A hut on chicken legs. Fairy tales. Hut on chicken legs Sentence diagram hut there on chicken legs

There is a green oak near the Lukomorye;
Golden chain on the oak tree:
Day and night the cat is a scientist
Everything goes round and round in a chain;
He goes to the right - the song starts,
To the left - he tells a fairy tale.
There are miracles there: a goblin wanders there,
The mermaid sits on the branches;
There on unknown paths
Traces of unseen beasts;
There's a hut there on chicken legs
It stands without windows, without doors;
There the forest and the valley are full of visions;
There the waves will rush in at dawn
The beach is sandy and empty,
And thirty beautiful knights
From time to time clear waters emerge,
And their sea uncle is with them;
The prince is there in passing
Captivates the formidable king;
There in the clouds in front of the people
Through the forests, across the seas
The sorcerer carries the hero;
In the dungeon there the princess is grieving,
And the brown wolf serves her faithfully;
There is a stupa with Baba Yaga
She walks and wanders by herself,
There, King Kashchei is wasting away over gold;
There is a Russian spirit there... it smells like Russia!
And there I was, and I drank honey;
I saw a green oak by the sea;
The scientist cat sat under him
He told me his fairy tales.

Analysis of the poem “Near the Lukomorye there is a green oak” by Pushkin

“Near the Lukomorye there is a green oak tree...” - lines familiar to everyone from childhood. The magical world of Pushkin's fairy tales has become so firmly entrenched in our lives that it is perceived as an integral part of Russian culture. The poem “Ruslan and Lyudmila” was completed by Pushkin in 1820, but he completed the introduction in 1825 in Mikhailovsky. The poet took Arina Rodionovna’s saying as its basis.

Pushkin's introduction to the poem continues the ancient traditions of Russian folklore. Even the ancient Russian guslars began their tales with an obligatory saying that was not directly related to the plot. This saying set the listeners in a solemn mood and created a special magical atmosphere.

Pushkin begins his poem with a description of the mysterious Lukomorye - a mysterious area where any miracles are possible. “The Scientist Cat” symbolizes the ancient author-storyteller who knows an incredible number of fairy tales and songs. Lukomorye is inhabited by many magical heroes gathered here from all Russian fairy tales. Among them are minor characters (a goblin, a mermaid), and “unseen animals,” and an as yet inanimate hut on chicken legs.

Gradually, more significant characters appear before the reader. Among the unclear visions, the mighty “thirty knights” appear, led by Chernomor, symbolizing the military strength of the Russian people. The main positive characters (the prince, the hero, the princess) are still nameless. They are collective images that will be embodied in a specific fairy tale. The magical picture is completed by the main negative characters - Baba Yaga and Kashchei the Immortal, personifying evil and injustice.

Pushkin emphasizes that this entire magical world has national roots. He is directly connected with Russia: “it smells like Russia there!” All events taking place in this world (feats, temporary victories of villains and the triumph of justice) are a reflection of real life. Fairy tales are not just stories made up for entertainment. They illuminate reality in their own way and help a person distinguish between good and evil.

There is a green oak near the Lukomorye;

Golden chain on the oak tree:

Day and night the cat is a scientist

Everything goes round and round in a chain;

He goes to the right - the song starts,

To the left - he tells a fairy tale.

There are miracles there: a goblin wanders there,

The mermaid sits on the branches;

There on unknown paths

Traces of unseen beasts;

There's a hut there on chicken legs

It stands without windows, without doors;

There the forest and the valley are full of visions;

There the waves will rush in at dawn

The beach is sandy and empty,

And thirty beautiful knights

From time to time clear waters emerge,

And their sea uncle is with them;

The prince is there in passing

Captivates the formidable king;

There in the clouds in front of the people

Through the forests, across the seas

The sorcerer carries the hero;

In the dungeon there the princess is grieving,

And the brown wolf serves her faithfully;

There is a stupa with Baba Yaga

She walks and wanders by herself;

There, King Kashchei is wasting away over gold;

There is a Russian spirit there... it smells like Russia!

And there I was, and I drank honey;

I saw a green oak by the sea;

The scientist cat sat under him

He told me his fairy tales.

I remember one: this fairy tale

Now I will tell the world...

Things of days gone by

Deep legends of antiquity.

In the crowd of mighty sons,

With friends, in the high grid

Vladimir the sun feasted;

He gave away his youngest daughter

For the brave prince Ruslan

And honey from a heavy glass

I drank to their health.

Our ancestors did not eat soon,

It didn't take long to move around

Ladles, silver bowls

With boiling beer and wine.

They poured joy into my heart,

Foam hissed around the edges,

It is important that the teacups wore them

And they bowed low to the guests.

Speeches merged into indistinct noise;

A cheerful circle buzzes with guests;

But suddenly a pleasant voice was heard

And the sound of the harp is a fluent sound;

Everyone fell silent and listened to Bayan:

And the sweet singer praises

Lyudmila is lovely, and Ruslana,

And Lelem made a crown for him.

But, tired of ardent passion,

Ruslan, in love, does not eat or drink;

He looks at his dear friend,

Sighs, gets angry, burns

And, pinching my mustache with impatience,

Counts every moment.

In despondency, with a cloudy brow,

At a noisy wedding table

Three young knights are sitting;

Silent, behind an empty bucket,

Circular cups are forgotten,

And the trash is unpleasant to them;

They do not hear the prophetic Bayan;

They looked down, embarrassed:

Those are three rivals of Ruslan;

The unfortunate are hidden in the soul

Love and hate are poison.

One - Rogdai, brave warrior,

With a sword he pushed the limits

Rich Kyiv fields;

The other is Farlaf, an arrogant loudmouth,

In feasts, undefeated by anyone,

But the warrior is modest among swords;

The last one, full of passionate thought,

Young Khazar Khan Ratmir:

All three are pale and gloomy,

And a merry feast is not a feast for them.

Here it is over; stand in rows

Mixed in noisy crowds,

And everyone looks at the young people:

The bride lowered her eyes

As if my heart was depressed,

And the joyful groom shines.

But the shadow embraces all nature,

It’s already close to midnight; it’s deaf;

The boyars, dozing off from the honey,

With a bow they went home.

