And whispers a cold “soon”...
soon I will fly away, to this damned dream tomorrow...
I'm getting old without you,
I'm getting old so quickly that I can fit in
to be the foremother of the first people and the night emptiness.
in the moonlight
I burn it on your heart,
I burn out only one, capacious word “love.”
Farewell, my dear... I'm flying away
... let me look at you one last time.
Reviews
Today I finished a poem that was too sentimental to post on the stichera. But after your “the wind blows” I was surprised by some coincidences. Read mine, Yulenka - let it be for you:
The August wind is crazy...
For him the valley is a hall.
He, rocking the forests, in pairs
danced with the wind.
The wind is proud, the wind is gloomy,
but melted in front of her -
there are only cupids in my head
from fog and rain.
Carrying away the wind,
he galloped at full speed.
For her there are flocks of bullfinches
he painted it purple.
He is the dew - the wedding veil -
covered the sweetheart's shoulders
and fluffs of fireweed
He threw it generously at his feet.
And that one has a special temper -
southern, young, impatient;
that's why there are quarrels first
and - farewell, break.
"The wind!.. The wind!..
you ran away...to bad luck...
chilly heart - the heart is angry...
I’ll find-you!...I’ll find-you!”
The wind blew without noticing
that he has become completely gray...
And the fluff of fireweed
everything was circling above me...
So beautiful for me too???
conquered))) because it is worth reading by many!!!
Thank you, Sergey!!!
...there my greetings fly on feathers...
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"...The road promises us many joyful meetings,
New friends meet us!"
65 years ago in the USSR, a school plane almost without failure produced an almost ready-made Soviet person for final exams:
« Maturity.
School...
Ten years ago, its hospitable doors were opened by the hand of a first-grader - still uncertain, timid, but full of pure childish curiosity, hidden and innocent mischief, and most importantly, solemnity in front of something new, unusual, but beautiful. And truly: the past ten years have been a whole era for every schoolchild in the formation of his character, the cultivation of will, and the acquisition of knowledge.And today they stand in the classroom - serious and youthfully excited, but self-confident, confident in their abilities, ready to say goodbye to school in order to go into a big life - for some to continue their education, for others to choose a noble field of work and give it their strength...
In the tenth "B" grade of the 11th secondary school in Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk today there is an oral exam in literature. The school director and chairman of the certification commission, deputy of the Supreme Council of the USSR A. V. Kudryavtseva invites students to take exam tickets...
Vladimir Ryabov had to tell about the resolution of the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party of Bolsheviks about the magazines “Zvezda” and “Leningrad”, about the report of Comrade Zhdanov on the same topic: about cosmopolitan critics. In order to answer these questions, a tenth-grader needs to know not only the theory and history of literature. You need to be armed to a certain extent with knowledge of the fundamentals of Marxism-Leninism. And Komsomol member Vladimir Ryabov copes with this task brilliantly. During his last years in high school and the Komsomol, he became well acquainted with the primary sources of Marxism-Leninism. Therefore, from a truly Bolshevik position, he assesses the decisive role that the resolution of the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party of Bolsheviks and the report of Comrade Zhdanov played in the development of our post-war literature. Vladimir Ryabov angrily attacks the cosmopolitan critics who distorted the true essence of socialist realism and tried to lead our literature towards servile imitation of foreign bourgeois writers.
One after another, the tenth graders ascend to the lectern. The range of questions that are offered to them in the exam papers is wide and varied. They talk about Belinsky, Herzen, Dobrolyubov, Chernyshevsky, Nekrasov, Tolstoy. They quote Gorky, Mayakovsky, Sholokhov, Fadeev. And in each answer, not only their solid knowledge of the subject is visible. One feels deep, boundless love for one’s Motherland, for the party of Lenin-Stalin, and one can see strong ideological strength.
IN DEFENSE OF PEACE
(Words by I. Frenkel, music by V. Bely)
The rich are starting the fire again
The world is being prepared for a fatal blow,
But millions of people are against them -
The army of the world is the strongest!
In defense of peace
Get up, people!
Shoulder to shoulder!
Country to country!
And let over the world
Stronger than guns
Prizes are thundering
“There will be no war!”
We will block the path to a new war.
We are not raising sons for war!
Fields are not green for trenches -
The whole earth strives for peace.
You can't kill people with an atomic bomb
Lies and gold cannot buy us.
We are patriots, and each of us
He will give his life for the freedom of the Fatherland!
Together with the people of the Soviet country
The army of peace is stronger than war.
Listen to the call, citizen-patriot!
Your sacred duty calls you to fight!
IF YOU ARE THE GUYS OF THE WHOLE EARTH
(Words by E. Dolmatovsky, Music by V. Solovyov-Sedoy)
If only the boys of the whole earth
We could get together one day,
It would be fun in the company of such a person.
And the future is just around the corner.
Guys, guys, it's within our power
Protect the earth from fire.
We are for peace, for friendship, for dear smiles.
For the cordiality of the meetings.
If only the boys of the whole earth
The choir would start a song,
That would be great, that would be thunder
Let's sing together, guys.
If only the boys of the whole earth
They took their oath to the world,
It would be a joy to live in the world then.
Let's be friends forever, guys.
Part 6
SONG ABOUT THE COUNTER
(Music by D. Shostakovich)
The morning greets us with coolness.
The river meets us with the wind.
Curly, why aren’t you happy?
Cheerful sound of a whistle?
Don't sleep, get up, curly haired one,
In the workshops ringing,
The country rises with glory
Towards the day.
And joy sings endlessly,
And the song comes along,
And people laugh when they meet,
And the oncoming sun rises.
Hot and brave
Invigorates me.
The country rises with glory
Towards the day.
The brigade will greet us with work,
And you will smile at your friends,
With which labor and care,
Both the oncoming person and life are in half
Behind the Narva outpost,
In thunder, in lights,
The country rises with glory
Towards the day.
And with her until the bitter end
You, our youth, will pass away,
Until the second one comes out
Youth will meet you.
And he will run into life like a horde.
Changed fathers.
The country rises with glory
Towards the day.
With such a beautiful speech
Declare your truth,
We go out to meet life,
Towards work and love.
Is it a sin to love, curly haired one?
When, ringing,
The country rises with glory
Towards the day.
SLEEPING DARK MOUNTAINS
(Words by B. Laskin, music by Y. Bogoslovsky)
The dark mounds are sleeping.
Scorched by the sun,
And the mists are white
They walk in line...
Through the noisy groves
And the fields are green
Went out to the Donetsk steppe
The guy is young.
There, in the coal mine,
The guy was noticed
The hand of friendship was given.
Take it with you.
The girls are pretty
We greeted you with a quiet song,
And headed to the slaughter
The guy is young.
Work days are hot
Similar to fights,
They did it in the guy's life
The turn is sharp.
It's hot for work,
Good things to do
Went out to the Donetsk steppe
The guy is young.
WE ARE THE YOUNG WORKING CLASS
(Words by Yu. Kamenetskhy, music by A. Kholminov)
We are the youth of the new world,
A brave tribe of creators.
Inspired our hearts since childhood
The working glory of the fathers.
There are millions of us, there are millions of us,
Warm souls, skillful hands and clear eyes:
There are millions of us, there are millions of us,
Our Motherland raised us with love
And the happiness of the Fatherland is in our power,
There are millions of us, there are millions of us,
We are the young working class.
There is no business in the world with which
We couldn't get along, friends.
Open spaces await us as hosts
Great Soviet Land.
We want our dear Fatherland
It blossomed more and more beautifully;
We are ahead of tomorrow.
Turning dreams into deeds.
There are millions of us, there are millions of us,
Warm souls, skillful hands and clear eyes;
There are millions of us, there are millions of us,
The Motherland raised us with love.
And the happiness of the Fatherland is in our power
And we will bring communism’s bright hour closer;
There are millions of us, there are millions of us:
We are the young working class.
Komsomol members
(Words by P. Gradov, music by V. Muradeli)
Komsomol members, perky young people.
