dedication

For you, the soul of my queen,
Beauties, for you alone
Times of the past fables,
In golden hours of leisure,
Under the whisper of old talkative,
With a faithful hand I wrote;
Accept my playful work!
No need for praise,
I'm happy with sweet hope
What a maiden with a thrill of love
Look, maybe stealthily
To my sinful songs.

Near the seaside, the oak is green;
Golden chain on an oak tree:
And day and night the cat is a scientist
Everything goes round and round in a chain;
Goes to the right - the song starts,
Left - tells a fairy tale.
There are miracles: the goblin roams there,
The mermaid sits on the branches;
There on unknown paths
Traces of unseen beasts;
Hut there on chicken legs
Stands without windows, without doors;
There the forest and valleys of visions are full;
There, at dawn, waves will come
On the sandy and empty shore,
And thirty beautiful knights
A series of clear waters emerge,
And with them their uncle is sea;
There is a queen in passing
Captivates the formidable king;
There in the clouds before the people
Through the forests, through the seas
The sorcerer carries the hero;
In the dungeon there the princess is grieving,
And the brown wolf faithfully serves her;
There is a stupa with Baba Yaga
It goes, wanders by itself;
There, King Kashchei languishes over gold;
There is a Russian spirit ... there it smells of Russia!
And there I was, and I drank honey;
I saw a green oak by the sea;
Sitting under it, and the cat is a scientist
He told me his stories.
I remember one: this fairy tale
Let me tell the world...

Canto One

Things of bygone days
Traditions of antiquity deep.

In the crowd of mighty sons,
With friends, in a high grid
Vladimir the sun feasted;
He gave away his younger daughter
For the brave prince Ruslan
And honey from a heavy glass
I drank to their health.
Not soon our ancestors ate,
Not soon moving around
Ladles, silver bowls
With boiling beer and wine.
They poured joy in the heart,
Foam hissed around the edges,
Their important teacups were worn
And they bowed low to the guests.
The speeches merged into an indistinct noise;
A merry circle buzzes the guests;
But suddenly there was a pleasant voice
And the sonorous harp is a fluent sound;
Everyone was silent, listening to Bayan:
And praise the sweet singer
Lyudmila-charm, and Ruslana,
And Lelem crowned them.
But, tired with passionate passion,
Ruslan does not eat, does not drink in love;
Looks at a dear friend
Sighs, gets angry, burns
And, pinching his mustache with impatience,
Counts every moment.
In despondency, with a cloudy brow,
At the noisy wedding table
Three young knights are sitting;
Silent, behind an empty bucket,
Forgotten cups are circular,
And brasnas are unpleasant to them;
They do not hear the prophetic Bayan;
They lowered their embarrassed gaze.
Those are Ruslan's three rivals;
In the soul of the unfortunate conceal
Love and hate poison.
One - Rogdai, brave warrior,
Pushing the limits with a sword
rich Kyiv fields;
The other is Farlaf, the haughty screamer,
In feasts not defeated by anyone,
But a modest warrior among swords;
The last, full of passionate thought,
Young Khazar Khan Ratmir:
All three are pale and gloomy,
And a cheerful feast is not a feast for them.
Here it is finished; stand in rows
Mixed in noisy crowds,
And everyone is looking at the young:
The bride lowered her eyes
As if my heart was sad,
And the joyful bridegroom is bright.
But the shadow encompasses all nature,
Already close to midnight deaf;
Boyars, drowsing from honey,
With a bow, they went home.
The groom is delighted, in ecstasy:
He caresses in the imagination
Bashful maiden beauty;
But with a secret, sad emotion
Grand Duke blessing
Gives a young couple.
And here's a young bride
Lead to the wedding bed;
The lights went out ... and the night
Lel lights the lamp.
Dear hopes come true
Gifts are being prepared for love;
Jealous garments will fall
On Tsaregradsky carpets ...
Can you hear the loving whisper
And kisses sweet sound
And a broken murmur
Last timidity?.. Spouse
Enthusiasm feels in advance;
And then they came ... Suddenly
Thunder struck, light flashed in the fog,
The lamp goes out, the smoke runs,
All around was dark, everything was trembling,
And the soul froze in Ruslan ...
Everything was silent. In terrible silence
A strange voice rang out twice,
And someone in the smoky depth
Soared blacker than foggy haze ...
And again the tower is empty and quiet;
The frightened groom gets up,
Cold sweat rolls down from his face;
Trembling, cold hand
He asks the mute darkness...
About grief: there is no dear girlfriend!
He grabs air, he is empty;
Lyudmila is not in the thick darkness,
Kidnapped by an unknown force.
Ah, if the martyr of love
Suffering from passion hopelessly
Though it's sad to live, my friends,
However, life is still possible.
But after many, many years
Hug your beloved friend
Desires, tears, melancholy subject,
And suddenly a minute wife
Forever lost ... oh friends,
Of course I'd rather die!
However, Ruslan is unhappy.
But what did the Grand Duke say?
Struck suddenly by a terrible rumor,
Inflamed with anger at the son-in-law,
He and the court he convenes:
"Where, where is Lyudmila?" - asks
With a terrible, fiery brow.
Ruslan does not hear. “Children, others!
I remember the previous merits:
Oh, take pity on the old man!
Tell me who agrees
Jump after my daughter?
Whose feat will not be in vain,
To that - torment, cry, villain!
I couldn't save my wife! -
To that I will give her as a wife
With half the kingdom of my great-grandfathers.
Who will volunteer, children, others? .. "
"I!" - said the woeful bridegroom.
"I! I!" - exclaimed with Rogday
Farlaf and joyful Ratmir:
“Now we saddle our horses;
We are happy to travel the world.
Our father, let us not prolong separation;
Don't be afraid: we're going for the princess."
And with gratitude dumb
In tears, he stretches out his hands to them.
An old man tormented by longing.
All four go out together;
Ruslan was despondently killed;
The thought of a lost bride
It torments and dies.
They sit on zealous horses;
Along the banks of the Dnieper happy
They fly in swirling dust;
Already hiding in the distance;
No more riders to be seen...
But for a long time he still looks
Grand Duke in an empty field
And the thought flies after them.
Ruslan languished silently,
And the meaning and memory lost.
Over the shoulder looking arrogantly
And important akimbo, Farlaf,
Pouting, he followed Ruslan.
He says: "Forcibly I
Break free, friends!
Well, will I meet the giant soon?
Some blood will flow
Already the victims of jealous love!
Have fun my trusty sword
Have fun, my zealous horse!”
Khazar Khan, in his mind
Already hugging Lyudmila,
Almost dancing over the saddle;
Young blood plays in it,
The fire of hope is full of eyes:
Then he jumps at full speed,
That teases the dashing runner,
Spinning, rearing up
Ile boldly rushes to the hills again.
Rogdai is gloomy, silent - not a word ...
Fearing an unknown fate
And tormented by jealousy in vain,
He is the most worried
And often his gaze is terrible
At the prince gloomily directed.
Rivals on the same road
Everyone travels all day together.
Dnieper became dark shore sloping;
The shadow of the night pours from the east;
Fog over the deep Dnieper;
It's time for their horses to rest.
Here under the mountain by a wide way
Wide crossed path.
"Let's go, it's time! - they said -
Let us entrust ourselves to an unknown fate.
And every horse, not feeling the steel,
I have chosen the path of my own free will.
What are you doing, Ruslan unfortunate,
Alone in the desert silence?
Lyudmila, wedding day is terrible,
Everything, it seems, you saw in a dream.
Pulling a copper helmet over his eyebrows,
Leaving the bridle from powerful hands,
You walk between the fields
And slowly in your soul
Hope is dying, faith is dying.
But suddenly there is a cave in front of the hero;
There is light in the cave. He's right up to her
Goes under dormant vaults,
Peers of nature itself.
He entered with despondency: what does he see?
In the cave is an old man; clear view,
Calm look, gray-haired beard;
The lamp in front of him burns;
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 waited for the day
long anticipated by me.
We are brought together by fate;
Sit down and listen to me.
Ruslan, you lost Lyudmila;
Your hard spirit is losing strength;
But evil will rush a quick moment:
For a while, fate overtook you.
With hope, cheerful faith
Go for everything, do not be discouraged;
Forward! with a sword and a bold breast