The groom is delighted, in ecstasy:

He caresses in the imagination

The beauty of a shy maid;

But with secret, sad tenderness

Grand Duke blessing

Gives a young couple.

And here is the young bride

Lead to the wedding bed;

The lights went out... and the night

Lel lights the lamp.

Sweet hopes have come true,

Gifts are being prepared for love;

Jealous robes will fall

On Tsaregrad carpets...

Do you hear a lover's whisper,

And the sweet sound of kisses,

And an intermittent murmur

The last timidity?.. Spouse

Feels delight in advance;

And then they came... Suddenly

Thunder struck, light flashed in the fog,

The lamp goes out, the smoke runs out,

Everything around is dark, everything is trembling,

And Ruslan’s soul froze...

Everything fell silent. In the menacing silence

And someone in the smoky depths

Soared blacker than the foggy darkness...

And again the tower is empty and quiet;

The frightened groom stands up

Cold sweat rolls off your face;

Trembling, with a cold hand

He asks the mute darkness...

About grief: there is no dear friend!

The air is empty;

Lyudmila is not in the thick darkness,

Abducted by an unknown force.

Oh, if love is a martyr

Suffering hopelessly from passion,

Even though life is sad, my friends,

However, it is still possible to live.

But after many, many years

Hug your loving friend

The object of desires, tears, longing,

And suddenly a minute wife

Lose forever... oh friends,

Of course it would be better if I died!

However, unhappy Ruslan is alive.

But what did the Grand Duke say?

Suddenly struck down by a terrible rumor,

I became angry at my son-in-law,

He convenes him and the court:

“Where, where is Lyudmila?” - asks

With a terrible, fiery brow.

Ruslan doesn't hear. “Children, friends!

I remember my previous achievements:

Oh, have mercy on the old man!

Tell me which one of you agrees

Jump after my daughter?

Whose feat will not be in vain,

Therefore, suffer, cry, villain!

He couldn’t save his wife! -

To him I will give her as a wife

With half the kingdom of my great-grandfathers.

Who will volunteer, children, friends?..”

"I!" - said the sad groom.

"I! I!" - exclaimed with Rogdai

Farlaf and joyful Ratmir:

“Now we saddle our horses;

We are happy to travel all over the world.

Our Father, let us not prolong the separation;

Don’t be afraid: we’re going for the princess.”

And gratefully dumb

In tears he stretches out his hands to them

An old man, exhausted by melancholy.

All four go out together;

Ruslan was killed by despondency;

Thought of the Lost Bride

It torments and kills him.

They sit on zealous horses;

Along the banks of the Dnieper happy

They fly in swirling dust;

Already hiding in the distance;

The riders are no longer visible...

But he still looks for a long time

Grand Duke in an empty field

And the thought flies after them.

Ruslan languished silently,

Having lost both meaning and memory.

Looking over your shoulder arrogantly

And it’s important to put your arms akimbo, Farlaf,

Pouting, he followed Ruslan.

He says: “I force

I've broken free, friends!

Well, will I soon meet the giant?

Surely blood will flow,

These are the victims of jealous love!

Have fun, my faithful sword,

Have fun, my zealous horse!”

Khazar Khan, in his mind

Already hugging Lyudmila,

Almost dancing over the saddle;

The blood in him is young,

The look is full of fire of hope:

Then he gallops at full speed,

It teases the dashing runner,

Circles, rears up

Ile boldly rushes to the hills again.

Rogday is gloomy, silent - not a word...

Fearing an unknown fate

And tormented by vain jealousy,

He is the most worried

And often his gaze is terrible

Gloomily directed at the prince.

Rivals on the same road

Everyone travels together all day.

The Dnieper bank became dark and sloping;

The shadow of the night pours from the east;

The fogs over the Dnieper are deep;

It's time for their horses to rest.

Here under the mountain there is a wide path

The wide one crossed the path.

“Let’s leave, it’s time! - they said, -

Let us entrust ourselves to the unknown fate.”

And every horse, not smelling steel,

By will, I chose the path for myself.

What are you doing, Ruslan, unhappy,

Alone in desert silence?

Lyudmila, the wedding day is terrible,

It seems like you saw everything in a dream.

Pushing the copper helmet over his eyebrows,

Leaving the reins from powerful hands,

You're walking between the fields,

And slowly in your soul

Hope dies, faith fades.

But suddenly there was a cave in front of the knight;

There is light in the cave. He's straight to her

Walks under the dormant arches,

Contemporaries of nature itself.

He entered with despondency: what is he seeing?

There is an old man in the cave; clear view,

Calm gaze, gray hair;

The lamp in front of him is burning;

He sits behind an ancient book,

Reading it carefully.

“Welcome, my son! -

He said with a smile to Ruslan. -

I've been here alone for twenty years

In the darkness of the old life I wither;

But finally I waited for the day

Long foreseen by me.

We are brought together by fate;

Sit down and listen to me.

Ruslan, you have lost Lyudmila;

Your strong spirit is losing strength;

But a quick moment of evil will rush by:

For a while, fate befell you.

With hope, cheerful faith

Go for everything, don’t be discouraged;

Forward! with a sword and a bold chest

Make your way to midnight.

Find out, Ruslan: your insulter

The terrible wizard Chernomor,

Longtime thief of beauties,

Full owner of the mountains.

No one else in his abode

Until now the gaze has not penetrated;

But you, destroyer of evil machinations,

You will enter it, and the villain

He will die by your hand.

I don't have to tell you anymore:

The fate of your coming days,

My son, from now on it is your will.”

Our knight fell at the feet of the old man

And in joy he kisses his hand.

The world brightens before his eyes,

And the heart forgot the torment.

He came to life again; and suddenly again

There is a sadness on the flushed face...

“The reason for your melancholy is clear;

But sadness is not difficult to disperse, -

The old man said, “You are terrible.”

Love of a gray-haired sorcerer;

Calm down, know: it is in vain

And the young maiden is not afraid.

He brings down the stars from the sky,

He whistles - the moon trembles;

But against the time of the law

His science is not strong.