Built the city of youth
In the centuries-old taiga,
And in harsh years
Struggles and tribulations
Volunteered
On a military campaign.
If in your young heart
The Komsomolsky light is burning.
Come with us
Waiting for you ahead
The joy of difficult roads!
East and west, north and south
We are ready to go
Comrade and friend.
We have to build the future
Trusted the people.
Restless Youth
Calls you on the road.
Yesterday we woke up virgin soil in the steppe
And ready even tomorrow
Fly to the moon.
And we know it's time
This will come.
We will not yield to anyone
We are this flight.
SONG ABOUT THE KOMSOmol BADGE
(Words by Y. Dorizo, music by A. Ostrovsky)
Glory in the song of your heart.
Our scarlet light,
Order of Eternal Youth -
Komsomol badge.
Guiding, |
Unquenchable,
You are hot and strict
Years later
Proudly carried
My Komsomol badge.
So your banner burns
On a linen shirt,
Like a flame burst out
From the breast of the young.
You shine, our glory.
On a wide chest
And over the years, by right
Go to your sons
GOLDEN WHEAT
(Words by M. Isakovsky, music by M. Blanter)
I feel good, spreading the ears.
Go here sometimes in the evening.
Golden wheat stands like a wall
On the sides of the field path
Quails sing all night in the wheat
That there will be a fruitful year,
More about what’s across the river in the village
My love, my destiny lives on.
We went to school together with her,
They went out with her to plow and sow,
And from then on my home field
It became even more expensive and closer.
And at the hour when over our side
The evening dawn stands in the distance,
My native field speaks to me,
He talks about the best things in life.
And it’s good for me to stop here,
And, looking into the distance, think, be silent.
The tall wheat is noisy, noisy
And there's no end in sight
TO DISTANT LANDS
(Words by L. Kondyrev, music by L. Lepin)
To distant lands, like a bird,
A fast train flies through the dawn.
How could this happen, my dear?
Why aren't you with me on the road?
Maybe it's not for nothing that the wheels are
Nowadays they tell my heart,
As if you and I are not a couple at all.
But I don’t want to believe it.
Outside the window, where the lakes sparkled,
Steppe spurge smells bitter.
To wait for you or not to wait in Barnaul. -
Answer my song.
The time for glorious routes has come,
Don't delay your departure any longer.
Don't forget that in Siberia there are many
The new settler will find a bride.
FLOWER, SIBERIA!
(Words by 3. Jodkovsky, music by V. Muradeli)
The Siberian night blows with freshness,
Friends gathered around the fire...
You are forever to us
Became close
The majestic Angara.
You are forever to us
Became close
The majestic Angara.
Your dear home near the Moscow River
We left forever
So that here in the taiga,
Factories stood up
New cities have arisen.
So that here in the taiga,
Factories stood up
New cities have arisen.
Everything is dear to me in the new city,
Where I saw the look of sweet eyes, -
I grew up here
Our youth
This is where our love was born.
I grew up here
Our youth
This is where our love was born.
We are not afraid of bad weather -
We won't freeze while driving.
Blossom, Siberia,
Our Motherland,
The one we call mother!
Blossom, Siberia,
Our Motherland,
The one we call mother!
No, we will not part with Siberia,
The faith of youth is ardent!
In golden lights
Hydroelectric power stations
Let Ilyich's dream live!
In golden lights
Hydroelectric power stations
Let Ilyich's dream live!
IN THE WIDE STEPPE
(Words by L. Ozerov, music by R. Boykov)
Station lights,
Farewell words
Easy and slow
The platform is gone.
The earth is big
Forever dear
Floats towards you
From all sides
Forget the momentary melancholy
Let's sing along
Let's sing about what awaits us ahead
Far away,
In the wide steppe
Go ahead, comrade, look boldly.
We fly through the valley
The Long Road,
But my heart remembers
Dear home.
You said goodbye to him
You broke up with him
What to hide
Hardly.
Dry, dusty
Feather grass ground..
Today Motherland
She calls like a mother.
For a feat of honor -
In a new place
Build a house
And raise the steppe
STUDENT TABLE
(Olova O. Fadeeva, music by A. Ostrovsky)
For a fun student dinner
We have gathered today, friends, -
So, we need a solemn toast:
It is impossible to deviate from traditions.
It’s okay that there’s not enough wine,
It doesn’t matter if the glass is small:
Our life is both full and rich
And big things are calling us...
Chorus: let the days of our lives roll by like waves.
We know that happiness awaits us ahead.
The guarantee is youth and joyful work,
And a hot heart in my chest.
Soon, soon, like a free flock.
Our whole family will scatter,
I don't know where we'll meet again
But it doesn’t matter, friends.
You only hold the memory in your heart
About the fervor of our conversations,
About what arose within the walls of the dormitories
Close friendship of student years.
We'll take the wide roads
The years will fly by unnoticed,
We'll all get a little older.
Others will grow a beard.
But we will only change externally.
And, having gathered again at the table,
We will hug each other heartily
And we'll sing our favorite songs
PUTEVAYA-DOROZNAYA (From the movie “Good morning”)
(Words by A. Fatyanov, music by V. Solovyov-Sedoy)
What are the winds to us?
What do we care about showers and fogs?
Toward the bright goal
We strive tirelessly
Where the roads will run
Our courage and work
People will remember you with a kind word
Dawn rises
The road leads into the distance.
The earth is blooming all around,
The rivers sparkle.
And the heart is waiting
But where are you, my
Necessary
Love forever.
They run, miles flash by,
But where is that crossroads?
Where is waiting for me
Where mine is waiting for me
Necessary
Love forever.
If only I knew
Where will we meet our love?
To a distant land we
We'd fly like the wind,
May the road be long
Far and difficult
There will be a meeting with her for sure.
Apparently, all of us
Always be, friends, in anxiety, - Who knows,
Where two roads meet
Two roads, two ways,
So that we can find each other,
To walk side by side together.
GULL
(Words by A. Koevalenkov, music by S. Katz)
The poplar looks into the clear sky.
Seeing us off
White, fast,
A seagull flies to the steppe over the water
Under her wing there are concrete gateways
And the high arc of the dam,
Built by our friendly labor,
Shores stretching into the distance.
Where before under the furious wind
The sands were smoking on the mounds,
By the river water
New marinas
Motor ships are greeted by horns.
Green expanses unfolded
On both sides behind the stern of the ship -
Defeated by our friendly efforts
The land we have renewed.
Warm evening, golden dawn,
The evening light glides across the waves.
And after us,
White, fast,
A seagull flies to new shores.
FOR THOSE ON THE WAY
(Words by L. Fatyanov, music by S. Katz)
They raise a glass of wine for him.
This is how it happened with friends!
And with a good friend,
Like a good song.
It's easy for us to win
Go through life.
Let's raise our glasses
For those who are on a hike,
For those who are leaving today
For those who are on the road today.
Let him wander through the world in the distance.
He doesn’t write for a long time from his journey, -
A place at the table awaits him.
This is how it happened with friends!
If your friend doesn't come back.
Faithful to each other, we will become closer.
He remains in our hearts forever
This is how it happened with friends!
If, comrade, your friend leaves
Or floats away into the vastness of the seas,
A place at the table awaits him...
This is how it happened with friends!
STUDENT SONG
(Words by A. Kovalenkov, music by G. Khrennikov)
The wind blows young in all regions.
Goodbye, school bench!
The road promises us
There are many fun meetings
New friends meet us.
Don't be sad (don't be sad)
Sing a song (sing a song)
Sing a song - life is good, my friend!
Do you hear, he says to the heart:
The space is open ahead! -
The winged wind travels.
Happiness, glory, exploits - everything is ahead
Fighting youth is on the way.
Wishes will come true
Minutes of parting
We will find everything you want to find.
We will light cheerful fires in the taiga.
Let's walk along untrodden paths.
We will reveal the secrets of the mountains,
Let's build cities
We will build new roads.
OH YOU, VOLGA RIVER
(Words by Ya. Shvedov, music by F. Maslov)
Oh, Volga River, wide, deep,
Isn’t it yours that the vastness is endless?
