We are wild, we have no laws,
We do not torment, we do not execute,
We do not need blood and groans;
But we don't want to live with a killer.
You weren't born for the wild
You only want a will for yourself;
Your voice will be terrible to us:
We are timid and kind in soul,
You are angry and bold; - leave us
Sorry! May peace be with you."Said, and the noisy crowd
The nomadic camp has risen
From the valley of a terrible night,
And soon everything is in the distance of the steppe
Hidden. Only one cart
Poorly carpeted
She stood in the fatal field.
So sometimes before winter,
Foggy, morning time,
When it rises from the fields
The village of late cranes
And with a cry into the distance to the south rushes,
Pierced by deadly lead
One sad remains
Hanging on a wounded wing.
The night has come; in a dark cart
No one put out the fire
Nobody under the roof lift
Didn't sleep until morning.
The magical power of song
In my hazy memory
That's how visions come alive
Either bright or sad days.In a country where long, long battles
The terrible roar did not stop,
Where are the imperative lines
Russian pointed out to Istanbul,
Where is our old double-headed eagle
Still noisy past glory,
I met in the middle of the steppes
Over the borders of the ancient camps
Carts of peaceful gypsies,
Humble liberty of children.
Behind their lazy crowds
In the deserts I often wandered,
Shared their simple food
And fell asleep before their fires.
I liked the slow ones on campaigns
Their songs are joyful hums -
And long dear Mariula
I repeated the gentle name.But there is no happiness between you,
Nature's poor sons!
And under tattered tents
Living tormenting dreams
And your canopy is nomadic
In the deserts they did not escape from troubles,
And everywhere fatal passions
And there is no protection from fate.
Pushkin. Gypsies. audiobook
Gypsies in a noisy crowd
They wander around Bessarabia.
They are over the river today
They spend the night in tattered tents.
Like a liberty, their lodging for the night is cheerful
And peaceful sleep under heaven.
Between cart wheels
Half hung with carpets
The fire is burning: the family is around
Is cooking dinner; in the open field
Horses graze; behind the tent
A tame bear lies free.
Everything is alive in the middle of the steppes:
The cares of peaceful families,
Ready in the morning for a short journey,
And the songs of wives, and the cry of children,
And the ringing of a camping anvil.
But here on the nomadic camp
Sleepy silence descends
And you can hear in the silence of the steppe
Only the barking of dogs and the neighing of horses.
The lights are off everywhere
Calm down, the moon is shining
One from heaven
And the quiet camp illuminates.
In one tent the old man does not sleep;
He sits before the coals,
Warmed by their last heat,
And looks into the far field,
Steamy at night.
His young daughter
I went for a walk in a deserted field.
She got used to the frisky will,
She will come: but now it's night,
And soon the month will leave
Heaven distant clouds;
Zemfira is gone, and it's getting cold
Poor old man's dinner.
But here she is. Behind her
The young man hurries across the steppe;
The gypsy does not know him at all.
"My father," the maiden says,
I'm leading a guest: behind the barrow
I found him in the desert
And she called me to the camp for the night.
He wants to be like us, a gypsy;
The law pursues him
But I will be his friend.
His name is Aleko; is he
Ready to follow me everywhere.
OLD MAN
I am pleased to. Stay until the morning
Under the shade of our tent
Or stay with us and share,
As you want. I'm ready
With you to share both bread and shelter.
Be ours, get used to our share,
Wandering poverty and will;
And tomorrow with the morning dawn
In one cart we will go;
Take on any fishing:
Iron kui il sing songs
And go around the village with a bear.
ALECO
I'll stay.
ZEMFIRA
He will be mine:
Who will take him away from me?
But it's too late... a young month
Went in; the fields are covered with mist,
And sleep involuntarily drives me ...
Light. The old man wanders quietly
Around the silent tent.
“Get up, Zemfira: the sun is rising,
Wake up, my guest, it's time, it's time!
Leave, children, a bed of bliss.
And the people poured out with a noise,
Tents dismantled, carts
Ready to go hiking;
Everything moved together: and now
The crowd pours into the empty plains.
Donkeys in baskets
Children playing are carried;
Husbands and brothers, wives, virgins,
And the old and the young follow;
Scream, noise, gypsy choruses,
Bear roar, his chains
impatient clatter,
Rags of bright variegation,
Nudity of children and elders,
Dogs and barking and howling,
Bagpipes talk, skryp carts -
Everything is meager, wild, everything is discordant;
But everything is so alive and restless,
So alien to our dead negs,
So alien to this idle life,
Like the monotonous song of slaves.
The young man looked sadly
To the deserted plain
And grieve for a secret reason
I did not dare to interpret.
With him black-eyed Zemfira,
Now he is a free inhabitant of the world,
And the sun is merrily above it
Shines with midday beauty;
Why does the young man's heart tremble?