Jealous, reverent guardian

Locks of merciless doors,

He's just a weak torturer

Your lovely captive.

He silently wanders around her,

Curses his cruel lot...

But, good knight, the day passes,

But you need peace.”

Ruslan lies down on soft moss

Before the dying fire;

He is looking for sleep,

Sighs, turns slowly...

In vain! Knight finally:

“I can’t sleep, my father!

What to do: I am sick at heart,

And it’s not a dream, how sickening it is to live.

Let me refresh my heart

Your holy conversation.

Forgive my impertinent question.

Open up: who are you, O blessed one,

An incomprehensible confidant of fate?

Who brought you to the desert?”

Sighing with a sad smile,

The old man replied: “Dear son,

I've already forgotten my distant homeland

Gloomy edge. Natural Finn,

In the valleys known to us alone,

Chasing the herd of the surrounding villages,

In my carefree youth I knew

Some dense oak groves,

Streams, caves of our rocks

Yes, wild poverty is fun.

But to live in gratifying silence

It didn't last long for me.

Then, near our village,

Like a sweet color of solitude,

Naina lived. Between friends

She thundered with beauty.

One morning

Their herds on the dark meadow

I drove on, blowing the bagpipes;

There was a stream in front of me.

Alone, young beauty

I was making a wreath on the shore.

I was attracted by my destiny...

Ah, knight, it was Naina!

I go to her - and the fatal flame

I was rewarded for my daring gaze,

And I recognized love in my soul

With her heavenly joy,

With her painful melancholy.

Half of the year has flown away;

I opened up to her with trepidation,

He said: I love you, Naina.

But my timid sorrow

Naina listened with pride,

Loving only your charms,

And she answered indifferently:

“Shepherd, I don’t love you!”

And everything became wild and gloomy for me:

Native bush, shade of oak trees,

Merry games of shepherds -

Nothing consoled the melancholy.

In despondency, the heart dried up and sluggishly.

And finally I thought

Leave Finnish fields;

Seas of faithless depths

Swim across with a brotherly squad

And deserve the glory of abuse

Naina's proud attention.

I called the brave fishermen

Look for dangers and gold.

For the first time the quiet land of fathers

I heard the swearing sound of damask steel

And the noise of non-peaceful shuttles.

I sailed into the distance, full of hope,

With a crowd of fearless countrymen;

We are ten years of snow and waves

They were stained with the blood of enemies.

Rumor spread: the kings of a foreign land

They were afraid of my insolence;

Their proud squads

The northern swords fled.

We had fun, we fought menacingly,

They shared tributes and gifts,

And they sat down with the vanquished

For friendly feasts.

But a heart full of Naina,

Under the noise of battle and feasts,

I was languishing in secret sorrow,

Searched for the Finnish coast.

It's time to go home, I said, friends!

Let's hang up the idle chain mail

Under the shadow of my native hut.

He said - and the oars rustled;

And, leaving fear behind,

To the Gulf of the Fatherland dear

We flew in with proud joy.

Long-time dreams have come true,

Ardent wishes come true!

A minute of sweet goodbye

And you sparkled for me!

At the feet of the haughty beauty

I brought a bloody sword,

Corals, gold and pearls;

Before her, intoxicated with passion,

Surrounded by a silent swarm

Her envious friends

I stood as an obedient prisoner;

But the maiden hid from me,

Saying with an air of indifference:

"Hero, I don't love you!"

Why tell me, my son,

What is there no power to retell?

Ah, and now alone, alone,

Soul asleep, at the door of the grave,

I remember sorrow, and sometimes,

How a thought is born about the past,

By my gray beard

A heavy tear rolls down.

But listen: in my homeland

Between the desert fishermen

Wonderful science lurks.

Under the roof of eternal silence,

Among the forests, in the distant wilderness

Gray-haired sorcerers live;

To objects of high wisdom

All their thoughts are directed;

What happened and what will happen again,

And they are subject to their formidable will

And the coffin and love itself.

And I, a greedy seeker of love,

Decided in joyless sadness

Attract Naina with charms

And in the proud heart of a cold maiden

Ignite love with magic.

Hastened into the arms of freedom,

Into the lonely darkness of the forests;

And there, in the teachings of sorcerers,

Spent invisible years.

The long-awaited moment has come,

And the terrible secret of nature

I realized with bright thoughts:

I learned the power of spells.

The crown of love, the crown of desires!

Now, Naina, you are mine!

The victory is ours, I thought.

But really the winner

There was rock, my persistent persecutor.

In dreams of young hope,

In the delight of ardent desire,

I cast spells hastily,

I call the spirits - and in the darkness of the forest

The arrow rushed like thunder,

The magic whirlwind raised a howl,

The ground shook under my feet...

And suddenly he sits in front of me

The old woman is decrepit, gray-haired,

Sparkling with sunken eyes,

With a hump, with a shaking head,

A picture of sad disrepair.

Ah, knight, it was Naina!..

I was horrified and silent

With his eyes the terrible ghost measured,

I still didn’t believe in doubt

And suddenly he began to cry and shout:

“Is it possible! oh, Naina, is it you!

Naina, where is your beauty?

Tell me, is heaven really

Have you been changed so badly?

Tell me, how long has it been since you left the light?

Have I parted with my soul and my sweetheart?

How long ago?..” “Exactly forty years,”

There was a fatal answer from the maiden, -

Today I was seventy.

“What should I do,” she squeaks to me, “

The years flew by in a crowd.

My, your spring has passed -

We both managed to grow old.

But, friend, listen: it doesn’t matter

Loss of unfaithful youth.

Of course, I'm gray now,

A little hunchbacked, maybe;

Not like in the old days,

Not so alive, not so sweet;

But (added the chatterbox)

I’ll tell you a secret: I’m a witch!”

And it really was like that.

Mute, motionless in front of her,

I was a complete fool

With all my wisdom.

But here's something terrible: witchcraft

It was completely unfortunate.

My gray deity

There was a new passion for me.

Curling his terrible mouth into a smile,

He mumbles a confession of love to me.

Imagine my suffering!

I trembled, looking down;

She continued through her cough.