You run through meadows, through open fields,
Through the steppes into the wide sea.
We will irrigate our native land with living water
And we will decorate the Volga region with gardens,
We will flood our huts with bright light and fire,
The villages will look like a fairy tale.
We are in the Siberian forests, in the Amur steppes
Let us illuminate the valleys with a miracle light;
And about our labors, heroic deeds
The Motherland will compose epic songs.
ROADS
(Words by S. Alymov, music by I. Dunaevsky)
We stand, we look at the smoke of the locomotive.
The light ahead lit the semaphore.
The breeze bends the birches along the path,
And the space before us is wide and far.
The roads run and run...
Flowers bloom in green fields.
The river shines, the rapids rustle,
Groves flash by, gardens float.
The stream is noisy and boiling. .
The whistle sounded and behold, the stream was far away.
And the steel roads ring and snake,
And they carry and carry away steel tracks.
Again fields, poplars, emerald villages.
Our carriage rushes down the slope like a cheerful bird.
Height, beauty ahead and around.
They run and run and run and...
And the eyes are drawn to look at everything.
Here is the surface of the sea... there are spurs of mountains
The snowy peak is in a hurry to shine.
The wave is already visible.
It rings, it sings, it calls into the open space...
And again the roads go to infinity,
A sparkling path without end and without edge.
Here is a blizzard and snow - this is the north of Russia.
There are gardens by the water - this is the sunny south
Here are the forests-miracles, blue, dense,
The roads run and run...
To the south, to the north, to everything. the edges
They carry, they carry the wheels-legs,
And everywhere, everywhere my country
A tent of dense branches.
The tops of the mountains, and again the expanse of fields...
Carried endlessly and endlessly steel roads,
And all around outside the window is my Fatherland
SEEKLY KEEP YOUR FATHERLAND
(Words by S. Mikhalkov, music by I. Dunaevsky)
The sun is rising bright,
Dew glistens in the grass,
Beautiful flowers bloom all around
My fields, my forests.
My favorite country
There is only one on the whole earth.
Stands invincible
My Soviet country!
Comrade, comrade!
In labor and in battle
Keep it selflessly
Your fatherland!
Your great one is with you
Soviet people.
In the name of freedom
Through thunderstorms and adversity
He is towards his cherished goal
Inexorably goes.
Who could be more perky?
What are our youth?
Harder, more agile
You won't find it, you won't find it!
Breathe easily and freely
In the land where we live
And if somewhere a song is heard.
So this means we sing.
Everything you dream about
Everything we want
All the things we like
We will create, we will create!
Proven in labor, proven in battles
For many years to come,
Looks both bold and confident
Our people are big and wise.
Part 7
IN THE CITY GARDEN
(Words by A. Fatyanov, music by M. Blanter)
Plays in the city garden
Brass band.
On the bench where you are sitting.
No free places.
Because it smells like linden
Or the dew glistens,
From you, so beautiful,
Don't take your eyes off.
I've walked almost halfway around the world -
I have never met anyone like you,
And I didn’t think to think
That I will meet you.
Believe! Someone like you in the world
No for sure
To conquer forever
The heart of a sailor.
Across the seas and oceans
It's easy for me to pass
But to someone like you, desirable.
Apparently there is no way.
Here the spring dawn is extinguished
Stars in the pond
But nothing has changed
In the city garden.
Bibliographic indexBooks of the Chuvash Republic. 1991-1995: retrosp. bibliogr. decree. / compiled by A. G. Sidorova, F. G. Paramonova, A. B. Krasnova. – Cheboksary, 2009. - 243 p.
INTRODUCTION
In the sixties, the country was covered by a wave of student songs, performed to the accompaniment of simple guitar chords. Especially in Moscow and Leningrad. As soon as the youth got together, a guitar immediately appeared and the songs began. The songs are lyrical, sad, about a wandering geologist, about his difficult personal life, about the taiga, about love lost in the taiga. On weekends, young people flocked by train to the forests of the Moscow region, set up tents, lit fires, took out guitars and began to sing. And she also returned back with guitar songs. In Moscow, at the Palace of Culture of Moscow State University and MIIT, regular student song festivals were held, where Alexander Gorodnitsky, Evgeny Klyachkin, Yuri Vizbor, Novella Matveeva, Alla Ioshpe, Ada Yakusheva and many others performed. Among these many others, I performed with my guitar. And I still have a whole notebook with the lyrics of those songs. After much consideration, I have decided to leave these student songs up to you to enjoy.
And the most amazing thing was that the students did not sing “blatnyak” then. They despised "Blatnyak". Therefore, Vysotsky was unpopular among students of the sixties. “Blatnyak” appeared among students much later.
TAIGA ROMANCE
Like a stupid child
I went for a fairy tale
Golden Nugget
I didn't find it anywhere
There's no one left
Neither friends nor enemies,
My life is lost
Among the eternal snows.
Strong winds are blowing
The blizzard is howling
On basalt cliffs
The taiga is freezing
The nomads are lost
Among the unnamed rivers
Among thousands of trees
I am one person.
At high latitudes
I cry and sing
Forgetting about worries
I drink bitter vodka
There's no one left
No friends, no enemies
My life is lost
Among the eternal snows.
folk song
Water drips quietly - drip-drip.
The wires get wet - drip-drip.
There's trouble outside my window,
Wires get wet
Outside my window there is trouble - drip-drip...
Drops hit the glass - drip-drip.
All the glass was clouded - drip-drip...
It quietly flowed away
My happiness is warm
It flowed away quietly, drip-drip...
The day passes - no problem, drip-drip...
Night comes - no problem, drip-drip...
Between the fingers of the year
They leaked, that's the problem,
Between the fingers of the year - drip-drip...
M. Ancharov
There were silver snowflakes on your eyelashes,
Only wild rocks and a curtain of fog,
Snow on mountain peaks; and in the distance it’s blue,
Far, far away you are, the wonderful city of Odessa,
Where the surf quietly splashes under the gentle sun.
And a well-deserved rest on short breaks.
Packing up our tents, we set off on our route.
And when, dear, the snow falls like a blanket,
We will return to Odessa, to our native institute.
Do you remember the shore of Chukotka, turquoise ice,
We were standing at the side of the Li-2 plane?
We stood and snowflakes rushed past,
A gusty wind blew, cutting off words.
folk song
If a woman leaves you, forget it
That I believed in her constancy,
Fall in love with someone else or hit the road,
Put a knapsack on your shoulders and travel.
You will see the blue lakes in the distance,
You will see country roads and groves,
And you will tremble, looking around the space,
And things will seem easier.
And the look of her black, intoxicating eyes
Will go nowhere - into the unknown,
Just breathe this air just once
And you will sing your song again...
Folk words and melody
He kissed me
And he left along the slopes of the mountains.
On the ledges of gray rocks
I've been watching everything since then.
Spare him on the way
Sprinkling rain, crackling hail.
Don't notice the mountain paths
It's snowing on the peaks!
In the pale twilight of the night
Don't whirl, blizzard, over him -
Let him sleep peacefully
And he will wake up unharmed.
Let him call me
And he glances into the valley,
The path leads him forward
And love calls back.
folk song
The pink glow of the fire dances.
After a hard day, comrades sleep.
Why aren't you among them?
Where are you wandering around the world now?
With a hammer and a backpack on your back?
And which way is it thrown?
Are you our wandering fate?
Maybe you're making your way through the taiga,
Bogged down to the knees in the swamp,
Or you're roasting under the merciless sun
Somewhere in the Turkestan steppe?
Covered with road dust,
Hundreds of miles away from housing,
While I'm passing this anxious night,
Do you remember about me?
Who's with you under the tent now?
Would you like to share your camp rations?
Whose hand will stealthily raise
Is your backpack on a steep climb?
You don't know how often at night I
Moving closer to the fire,
I miss you so much, remembering you,
I sing this sad song.
Here in the taiga there are only spruce and pine trees
Trains sing in the distance.