What concern does he have?
The bird of God does not know
No care, no work
Troublesomely does not twist
durable nest,
In debt, the night slumbers on a branch;
The red sun will rise
The bird hears the voice of God,
Wakes up and sings.
For the spring, the beauty of nature,
The sultry summer will pass -
And fog and bad weather
Late autumn brings:
People are bored, people are sad;
Bird to distant lands
To a warm land, beyond the blue sea
Flies away until spring.
Like a carefree bird
And he, a migratory exile,
I did not know a reliable nest
And I didn't get used to anything.
He was always on the road
Everywhere there was a shelter for the night;
Waking up in the morning, your day
He surrendered to God
And in life anxiety could not
To confuse his heart laziness.
His sometimes magical glory
Manila distant star
Unexpected luxury and fun
Sometimes they came to him;
Over a lonely head
And thunder often rumbled;
But he carelessly under a thunderstorm
And dozed in a clear bucket.
And lived without recognizing power
Fate is insidious and blind;
But God, how passions played
His obedient soul!
With what excitement seethed
In his tortured chest!
How long, how long have they been pacified?
They wake up: wait.
ZEMFIRA
Tell me my friend you don't regret
About quitting forever?
ALECO
What did I leave?
ZEMFIRA
Do you understand:
People of the motherland, the city.
ALECO
What to regret? When would you know.
When would you imagine
Captivity stuffy cities!
There are people in heaps, behind the fence,
Don't breathe in the morning chill
Nor the spring smell of the meadows;
Love is ashamed, thoughts are driven,
Trade their will
Heads bow before idols
And they ask for money and chains.
What did I throw? change of excitement,
prejudice sentence,
Crowds insane persecution
Or a brilliant disgrace.
3EMFIRA
But there are huge chambers,
There are multi-colored carpets,
There are games, noisy feasts,
The dresses of the maidens there are so rich!
ALECO
What is the noise of city merriment?
Where there is no love, there is no fun;
And the virgins ... How are you better than them
And without expensive outfits,
No pearls, no necklaces!
Don't change, my gentle friend!
And I ... one of my desires
With you to share love, leisure
And voluntary exile.
OLD MAN
You love us, even though you were born
Among the rich people;
But freedom is not always sweet
To those who are accustomed to bliss.
There is one legend between us:
Was once exiled by the king
Noon resident to us in exile.
(I used to know, but forgot
His clever nickname.)
He was already years old,
But young and alive with a gentle soul:
He had a marvelous gift for songs
And a voice like the sound of the waters,
And everyone loved him
And he lived on the banks of the Danube,
Not offending anyone
captivating people with stories.
He did not understand anything
And he was weak and timid, like children;
Strangers for him
Animals and fish were caught in nets;
How the fast river froze
And the winter whirlwinds raged
Covered with fluffy skin
They are a holy old man;
But he is to the worries of a poor life
I could never get used to it;
He wandered withered, pale,
He said that the angry god
He was punished for a crime
He waited for deliverance to come.
And all the unfortunate yearned,
Wandering along the banks of the Danube,
Yes, bitter tears shed,
Remembering your distant city.
And he bequeathed, dying,
To move south
His longing bones
And death - alien to this land -
Unsatisfied guests.
ALECO
So this is the fate of your sons
O Rome, O loud power!
Singer of love, singer of the gods
Tell me what is glory?
Grave rumble, laudatory voice,
From generation to generation the sound running
Or under the shadow of a smoky bush
Gypsy's wild story?
Two summers have passed. They also roam
Gypsies in a peaceful crowd;
Everywhere still found
Hospitality and peace.
Despising the shackles of enlightenment,
Aleko is free, like them;
He is without worries and regrets
Leads wandering days.
He is still the same, the family is still the same;
He, not even remembering previous years,
I'm used to being a gypsy.
He loves their canopy for the night,
And the ecstasy of eternal laziness,
And their poor sonorous language.
A bear, a fugitive from his native lair,
Shaggy guest of his tent,
In the villages, along the steppe road,
Near the Moldavian court
In front of the crowd
And dances heavily, and roars,
And the chain gnaws boring.
Leaning on the staff of the road,
The old man lazily beats tambourines,
Aleko leads the beast with the singing,
Zemfira villager bypasses
And he takes their free tribute;
The night will come; they are all three
Uncut millet is cooked;
The old man fell asleep - and everything is at rest ...
The tent is quiet and dark.
The old man warms in the spring sun
Already cooling blood;
At the cradle, the daughter sings love.
Aleko listens and turns pale.
ZEMFIRA
Old husband, formidable husband,
Cut me, burn me:
I'm strong, I'm not afraid
No knife, no fire.
Hate you,
I despise you;
I love another
I'm dying in love.
ALECO
Be quiet. I'm tired of singing
I don't like wild songs.