Heavy, passionate conversation:

“So, now I recognize the heart;

I see, true friend, it

Born for tender passion;

Feelings have awakened, I'm burning,

I'm yearning for love...

Come into my arms...

Oh darling, darling! I'm dying..."

And meanwhile she, Ruslan,

She blinked with languid eyes;

And meanwhile for my caftan

She held herself with her skinny arms;

And meanwhile I was dying,

I closed my eyes in horror;

And suddenly I couldn’t stand the urine;

I broke out screaming and ran.

She followed: “Oh, unworthy!

You have disturbed my calm age,

The days are bright for the innocent maiden!

You have achieved Naina's love,

And you despise - these are men!

They all breathe treason!

Alas, blame yourself;

He seduced me, wretched one!

I gave myself up to passionate love...

Traitor, monster! oh shame!

But tremble, maiden thief!

So we parted. From now on

I live in my solitude

With a disappointed soul;

And in the world there is consolation for the old man

Nature, wisdom and peace.

The grave is already calling me;

But the feelings are the same

The old lady hasn't forgotten yet

And the late flame of love

Turned from frustration into anger.

Loving evil with my black soul,

The old witch, of course,

He will hate you too;

But grief on earth does not last forever.”

Our knight greedily listened

Stories of the Elder; clear eyes

I didn’t close my lungs with slumber

And the quiet flight of the night

I didn't hear it in deep thought.

But the day shines radiantly...

With a sigh the grateful knight

Volume of the old sorcerer;

The soul is full of hope;

Gets out. Legs squeezed

Ruslan of the neighing horse,

He recovered in the saddle and whistled.

“My father, do not leave me.”

And gallops across the empty meadow.

Gray-haired sage to a young friend

He shouts after him: “Happy journey!

Forgive, love your wife,

Don’t forget the elder’s advice!”

The work “A Green Oak at Lukomorye” was conceived by Pushkin as an introduction to the poem “Ruslan and Lyudmila,” work on which he began in 1817, while still a young lyceum student. The first release of the literary brainchild was presented without stanzas about the learned cat. The idea about it came to Alexander Sergeevich a little later. Only in 1828, when the poem was published in a new edition, the reader became acquainted with the unusual poetic introduction. The poem is written in iambic tetrameter, closer to astronomical. At that time, this style of writing was inherent in poetic forms.
Thoughts about fairy-tale characters and the magic oak tree did not come to the author by chance. His nanny Arina Rodionovna knew a huge number of fairy tales, which she shared with her pupil. He heard something similar from her.
35 magical lines still attract literary critics and researchers of Pushkin’s heritage. They are trying to solve the mystery of whether a land called Lukomorye really existed. Some have concluded that such areas actually existed on maps of Western Europe in the 16th century. This was an area in Siberia, on one side of the Ob River. Pushkin was always attracted by history. In his works, ancient names of cities and villages are often mentioned. It reminds contemporaries that our roots go back to the distant past and should not be forgotten.

We offer you the text of the verse:

In an extreme situation of crisis, a person reveals his essence. Tempted by success
and threatened with death, he with natural shamelessness reveals the foundations of his inner
world - and displays price tags on their valuables.

Today, the embezzlers plundering the country hysterically swear their love for the Motherland.
Thieves are shouting about the fight against corruption. Administrators destroying science and culture declare
the greatness of Russia. The lies uttered by the bandits are established as the criterion of truth. And the naming
black to white, and white to black has long ceased to be a matter of truth or psychic
disorders, but there is only an indicator of loyalty to the regime.

Which one? Anyone. The one who dominates the present moment.

Oh, with what charming ease these professional sycophants and backbiters will wipe their feet
about the collapsed regime and will lick all the places of the new regime. These are professionals, they betray
at the very moment it becomes profitable and safe. Their national interest is personal
buoyancy.

National interests in today's rhetoric mean only reunification
with Crimea and consolidation of the Russian regime in Donbass.
This is in a country with the largest territory in the world, which territory is no longer available to anyone today.
maintain and process.

The rise of science and culture, medicine and education, the construction of roads and the creation of technologies,
moving away from the shameful, indigenous raw material “economy” to an advanced production economy
production through brains and hands - as if it is not a “national interest”.

But because the enemies don’t interfere.
Never mind - soon the enemies will start throwing broken glass into our oil and sand into our cars; we know
passed.

In post-Soviet Russia there was not, is not and is not expected to be any specific plan for “rising
from our knees” - what, how much, where and when we will build.

Everyone will be happy in everything and intimate details be damned.

A! Skolkovo!

How much was stolen?

What exactly did they create?

The growth of the Russian ruling class is fully consistent with Talleyrand's maxim:
“To get rich you don’t need to have intelligence, to get rich you don’t need to have a conscience.”

Take first place in the world in the number of abandoned children - and prohibit foreigners from adopting
sick children from Russian orphanages: isn’t this an example of high Orthodox spirituality?
But they themselves push their children to the damned West by all means.

And cry if you are not allowed there to rest or receive treatment.
Do you consider this rabble to be human?

Number of murders, suicides, corrupt judges and broken leavers, equal tax scale
for billionaires and poor doctors, the bending of the church to the authorities and the security forces to the drug mafia is
just a feast for the spirit!

Choking with self-praise and enthusiastically touched by our virtues, we do not know
no gratitude, no respect for countries near and far;
we deny courage and bravery to our enemies - and accuse them of ingratitude and wrong
the way of thinking of fleeting friends.
There are two points of view in the world: the Russian one and the wrong one.

Our spirituality

there is a guarantor of our rightness.

While preaching Russian spirituality, they forget the proportion of the cocktail: one Tolstoy per hundred million
zllll... uh... traditional spirit bearers. An assortment of Russian spirituality can be equipped
chemical shells. The effect is delayed, but steady: two hundred years - and the enemy will flee from this
places in all directions.

But what’s amazing: patriotic speakers know very well about our special forces in Simferopol
parliament, about Strelkov’s detachment in Slavyansk and further in Donetsk, about the fact that where there is no
"armed miners and tractor drivers" -

there is no war, terror or humanitarian catastrophe,

about weapons and “vacationers” - and continue to excitedly shout about the “fascist Kyiv
junta", bloody punitive actions and the vile West, which was just waiting for a reason to show
all the strength of his dislike for us.