Here at the station last fall
We have finished the long route.
We didn’t even finish the songs then,
Separating for like five minutes...
Behind which parallels lie
Your difficult route today?
I look at the burning fire -
The pink glow of the fire goes out.
After a hard day, comrades are sleeping...
Why aren't you among them?
folk song
When it's a winter evening
Falls asleep in a quiet sleep,
Icicle wind
It's ringing outside the window,
The moon is slowly
Rising from the snow
And the yellow chicken
It walks across the sky.
And it flows through the windows
Lilac light
lies on the pine needles
Silver snow,
And, like snowflakes,
In the silence of the night
Good dreams
They fly to me.
Oh what do you want
Good dreams?
You tell me
About forest paths,
Where everything is like in a fairy tale,
Where - the fairy tale itself -
Russian beauty
Winter is coming.
But what is it? Cold
Fell to the ground
And the sky went dark
How's the blue crystal? -
It's a yellow chicken
What was walking in the sky,
All the white stars
Like grains, he pecked them.
V. Minin
Carriage after carriage,
With a measured knock on the steel rail.
The echelon is at a special stage
With delivery to taiga areas.
The locomotive is swept away by the snowstorm,
Frosty mold glistens in the windows.
And a gusty wind carried
A sad song from the carriage.
Chorus:
Don't be sad, my love,
Forgive me for the separation.
I'll be back early
My dear.
No matter how severe the sentence may be for me,
I will return to my birthplace,
And, longing for your affection,
I'll knock on the window.
There is a lock on every carriage here,
Two boards instead of a soft bed.
And, wrapped in blue smoke,
Gloomy spruce trees nod to us.
Chorus
Twenty years of labor camps.
And as a gift to the working class
Where there were animal paths,
We will build a taiga route.
Tractors drowned in the snow,
Even the “Stalinist” did not have enough strength.
And then under the blow of an ax
This song sounded in the taiga.
Chorus
K. Belyaev
You are my breath,
My morning you are early.
You and the burning sun
And the rains.
I'm exhausting myself,
I will become the best
On this occasion
Just wait.
On this occasion
Just wait.
Wait, hide yourself,
I will become the most beautiful
I'll become the smartest
And big.
How many years have I been thinking:
"How to catch my star."
And the star is a backpack on his shoulders
And went.
And the star is a backpack on his shoulders
And went.
You are my melody
You are like you and like me.
My beacon at eternity
On the edge.
People will ask again:
"Well, how do you feel about him?"
Then I gave them this song
I'll sing.
Then I gave them this song
I'll sing.
You are my breath,
My morning you are early.
You and the burning sun
And the rains.
I'm exhausting myself,
I will become the best
On this occasion
Just wait.
On this occasion
Just wait.
Ada Yakusheva
Evening wanders along forest paths,
You also love evenings,
Wait a little longer
Wait a little longer
Let's sit with friends by the fire
What's more magical than a soulful song?
And silence in the reflections of the fire,
There are no more wonderful eyes in the world,
They look at me thoughtfully like that.
I see the whole world in anxious eyes
At this hour the shore is steep.
Don't look so carelessly
I might think something wrong.
Following the song the guys will call
To still unknown lands,
And then over the wings of sunset
And then over the wings of sunset
My dream will flash like a bright star.
Ada Yakusheva
We were rocking with you, rocking,
We were swaying in the foggy darkness.
The rocking in the sea begins,
And it ends on the ground.
From Makhachkala to Baku
The waves roll on their sides
And, heaving, the shafts run
From Baku to Makhachkala
We were rocked on airplanes too,
We also got rocked on trains.
The rocking in the sea begins,
And it ends in heaven.
From Makhachkala to Baku
The waves roll on their sides
And, heaving, the shafts run
From Baku to Makhachkala
We rocked in cowboy saddles,
It pumped so hard that my blood ran cold.
We loved proud girls
We were rocked by love.
From Makhachkala to Baku
The waves roll on their sides
And, heaving, the shafts run
From Baku to Makhachkala
Well, and the boat, well, what a boat!
Cheerful people, honest!
We were sick of work,
From side to side and off your feet.
From Makhachkala to Baku
The waves roll on their sides
And, heaving, the shafts run
From Baku to Makhachkala
folk song
All our meetings are, alas, destined to be separated.
The stream near the amber pine is quiet and sad.
The coals of the fire turned to timid ash.
It's all over, it's time to part.
My dear, forest sun,
The wings folded the tents - their flight is over,
The seeker of separation, the airplane, spread its wings.
And the ladder is slowly moving away from the wing...
Indeed, a gulf has opened up between us.
My dear, forest sun,
Where, in what parts will you meet me?
Don't console me - I don't need words.
I would like to find that stream near the amber pine.
Suddenly, through the fog, a piece of fire turns red,
Suddenly, imagine, they are waiting for me by the fire.
My dear, forest sun,
Where, in what parts will you meet me?
Yu. Vizbor
Again the blizzard howled into the darkness
And not a trace is visible in the snow,
And in the dark I cashed with my head
The evening polar star lit up
The Polar Express was calling me with its beeps,
And I said how many days there are in a year.
To avoid getting bored, take it as a souvenir.
And showed you the polar star.
When you pass near the station,
Then maybe you're thinking about her
But it’s not easy and you’re lazy, perhaps
Look for her in the evening glow of lights
And there, in Moscow, smiles and concerts
And even the sun shines every day.
And blue envelopes are becoming less and less common for me
Reindeer brings through the snow
The blizzard will return many times,
But spring will come here anyway.
And I will say, bring her back.
She is not for you, polar star
folk song
Finally, driver, hit the brakes.
Okhotny Ryad, Okhotny Ryad.
Once upon a time merchants bawled here,
Moscow was awakened by the winter dawn,
And the bells rang over the snowdrifts -
Okhotny Ryad, Okhotny Ryad.
The West wanders here, teasing guides,
Collective farmers look at the Metropol,
How reluctant I am to leave you -
Okhotny Ryad, Okhotny Ryad.
Here is the smoky shore of my youth,
And a haven of meetings, and a port of nightly losses,
Here is the crossroads of one hundred and fifteen seas,
Okhotny Ryad, Okhotny Ryad.
Finally, driver, press the brakes.
You tyrannized us for three hours straight.
Get off, citizens, we've arrived, it's over -
Okhotny Ryad, Okhotny Ryad.
Yu. Vizbor
We are being led somewhere again
And the route is not clear to us,
Apparently the mountains are to blame -
We don’t sit here or here.
Back up the mountain and along the trails
With backpacks on their backs.
Only cyclops can carry the load!
- Mom, I want to go home!
Only cyclops can carry the load!
- Mom, I want to go home!
It's still somehow better at home,
Well, here we have to
Wander around the steep slopes all day,
On terrible glaciers.
We'll crawl all the time
Along the main rope
And eat porridge manna,
-Mom, I want to go home!
I don’t want semolina porridge
-Mom, I want to go home!
The slopes are steeper, the clouds are closer,
Stones are falling in a crowd,
Just in case the fireman
We contacted each other.
We are walking through the icefall,
Where, imagine, the path is like this:
If you want to stand, but if you want to fall!
-Mom, I want to go home!
I don't want anything to fall.
Mom, I want to go home!
We are being led somewhere again
I'm carrying a backpack again.
Why do I care, guys?
I'm tired of living like this!
The telegram is ready
Not a single comma in it,
There are only four words in it:
Mom, I want to go home!
Yu. Vizbor
On the Rasvumchorr plateau it’s all snow and snow,
All winter and winter, all the winds are chaos,
Eighteen guys, three weeks of blizzard
we sit at the table, smoke strong tobacco,
In an hour we will climb out onto the roof of Khibiny
And break through the howl, push through the darkness,
Rest your head in the curse of the blizzard.
And while we sit at the plank table,
The senior mechanic - the head of roads - smokes.
In an hour he will fight with the Rasvumchorr plateau,
On the road walking ahead of the tractors.