Make your way at midnight.
Find out, Ruslan: your offender
Wizard terrible Chernomor,
Beauties old thief,
Midnight owner of the mountains.
Nobody else in his abode
The gaze has not penetrated until now;
But you, destroyer of evil machinations,
You will enter it, and the villain
Will die by your hand.
I don't have to tell you anymore:
The fate of your future days
My son, in your will from now on.
Our knight fell at the feet of the old man
And in joy he kisses his hand.
The world brightens his eyes,
And the heart forgot flour.
He revived again; and suddenly again
On the flushed face, the torment ...
“The reason for your anguish 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's in vain
And the young maiden is not afraid.
He brings the stars down from the sky
He whistles - the moon trembles;
But against the time of the law
His science is not strong.
Jealous, quivering keeper
Locks of ruthless doors,
He's just a feeble tormentor
Your lovely captive.
Around her he silently wanders,
He curses his cruel lot ...
But, good knight, the day passes,
And you need peace."
Ruslan lies on soft moss
Before the dying fire;
He seeks to forget sleep
Sighs, turns slowly...
In vain! Knight at last:
“I can’t sleep, my father!
What to do: I'm sick in soul,
And a dream is not a dream, how sickening it is to live.
Let me refresh my heart
Your sacred conversation.
Forgive me a cheeky question.
Open up: who are you, blessed,
The fate of the confidant is incomprehensible?
Who took you to the desert?
Sighing with a sad smile,
The old man answered: "Dear son,
I already forgot my distant homeland
Gloomy edge. natural finn,
In the valleys known to us alone,
Chasing a herd of neighboring villages,
In my carefree youth I knew
Some dense oak forests,
Streams, caves of our rocks
Yes, wild poverty fun.
But to live in comforting silence
It was not given to me for long.
Then near our village,
Like a sweet color of solitude,
Naina lived. Between girlfriends
She was bursting with beauty.
Once upon a time in the morning
Their herds on a dark meadow
I drove, blowing the bagpipe;
There was a stream in front of me.
One, young beauty
Weaving a wreath on the shore.
I was attracted by my fate ...
Oh, knight, that was Naina!
I to her - and the fatal flame
For a daring look, I was rewarded,
And I learned love with my soul
With her heavenly joy,
With her agonizing longing.
Half a year has gone;
I opened up to her with trepidation,
He said: I love you, Naina.
But my timid sorrow
Naina proudly listened,
Only loving your charms,
And indifferently answered:
"Shepherd, I don't love you!"
And everything became wild and gloomy to me:
Native bush, shadow of oak trees,
Cheerful games of shepherds -
Nothing comforted the anguish.
In despondency, the heart dried up, sluggishly.
And finally I thought
Leave the Finnish fields;
Seas unfaithful abysses
Swim across with the fraternal team
And deserve the swearing glory
Attention proud Naina.
I summoned brave fishermen
Seek danger and gold.
For the first time the quiet land of the fathers
Heard the swearing sound of damask steel
And the noise of non-peaceful shuttles.
I sailed away, full of hope,
With a crowd of fearless countrymen;
We are ten years of snow and waves
Crimsoned with the blood of enemies.
Rumor rushed: the kings of a foreign land
They were afraid of my insolence;
Their proud squads
Fled northern swords.
We had fun, we fought terribly,
Shared tribute 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,
It was languishing in a secret twist,
Looking for Finnish coasts.
It's time to go home, I said, friends!
Let's hang idle chain mail
Under the shade of the native hut.
He said - and the oars rustled;
And leaving fear behind
To the bay of the fatherland dear
We flew in with pride.
Old dreams come true
Wishes come true!
A moment of sweet goodbye
And you sparkled for me!
At the feet of the arrogant 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 captive;
But the maiden hid from me,
Saying with an air of indifference:
"Hero, I don't love you!"
Why tell, my son,
Why is there no power to retell?
Oh, and now one, one
Asleep in soul, at the door of the grave,
I remember sorrow, and sometimes,
How about the past the thought is born,
By my gray beard
A heavy tear rolls down.
But listen: in my homeland
Between the desert fishermen
Science is amazing.
Under the roof of eternal silence
Among the forests, in the wilderness
Gray-haired sorcerers live;
To the objects of high wisdom
All their thoughts are directed;
Everyone hears their terrible voice,
What was and what will be again
And they are subject to their formidable will
And the coffin and love itself.
And I, a greedy seeker of love,
Decided in desolate sadness
Attract Naina with spells
And in the proud heart of a cold maiden
Ignite love with magic.
Hastened into the arms of freedom
Into the solitary darkness of the woods;
And there, in the teachings of sorcerers,
Spent invisible years.
The long-desired moment has come,
And the terrible secret of nature
I comprehended a bright thought:
I learned the power of spells.
The crown of love, the crown of desires!
Now, Naina, you are mine!
Victory is ours, I thought.
But really the winner
There was fate, my stubborn persecutor.
In the dreams of young hope
In the rapture of ardent desire,
I quickly cast spells
I call the spirits - and in the darkness of the forest
The arrow rushed thunder
The magic whirlwind raised a howl,
The ground trembled underfoot...
And suddenly sits in front of me
The old woman is decrepit, gray-haired,
With sunken eyes sparkling,
With a hump, with a shaking head,
A sadly dilapidated picture.
Oh, knight, that was Naina! ..
I was horrified and silent
With the eyes of a terrible ghost measured,
I still didn't believe in doubt
And suddenly he began to cry, shouted:
“Is it possible! oh, Naina, are you!
Naina, where is your beauty?
Tell me, is heaven
Have you been so terribly changed?
Tell me how long ago, leaving the light,
Have I parted with my soul and my dear?
How long ago? .. "" Exactly forty years, -
There was a fatal answer from the maiden, -
Today I was seventy.
What to do, - she squeaks me, -
The years flew by.
Mine passed, your spring -
We both got old.
But, friend, listen: it doesn't matter
Unfaithful youth loss.
Of course, now I'm gray
A little, perhaps, a hunchback;
Not what it used to be
Not so alive, not so sweet;
But (added chatterbox)
I will reveal the secret: I am a witch!
And it really was.
Silent, motionless before her,
I was a complete fool
With all my wisdom.
But that's terrible: witchcraft
Completely unfortunate.
My gray deity
A new passion burned for me.
Curving a terrible mouth with a smile,
Grave voice freak
Mutters love confession to me.
Imagine my suffering!
I trembled, lowering my eyes;
She continued through her cough
Heavy, passionate conversation:
“So, I now recognized the heart;
I see, true friend, it
Born for tender passion;
Feelings woke up, I'm burning
Longing for love...
Come into my arms...
Oh dear, dear! I'm dying..."
And meanwhile she, Ruslan,
Blinking with languid eyes;
And meanwhile for my caftan
She held on with skinny hands;
And meanwhile - I was dying,
Close your eyes in horror;
And suddenly there was no more urine;
I ran away screaming.
She followed: “Oh, unworthy!
You disturbed my calm age,
The days of an innocent maiden are clear!
You won the love of Naina,
And you despise - here are the men!
They all breathe change!
Alas, blame yourself;
He seduced me, wretch!
I surrendered to passionate love ...
A traitor, a fiend! oh shame!
But tremble, girlish thief!”
So we parted. From now on
Living in my seclusion
With a disappointed soul;
And in the world of old man consolation
Nature, wisdom and peace.
The grave is already calling me;
But the feelings are the same
The old woman has not forgotten
And the late flame of love
Turned from annoyance to anger.
Loving evil with a black soul,
The old witch, of course,
He will hate you too;
But grief on earth is not eternal.
Our knight eagerly listened
Elder's stories; clear eyes
I didn’t close with a light nap
And the quiet flight of the night
In deep thought I did not hear.
But the day shines radiant ...
With a sigh, the grateful knight
Embraces the old man-sorcerer;
The soul is full of hope;
Gets out. Clenched my feet
Ruslan of the neighing horse,
He recovered in the saddle and whistled.
"My father, do not leave me."
And jumps on an empty meadow.
The gray-haired sage to a young friend
Shouts after him: “Good luck!
Sorry love your wife
Don't forget the old man's advice!