They understand perfectly well that war is the surest and best way to rally the masses around
power and leader. That the regime is the only institution that has won and strengthened
from the Russian-Ukrainian epic.

The stupid have joined forces with the vile and, turning away from internal problems and contradictions,
they shout about the struggle of the Russian world against the filthy hordes surrounding it. And shame on them
doesn't eat eyes.

“We are at war with a country, which is important to understand.

We are confronted by a state with a cemetery and funeral
pyramid in the center of the capital.

The walls of the Kremlin are crypts that sadistically
Peter the Great “decorated” with pleasure the corpses of the archers.
Their blood was absorbed into the Moscow mentality, already in advance
flavored with the savagery and violence of Ivan the Terrible.

“The mysterious Russian soul” is an eschatological symbol of death.
These people don't need life.

“It seems to me that only our people could have born
The proverb “Even death is red in the world.” How come?
Death is horror.
No, it turns out,” says the last helmsman of Russia
Vladimir Putin.

The desire for life (libido) and the worship of death (mortido) -
two basic structures of the human psyche, described
Erich Fromm.

Mortido is clearly manifested in necrophilia: “Necrophiles live
past, not present and future.
They love strength, authority, and are prone to formalism and bureaucracy.
Personality for a necrophile personifies the “machine” with its
"screws and nuts."
Necrophiles are pessimistic, indifferent to the suffering of others.
Necrophilic slogans: “Motherland or death”, “All as one”
we will die fighting for it.”
Lovers of death are partial to monuments, to stone
statues.
And in general to any signs that remind
about the dead.

Does it remind you of any country?

We are confronted by a nation of necrophiles whose roots go back to
into the darkness of the Finno-Ugric ethnic group.

Let’s remember the classic: “There’s a hut there on chicken legs,
stands without windows or doors.” Why no windows and doors?
This is a coffin on stilts. This is how they were buried in the north in the eternal zone
permafrost. Baba Yaga herself is a guide to the world of the dead,
which is described in detail by Vladimir Propp, famous
Russian and Soviet folklorist.

The main negative character of Russian fairy tales is a lover of life
Koschei the Deathless. Living long is an unaffordable luxury
for the Russian mentality, and therefore subject to
destruction by Ivan the Fool.

The ideal of Ivan the Fool is to lie on the stove and do nothing,
in other words, die while alive.
In Russian literature the theme of the “living corpse” was continued
Ivan Goncharov in Oblomov.

Our fellow countryman Nikolai Gogol sensitively grasped necrophilia
Russian society, ridiculing it in “Dead Souls”.
Russians' favorite hero in Gogol's works is
Taras Bulba, killing his son in the name of the “Russian world”.

The patriotic pathos of the times does not stand out from this series
Second World War. In the USSR, a hero could not be alive.
To be approved in this status, he had to pass
initiation by death - starting from Pavlik Morozov and ending
Matrosov rushed to the bunker. Iconostasis of the dead heroes.

The Germans had a different approach. They also had their heroes,
and they preferred to honor them alive.
This fact was even emphasized in Quentin Tarantino's film
"Inglourious Basterds".

So, what is important for us to understand. Like rats to the tune
fairy-tale hero Nils, Russian Nazis will go into battle
and litter our land with corpses.
They will kill us too. This is their karma and conscious
choice. What do they care about the lack of sewerage or rickety buildings?
fences near huts, rampant drunkenness, drug addiction, children's
mortality?
Vanity and abstraction.

You can be nobody, the most downtrodden drunken degenerate, but
Colorado ribbon and Kalashnikov assault rifle turns
a nonentity into a hero, and his widow into a holy martyr.
And no sanctions, poverty and hunger will turn away the present
Russian man from war and death.

Social and infrastructural apocalypse of the DPR-LPR only
strengthens and makes the bearers of “Russian world” values more
strong and uncompromising.
Through blood and death they will carry their Horde values
as long as you like - until the last person.

This means that one fine day, having exhausted the human
potential, they will reach for their last argument - rusty
button.

What difference does it make how you die if death is an end in itself? Submerge
the whole world into the abyss of a nuclear fire is beautiful and effective
a way not only to die “in peace”, but also to drag him
behind you.
As the great Putin bequeathed.

It’s high time for us to understand that we are not fighting with Putin and his army.
We are at war with a huge country that hates all living things.
In this hatred, everyone is monolithically united, from the homeless to the president.

The Gospel of Matthew says: “According to your faith, be it done to you.”
They believe in death, let them have death.
We believe in life."
Nikolay Neonenko.

But the horror is that a long-lasting war turns popular hatred from an external enemy
to internal power. Where there is no victory, the authorities are to blame for everything. And the crowns fly together
with heads, and chairs with loins.

And you can’t win, and you can’t retreat, and it’s like death to continue. That's brilliant
policy! God save us... And drive away the ghost of giant North Korea.

...The most terrible reading in Russia is the history of the Time of Troubles.
Behind the pages stand people who are infinitely vile and selfish, cruel and ungrateful,
deceitful and forgetful. The era of Ivan the Terrible formed a characteristic type: everyone is a bastard,
all bloodsuckers, anyone tomorrow, by order of the Tsar, will slaughter you and your whole family -
well then die today

and me tomorrow.

The bloody dragon died - and the dragon's teeth emerged and began to live their own lives.

And today I hear behind the speeches fiery hysterics screaming about the West’s hatred of the world’s first
the country of socialism...is this the wrong century? – ah, to Orthodox Russia! - I hear a menacing echo dear
history: “Death to the Trotskyist-Bukharin monsters! Death to dogs! Eliminate the kulaks
what a class!
Hang the priests, shoot the hostages, beat up the officers, expel the old regime
intellectuals!..”

Sincerely - this is the screaming of fanatical fooled crowds.

All the misery of their lives is poured out on the said enemy. And the leaders of terror begin
with terror of thoughts and words.