Because the road of misfortune is full
And the bulldozer needs a man's shoulder,
Because spring doesn't come here,
On the back of the Khibiny, on the Rasvumchorr plateau.
To this day, to this day
We are healthy as hell, we have grub and tobacco,
We are not yet tired of helping our friends out,
We are not yet used to sitting on beans.
Eighteen healthy men are coming,
Bandaged snows, worn by fate,
Eighteen separations, eighteen sorrows,
Eighteen hopes for a blue dawn.
What do you girls dream about in your early morning dreams?
If there is snow and separation, oh, this is not a dream, -
Spring does not come to the Rasvumchorr plateau,
We walk through the blizzard, bringing hope.
Yu. Vizbor
I have you alone - like the moon in the night,
Like a pine tree in the steppe, like spring in the year.
You are the only one I have. Like the moon in the night.
Like a pine tree in the steppe. It's like spring in the year.
There is no other like it across any river.
No beyond the fogs, distant countries.
There are wires in the frost. At dusk of the city.
A star has risen to always shine.
To wake you up in a snowstorm. To make the bed.
To rock my daughter in her cradle all night.
This is the turn that is being made with the river.
You can take away your peace. You can wave your hand.
You can pay off your debts. You can love others.
You can leave completely, just shine, shine.
Yu. Vizbor
One glass, one small,
Pour, pour, pour.
One glass, one small,
What do horses sing?
And I don’t drink! You lie - you drink!
By God no! But there is no God!
So pour the student to the student,
Students also drink wine-o-o,
Wine, wine, wine, wine,
It is given to us for joy!
folk song
You're standing by the window
The firmament is high and bright,
You stand and feel sad
And you don't know why...
Because he again
He walked by and didn't notice
How you love him
How you miss him
You tell me, tell me,
Is there any joy in him alone?
Or just for you
It became cold alone.
Or just warmth
And the girl needs love,
So as not to sing, not to be sad
This first spring.
Everything will pass, everything will pass,
Know that it's late or early
It will become a sweet dream again
This evening is blue.
So don't cry, don't be sad,
Like the “princess of the foolish”,
This is stupid childhood
Says goodbye to you.
V. Markin
The skis are standing by the stove,
The sunset behind the mountain is fading,
The month ends in March,
We'll have to go home soon.
Hello gloomy days,
Goodbye mountain sun
We will forever keep
This region is in your heart.
Accompanies us with you
Mountain handsome Herzog,
Waiting with you
The haze of distant roads.
The circle has ended
Remember, hope, miss.
Blue flags of separation
Old Dombay posted
Why are you standing on the path?
Why don't you want to leave?
We need to finish the song
We need to be less sad.
The trains are screaming from below,
March really is ending
The blue star rises
Somewhere there are avalanches making noise.
Yu. Vizbor
On the Smolensk road there are forests, forests, forests,
On the Smolensk road the pillars are buzzing, buzzing,
Two cold blue stars are looking, looking
On the Smolensk road the snowstorm is blowing and blowing.
Everyone is driving us somewhere, doing things, doing things, doing
The warmth of your lips would be more reliable,
And look around the snow, snow, snow
On the Smolensk road there are forests, forests, forests.
On the Smolensk road the pillars are buzzing and buzzing.
On the Smolensk road, like your eyes,
Two blue crystal stars are looking, looking.
B. Okudzhava
Tired of talking and arguing
And love tired eyes,
The brigantine raises its sails.
Captain, weather-beaten as rocks,
Went out to sea without waiting for the day,
Raise your glasses goodbye
Golden, tart wine.
We drink to the fierce, to those who are different,
For those who despise a penny's comfort...
Merry Rogers flutters in the wind,
The people of Flint sing a hymn to the seas.
And in battle, and in rage, and in grief,
Just squint your eyes a little...
In the Filibuster far blue sea
The brigantine raises its sails.
P. Kogan
People walk around the world
They seem to need a little:
If only the tent were strong
Yes, the path would not be boring.
But the song breaks out with the smoke,
The guys look away
And the tramp whispers in his sleep,
To someone - Don't forget!
They don't shine in cities
In the manner of aristocrats,
But in sensitive high halls,
Where the noise of bustle has died down,
Suffer in wandering souls
Beethoven sonatas
And the bright songs of Grieg
Overwhelm them
People walk around the world
Their words are sometimes rude,
"Please excuse me"
They say with a grin...
But the sad tenderness of the songs
Caresses dry lips
And the best books
They keep them in backpacks
The old compass has been verified,
Received maps and deadlines,
Happy, who knows
The nagging feeling of the road
The wind tears the horizons
And the dawn blows...
I. Sidorov, G. Cheribreeva.
All the rifts, and the rifts,
I would like to send it to the address
There is no map for this place anymore,
We swim, we swim along the outline.
And somewhere people live in the world,
Friends sitting over vodka...
The wind plays, the wind plays
My leaky "boat"
I won't suffer for long.
I love you until the turn,
And then how it goes
I'll go out to the big river in the morning,
Summer will end in the morning...
And I shouldn’t pretend
That I don’t want to die...
And if there is someone there with you,
I won't suffer for long.
I love you until the turn,
And then how it goes
A. Gorodnitsky
The falling leaves rustle quietly in the wind,
The branches crackle on the fire.
At these hours, when everyone is already asleep,
I remember you
Pensive blue sky,
Rare letters home
In the world of brooding pines
Autumn is quickly changing
Long polar winter.
The snow is swirling over the tent.
Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow,
Honey, what are you dreaming about?
Along the banks of freezing rivers
Above your Petrograd side
The evening snow is blowing
He will look into your eyes like a mischievous star,
It will fall like snow at your feet.
Touched by thoughtful frost
Braids of your affectionate strands,
And over the boulevards of lines,
According to Leningrad blue
Evening has fallen again
Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow,
The snow is swirling over the tent.
So our short overnight stay is over,
Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow,
Honey, what are you dreaming about?
Along the banks of freezing rivers
Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow...
How long will I keep you in my heart,
The wind sings along the way.
Through blizzards, snow and blizzards
I can't reach you...
Remember, if you have to,
Our parking lights
Swim, walk, wherever necessary,
The song will reach you
Even on bad days.
Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow,
The snow is swirling over the tent.
So our short overnight stay is over,
Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow,
Honey, what are you dreaming about?
Along the banks of freezing rivers
Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow...
A. Gorodnitsky
I remember that Vanino port
And the look of the ship is gloomy,
As we walked along the ladder on board
Into the cold, dark holds.
Fog was falling on the sea,
The elements of the sea roared.
Magadan lay ahead -
The capital of the Kolyma region.
Not a song, but a plaintive cry
It burst out of every chest.
"Farewell forever, mainland!" -
The steamer wheezed and strained.
The prisoners moaned from the rocking,
Hugging like siblings.
And only sometimes from the tongue
Silent curses were broken.
Damn you, Kolyma,
What is called a wonderful planet!
You will inevitably go crazy -
There is no return from there.
Five hundred kilometers - taiga.
There are wild animals in this taiga.
Cars don't go there.
Deer wander, stumbling.
There death made friends with scurvy,
The infirmaries are packed.
In vain this spring
I'm waiting for an answer from my beloved.
She doesn’t write and doesn’t wait,
And through the bright doors of the station,
I know he won’t come to meet you,
Just as she promised.
Farewell my mother and wife!
Goodbye, dear children.
Know the bitter cup to the bottom
I'll have to drink in the world!
folk song
If I get sick, I won’t go to the doctors.
I’ll turn to my friends, don’t think I’m delusional.
Cover the steppe for me, curtain my windows with fog.
Hang a star that has fallen from the sky at your head.
I walked ahead, I was never known as hard to touch,
If they wound me in a fair and honest fight,
Bandage my head along the Russian forest road,
And cover me with a blanket of autumn flowers
From the seas and from the mountains there is a breath of freshness, a breath of space,
As you look and feel, the guys are alive...
Not on sick leave, friends, I’m leaving you along the corridor,
I am leaving, comrades, through the ever-shining Milky Way.