Canto two

Rivals in the art of war
Do not know peace among yourselves;
Bring the gloomy glory of tribute
And revel in hostility!
Let the world freeze before you
Marveling at the terrible celebrations:
Nobody will regret you
Nobody will disturb you.
Rivals of a different kind
You knights of the Parnassus mountains,
Try not to make people laugh
Indiscreet noise of your quarrels;
Scold - just be careful.
But you rivals in love
Live together if possible!
Trust me my friends
To whom the inevitable fate
A girl's heart is destined
He will be nice in spite of the universe;
Being angry is stupid and sinful.
When Rogdai is indomitable,
Tormented by a deaf foreboding,
Leaving your companions
Set off to a secluded land
And rode between the deserts of the forest,
Immersed in deep thought
The evil spirit disturbed and confused
His yearning soul
And the cloudy knight whispered:
“I will kill!.. I will destroy all barriers…
Ruslan! .. you recognize me ...
Now the girl will cry ... "
And suddenly, turning the horse,
He gallops back at full speed.
At that time, the valiant Farlaf,
Sleeping sweetly all morning,
Sheltered from the rays of midday,
By the stream, alone
To strengthen the strength of the soul,
Dine in peace.
Suddenly he sees: someone in the field,
Like a storm, rushes on a horse;
And, wasting no more time,
Farlaf, leaving his lunch,
Spear, chain mail, helmet, gloves,
Jumped into the saddle and without looking back
He flies - and he follows him.
“Stop, you dishonest fugitive! -
An unknown person shouts to Farlaf. -
Contemptible, let yourself catch up!
Let me rip your head off!"
Farlaf, recognizing the voice of Rogdai,
With fear writhing, dying
And, waiting for certain death,
He drove the horse even faster.
So it’s like a hurried hare,
Close your ears fearfully,
Over bumps, fields, through forests
Leaps away from the dog.
At the place of the glorious escape
Melted snow in spring
Muddy streams flowed
And they dug the moist chest of the earth.
A zealous horse rushed to the moat,
He waved his tail and white mane,
Bitten the steel reins
And jumped over the ditch;
But the timid upside down rider
Fell heavily into a dirty ditch,
I did not see the earth with heaven
And he was ready to accept death.
Rogdai flies up to the ravine;
The cruel sword is already raised;
"Die, coward! die!” - announces...
Suddenly he recognizes Farlaf;
Looks, and hands dropped;
Annoyance, amazement, anger
In his features were portrayed;
Gritting your teeth, numb,
Hero with a drooping head
Hurry away from the moat,
Raging ... but barely, barely
He didn't laugh at himself.
Then he met under the mountain
The old woman is a little bit alive,
Humpbacked, completely gray-haired.
She is a road stick
She pointed to the north.
"You'll find him there," she said.
Rogdai boiled with fun
And flew to certain death.
And our Farlaf? Left in the ditch
Do not dare to breathe; About myself
He, lying down, thought: Am I alive?
Where did the evil opponent go?
Suddenly he hears right above him
The old woman's grave voice:
“Get up, well done: everything is quiet in the field;
You won't meet anyone else;
I brought you a horse;
Get up, listen to me."
The embarrassed knight reluctantly
Crawling left a dirty moat;
Surroundings timidly looking around,
He sighed and said, reviving:
"Well, thank God, I'm healthy!"
"Believe me! The old woman continued
Lyudmila is tricky to find;
She ran far;
It's not for you and me to get it.
It is dangerous to travel around the world;
You really won't be happy yourself.
Follow my advice
Step back slowly.
Near Kyiv, in solitude,
In his ancestral home
Stay better without worries:
Lyudmila will not leave us."
She said she disappeared. Looking forward
Our prudent hero
Immediately went home
Heartily forgetting about glory
And even about the young princess;
And the slightest noise in the oak forest,
The flight of the tit, the murmur of the waters
He was thrown into heat and sweat.
Meanwhile, Ruslan rushes far;
In the wilderness of forests, in the wilderness of fields
Habitual thought seeks
To Lyudmila, her joy,
And he says: “Will I find a friend?
Where are you, soul of my wife?
Will I see your bright eyes?
Will I hear a gentle conversation?
Or is it destined that the sorcerer
You were an eternal prisoner
And, aging with a mournful maiden,
Faded in a gloomy dungeon?
Or a daring opponent
Will he come?.. No, no, my priceless friend:
I still have my trusty sword,
The head has not yet fallen off the shoulders.
One day, in the dark,
On the rocks by the steep shore
Our knight rode over the river.
Everything calmed down. Suddenly behind him
Arrows instant buzz,
Chain mail ringing, and screaming, and neighing,
And the clatter across the field is deaf.
"Stop!" boomed a thunderous voice.
He looked around: in a clean field,
Raising a spear, flies with a whistle
A ferocious rider, and a thunderstorm
The prince rushed towards him.
“Aha! caught up with you! wait! -
The daring rider shouts, -
Get ready, friend, for the mortal slaughter;
Now lie down among these places;
And there look for your brides.
Ruslan flared up, shuddered with anger;
He recognizes this exuberant voice ...
My friends! and our girl?
Let's leave the knights for an hour;
I will think of them again soon.
And it's high time for me
Think about the young princess
And about the terrible Chernomor.
My freaky dream
The confidant is sometimes immodest,
I told how dark at night
Lyudmila of tender beauty
From the inflamed Ruslan
They suddenly hid in the mist.
Unhappy! when the villain
With your mighty hand
Tearing you from your marriage bed,
Soared like a whirlwind to the clouds
Through heavy smoke and gloomy air
And suddenly he sped off to his mountains -
You lost your feelings and memory
And in the terrible castle of the sorcerer,
Silent, tremulous, pale,
In an instant, I felt.
From the threshold of my hut
So I saw, in the middle of summer days,
When the chicken is cowardly
Sultan of the chicken coop is arrogant,
My rooster ran around the yard
And voluptuous wings
Already hugged a girlfriend;
Above them in cunning circles
The chickens of the village are an old thief,
Taking destructive measures
Worn, swam gray kite
And fell like lightning into the yard.
Soared, flying. In terrible claws
Into the darkness of safe clefts
Takes away the poor villain.
In vain, with his grief
And stricken with cold fear,
A rooster calls his mistress ...
He sees only flying fluff,
Carried by the flying wind.
Until the morning young princess
Lying, painful oblivion,
Like a terrible dream
Embraced - finally she
I woke up with a fiery excitement
And full of vague horror;
Soul flies for pleasure
Someone is looking for with rapture;
“Where is the darling,” he whispers, “where is the husband?”
Calling and died suddenly.
He looks around fearfully.
Lyudmila, where is your light?
An unfortunate girl lies
Among the down pillows,
Under the proud canopy of the canopy;
Veils, lush feather bed
In brushes, in expensive patterns;
Brocade fabrics throughout;
Yakhonts play like a fever;
Golden censers all around
Raise fragrant steam;
Enough ... well, I don’t need
Describe the magical house:
For a long time Scheherazade
I was warned about that.
But the bright tower is not a consolation,
When we do not see a friend in it.
Three virgins, wonderful beauty,
In clothes light and lovely
The princess appeared, approached
And bowed to the ground.
Then with inaudible steps
One came closer;
Princess air fingers
Braided a golden braid
With art, not new these days,
And wrapped in a crown of pearl
Circumference of a pale forehead.
Behind her, modestly bowing her eyes,
Then another approached;
Azure, lush sundress
Dressed Lyudmila slender camp;
Golden curls covered
Both chest and shoulders are young
Veil, transparent as fog.
The cover of the envious kisses
Beauty worthy of heaven
And light shoes compress
Two legs, miracle of miracles.
Princess last maiden