They sincerely believe them to be attributes of naive childhood, funny and unnecessary. They're actually cute
and reasonable people. But. The meaning of truth is not clear to them. They understand the presentation of information only as
a means of fighting for one's interests. Lying is a legal technique in wrestling, and nothing more.

Dissent is already an intent to commit a crime against the state. Don't you dare contradict the king
not with anything! We got this from Dmitry Donskoy...

...A good person is, in human opinion, a kind, honest, fair, open person,
a generous, selfless, simple and noble man at last. Who will give away the extra piece
comrade, but will be the first to go to work and danger.

Admire the beauty, compositionally grouped around the vertical of power.

Well, aren’t these fairy tales charming? Yes, we are the best in the world! The disgusting thing is that they are leaving us
to them, the bastards; but they don’t want to come to us, rotten freaks.

Sometimes I wish I was a Martian.

Fly to hell and watch everything through a telescope.

Mikhail Weller.

Page 1 of 10

DEDICATION

For you, the soul of my queen,
Beauties, for you alone
Tales of times gone by,
During golden leisure hours,
Under the whisper of chatty old times,
I wrote with a faithful hand;
Please accept my playful work!
Without demanding anyone's praise,
I am already happy with sweet hope,
What a maiden with the trembling of love
Maybe he'll look furtively
To my sinful songs.

SONG ONE

There is a green oak near the Lukomorye,
Golden chain on the oak tree:
Day and night the cat is a scientist
Everything goes round and round in a chain;
He goes to the right - the song starts,
To the left - he tells a fairy tale.

There are miracles there: a goblin wanders there,
The mermaid sits on the branches;
There on unknown paths
Traces of unseen beasts;
There's a hut there on chicken legs
It stands without windows, without doors;
There the forest and the valley are full of visions;
There the waves will rush in at dawn
The beach is sandy and empty,
And thirty beautiful knights;
From time to time clear waters emerge,
And their sea uncle is with them;
The prince is there in passing
Captivates the formidable king;
There in the clouds in front of the people
Through the forests, across the seas
The sorcerer carries the hero;
In the dungeon there the princess is grieving,
And the brown wolf serves her faithfully;
There is a stupa with Baba Yaga
She walks and wanders by herself;
There, King Kashchei is wasting away over gold;
There's a Russian spirit there... it smells like Russia!
And there I was, and I drank honey;
I saw a green oak by the sea;
Beneath him sat and the learned cat
He told me his fairy tales.
I remember one: this fairy tale
Now I will tell the world...

Things of days gone by
Deep legends of antiquity.

In the crowd of mighty sons,
With friends, in the high grid
Vladimir the sun feasted;
He gave away his youngest daughter
For the brave prince Ruslan
And honey from a heavy glass
I drank to their health.
Our ancestors did not eat soon,
It didn't take long to move around
Ladles, silver bowls
With boiling beer and wine.
They poured joy into my heart,
Foam hissed around the edges,
It is important that the teacups wore them
And they bowed low to the guests.
Speeches merged into indistinct noise:
A cheerful circle of guests buzzes;
But suddenly a pleasant voice was heard
And the sound of the harp is a fluent sound;
Everyone fell silent and listened to Bayan:
And the sweet singer praises
Lyudmila-precious and Ruslana
And Lelem made a crown for him.

But, tired of ardent passion,
Ruslan, in love, does not eat or drink;
He looks at his dear friend,
Sighs, gets angry, burns
And, pinching my mustache with impatience,
Counts every moment.
In despondency, with a cloudy brow,
At a noisy wedding table
Three young knights are sitting;
Silent, behind an empty bucket,
Forgot the circular cups,
And the trash is unpleasant to them;
They do not hear the prophetic Bayan;
They looked down, embarrassed:
Those are three rivals of Ruslan;
The unfortunate are hidden in the soul
Love and hate are poison.
One - Rogdai, brave warrior,
With a sword he pushed the limits
Rich Kyiv fields;
The other is Farlaf, an arrogant loudmouth,
In feasts, undefeated by anyone,
But the warrior is modest among swords;
The last one, full of passionate thought,
Young Khazar Khan Ratmir:
All three are pale and gloomy,
And a merry feast is not a feast for them.

Here it is over; stand in rows
Mixed in noisy crowds,
And everyone looks at the young people:
The bride lowered her eyes
As if my heart was depressed,
And the joyful groom shines.
But the shadow embraces all nature,
It’s already close to midnight; it’s deaf;
The boyars, dozing off from honey,
With a bow they went home.
The groom is delighted, in ecstasy:
He caresses in the imagination
The beauty of a shy maid;
But with secret, sad tenderness
Grand Duke blessing
Gives a young couple.

And here is the young bride
Lead to the wedding bed;
The lights went out... and the night
Lel lights the lamp.
Sweet hopes have come true,
Gifts are being prepared for love;
Jealous robes will fall
On Constantinople carpets...
Do you hear the loving whisper
And the sweet sound of kisses
And an intermittent murmur
The last timidity?... Spouse
Feels delight in advance;
And then they came... Suddenly
Thunder struck, light flashed in the fog,
The lamp goes out, the smoke runs out,
Everything around is dark, everything is trembling,
And Ruslan’s soul froze. . .
Everything fell silent. In the menacing silence
A strange voice was heard twice,
And someone in the smoky depths
Soared blacker than the foggy darkness.

And again the tower is empty and quiet;
The frightened groom stands up
Cold sweat rolls off your face;
Trembling, with a cold hand
He asks the mute darkness...
About grief: there is no dear friend!
The air is empty;
Lyudmila is not in the thick darkness,
Abducted by an unknown force.

Oh, if love is a martyr
Suffering hopelessly from passion;
Even though life is sad, my friends,
However, it is still possible to live.
But after many, many years
Hug your loving friend
The object of desires, tears, longing,
And suddenly a minute wife
Lose forever... oh friends,
Of course it would be better if I died!