N. Zablotsky
Unruly blue wave
Everything runs and runs, never ends.
The Black Sea is like a cup of wine
Everything sways on my palms
I keep thinking about one thing, about one thing,
Like a shore of hope that has left.
The Black Sea is like a cup of wine,
I drink in your name, leaning back.
Unchangeable among all seas,
How to say goodbye to you without despair.
The black sea is in the palm of my hand
Like a departing longboat sways
N. Prinev
It's okay that I'm alone
Don't get used to this anymore.
Just to meet the morning dawn
It's hard to remember in bad weather.
Forget how we were together around the fire,
Overtaking the blue night's dregs,
We sat in silence until the morning.
And forget the fire that went out.
Forget how the apple trees bloomed,
Wings of endless flocks of birds,
How, hugging each other, we wandered through the forest...
It's better to never remember.
It's okay that I'm alone
Don't get used to this anymore.
Just to meet the morning dawn
It's hard to remember in bad weather
folk song
Don't look back, don't look
Better rearrange the names.
They sleep in your eyes, the rains sleep
Don't leave them for me.
I don't care, I don't care.
I'll convince myself.
As if everything was decided for us,
It’s as if fate is conjuring everything.
Only you don't believe in fate,
So just throw away the keys.
I'll come through your window,
Just don’t scream later...
Yu. Kosarev.
There lived one student at the faculty,
He dreamed of graduate school
About the capital's wife,
About personal career,
But I didn’t get into graduate school.
Since you didn't get into graduate school,
Pack your skinny suitcase.
Kiss mommy, kiss daddy
And take a ticket to Magadan
The path to Magadan is not far,
In six months the train will crawl,
Buy a guitar there, build a shack,
Your life will bloom with flowers
The years of separation will fly by quickly,
Youth will remain in years.
An old engineer with a suitcase full
You will return to Moscow with money
You'll take a taxi to the Metropol,
You will drink vodka and eat sprats.
And when by midnight you become very drunk
Then you will start treating students.
You will cry drunken tears
And read Yesenin’s poems,
Remember the student with brown eyes,
That I could become your friend
folk song
Over Canada, over Canada the sun is setting low.
I should have fallen asleep a long time ago, but for some reason I can’t sleep.
Fatigue whispers to us to warm up, and love plays tricks.
The April snow teases us, the comfort of home beckons us.
I’m not having fun today, a stranger’s house is not a housewarming party.
Although it looks like fun, it’s still not fun.
You are damp today, there are sun spots in the puddles.
Don’t rush to mourn love, call it back.
Over Canada the sky is blue, between the birches the rains are slanting.
Although it looks like Russia, it’s still not Russia.
A. Gorodnitsky
When the heart is heavy
And it’s cold in the chest,
To the steps of the Hermitage
Come at dusk,
Where without drink and bread,
Forgotten for centuries
Atlanteans hold the sky
On hands of stone.
Atlanteans hold the sky
On hands of stone.
Keep his colossus -
Not honey on the part.
Their backs are tense
The knees are brought together.
Their hard work
More important than other work:
One of them weakens
And the sky will fall.
One of them weakens
And the sky will fall.
Widows will cry in the darkness,
The fields will burn out,
And a purple mushroom will rise,
And the Earth will end.
And the sky year after year
Everything weighs harder
It's shaking from the buzz
Rocket ships.
It trembles from the buzz
Rocket ships.
They are standing, guys,
Chiseled bodies
Once placed
But the change didn’t come.
The light of day does not please them,
They can't sleep at night,
Their beauty with shells
The war is disfiguring.
Their beauty with shells
The war is disfiguring.
They stand forever
Rest your foreheads in trouble,
Not gods - people,
Accustomed to work.
And still live in hope
Until then
Atlanta holds the sky
On hands of stone.
Atlanta holds the sky
On hands of stone.
A. Gorodnitsky
Why are the eyes transparent brown?
golden sadness
don't be sad my dear comrade
it hurts, so be it
Is it autumn if it's reset
first yellow leaf
if the heart asks for so much affection
darling, wake up.
Don't be sad when life seems
it seems lonely
will definitely turn out to be
someone needed on the way
and how strange everything will change
no one knows where it will go
what prevented us from hoping
get away from your troubles.
The earth is warmed by red leaves
dying fire
dressed in autumn gold in the forest
I'll come in like a thief
the crowns closed in the blue heights
in a yellow ring
look at your crown
raise your face.
And I’m not spoiled by fate
suddenly you wake up crowned
the kingdom of autumn is priceless
will fall at your feet
and as beautiful as Cinderella
you belong in this gold
and you yourself are like a jewel
at least not dear to yourself.
Shuddering, he will lie on his palms
tiny leaf
don't be afraid, we won't touch you
yellow light
go down somewhere to the side
we'll slow down
where are your brothers and sisters
They rustle among themselves.
In this rustle you will hear
oh how I breathe oh how I breathe
even falling it sways
look at every leaf
is it possible to lose faith
if you love and believe
if you want to hope
if there is so much ahead
E. Klyachkin
Like the sea it's winter all around,
And the wind is fresh, fresh.
Houses float through the winter,
Raising the sails of the floors.
Winter, winter, caravel houses
They go into the snowy fog.
Which one, which one, which one are you on?
My snub-nosed captain.
What should I do - I'm lost
You are sailing through Moscow alone.
Your curl smelled like snow,
And the lips - probably in the spring.
Winter, winter, caravel houses
They go into the snowy fog.
Why, why, why are you alone,
My snub-nosed captain.
And again from the darkness
Your home - your ship has appeared.
Listen, where are you?
At least a cabin boy, or something.
Winter, winter, caravel houses
Going into the snowy fog
Well, take me, well, take me, well, take me,
My snub-nosed captain.
And the city fell asleep long ago,
Only his watchman's dream,
Above the decks of houses
My call signs are circling.
Winter, winter, caravel houses
Going into the snowy fog
Well, where, well, where, well, where are you sailing
My snub-nosed captain.
And who, and who, and who are you waiting for
My snub-nosed captain.
M.Proshin
Only the flock left among the storms and blizzards
One with a broken crane wing.
Covers the fog with a blue haze,
It’s as if they are gathering again into the distance for centuries.
My gray bed is by the big window,
Outside the window the crimson sunset is burning out.
Well then, so be it, what do I care?
That the crimson sunset will burn out until the morning.
The cranes have flown away, the cranes have flown away,
The cranes have flown away, the cranes have flown away,
Only I, with my broken wing, was forgotten.
The cranes have flown away, the cranes have flown away,
The fields were empty, the winds were blowing,
Only the flock left among the storms and blizzards
One with a broken crane wing.
Only the flock left among the storms and blizzards
One with a broken crane wing.
folk song
If a friend suddenly turns out to be
And not a friend, and not an enemy, but - so,
If you don't understand right away,
Whether he is good or bad -
Pull the guy to the mountains - take a risk!
Don't leave him alone
Let him be in conjunction with you -
There you will understand who he is.
If a guy is in the mountains - no,
If you immediately become limp and go down,
The step stepped onto the glacier and - wilted,
Stumbled - and screamed -
So, next to you is a stranger,
Don't scold him, drive him away:
They don’t take people like that up, and here
They don't sing about people like that.
If he didn’t whine, didn’t whine,
Even though he was gloomy and angry, he walked
And when you fell off the cliffs,
He moaned, but held on,
If he walked with you, it was like going into battle,
At the top stood a drunken one, -
So, as for yourself,
Rely on him.
V.Vysotsky
The piledriver pulley is spinning and spinning,
I go down to the mine with the night shift,
The “self-rescuer” is knocking on the side,
Throat itching from dust and sweat
I took a shovel, a pick and an axe,
I'll sleep until the combine operator comes,
The lava is collapsing and the pillars are cracking,
My hair stands on end.....
The battery drains like "****b"
It's dark in the watch room, you can't see anything,
You can’t tell people from “****s” here
The black man's ass is even lighter
Suddenly there is a sound of “fuck” your mother,
How long will you lie there like a bitch?