The pearl belt gives.
Meanwhile, the invisible singer
Cheerful songs she sings.
Alas, no necklace stones,
Neither a sundress, nor a row of pearls,
Not a song of flattery and fun
Her souls do not rejoice;
In vain the mirror draws
Her beauty, her outfit:
Downcast fixed gaze,
She is silent, she yearns.
Those who, loving the truth,
At the dark heart of the day they read,
Of course they know about themselves
What if a woman is sad
Through tears, furtively, somehow,
In spite of habit and reason,
Forgetting to look in the mirror
That makes her sad, no joke.
But here Lyudmila is alone again.
Not knowing what to start, she
Fits the lattice window
And her gaze wanders sadly
In the space of a cloudy distance.
Everything is dead. snowy plains
They lay down like bright carpets;
The peaks of the gloomy mountains stand
In uniform white
And slumber in eternal silence;
Around you can not see the smoky roof,
You can't see the traveler in the snow
And the ringing horn of merry fishing
In the desert mountains do not trumpet;
Only occasionally with a dull whistle
Whirlwind rebels in a clean field
And on the edge of gray skies
Shakes naked forest.
In tears of despair, Lyudmila
She covered her face in horror.
Alas, what awaits her now!
Runs through the silver door;
She opened with music
And our maiden found herself
In the garden. Captivating Limit:
More beautiful than the gardens of Armida
And those who owned
King Solomon or Prince of Taurida.
Before her they waver, make noise
Magnificent oak trees;
Alleys of palm trees, and laurel forest,
And a row of fragrant myrtle,
And proud peaks of cedars,
And golden oranges
The mirror of the waters are reflected;
Hills, groves and valleys
Springs are animated by fire;
The May wind blows with coolness
Among the enchanted fields
And the Chinese nightingale whistles
In the darkness of quivering branches;
Flying diamond fountains
With cheerful noise to the clouds:
Under them shine idols
And, it seems, they are alive; Phidias himself,
Pet of Phoebus and Pallas,
Finally loving them
Your enchanted chisel
I would have dropped it from my hands with annoyance.
Crushing against marble barriers,
Pearly, fiery arc
Falling, splashing waterfalls;
And streams in the shade of the forest
Slightly curled sleepy wave.
Shelter of peace and coolness,
Through the eternal greenery here and there
Light arbors flicker;
Everywhere roses live branches
Blossom and breathe along the paths.
But inconsolable Lyudmila
Goes, goes and does not look;
Magic is a luxury she is sick of,
She is sad with the bliss of a bright look;
Where, without knowing, wanders,
The magic garden goes around
Giving freedom to bitter tears,
And raises gloomy eyes
To the unforgiving skies.
Suddenly a beautiful sight lit up:
She pressed her finger to her lips;
It seemed like a terrible idea.
Was born ... A terrible path was opened:
High bridge over the stream
In front of her hangs on two rocks;
In despondency heavy and deep
She approaches - and in tears
I looked at the noisy waters,
Hit, sobbing, in the chest,
I decided to drown in the waves -
However, she did not jump into the water.
And then she continued on her way.
My beautiful Lyudmila,
Running in the sun in the morning
Tired, dried up tears,
In my heart I thought: it's time!
She sat down on the grass, looked back -
And suddenly over her the canopy of the tent,
Noisy, coolly turned around;
Dinner sumptuous before her;
Bright crystal device;
And in silence because of the branches
The invisible harp played.
The captive princess marvels,
But secretly she thinks:
"Away from the sweetheart, in captivity,
Why should I live in the world anymore?
O you whose fatal passion
It torments and cherishes me
I'm not afraid of the villain's power:
Lyudmila knows how to die!
I don't need your tents
No boring songs, no feasts -
I won't eat, I won't listen,
I will die among your gardens!”
The princess gets up, and in a moment the tent,
And lush luxury appliance,
And the sounds of the harp... all is gone;
As before, everything became quiet;
Lyudmila is alone again in the gardens
Wandering from grove to grove;
Meanwhile in the azure skies
The moon floats, queen of the night,
Finds darkness from all sides
And quietly rested on the hills;
The princess involuntarily tends to sleep,
And suddenly an unknown force
More tender than the spring breeze
Raises her into the air
Carries through the air to the chamber
And carefully lowers
Through the incense of evening roses
On a bed of sadness, a bed of tears.
Three virgins suddenly appeared again
And fussed around her,
To take off the headdress for the night;
But their dull, vague look
And forced silence
Were secretly compassion
And a weak reproach to fate.
But let's hurry: by their tender hand
The sleepy princess is undressed;
Charming with careless charm,
In one white shirt
She lies down to rest.
With a sigh, the maidens bowed,
Get away as soon as possible
And quietly closed the door.
What is our prisoner now!
Trembling like a leaf, does not dare to die;
Percy grow cold, eyes darken;
Instantaneous sleep flees from the eyes;
Not sleeping, doubled attention
Staring into the darkness...
Everything is dark, dead silence!
Only the heart hears the trembling ...
And it seems ... silence whispers,
They go - go to her bed;
The princess is hiding in the pillow -
And suddenly ... oh fear! .. and in fact
There was a noise; illuminated
Instantaneous brilliance of the darkness of the night,
Instantly the door is opened;
Silently speaking proudly
Flashing with naked sabers,
Arapov a long line goes
In pairs, decorously, as far as possible,
And on the pillows carefully
Bears a gray beard;
And enters with importance after her,
Lifting his neck majestically
Humpbacked dwarf from the doors:
His shaved head
covered with a high cap,
Belonged to a beard.
He had already drawn near: then
The princess jumped out of bed
Gray-haired carl for the cap
Grabbed with a quick hand
Trembling raised her fist
And screamed in fear,
That all arapov stunned.
Trembling, the poor man crouched,
The frightened princess is paler;
Close your ears quickly
I wanted to run, but in a beard
Tangled, fell and beats;
Rise, fall; in such trouble
Arapov black swarm is tumultuous;
Noise, push, run,
They grab the sorcerer in an armful
And they carry out to unravel,
Leaving Lyudmila's hat.
But something our good knight?
Do you remember the unexpected meeting?
Grab your quick pencil
Draw, Orlovsky, night and cut!
By the light of the trembling moon
Knights fought fiercely;
Their hearts are filled with anger,
The spears have been thrown far away
Already the swords are shattered
Mail covered with blood,
Shields are cracking, broken into pieces ...
They fought on horseback;
Exploding black dust to the sky,
Under them greyhounds horses fight;
Wrestlers, motionless entwined,
Squeezing each other, they remain,
As if nailed to the saddle;
Their members are brought together by malice;
Intertwined and ossified;
Fast fire runs through the veins;
On the enemy's chest, the chest trembles -
And now they hesitate, weaken -
Someone to fall ... suddenly my knight,
Boiling with an iron hand
Breaks the rider from the saddle,
Lifts up, holds up
And throws into the waves from the shore.
"Die! - exclaims menacingly; -
Die, my evil envious!
You guessed it, my reader,
With whom did the valiant Ruslan fight:
It was a seeker of bloody battles,
Rogdai, the hope of the people of Kiev,
Lyudmila is a gloomy admirer.
It is along the Dnieper banks
Searched for rival traces;
Found, caught up, but the same strength
Changed the pet of the battle,
And Rus' is an ancient darer
I found my end in the desert.
And it was heard that Rogdai
Those waters a young mermaid
Percy took it in the cold
And, greedily kissing the knight,
Dragged me to the bottom with laughter
And long after, on a dark night
Wandering near the quiet shores,
The giant ghost is huge
Scarecrow of the desert fishermen.