However, unhappy Ruslan is alive.
But what did the Grand Duke say?
Suddenly struck by a terrible rumor,
I became angry at my son-in-law,
He convenes him and the court:
"Where, where is Lyudmila?" - asks
With a terrible, fiery brow.
Ruslan doesn't hear. "Children, friends!
I remember my previous achievements:
Oh, have mercy on the old man!
Tell me which one of you agrees
Jump after my daughter?
Whose feat will not be in vain,
Therefore, suffer, cry, villain!
He couldn’t save his wife! -
To him I will give her as a wife
With half the kingdom of my great-grandfathers.
Who will volunteer, children, friends?..”
“I am,” said the sorrowful groom.
"I! I!" - exclaimed with Rogdai
Farlaf and joyful Ratmir:
“Now we saddle our horses;
We are happy to travel all over the world.

Our Father, let us not prolong the separation;
Don't be afraid: we're going for the princess."
And gratefully dumb
In tears he stretches out his hands to them
An old man, exhausted by melancholy.
All four go out together;
Ruslan was killed by despondency;
Thought of the Lost Bride
It torments and kills him.

They sit on zealous horses;
Along the banks of the Dnieper happy
They fly in swirling dust;
Already hiding in the distance;

The riders are no longer visible...
But he still looks for a long time
Grand Duke in an empty field
And the thought flies after them.

Ruslan languished silently,
Having lost both meaning and memory.
Looking over your shoulder arrogantly
And it’s important to put your hands on your hips, Farlaf
Pouting, he drove after Ruslan.
He says: "I force
I've broken free, friends!
Well, will I soon meet the giant?
Surely blood will flow,
These are the victims of jealous love!
Have fun, my faithful sword,
Have fun, my zealous horse!"

Khazar Khan, in his mind
Already hugging Lyudmila,
Almost dancing over the saddle;
The blood in him is young
The gaze is full of the fire of hope;
Then he gallops at full speed,
It teases the dashing runner,
It circles, rears up,
Ile boldly rushes to the hills again.

Rogday is gloomy, silent - not a word...
Fearing an unknown fate
And tormented by vain jealousy,
He is the most worried
And often his gaze is terrible
He looks gloomily at the prince.

Rivals on the same road
Everyone travels together all day.
The Dnieper became dark and sloping;
The shadow of the night pours from the east;
The fogs over the Dnieper are deep;
It's time for their horses to rest.
There's a wide path under the mountain
A wide path crossed.
“Let’s go our separate ways, dammit!” they said.
Let us entrust ourselves to the unknown fate."
And every horse, not smelling steel,
By will, I chose the path for myself.

What are you doing, Ruslan, unhappy,
Alone in desert silence?
Lyudmila, the wedding day is terrible,
It seems like you saw everything in a dream.
Pushing the copper helmet over his eyebrows,
Leaving the reins from powerful hands,
You're walking between the fields,
And slowly in your soul
Hope dies, faith fades.

But suddenly there was a cave in front of the knight;
There is light in the cave. He's straight to her
Walks under the dormant arches,
Contemporaries of nature itself.
He entered with despondency: what is he seeing?

There is an old man in the cave; clear view,
Calm gaze, gray hair;
The lamp in front of him is burning;
He sits behind an ancient book,
Reading it carefully.
"Welcome, my son!"
He said with a smile to Ruslan:
I've been here alone for twenty years
In the darkness of the old life I wither;
But finally I waited for the day
Long foreseen by me.
We are brought together by fate;
Sit down and listen to me.
Ruslan, you have lost Lyudmila;
Your strong spirit is losing strength;
But a quick moment of evil will rush by:
For a while, fate befell you.
With hope, cheerful faith
Go for everything, don’t be discouraged;
Forward! with a sword and a bold chest
Make your way to midnight.

Find out, Ruslan: your insulter
The terrible wizard Chernomor,
Longtime thief of beauties,
Full owner of the mountains.
No one else in his abode
Until now the gaze has not penetrated;
But you, destroyer of evil machinations,
You will enter it, and the villain
He will die by your hand.
I don't have to tell you anymore:
The fate of your coming days,
My son, from now on it is your will."

Our knight fell at the feet of the old man
And in joy he kisses his hand.
The world brightens before his eyes,
And the heart forgot the torment.
He came to life again; and suddenly again
There is a sadness on the flushed face...
“The reason for your melancholy is clear;
But sadness is not difficult to disperse, -
The old man said: you are terrible
Love of a gray-haired sorcerer;
Calm down, know: it is in vain
And the young maiden is not afraid.
He brings down the stars from the sky,
He whistles - the moon trembles;
But against the time of the law
His science is not strong.
Jealous, reverent guardian
Locks of merciless doors,
He's just a weak torturer
Your lovely captive.
He silently wanders around her,
Curses his cruel lot...
But, good knight, the day passes,
But you need peace."

Ruslan lies down on soft moss
Before the dying fire;
He is looking for sleep,
Sighs, turns slowly...
In vain! Knight finally:
"I can't sleep, my father!
What to do: I am sick at heart,
And it’s not a dream, how sickening it is to live.
Let me refresh my heart
Your holy conversation.
Forgive me the impudent question,
Open up: who are you, O blessed one?
Fate's confidant is incomprehensible
Who brought you to the desert?"

Sighing with a sad smile,
The old man replied: “Dear son,
I've already forgotten my distant homeland
Gloomy edge. Natural Finn,
In the valleys known to us alone,
Chasing the herd from the surrounding villages,
In my carefree youth I knew
Some dense oak groves,
Streams, caves of our rocks
Yes, wild poverty is fun.
But to live in gratifying silence
It didn't last long for me.

Then, near our village,
Like a sweet color of solitude,
Naina lived. Between friends
She thundered with beauty.
One morning
Their herds on the dark meadow
I drove on, blowing the bagpipes;
There was a stream in front of me.
Alone, young beauty
I was making a wreath on the shore.
I was attracted by my destiny...

Ah, knight, it was Naina!
I go to her - and the fatal flame
I was rewarded for my daring gaze,
And I recognized love in my soul
With her heavenly joy,
With her painful melancholy.

Half of the year has flown away;
I opened up to her with trepidation,
He said: I love you, Naina.
But my timid sorrow
Naina listened with pride,
Loving only your charms,
And she answered indifferently:
"Shepherd, I don't love you!"