Why the hell do I need a worker like that?
He doesn’t move a hand or a foot!
Mom, mom, why did you give birth?
It would be better if you were “in one piece” until the grave!
There are no more unhappy people in the world
Apart from miners and other "****s"
folk song
Damp heaviness in boots,
Dew on the carbine.
All around is taiga, all around is taiga
And we're in the middle
Don't wait for a letter, don't wait for a letter, -
The roads are empty:
It's raining, it's raining
Fourth week.
And ten years, and twenty years,
And there is no end.
Deer trail, bear trail
It winds along the shore.
The damp weight of the boot,
Dew on the carbine,
All around is taiga, just taiga,
And we're in the middle
V.Zimin
When I can’t overcome adversity,
When despair sets in
I get on the blue trolleybus on the go,
The last one, random.
Midnight trolleybus rushing through the streets,
Circling along the boulevards,
To pick up everyone who suffered in the night
Wreck, wreck!
Midnight trolleybus, open the door for me!
I know how in the chilly midnight
Your passengers - your sailors -
They come to help.
I got away from trouble with them more than once,
I touched them with my shoulders...
How much kindness, imagine?
In silence, in silence.
A midnight trolleybus floats through Moscow,
Moscow, like a river, is dying out...
And the pain that pounded like a bird in my temple,
It subsides, it subsides.
B. Okudzhava
It's raining today, I'll go for a walk on the rooftops,
Rampant, rinse the panels.
The pipes rattle and hear nothing,
Don't give in to anyone for anything.
I am the rain today, I will be the bravest,
I will be the strongest, by myself.
Multi-colored - blue, yellow, white,
I'll spread out like a rainbow over the river.
It's raining today and I'll catch her,
I'll kiss the golden strand.
I want - all the way to the tram
I will press the dress tightly.
It’s raining today, I’ll walk with a roller gait,
I'll stop, I'll get tired.
... And the next morning fresh violets
Someone will put it on her bed.
N. Nikitin
The conductor is in no hurry, the conductor understands
You look into my eyes and shake my hand,
I'll leave for a year, or maybe two,
One more call and I'm leaving,
Or maybe you'll lose your friend forever,
One more call and I'm leaving.
The last: “Sorry!” flies from your beloved lips,
In your big eyes: anxiety and sadness,
And the train will fly off into the lilac distance,
One more call, and the noise of the station will stop,
And the train will fly off into the lilac distance.
A lilac fog floats above us,
The midnight star is burning above the vestibule,
The conductor is in no hurry, the conductor understands
That I say goodbye to the girl forever,
The conductor is in no hurry, the conductor understands
That I say goodbye to the girl forever.
V. Markin
In the hollows there is snow, layered like mica,
Freckled from falling drops.
Look! - the stream broke the ice shell
And again he hid as if guilty.
He wanted to steal something from the shore,
He already extended the stream like a hand, -
A piece of bark, a needle - anything,
That the first search will moderate the torment...
The flowing cut of the stump turns red,
The rays in the branches weave their baskets,
The forest breathes freely through the nostrils of moss,
Ice on the water is no thicker than a spider's web.
I broke the ice of the stream with a twig:
Take spring, stream, it is yours!
N. Matveeva
Joy is given to the rude
Sorrow is given to the tender.
I need nothing,
I don't feel sorry for anyone.
I feel sorry for myself a little
I feel sorry for the homeless dogs
This straight road
She took me to a tavern.
Why are you swearing, devils?
Or am I not the son of the country?
Each of us laid
For a glass of your pants.
I look dully at the windows,
There is longing and heat in the heart.
Rolls, getting wet in the sun,
The street is in front of me.
There is a snotty boy on the street.
The air is toasty and dry.
The boy is so happy
And picks his nose.
Pick, pick, my dear,
Stick your whole finger in there
Only with this power
Don't meddle in your soul.
I'm ready... I'm timid...
Look at the army of bottles!
I collect traffic jams -
Shut up my soul.
S. Yesenin
I know it's funny
Look for the answer in your eyes,
To eyes that don't care
Am I nearby or not...
The eyes sparkle mischievously...
Then... they look angrily...
They are quietly sad...
About someone not forgotten...
And now we are left alone
And there are no guys around.
In your tender gaze
I don't see myself...
But I'll wait for such a day...
And the belief in that is strong.
You won't be able to live without me,
You can’t... In the meantime
The eyes sparkle mischievously...
Then... they look angrily...
They are quietly sad...
About someone not forgotten...
L.Rozanova
All our meetings are, alas, destined to be separated,
The stream near the amber pine is quiet and sad,
The coals of the fire were covered with timid ashes,
So it’s all over - it’s time to say goodbye.
Chorus:
My dear, forest sun,
Where, in what regions
Will you meet me?
The wings folded the tents - their flight is over,
The seeker of separations, the airplane, spread its wings,
And the ladder slowly moves away from the wing,
There really is an abyss between us.
Chorus.
Don't console me, I don't need words,
I would like to find that stream near the amber pine tree,
Suddenly, through the fog, a piece of fire glows red,
Suddenly they are waiting for me by the fire, imagine!
Chorus.
Yu. Vizbor
Trees, you are my trees,
Oh, you are in my tree grove.
Why should you bend your head to grieve?
Till trouble, for now
your tents are noisy,
Tower, tower, tower.
Till trouble, for now
your tents are noisy,
Tower, tower, tower.
I worry and always languish
swaying earthly breath.
Every day it’s spring,
every night there is no sleep.
Green, green, green.
I would like to rush into your forests.
Escape from the fate of the wheel.
Where inside your crowns
everything is raspberry ringing.
Voices, voices, voices.
They say it's like grass in the wind,
my head will not droop.
I would be happy to believe that
what are they talking about
But words, all words, are just words.
Trees, you are my trees.
They wouldn't chop you down for firewood.
The stumps wouldn't turn black
like days gone by.
Trees, you are my trees.
Drunk at the oak table
they will remember you with bad wine.
And how will they start pumping,
let them begin to call names
Axe, axe, axe.
Evgeniy Bachurin
Ah, field, field, field, ah, field, field, field
And what grows in the field? - Just grass, no more,
And what grows in the field? - Just grass, nothing more.
And what whistles over the field. And what whistles over the field.
Bullets whistle over the field, shells still whistle.
And who is walking across the field? And who is walking across the field?
People and military detachments are walking across the field.
They shine in the sun with faceted bayonets,
Then they will press against the field with cold bayonets.
And then what happens on the field? And then what happens on the field?
Just grass, nothing more. Just grass, no more
David Samoilov
PS The songs are taken from my archive. In those days when the whole country sang them, there could be no question of the authorship of the songs. Nowadays they are practically not sung. If anyone knows the authors of some songs, please indicate.
Soon, at the end of May, the Last Bell will ring in all schools in the country. Graduates of grades 9 and 11 will decide which path in life to choose, what profession to master, and where to go for further studies. This touching day, both for all subject teachers and for the children, is usually remembered forever. The grown-up girls and boys say goodbye to the class teacher and all the teachers. Not so long ago it seemed to them that school days lasted forever; They rushed to recess, which always seemed to them such a wonderful, but short rest between classes. Now their attitude towards the educational process has changed. Reading poems touching to tears on the Last Call , former schoolchildren thank their teachers not only for the knowledge passed on to them with great love, but also for the mass of life lessons taught to the students.
The last bell for schoolchildren is a long-awaited, touching, soul-stirring event. Graduates realize that they will never have to meet with many teachers, including the class teacher. Many of the children do not hide their tears on this day, saying goodbye to their native walls of the school. At the line dedicated to the solemn day, students read soulful lines of poetry, many of which you will find here.
The last call for every class teacher is a touching parting with graduates who have almost become family. Traditionally, on this day, schoolchildren congratulate their teachers on the successful completion of the school year. Some of the graduating girls do not hide their tears, experiencing the moments of farewell to school. In heartfelt poems dedicated to their teacher, schoolchildren try to convey the emotions they are experiencing at the moment.