Song Three

In vain you lurked in the shadows
For peaceful, happy friends,
My poems! You didn't hide
From angry envy eyes.
Already a pale critic, to her service,
The question made me fatal:
Why Ruslanov's girlfriend
As if to laugh at her husband,
I call both the maiden and the princess?
You see, my good reader,
There is a black seal of malice!
Say Zoil, say traitor
Well, how and what should I answer?
Blush, unfortunate, God be with you!
Redden, I don't want to argue;
Satisfied with the fact that the right soul,
I am silent in humble meekness.
But you will understand me, Klymene,
Lower your languid eyes,
You, victim of boring Hymen...
I see: a secret tear
Will fall on my verse, intelligible to the heart;
You blushed, your eyes went out;
She sighed in silence ... an understandable sigh!
Jealous: be afraid, the hour is near;
Cupid with Wayward Annoyance
Entered into a bold conspiracy
And for your inglorious head
The vengeance is ready.
Already the morning shone cold
On the crown of the midnight mountains;
But in the marvelous castle all was silent.
In the annoyance of the hidden Chernomor,
Without a hat, in a morning dressing gown,
Yawned angrily on the bed.
Around his gray beard
The slaves crowded silently,
And gently a bone comb
Combed her twists;
Meanwhile, for good and beauty,
On an endless mustache
Oriental scents flowed
And cunning curls curled;
Suddenly, out of nowhere,
A winged serpent flies through the window;
Thundering with iron scales,
He bent into quick rings
And suddenly Naina turned around
Before the astonished crowd.
"Greetings," she said,
Brother, long honored by me!
Until now I knew Chernomor
One loud rumor;
But secret rock connects
Now we have a common enmity;
You are in danger,
A cloud hangs over you;
And the voice of offended honor
Calling me to vengeance."
With eyes full of cunning flattery,
Carla gives her a hand,
Prophetic: “Wonderful Naina!
Your union is precious to me.
We'll shame Finn's cunning;
But I'm not afraid of gloomy machinations:
I am not afraid of a weak enemy;
Find out my wonderful lot:
This fertile beard
No wonder Chernomor is decorated.
How long is her gray hair
A hostile sword will not cut,
None of the dashing knights,
No mortal will perish
My smallest intentions;
My century will be Lyudmila,
Ruslan is doomed to the grave!
And darkly the witch repeated:
“He will die! he will die!”
Then she hissed three times,
Stamped my foot three times
And flew away like a black snake.
Shining in a brocade robe,
The sorcerer, encouraged by the sorceress,
Cheered up, I decided again
Carry to the feet of the girl captive
Mustache, obedience and love.
Discharged bearded dwarf,
Again he goes to her chambers;
Passes a long row of rooms:
They don't have a princess. He is far away, into the garden,
Into the laurel forest, to the trellis of the garden,
Along the lake, around the waterfall,
Under the bridges, in the gazebos... no!
The princess is gone, and the trace is gone!
Who will express his embarrassment,
And the roar, and the thrill of frenzy?
With annoyance, he did not see the day.
Karla's wild groan rang out:
“Here, slaves, run!
Here, I hope you!
Now look for Lyudmila for me!
Rather, do you hear? Now!
Not that - you joke with me -
I will strangle you all with my beard!”
Reader, let me tell you
Where did the beauty go?
All night she's her destiny
She marveled in tears and laughed.
Her beard scared her
But Chernomor was already known
And he was funny, but never
Horror is incompatible with laughter.
Towards the morning rays
The bed was left by Lyudmila
And involuntarily turned her gaze
To tall, clean mirrors;
Involuntarily golden curls
From lily shoulders lifted;
Unwittingly thick hair
I braided it with a careless hand;
Your yesterday's clothes
Accidentally found in the corner;
Sighing, dressed and with annoyance
Quietly began to cry;
However, with the right glass,
Sighing, did not take her eyes off,
And the girl came to mind
In the excitement of wayward thoughts,
Try on a Chernomor hat.
Everything is quiet, no one is here;
No one will look at the girl ...
And a girl at seventeen
What hat does not stick!
Never be lazy to dress up!
Lyudmila twirled her hat;
On the eyebrow, straight, sideways
And put it on back to front.
So what? oh wonder of the old days!
Lyudmila disappeared in the mirror;
Turned over - in front of her
The former Lyudmila appeared;
I put it back on - again not;
She took it off - and in the mirror! "Wonderful!
Good, sorcerer, good, my light!
Now I'm safe here;
Now I'm out of trouble!"
And the hat of the old villain
Princess, blushing with joy,
I put it on backwards.
But back to the hero.
Aren't we ashamed to deal with us
So long with a hat, beard,
Ruslan entrusting the fates?
Having made a fierce battle with Rogdai,
He passed through a dense forest;
A wide valley opened before him
In the brilliance of the morning skies.
The knight involuntarily trembles:
He sees an old battlefield.
Everything is empty in the distance; here and there
Bones turn yellow; over the hills
Quivers, armor are scattered;
Where is the harness, where is the rusty shield;
In the bones of the hand here lies the sword;
Grass overgrown there shaggy helmet
And the old skull smolders in it;
There is a whole skeleton of a hero
With his downed horse
Lies motionless; spears, arrows
They are stuck in the damp earth,
And peaceful ivy wraps around them ...
Nothing of silent silence
This desert does not revolt,
And the sun from a clear height
The valley of death illuminates.
With a sigh, the knight around him
Looking with sad eyes.
"O field, field, who are you
littered with dead bones?
Whose greyhound horse trampled you
In the last hour of the bloody battle?
Who fell on you with glory?
Whose heaven heard prayers?
Why, field, you fell silent
And overgrown with grass of oblivion? ..
Time from eternal darkness
Perhaps there is no salvation for me!
Perhaps on a mute hill
They will put a quiet coffin Ruslanov,
And loud strings Bayanov
They won't talk about him!"
But soon my knight remembered
That a hero needs a good sword
And even armor; and the hero
Unarmed since the last battle.
He goes around the field;
In the bushes, among the forgotten bones,
In the mass of smoldering chain mail,
Swords and helmets shattered
He is looking for armor.
A rumble and the dumb steppe woke up,
Crack and ringing rose in the field;
He raised his shield without choosing
I found both a helmet and a sonorous horn;
But only the sword could not be found.
Bypassing the valley of battle,
He sees many swords
But everyone is light, but too small,
And the handsome prince was not sluggish,
Not like the hero of our days.
To play with something out of boredom,
He took a steel spear in his hands,
He put the chain mail on his chest
And then he set off on his way.
The ruddy sunset has already turned pale
Over the lulled earth;
Blue fogs are smoldering
And the golden month rises;
The steppe faded. Dark path
Thoughtful goes our Ruslan
And sees: through the night fog
A huge hill blackens in the distance,
And something terrible is snoring.
He is closer to the hill, closer - he hears:
The wonderful hill seems to be breathing.
Ruslan listens and looks
Fearlessly, with a calm spirit;
But, moving a shy ear,
The horse rests, trembles,
Shaking his stubborn head
And the mane stood on end.
Suddenly a hill, a cloudless moon
In the fog, illuminating palely,
clearer; looks brave prince -
And he sees a miracle before him.
Will I find colors and words?
Before him is a living head.
Enormous eyes are embraced by sleep;
Snores, shaking his feathered helmet,
And feathers in the dark height,
Like shadows, they walk, fluttering.
In its terrible beauty
Rising above the gloomy steppe,
Surrounded by silence
Desert watchman nameless,
Ruslan is going to
A bulk menacing and foggy.
Confused, he wants
Mysterious to destroy the dream.
Seeing the wonder up close
Went around my head
And stood before the nose silently;
Tickles nostrils with a spear,
And, grimacing, the head yawned,
She opened her eyes and sneezed...
A whirlwind rose, the steppe trembled,
Dust rose; from eyelashes, from mustaches,
A flock of owls flew from the eyebrows;
Silent groves woke up,
Echo sneezed - zealous horse
Neighing, jumping, flying away,
As soon as the knight himself sat down,
And then a loud voice rang out:
“Where are you, foolish knight?
Get back, I'm not kidding!
I’ll just swallow it insolently!”
Ruslan looked around with contempt,
The reins held the horse
And he smiled proudly.
"What do you want from me? -
Frowning, the head screamed. -
Fate has sent me a guest!
Listen, get out!
I want to sleep, now it's night
Goodbye!" But the famous knight
Hearing harsh words
He exclaimed with the importance of an angry:
"Shut up, empty head!
I heard the truth, it happened:
Although the forehead is wide, but the brain is small!
I'm going, I'm going, I'm not whistling
And when I get there, I won’t let go!”
Then, numb with rage,
Blazing with rage,
Head puffed up; like a fever
Bloody eyes flashed;
Foaming, lips trembled,
Steam rose from the mouth, ears -
And suddenly she, that was urine,
Towards the prince began to blow;
In vain the horse, closing his eyes,
Bowing his head, straining his chest,
Through the whirlwind, rain and dusk of the night
The unfaithful continues on his way;
Fear-bound, blinded,
He rushes again, exhausted,
Relax in the field.
The knight wants to turn again -
Reflected again, there is no hope!
And his head follows him
Like crazy, laughing
Gremit: “Ay, knight! hey hero!
Where are you going? hush, hush, stop!
Hey, knight, break your neck for nothing;
Do not be afraid, rider, and me
Please with at least one blow,
Until he froze the horse.
And meanwhile she's a hero
Teased with terrible language.
Ruslan, annoyance in the heart of the cut,
Threats her silently with a spear,
Shaking it with a free hand
And, trembling, cold steel
Stuck in a daring tongue.
And blood from a mad pharynx
The river ran in an instant.
From surprise, pain, anger,
Lost in a moment of insolence,
The head looked at the prince,
Iron gnawed and turned pale
Warm in a calm spirit,
So sometimes among our stage
Bad pet Melpomene,
Deafened by a sudden whistle,
He sees nothing
Turns pale, forgets the role,
Trembling, bowing his head,
And, stuttering, is silent
Before a mocking crowd.
Happy taking advantage of the moment
To the embarrassed head,
Like a hawk, the hero flies
With a raised, formidable right hand
And on the cheek with a heavy mitten
With a swing it strikes the head;
And the steppe resounded with a blow;
Dewy grass all around
Stained with bloody foam,
And shaking head
Rolled over, rolled over
And the iron helmet rattled.
Then the place was deserted
The heroic sword flashed.
Our knight in awe cheerful
He was grabbed and to the head
On the bloodied grass
Runs with cruel intent
Cut off her nose and ears;
Ruslan is already ready to strike,
Already waved a broad sword -
Suddenly, amazed, he hears
Heads of pleading pitiful groan...
And quietly he lowers his sword,
In him, fierce anger dies,
And stormy revenge will fall
In the soul, prayer pacified:
So the ice melts in the valley
Struck by the beam of noon.
"You enlightened me, hero, -
With a sigh, the head said,
Your right hand proved
That I am guilty before you;
From now on, I will obey you;
But, knight, be generous!
Worthy of weeping is my lot.
And I was a daring hero!
In the bloody battles of the adversary
I have not matured for myself;
Happy whenever I have
Little brother's rival!
Insidious, vicious Chernomor,
You, you are the cause of all my troubles!
Shame on our families
Born by Karla, with a beard,
My wondrous growth from my youthful days
He could not see without vexation
And stood for it in his soul
Me, cruel, to hate.
I've always been a bit simple
Although high; and this unfortunate
Having the stupidest height
Smart as a devil - and terribly angry.
Moreover, know, to my misfortune,
In his wonderful beard
A fatal force lurks
And, despising everything in the world,
As long as the beard is intact -
The traitor does not fear evil.
Here he is one day with a look of friendship
“Listen,” he said slyly to me, “
Don't give up important service:
I found in black books
What is behind the eastern mountains,
On the quiet sea shores
In a deaf basement, under locks
The sword is kept - so what? fear!
I made out in the magic darkness,
That by the will of hostile fate
This sword will be known to us;
That he will destroy us both:
Cut off my beard,
your head; judge for yourself
How important is it for us to acquire
This creation of evil spirits!”
“Well, what? where is the difficulty? -
I said to Carla, - I'm ready;
I’m going even beyond the limits of the world.”
And he put a pine on his shoulder,
And on the other for advice
The villain of the brother planted;
Set off on a long journey
Walked, walked and, thank God,
As if to spite the prophecy,
Everything went on happily ever after.
Beyond the distant mountains
We found the fatal basement;
I smashed it with my hands
And he took out a hidden sword.
But no! fate wanted it
Between us a quarrel boiled -
And it was, I confess, about what!
Question: Who will wield the sword?
I argued, Karla got excited;
They quarreled for a long time; finally
The trick was invented by the cunning one,
He calmed down and seemed to soften.
"Let's leave the useless argument, -
Chernomor told me importantly, -
We thereby dishonor our union;
Reason in the world orders to live;
We'll let fate decide
Who does this sword belong to?
Let's both put our ears to the ground
(What malice does not invent!)
And who will hear the first ring,
That one and wield the sword to the grave.
He said and lay down on the ground.
I also foolishly stretched out;
I'm lying, I don't hear anything
Smiling: I will deceive him!
But he himself was severely deceived.
Villain in deep silence
Get up, tiptoe to me
Crept up from behind, swung;
Like a whirlwind whistled a sharp sword,
And before I looked back
Already the head flew off the shoulders -
And supernatural power
The spirit stopped her life.
My frame is overgrown with thorns;
Far away, in a country forgotten by people,
My unburied ashes have decayed;
But the evil carla endured
Me in this secluded land,
Where forever had to guard
The sword you have taken today.
O knight! You keep fate
Take it, and God be with you!
Maybe on your way
You will meet the sorcerer Karla -
Ah, if you see him
Deceit, malice revenge!
And finally I'll be happy
Quietly leave this world -
And in my gratitude
I will forget your slap."