ZEMFIRA
Don't you love? what do I care!
I sing a song for myself.
Cut me, burn me;
I won't say anything;
Old husband, formidable husband,
You don't recognize him.
He is fresher than spring
Hotter than a summer day;
How young and brave he is!
How he loves me!
How caressed him
I'm in the stillness of the night!
How they laughed then
We are your gray hair!
ALECO
Shut up, Zemfira, I'm happy...
ZEMFIRA
So you understand my song?
ALECO
Zemfira!..
ZEMFIRA
You are free to get angry
I sing a song about you.
(Exits and sings: Old Husband, etc.)
OLD MAN
So, I remember, I remember: this song
During our complicated.
For a long time in the fun of the world
She sings among people.
Wandering on the steppes of Cahul,
It used to be on a winter night
My sang Mariula,
Before the fire shaking daughter.
In my mind last summer
Hour by hour darker, darker;
But this song was born
Deep in my memory.
Everything is quiet; night; adorned with the moon
Azure south sky,
Old man Zemfira awakened:
“Oh my father, Aleko is terrible:
Listen, through a heavy dream
And he groans and weeps."
OLD MAN
Don't touch him, keep quiet.
I heard a Russian legend:
Now midnight sometimes
The sleeper is short of breath
home spirit; before dawn
He leaves. Sit with me.
ZEMFIRA
My father! he whispers: "Zemfira!"
OLD MAN
He is looking for you in a dream:
You are dearer to him than the world.
ZEMFIRA
His love disgusted me
I'm bored, my heart asks for will
I... but be quiet! do you hear? is he
Another name says...
OLD MAN
Whose name?
ZEMFIRA
Do you hear? hoarse moan
And a fierce rattle! .. How terrible!
I will wake him up.
OLD MAN
in vain
Do not drive the night spirit;
He will leave on his own.
ZEMFIRA
He turned
got up; calls me; woke up.
I go to him. - Goodbye, go to sleep.
ALECO
Where have you been?
ZEMFIRA
She sat with her father.
Some kind of spirit tormented you,
In a dream your soul endured
Torment. You scared me
You, sleepy, gnashed your teeth
And called me.
ALECO
I dreamed about you.
I saw that between us...
I saw terrible dreams.
ZEMFIRA
Don't believe in false dreams.
ALECO
Oh, I don't believe in anything
No dreams, no sweet assurances,
Not even your heart.
OLD MAN
About what, young madman,
What are you sighing about all the time?
Here people are free, the sky is clear,
And wives are famous for their beauty.
Do not cry: longing will destroy you.
ALECO
Father, she doesn't love me.
OLD MAN
Take comfort, friend; she is a child
Your despondency is reckless:
You love bitterly and hard
And the heart of a woman is joking.
Look: under a distant vault
The free moon walks;
All over nature in passing
Equally radiance she pours.
Look into any cloud
It will light him up so brightly
And now - it has already moved to another
And that will be a short visit.
Who will show her a place in the sky,
Saying: stop there!
Who will say to the heart of a young maiden:
Love one thing, don't change?
Take comfort!
ALECO
How she loved!
How gently, bowing to me,
She is in the wilderness
Spent the night hours!
Full of children's fun
How often sweet babble
Or with an intoxicating kiss
She is my reverie
I knew how to disperse in a minute!
So what? Zemfira is wrong!
My Zemfira has cooled off.
OLD MAN
Listen: I'll tell you
I am a story about myself.
Long, long time ago, when the Danube
The Muscovite has not yet threatened
(You see, I remember
Aleko, old sadness) -
Then we were afraid of the Sultan;
And Pasha ruled Budjak
From the high towers of Ackerman -
I was young; my soul
At that time, she was seething with joy,
And not one in my curls
Still the gray hair did not turn white;
Between young beauties
One was ... and for a long time she,
Like the sun, I admired
And finally called mine.
Ah, quickly my youth
Flashed like a falling star!
But you, the time for love, has passed
Even faster: only a year
Mariula loved me.
Once near Kagul waters
We met a strange camp;
Those gypsies, their tents
Having broken near ours at the mountain,
We spent two nights together.
They left on the third night
And, leaving the little daughter,
Mariula followed them.
I slept peacefully; dawn flashed;
I woke up: no girlfriend!
I'm looking, I'm calling - and the trace is gone.
Longing, cried Zemfira,
And I cried! .. from now on
All the virgins of the world have disgusted me;
Between them never my gaze
I didn't choose my girlfriend
And lonely leisure
I have not shared with anyone.
ALECO
How are you not in a hurry
Immediately after the ungrateful
And predators and her, insidious,
Didn't you plunge a dagger into the heart?
OLD MAN
For what? freer bird youth.
Who can keep love?
By succession joy is given to all;
What was, will not be again.