We are still in class, at a lesson,
But it’s already the last school May,
Outside the window, loud and high,
The ringing of flocks of birds excites.
Greenery dazzles with novelty,
Everyone's head is spinning blue,
Youth combined with spring
Claims bold rights.
We are in love, we all argue with passion,
We like the noise and din of spring,
It's hard to chain us to our desks
For successful graduation.
Theorems, formulas, figures,
Books with their countless lines...
It will ring for the last time soon
It's a joyful and sad call for us.
Now the faces darken, now they brighten,
We bite our hands, rub our foreheads with our palms...
The last pages are being filled in
Carefree students of fate.
We don’t know whether your hopes were justified:
After all, the final exam is still so far away,
In the meantime, we invite you to visit us
For our happy holiday - Last call!
And please forgive all my sins,
What we have accumulated by the last day:
And tests with a load of wrong decisions,
And vague answers, and chatter,
But you know one thing: we will remember school
And not only in these excited words.
We will never forget our teachers,
And your work will resonate in our affairs.
***
The years flew by unnoticed -
Goodbye, school forever!
Know this minute of parting
You will never be able to forget!
Try to make your dream come true
And go boldly into a great life!
Believe in friendship, don’t doubt yourself -
Success and happiness lie ahead!
Every first-grader, coming to school, first meets his first teacher, and then, as he grows up, he meets the subject teachers. Many graduates have favorite teachers who passed on their knowledge to them over several years. For some it is a geographer, for others it is an English teacher. Heartfelt, tearful poems for the Last Bell are dedicated to them by yesterday's schoolchildren.
Gathering for the assembly dedicated to the Last Bell, graduates read out heartfelt, sometimes touching poems to tears to their favorite subjects. They thank the teachers of physics, chemistry, biology, physical education, foreign language, literature... In each of the lines of these verses there are words of recognition to the teachers for their hard, noble work and patience.
Physics teacher
You need to know both physics and astronomy, -
She tells us every now and then.
But we didn’t get tired of listening to her
After all, she tells the story well
About current strength and conductor resistance
About part of the Galaxy, Heavenly bodies.
She is very strict - you can only hear from the lazy.
But those who want to know know science,
And in lessons - “four”, “five”
Receives with great success.
For physical education teacher
Let's plunge headlong into sports
We'll play volleyball and show you judo moves.
After all, (name of the teacher) is ours, your teacher
He will cheer us up and help us where we need it.
We understand well
That you need to do physical education.
And we will douse ourselves with cold water
And in old age, your legs will not become tangled.
Physics is our favorite subject!
And, practicing every day,
We will live in health for many years!
For a labor teacher (CPC)
In the UPK workshop
(teacher's name) is busy
The girls are all "working up a sweat"
They just want to be beautiful.
Knitting, sewing and embroidery
And everyone dreams of good things:
How the outfits are all made,
They will create comfort in the family...
And a meeting with a noble couturier is not far away...
And she is the source of everything - (name of the teacher)!
Probably, 11th grade students experience the strongest emotions during the Last Bell holiday. They know for sure that a completely new, different life, difficult, independently made decisions awaits them outside the school threshold. Most of the graduates are confident that they will enter higher education institutions. They are awaiting not only university exams, but also one of the most important exams, called Life. In poems dedicated to the end of school, they say “Thank you” to each of the teachers, principals, and head teachers.
The festively dressed 11th grade schoolchildren, lined up on the occasion of the Last Bell at school, feel almost like adults. Some of them will soon continue their studies at an institute or university; others will start working, receive their first salary, and begin to learn how to manage money. At the festival, graduates thank not only their teachers, but also their parents, who always support them at the right time, with poems.
Farewell to school
The wind blows young in all directions,
Goodbye, school bench!
The road promises us
There are many fun meetings
New friends meet us.
Happiness, glory, exploits - everything is ahead,
Youth is lively on the way.
Wishes will come true
Minutes of parting
We will find everything you want to find.
Unique minutes
We want to leave school quickly,
We don't think about it with you,
That this minute will not return,
The hour will not repeat graduation!
From childhood we were in a hurry to be adults,
We were rushing through our school years.
So that we value our childhood,
We must part with him forever.
Goodbye, school!
School, school... Goodbye!
We say goodbye to you.
The hour of parting has come,
We will go our own way.
How many years have we been together?
Like a good family.
We argued together and loved.
We are great friends.
With a new backpack on my back
We came to you at the age of 7,
Believing that the world will open for us
Every new item you have.
Trill of bells for recess
We will always remember.
Teacher's first look
Let's go through the years.
We learned and grew up
Understanding the essence of life.
By week by week
You led us on a good path.
And today at the hour of farewell
It's harder than ever.
School, school... Goodbye!
You are always in our hearts!
9 years of school life flew by quickly. Today's graduates are surprised how, seemingly just recently, they were led by the hand of mom and dad to the first grade, how embarrassed they were to meet their first teacher, how long the lessons lasted and how short the breaks seemed. Of course, ninth-graders know that difficult exams await them, and they will continue to communicate with classmates for some time, but, nevertheless, many children experience vague anxiety about the still uncertain future. On the Last Bell they dedicate their farewell poems to their beloved teachers.
The last bell in 9th grade is a farewell to their home school for half of the graduates. The kids are now worried about whether they will pass their exams and get into college. Some schoolchildren remain to continue their studies in grades 10 and 11 for further higher education. Nevertheless, for them, too, the Last Call is a touching event. At this holiday, children sing songs, read poems to teachers, and take pictures with their former class.
School graduation
Forward to your youth
Let's go from the school threshold,
And, like cranes across the sky,
The road will separate us from fate.
Wiping away the tears of happy eyes,
The teachers will wave.
And no one is happier now
Graduates from our school.
And farewell, our friendly class!
When will we be together again?
Probably next time
Twenty years later, in this place.
We set off like ships,
There is a compass, latitude and degree,
And the sea of life is ahead,
And the wind inflates the sail.
Clouds are flying - calling for you...
The last bell rang.
How quickly time flies.
Just recently in first grade.
And the sadness in my heart grows.
Just recently we were together
But let's run in all directions.
Everyone has their own path.
Goodbye school years!
The last call sees off
To an adult, big life.
A tear appears involuntarily.
We will keep the school in our hearts.
Every graduate waits with excitement and slight impatience for the Last Bell to say to the school: “Thank you! Goodbye!" Many of the former students later bring their children here, introducing them to such native teachers. During the school farewell celebration, balloons are traditionally released into the sky, songs are sung together, and kind poems of gratitude are read to parents and teaching staff.
On the Last Bell, not only graduates dedicate wonderful poems to teachers. Future first-graders come to the holiday with their parents in order to also read wonderful lines of poems. Pupils of grades 9 and 11, holding the hands of first-graders, smile at them, talking about wonderful teachers and future interesting lessons.
How many heartfelt words were spoken,
And we will repeat them more than once:
Congratulations to the teachers,
And we thank you from the bottom of our hearts
For the fact that we were raised and taught,
Educated, sowed goodness,
Skills and knowledge invested,
They gave understanding and warmth.
We wish you success and good luck,
Health and strength for many years to come,
Students who are diligent and obedient.
And we will never forget you!
We wish all teachers
May your dreams and goals come true,
To smile more often
And we simply enjoyed life!
Let every moment illuminate you
Indescribable beauty!
And the word warms the soul,
Let no pain disturb your heart.
Please accept our gratitude
For your hard work in school.
Keep rejoicing, joy,
And there is happiness and comfort in the house!
And the farewell bell rings again,
Solemn and a little sad.
Congratulations to you today,
And my heart is filled with excitement again.
Thank you for the educational year -
Rich and slightly magical,
For knowledge and wisdom of words
From all your students.
Smartly dressed graduates of grades 9 and 11, dedicating poems touching to tears on the Last Call to their beloved teachers, thank each teacher for his hard work, gifted knowledge and shared experience. Very often, congratulations on the end of the school year are dedicated to both the subject teachers and the class teacher, as well as to the management and administration of the school.