Canto Four

Every day I wake up from sleep
I heartily thank God
Because in our time
There aren't many wizards.
Besides - honor and glory to them! -
Our marriages are safe...
Their plans are not so terrible
Husbands, young girls.
But there are other wizards
Which I hate
Smile, blue eyes
And a sweet voice - oh friends!
Do not believe them: they are crafty!
Be afraid imitating me
Their intoxicating poison
And rest in silence.
Poetry is a wonderful genius,
Singer of mysterious visions
Love, dreams and devils
Faithful resident of graves and paradise,
And my windy muse
Confidant, fosterer and keeper!
Forgive me, northern Orpheus,
What's in my funny story
Now I'm flying after you
And the lyre of the wayward muse
In a lie of a charming guise.
My friends, you have heard everything
Like a demon in ancient days, a villain
At first he betrayed himself with sadness,
And there are the souls of daughters;
As after a generous alms,
Prayer, faith, and fasting,
And unfeigned repentance
Got an intercessor in the holy;
How he died and how they fell asleep
His twelve daughters:
And we were captivated, horrified
Pictures of these secret nights
These wonderful visions
This dark demon, this divine wrath,
Living sinner torment
And the charm of immaculate virgins.
We cried with them, wandered
Around the battlements of the castle walls,
And loved with a touched heart
Their quiet sleep, their quiet captivity;
Vadim's soul was called,
And the awakening ripened them,
And often nuns of saints
They escorted him to his father's coffin.
And well, is it possible? .. they lied to us!
But will I tell the truth?
Young Ratmir, pointing south
The impatient running of a horse,
Already thought before sunset
Catch up with Ruslanov's wife.
But the crimson day was evening;
In vain the knight before him
Looked into the distant mists:
Everything was empty over the river.
The last ray of dawn burned
Above the brightly gilded boron.
Our knight past the black rocks
Quietly drove by and with a look
I was looking for a lodging for the night among the trees.
He goes to the valley
And sees: a castle on the rocks
The battlements elevate the walls;
The towers at the corners turn black;
And the maiden on the high wall,
Like a lonely swan in the sea
It goes, the dawn is lit;
And the maiden's song is barely audible
Valleys in deep silence.
“The darkness of the night lies in the field;

Too late, young traveler!
Hide in our gratifying tower.
Here at night there is bliss and peace,
And during the day, noise and feasting.
Come to a friendly calling,
Come, young traveler!
Here you will find a swarm of beauties;
Their speeches and kisses are gentle.
Come to a secret calling
Come, young traveler!
We are to you with the morning dawn
Let's fill the cup for goodbye.
Come to a peaceful calling
Come, young traveler!
Lies in the field darkness of the night;
A cold wind rose from the waves.
Too late, young traveler!
Hide in our gratifying tower.
She beckons, she sings;
And the young khan is already under the wall;
He is met at the gate
Red girls in a crowd;
With the noise of affectionate speeches
He is surrounded; don't get rid of him
They are captivating eyes;
Two girls take the horse away;
The young khan enters the halls,
Behind him are lovely swarms of hermits;
One takes off his winged helmet,
Other forged armor,
That sword takes, that dusty shield;
The clothes of bliss will replace
Iron armor of battle.
But first the young man is led
To the magnificent Russian bath.
Already the smoky waves are flowing
In her silver vats
And cold fountains splash;
The carpet is spread out with luxury;
On it the tired khan lays down;
Transparent steam swirls above him;
Downcast bliss full gaze,
Pretty, half-naked,
In tender and dumb care,
Young maidens around the khan
Crowded by a frisky crowd.
Another one waves over the knight
Branches of young birches,
And the fragrant heat plows from them;
Another juice of spring roses
Tired members cool down
And drowns in aromas
Dark curly hair.
The hero intoxicated with delight
Already forgot Ludmila the prisoner
Recently cute beauties;
Longing for sweet desire;
His wandering gaze shines,
And, full of passionate expectation,
It melts in the heart, it burns.
But then he comes out of the bathroom.
Dressed in velvet fabrics
In the circle of lovely maidens, Ratmir
Sits down to a rich feast.
I am not Omer: in high verses
He can sing alone
Dinners of the Greek squads,
And the ringing, and the foam of deep bowls,
Mileer, in the footsteps of the Guys,
I praise the careless lyre
And nakedness in the shadow of the night
And kiss tender love!
The castle is illuminated by the moon;
I see a distant tower,
Where is the languid, inflamed knight
Tastes a lonely dream;
His forehead, his cheeks
They burn with an instantaneous flame;
His mouth is half open
Secret kisses beckon;
He sighs passionately, slowly,
He sees them - and in an ardent dream
Presses the covers to the heart.
But in deep silence
The door opened; gender jealous
Hides under a hurried foot,
And under the silver moon
The girl flashed. Dreams are winged
Hide, fly away!
Wake up - your night has come!
Wake up - dear moment of loss! ..
She approaches, he lies
And slumbers in voluptuous bliss;
His cover slips from his bed,
And hot fluff surrounds the forehead.
In silence the maiden before him
Stands motionless, breathless,
How hypocritical Diana
Before his dear shepherd;
And here she is, on the bed of the khan
Leaning on one knee,
Sighing, she bows her face to him.
With languor, with living trembling,
And the happy man's dream is interrupted
Kiss passionate and mute ...
But, friends, the virgin lyre
Silent under my hand;
My timid voice is weakening -
Let's leave young Ratmir;
I dare not continue with the song:
Ruslan should occupy us,
Ruslan, this unparalleled hero,
At heart, a hero, a true lover.
Tired of stubborn battle,
Under the heroic head
He tastes sweet sleep.
But now the early dawn
The quiet sky shines;
All clear; morning beam playful
Head shaggy forehead golden.
Ruslan gets up, and the horse is zealous
Already the knight is rushing with an arrow.
And the days are running; fields turn yellow;
A decrepit leaf falls from the trees;
In the forests the autumn wind whistles
The feathered singers drown out;
Heavy, overcast fog
Wraps naked hills;
Winter is coming - Ruslan
Courageously continues its path
To the far north; every day
Meets new barriers:
Then he fights with the hero,
Now with a witch, now with a giant,
He sees on a moonlit night,
As if through a magical dream
Surrounded by gray mist
Mermaids, quietly on the branches
Swinging, young knight
With a sly smile on your lips
Beckoning without saying a word...
But, we keep a secret craft,
The fearless knight is unharmed;
Desire is dormant in his soul,
He does not see them, he does not heed them,
One Lyudmila is with him everywhere.
But meanwhile, no one is visible,
From the attacks of the sorcerer
We keep a magic hat,
What does my princess do
My beautiful Lyudmila?
She is silent and sad
One walks through the gardens
He thinks and sighs about a friend,
Ile, giving free rein to his dreams,
To the native Kyiv fields
In the oblivion of the heart flies away;
Hugs father and brothers,
Girlfriends sees young
And their old mothers -
Captivity and separation are forgotten!
But soon the poor princess
Loses its delusion
And again sad and alone.
Slaves of the villain in love
And day and night, not daring to sit,
Meanwhile, through the castle, through the gardens
They were looking for a lovely captive,
Rushed, loudly called,
However, everything is nonsense.
Lyudmila was amused by them:
In magical groves sometimes
Without a hat, she suddenly appeared
And she called: “Here, here!”
And everyone rushed to her in a crowd;
But aside - suddenly invisible -
She has an inaudible foot
She ran away from predatory hands.
Everywhere you noticed
Her minute footprints:
That gilded fruit
Disappeared on noisy branches,
That drops of spring water
They fell on the crumpled meadow:
Then probably in the castle they knew
What does the princess drink or eat.
On branches of cedar or birch
She hides at night
I was looking for a moment's sleep -
But shed only tears
Called the spouse and peace,
Tormented by sadness and yawning,
And rarely, rarely before dawn,
Leaning head to the tree
Dozing with a thin drowsiness;
The darkness of the night barely thinned,
Lyudmila went to the waterfall
Wash with a cold stream:
Carla himself in the morning sometimes
Once I saw from the chambers
Like an invisible hand
The waterfall splashed and splashed.
With my usual longing
Until the new night, here and there
She wandered through the gardens:
Often heard in the evening
Her pleasant voice;
Often raised in groves
Or the wreath thrown by her,
Or shreds of a Persian shawl,
Or a tearful handkerchief.
Wounded by cruel passion,
Annoyance, darkened malice,
The sorcerer finally made up his mind
Catch Lyudmila by all means.
So Lemnos is a lame blacksmith,
Received the conjugal crown
From the hands of the lovely Cytherea,
Spread the net of her beauty,
Opened to the mocking gods
Cyprian gentle undertakings ...
Missing, poor princess
In the coolness of a marble gazebo
Sitting quietly by the window
And through the shaking branches
I looked at the flowering meadow.
Suddenly he hears - they call: "Dear friend!"
And he sees the faithful Ruslan.
His features, gait, camp;
But he is pale, there is fog in his eyes,
And on the thigh is a living wound -
Her heart fluttered. "Ruslan!
Ruslan! .. he is for sure! And an arrow
A captive flies to her husband,
In tears, trembling, he says:
"You're here... you're hurt... what's the matter with you?"
Already reached, embraced:
Oh horror... the ghost disappears!
Princess in the nets; from her brow
The hat falls to the ground.
Chilling, he hears a terrible cry:
"She is mine!" - and at the same moment
He sees the sorcerer before his eyes.
There was a pitiful groan of the virgin,
Fall without feelings - and a wonderful dream
Embraced the unfortunate wings
What will happen to the poor princess!
O terrible sight: the wizard is frail
Caresses with a daring hand
Ludmila's young charms!
Will he be happy?
Chu ... suddenly there was a horn ringing,
And someone calls Carla.
Confused, pale sorcerer
He puts on a hat for a girl;
Trumpet again; louder, louder!
And he flies to an unknown meeting,
Throwing his beard over his shoulders.