ALECO
I am not like that. No, I'm not arguing
I will not renounce my rights;
Or at least enjoy revenge.
Oh no! when over the abyss of the sea
I found a sleeping enemy
I swear, and here is my leg
Would not spare the villain;
I'm in the waves of the sea, without turning pale,
And I would push the defenseless;
Sudden terror of awakening
With a ferocious laugh reproached,
And long for me to fall
Ridiculous and sweet would be the rumble.
YOUNG GYPSY
One more, one more kiss!
ZEMFIRA
It's time: my husband is jealous and angry.
GYPSY
One ... but share! goodbye.
ZEMFIRA
Farewell, until you come.
GYPSY
Tell me, when will we meet again?
ZEMFIRA
Today; as the moon sets
There, behind the mound over the grave ...
GYPSY
Deceive! she won't come.
ZEMFIRA
Run - here it is. I'll come, my dear.
Aleko is sleeping. In his mind
A vague vision plays;
He, waking up in the darkness with a cry,
Jealously stretches out his hand;
But a broken hand
There are enough cold covers -
His girlfriend is away...
He stood up with trepidation and heeded ...
Everything is quiet: fear embraces him,
Both heat and cold flow through it;
He gets up, leaves the tent,
Around the carts, terrible, wandering;
All calm; the fields are silent;
Dark; the moon has gone into mist,
Slightly glimmering stars the wrong light,
A little dew is a noticeable trace
Leads to distant mounds:
He goes impatiently
Where the ominous trail leads.
Grave on the side of the road
In the distance it turns white before him,
There weakening legs
Dragging, we torment with foreboding,
Mouths tremble, knees tremble,
It goes ... and suddenly ... or is it a dream?
Suddenly sees close two shadows
And he hears a close whisper
Above the desecrated grave.
ALECO
I woke up.
Where are you going? don't rush both;
You feel good here at the coffin.
ZEMFIRA
My friend, run, run!
ALECO
Wait!
Where, handsome young man?
Lie down!
(Plunges a knife into him.)
ZEMFIRA
Aleko!
GYPSY
I'm dying!
ZEMFIRA
Aleko! you will kill him!
Look, you're covered in blood!
Oh what have you done?
ALECO
Nothing.
Now breathe his love.
ZEMFIRA
No, that's enough, I'm not afraid of you,
I despise your threats
I curse your murder.
ALECO
Die you too!
(Strikes her.)
ZEMFIRA
I'll die loving.
East, illuminated by daylight,
Beamed. Aleko over the hill
Knife in hand, bloodied
Sat on a grave stone.
Two corpses lay before him;
The killer had a terrible face;
The gypsies timidly surrounded
By his alarmed crowd;
Digging a grave aside
The wives walked in a mournful succession
And they kissed the eyes of the dead.
The old father sat alone
And looked at the dead
In mute inaction of sadness;
They picked up the corpses, they carried
And in the bosom of the cold earth
They put the youngest couple.
Aleko watched from a distance
For all. When did they close
The last handful of the earth,
He silently, slowly bowed
And fell off the stone onto the grass.
Then the old man, approaching, rivers:
“Leave us, proud man!
We are wild, we have no laws,
We do not torment, we do not execute,
We do not need blood and groans;
But we don't want to live with a killer.
You weren't born for the wild
You only want a will for yourself;
Your voice will be terrible to us:
We are timid and kind in soul,
You are angry and bold; - leave us
Sorry! May peace be with you."
Said, and the noisy crowd
The nomadic camp has risen
From the valley of a terrible night,
And soon everything is in the distance of the steppe
Hidden. Only one cart
Poorly carpeted
She stood in the fatal field.
So sometimes before winter,
Foggy, morning time,
When it rises from the fields
The village of late cranes
And with a cry into the distance to the south rushes,
Pierced by deadly lead
One sad remains
Hanging on a wounded wing.
The night has come; in a dark cart
No one put out the fire
Nobody under the roof lift
Didn't sleep until morning.
Epilogue
The magical power of song
In my hazy memory
That's how visions come alive
Either bright or sad days.
In a country where long, long battles
The terrible roar did not stop,
Where are the imperative lines
Russian pointed out to Istanbul,
Where is our old double-headed eagle
Still noisy past glory,
I met in the middle of the steppes
Over the borders of the ancient camps
Carts of peaceful gypsies,
Humble liberty of children.
Behind their lazy crowds
In the deserts I often wandered,
Shared their simple food
And fell asleep before their fires.
I liked the slow ones on campaigns
Their songs are joyful hums -
And long dear Mariula
I repeated the gentle name.
But there is no happiness between you,
Nature's poor sons!
And under tattered tents
Living tormenting dreams
And your canopy is nomadic
In the deserts they did not escape from troubles,
And everywhere fatal passions
And there is no protection from fate.