And everything became wild and gloomy for me:
Native bush, shade of oak trees,
Merry games of shepherds -
Nothing consoled the melancholy.
In despondency, the heart dried up and sluggishly.
And finally I thought
Leave Finnish fields;
Seas of faithless depths
Swim across with the brotherly squad,
And deserve the glory of abuse
Naina's proud attention.
I called the brave fishermen
Look for dangers and gold.

For the first time the quiet land of fathers
I heard the swearing sound of damask steel
And the noise of non-peaceful shuttles.
I sailed into the distance, full of hope,
With a crowd of fearless countrymen;
We are ten years of snow and waves
They were stained with the blood of enemies.
Rumor spread: the kings of a foreign land
They were afraid of my insolence;
Their proud squads
The northern swords fled.
We had fun, we fought menacingly,
They shared tributes and gifts,
And they sat down with the vanquished
For friendly feasts.
But a heart full of Naina,
Under the noise of battle and feasts,
I was languishing in secret sorrow,
Searched for the Finnish coast.
It's time to go home, I said, friends!

Let's hang up the idle chain mail
Under the shadow of my native hut.
He said - and the oars rustled;
And, leaving fear behind,
To the Gulf of the Fatherland dear
We flew in with proud joy.

Long-time dreams have come true,
Ardent wishes come true!
A minute of sweet goodbye
And you sparkled for me!
At the feet of the haughty beauty
I brought a bloody sword,
Corals, gold and pearls;
Before her, intoxicated with passion,
Surrounded by a silent swarm
Her envious friends
I stood as an obedient prisoner;
But the maiden hid from me,
Saying with an air of indifference:
"Hero, I don't love you!"

Why tell me, my son,
What is there no power to retell?
Ah, and now alone, alone,
Soul asleep, at the door of the grave,
I remember sorrow, and sometimes,
How a thought is born about the past,
By my gray beard
A heavy tear rolls down.

But listen: in my homeland
Between the desert fishermen
Wonderful science lurks.
Under the roof of eternal silence,
Among the forests, in the distant wilderness
Gray-haired sorcerers live;
To objects of high wisdom
All their thoughts are directed;
Everyone hears their terrible voice,
What happened and what will happen again,
And they are subject to their formidable will
And the coffin and love itself.

And I, a greedy seeker of love,
Decided in joyless sadness
Attract Naina with charms
And in the proud heart of a cold maiden
Ignite love with magic.
Hastened into the arms of freedom,
Into the lonely darkness of the forests;
And there, in the teachings of sorcerers,
Spent invisible years.
The long-awaited moment has come,
And the terrible secret of nature
I realized with bright thoughts:
I learned the power of spells.
The crown of love, the crown of desires!
Now, Naina, you are mine!
The victory is ours, I thought.
But really the winner
There was rock, my persistent persecutor.

In dreams of young hope,
In the delight of ardent desire,
I cast spells hastily,
I call the spirits - and in the darkness of the forest
The arrow rushed like thunder,
The magic whirlwind raised a howl,
The ground shook under my feet...
And suddenly he sits in front of me
The old woman is decrepit, gray-haired,
Sparkling with sunken eyes,
With a hump, with a shaking head,
A picture of sad disrepair.
Ah, knight, it was Naina!..
I was horrified and silent
With his eyes the terrible ghost measured,
I still didn’t believe in doubt
And suddenly he began to cry and shout:
Is it possible! oh, Naina, is it you!
Naina, where is your beauty?

Tell me, is heaven really
Have you been changed so badly?
Tell me, how long has it been since you left the light?
Have I parted with my soul and my sweetheart?
How long ago?.. “Exactly forty years,”
There was a fatal answer from the maiden: -
Today I hit seventy.
“What should I do,” she squeaks to me, “
The years have flown by,
My, your spring has passed -
We both managed to grow old.
But, friend, listen: it doesn’t matter
Loss of unfaithful youth.
Of course, I'm gray now,
A little hunchbacked, maybe;
Not like it was in the old days,
Not so alive, not so sweet;
But (added the chatterbox)
I’ll tell you a secret: I’m a witch!”

And it really was like that.
Mute, motionless in front of her,
I was a complete fool
With all my wisdom.

But here's something terrible: witchcraft
It was completely unfortunate.
My gray deity
There was a new passion for me.
Curling his terrible mouth into a smile,
Freak with grave voice
He mumbles a confession of love to me.
Imagine my suffering!
I trembled, looking down;
She continued through her cough.
Heavy, passionate conversation:
“So, now I recognize the heart;
I see, true friend, it
Born for tender passion;
Feelings are awakened, I'm burning
I'm yearning for love...
Come into my arms...
Oh darling, darling! I'm dying..."

And meanwhile she, Ruslan,
She blinked with languid eyes;
And meanwhile for my caftan
She held herself with her skinny arms;
And meanwhile I was dying,
I closed my eyes in horror;
And suddenly I couldn’t stand the urine;
I broke out screaming and ran.
She followed: “Oh, unworthy!
You have disturbed my calm age,
The days are bright for the innocent maiden!
You have achieved Naina's love,
And you despise - these are men!
They all breathe treason!
Alas, blame yourself;
He seduced me, wretched one!
I gave myself up to passionate love...
Traitor, monster! oh shame!
But tremble, maiden thief!

So we parted. From now on
Living in my solitude
With a disappointed soul;
And in the world there is consolation for the old man
Nature, wisdom and peace.

The grave is already calling me;
But the feelings are the same
The old lady hasn't forgotten yet
And the late flame of love
Turned from frustration into anger.
Loving evil with a black soul,
The old witch of course
He will hate you too;
But grief on earth does not last forever."

Our knight greedily listened
Stories of an Elder: Clear Eyes
I didn’t fall into a light nap
And a quiet flight of the night
I didn't hear it in deep thought.
But the day shines radiantly...
With a sigh the grateful knight
Volume of the old sorcerer;
The soul is full of hope;
Gets out. Legs squeezed
Ruslan of the neighing horse,
He recovered in the saddle and whistled.
"My father, do not leave me."
And gallops across the empty meadow.

Gray-haired sage to a young friend
Shouts after him: “Happy journey!
Forgive, love your wife,
Don’t forget the elder’s advice!”