Song Five

Ah, how sweet is my princess!
I like her more than anything:
She is sensitive, modest,
Faithful conjugal love,
A little windy... so what?
She is even cuter.
All the time the charm of the new
She knows how to captivate us;
Tell me if you can compare
Her with Delfiroyu severe?
One - fate sent a gift
Enchant hearts and eyes;
Her smile, conversations
In me, love gives birth to heat.
And that one - under the skirt of the hussars,
Just give her a mustache and spurs!
Blessed, whom in the evening
To a secluded corner
My Lyudmila is waiting
And he will call a friend of the heart;
But, believe me, blessed is he
Who runs away from Delphira
And I don't even know her.
Yes, but that's not the point!
But who trumpeted? Who is the sorcerer
Did he call for a threat?
Who scared the witch?
Ruslan. He, burning with revenge,
Reached the abode of the villain.
Already the knight stands under the mountain,
The calling horn howls like a storm,
The impatient horse boils
And the snow digs with a wet hoof.
Prince Carla is waiting. Suddenly he
On a strong steel helmet
Struck by an invisible hand;
The blow fell like thunder;
Ruslan raises a vague look
And he sees - right above the head -
With a raised, terrible mace
Carla Chernomor is flying.
Covered with a shield, he bent down,
He shook his sword and swung it;
But he soared under the clouds;
Disappeared for a moment - and down
The noise flies at the prince again.
The nimble knight flew off,
And into the snow on a fatal scale
The sorcerer fell - and sat there;
Ruslan, without saying a word,
Down with the horse, hurries to him,
Caught, enough for the beard,
The wizard is struggling, groaning
And suddenly Ruslan flies away ...
The zealous horse looks after him;
Already a sorcerer under the clouds;
A hero hangs on his beard;
Flying over dark forests
Flying over wild mountains
They fly over the abyss of the sea;
From the tension of the bones,
Ruslan for the villain's beard
Stubborn is held by the hand.
Meanwhile, weakening in the air
And marveling at the strength of the Russian,
Wizard to proud Ruslan
Insidiously he says: “Listen, prince!
I will stop harming you;
Loving young courage
I will forget everything, I will forgive you
I'll go down - but only with an agreement ... "
"Shut up, treacherous sorcerer! -
Our knight interrupted: - with Chernomor,
With his wife's tormentor,
Ruslan does not know the contract!
This formidable sword will punish the thief.
Fly even to the night star,
And to be without a beard!
Fear embraces Chernomor;
In annoyance, in mute sorrow,
In vain long beard
Tired carla shakes:
Ruslan does not let her out
And pinches her hair sometimes.
For two days the sorcerer of the hero wears,
On the third he asks for mercy:
“O knight, have pity on me;
I can hardly breathe; no more urine;
Leave me life, I am in your will;
Tell me - I'll go down where you want ... "
“Now you are ours: aha, you are trembling!
Humble yourself, submit to Russian power!
Carry me to my Lyudmila.
Chernomor humbly listens;
He set off home with the hero;
Flies - and instantly found himself
Among their terrible mountains.
Then Ruslan with one hand
Took the sword of the slain head
And, grabbing another beard,
Cut it off like a handful of grass.
"Know ours! he said cruelly,
What, predator, where is your beauty?
Where is the power? - and on a helmet high
Gray hair knits;
Whistling calls the dashing horse;
A cheerful horse flies and neighs;
Our knight Charles is a little alive
He puts it in a knapsack behind the saddle,
And he himself, fearing a moment of waste,
Hastens to the top of the steep mountain,
Reached, and with a joyful soul
Flies to magical chambers.
Seeing a bearded helmet in the distance,
Pledge of fatal victory,
Before him, a wonderful swarm of arapov,
Crowds of timid slaves,
Like ghosts, from all sides
They run and hide. He walks
Alone among the temples of the proud,
He calls his sweet wife -
Only the echo of silent vaults
Ruslan gives voice;
In the excitement of impatient feelings
He opens the doors to the garden -
Goes, goes - and does not find;
Around the embarrassed look circles -
Everything is dead: the groves are silent,
The gazebos are empty; on the rapids
Along the banks of the stream, in the valleys,
There is no trace of Lyudmila anywhere,
And the ear hears nothing.
A sudden cold embraces the prince,
In his eyes the light darkens,
Dark thoughts arose in my mind...
“Perhaps grief ... gloomy captivity ...
A minute ... waves ... "In these dreams
He is immersed. With mute longing
The knight drooped his head;
He is tormented by involuntary fear;
He is motionless, like a dead stone;
The mind is gloomy; wild flame
And the poison of desperate love
Already flowing in his blood.
It seemed - the shadow of the beautiful princess
Touched quivering lips ...
And suddenly, violent, terrible,
The knight is striving through the gardens;
Calls Lyudmila with a cry,
Tears off the cliffs from the hills,
It destroys everything, destroys everything with a sword -
Arbors, groves fall,
Trees, bridges dive in the waves,
The steppe is exposed all around!
Far away hums repeat
And the roar, and the crackle, and the noise, and the thunder;
Everywhere the sword rings and whistles,
The lovely land is devastated -
The mad knight is looking for a victim,
With a swing to the right, to the left he
The desert air cuts...
And suddenly - an unexpected blow
From the invisible princess knocks
Chernomor's farewell gift...
The power of magic suddenly disappeared:
Lyudmila has opened in the networks!
Not believing my own eyes,
Intoxicated with unexpected happiness,
Our knight falls at his feet
Friends faithful, unforgettable,
Kissing hands, tearing nets,
Love, delight pours tears,
He calls her - but the maiden is dozing,
Closed eyes and mouth
And sweet dream
Her young breast will lift.
Ruslan does not take his eyes off her,
He is tormented again by the torment ...
But suddenly a friend hears a voice,
The voice of the virtuous Finn:
"Be of good cheer, prince! On the way back
Go with the sleeping Lyudmila;
Fill your heart with new strength
Be faithful to love and honor.
Heavenly thunder strikes malice,
And silence reigns
And in bright Kyiv the princess
Will rise before Vladimir
From an enchanted dream."
Ruslan, animated by this voice,
Takes his wife in his arms
And quietly with a precious burden
He leaves the sky
And descends into a solitary valley.
In silence, with Carla behind the saddle,
He went his own way;
Lyudmila lies in his arms,
Fresh as spring dawn
And on the shoulder of the hero
She bowed her face calmly.
Hair twisted into a ring,
The desert breeze plays;
How often her breast sighs!
How often a quiet face
Glows like an instant rose!
Love and secret dream
Ruslanov bring her an image,
And with a languid whisper of the mouth
Spouse's name is pronounced ...
In sweet oblivion he catches
Her magical breath
Smile, tears, gentle moan
And sleepy Perseus excitement ...
Meanwhile, along the valleys, along the mountains,
And on a white day, and at night,
Our knight rides incessantly.
The desired limit is still far away,
And the girl is sleeping. But the young prince
languishing in a barren flame,
Really, a constant sufferer,
Spouse only guarded
And in a chaste dream,
Subdued immodest desire,
Did you find your happiness?
The Monk Who Saved
True tradition to offspring
About my glorious knight,
We are boldly assured that:
And I believe! No separation
Dull, rude pleasures:
We are really happy together.
Shepherds, the dream of the lovely princess
Wasn't like your dreams
Sometimes a languid spring
On an ant, in the shade of a tree.
I remember a small meadow
Among the birch oak forest,
I remember a dark evening
I remember Lida's evil dream ...
Ah, the first kiss of love
Trembling, light, hurried,
Not dispersed, my friends,
Her slumbers are patient...
But come on, I'm talking nonsense!
Why remember love?
Her joy and suffering
Forgotten by me for a long time;
Now get my attention
Princess, Ruslan and Chernomor.
Before them lies the plain,
Where they ate occasionally rose;
And a formidable hill in the distance
Blackened round top
Heaven in bright blue.
Ruslan looks - and guessed
What drives up to the head;
Faster the greyhound horse rushed off;
You can already see the miracle of miracles;
She looks with a motionless eye;
Her hair is like a black forest,
Overgrown on a high forehead;
The cheeks of life are deprived,
Covered with leaden pallor;
Huge open mouth
Huge cramped teeth...
Over a half-dead head
The last day was hard.
A brave knight flew to her
With Lyudmila, with Karla behind her back.
He shouted: “Hello, head!
I'm here! punished your traitor!
Look: here he is, our prisoner villain!
And the prince's proud words
She was suddenly revived
For a moment, a feeling was awakened in her,
Woke up as if from a dream
She looked, groaned terribly ...
She recognized the knight
And she recognized her brother with horror.
Nostrils puffed out; on the cheeks
The crimson fire is still born,
And in dying eyes
The last anger was portrayed.
In confusion, in fury
She gnashed her teeth
And brother with a cold tongue
An indistinct reproach babbled ...
Already her at that very hour
Ended a long suffering:
Chela instantaneous flame extinguished,
Weakened heavy breathing
The huge gaze rolled
And soon the prince and Chernomor
We saw the shudder of death ...
She fell into an eternal sleep.
In silence, the knight retired;
Trembling dwarf behind the saddle
Didn't dare to breathe, didn't move
And in black language
He prayed earnestly to the demons.
On the slope of the dark shores
Some nameless river
In the cool dusk of the forests,
There was a drooping hut shelter,
Crowned with dense pines.
In the course of a slow river
Near wattle reed
Washed by a sleepy wave
And around him barely murmured
With a light breeze.
The valley hid in these places,
Secluded and dark;
And there seemed to be silence
Has reigned since the beginning of the world.
Ruslan stopped the horse.
Everything was quiet, serene;
From the dawning day
Valley with a coastal grove
Through the morning smoke shone.
Ruslan lays down his wife in the meadow,
Sits down next to her, sighs
With despondency sweet and mute;
And suddenly he sees before him
The humble sail of the shuttle
And hear the fisherman's song
Over the quiet river.
Spreading the net over the waves,
The fisherman, bowed to the oars,
Floats to the wooded shores,
To the threshold of the humble hut.
And the good prince Ruslan sees:
The shuttle sails to the shore;
Runs out of the dark house
Young maiden; slender body,
Hair, carelessly loose,
Smile, quiet look of eyes,
Both chest and shoulders are bare
Everything is cute, everything captivates in it.
And here they are, hugging each other,
Sit by the cool waters
And an hour of carefree leisure
For them, love comes.
But in silent amazement
Who is in the happy fisherman
Our young knight will know?
Khazar Khan, chosen by glory,
Ratmir, in love, in a bloody war
His opponent is young
Ratmir in the serene desert
Lyudmila, I forgot the glory
And changed them forever
In the arms of a tender friend.
The hero approached, and in an instant
The hermit recognizes Ruslan,
Get up, fly. There was a scream...
And the prince embraced the young khan.
“What do I see? - asked the hero, -
Why are you here, why did you leave
Anxiety life combat
And the sword that you glorified?
“My friend,” replied the fisherman,
The soul is bored with warfare
An empty and disastrous ghost.
Believe me: innocent fun,
Love and peaceful oak forests
Sweeter heart a hundred times.
Now, having lost the thirst for battle,
Stopped paying tribute to madness,
And, rich in true happiness,
I forgot everything, dear comrade,
Everything, even the charms of Lyudmila.
“Dear Khan, I am very glad! -
Ruslan said, “She is with me.”
“Is it possible, what fate?
What do I hear? Russian princess...
She is with you, where is she?
Let me ... but no, I'm afraid of betrayal;
My friend is dear to me;
my happy change
She was the culprit;
She is my life, she is my joy!
She gave me back
My lost youth
Peace and pure love.
In vain they promised me happiness
The lips of young sorceresses;
Twelve maidens loved me:
I left them for her;
He left their merry tower,
In the shade of guardian oaks;
He folded both the sword and the heavy helmet,
I forgot both glory and enemies.
Hermit, peaceful and unknown,
Left in a happy wilderness
With you, dear friend, lovely friend,
With you, the light of my soul!
Dear shepherdess listened
Friends open conversation
And, fixing his eyes on the khan,
And smiled and sighed.
The fisherman and the knight on the shores
Until the dark night sat
With soul and heart on the lips -
The hours flew by.
The forest turns black, the mountain is dark;
The moon is rising - everything has become quiet;
It's time for the hero to go.
Quietly throwing a cover
On the sleeping maiden, Ruslan
He goes and sits on a horse;
Thoughtfully silent khan
The soul strives after him,
Ruslan happiness, victories,
And glory, and love wants ...
And the thoughts of proud, young years
Involuntary sadness revives ...
Why is fate not destined
To my fickle lyre
Heroism to sing one
And with him (unknown in the world)
Love and friendship of the old years?
The poet of sad truth
Why should I for posterity
Vice and malice to expose
And the secrets of the machinations of treachery
In truthful songs to denounce?
Unworthy princess seeker,
Lost the hunt for fame
Nobody knows, Farlaf
In the desert distant and calm
He was hiding and Naina was waiting.
And the solemn hour has come.
The sorceress came to him
Saying: “Do you know me?
Follow me; saddle your horse!"
And the witch turned into a cat;
The horse is saddled, she set off;
Paths of gloomy oak forests
Farlaf follows her.
The valley was silent,
In night dressed mist,
The moon ran in the darkness
From cloud to cloud and barrow
Illuminated with instant brilliance.
Under him in silence Ruslan
Sat with the usual melancholy
Before the sleeping princess.
Deep in thought he thought,
Dreams flew after dreams
And imperceptibly blew a dream
Above him cold wings.
At the maiden with vague eyes
In a languid slumber he looked
And with a weary head
Leaning at her feet, he fell asleep.
And the hero has a prophetic dream:
He sees that the princess
Above the terrible abyss deep
Standing motionless and pale...
And suddenly Lyudmila disappears,
He stands alone above the abyss ...
Familiar voice, inviting groan
Flies out of the quiet abyss ...
Ruslan seeks his wife;
Headlong flies in the deep darkness...
And suddenly he sees in front of him:
Vladimir, in a tall gridiron,
In the circle of gray-haired heroes,
Between twelve sons
With a crowd of named guests
He sits at the tables.
And the old prince is just as angry,
As on the day of a terrible parting,
And everyone sits without moving,
Not daring to break the silence.
The cheerful noise of the guests subsided,
The circular bowl does not go ...
And he sees among the guests
In the battle of the slain Rogdai:
The dead man sits as if alive;
From a fizzy glass
He is cheerful, drinks and does not look
To the astonished Ruslan.
The prince also sees the young khan,
Friends and enemies ... and suddenly
There was a flickering sound
And the voice of the prophetic Bayan,
Singer of heroes and fun.
Farlaf enters the grid,
He leads Lyudmila by the hand;
But the old man, without getting up from his seat,
Silent, bowing his head dejectedly,
Princes, boyars - everyone is silent,
Soul movements cut.
And everything disappeared - mortal cold
Embraces the sleeping hero.
Heavily immersed in slumber,
He sheds painful tears
In excitement he thinks: this is a dream!
Languishing, but an ominous dream,
Alas, he can't stop.
The moon barely shines over the mountain;
The groves are enveloped in darkness,
Valley in dead silence...
The traitor rides a horse.
A clearing opened before him;
He sees a gloomy mound;
Ruslan is sleeping at Lyudmila's feet,
And the horse walks around the mound.
Farlaf looks fearfully;
In the mist the witch disappears
His heart froze, trembles,
Drops the bridle from cold hands,
Slowly draws his sword
Getting ready to be a knight without a fight
Cut in two with a swing ...
I drove up to him. hero horse,
Sensing the enemy, boiled,
Neighed and stomped. Bad sign!
Ruslan does not heed; terrible dream,
Like a load, weighed down on him! ..
A traitor, encouraged by a witch,
To the hero in the chest with a despicable hand
It pierces cold steel three times...
And rushes timidly into the distance
With your precious booty.
All night insensible Ruslan
Lying in the darkness under the mountain.
The hours flew by. River of blood
Flowing from inflamed wounds.
In the morning, eyes opening misty,
Letting out a heavy, weak groan,
With an effort he got up
He looked, drooped the head of the swearing -
And fell motionless, lifeless.

Song Six

You command me, my gentle friend,
On a light and careless lyre
The oldies were humming
And dedicate to the faithful muse
Hours of priceless leisure…
You know, dear friend:
Quarreling with windy rumor,
Your friend, intoxicated with bliss,
Forgotten and solitary labor,
And the sounds of the lyre dear.
From harmonic fun
I, drunk with bliss, weaned ...
I breathe you - and proud glory
The call-to-action is incomprehensible to me!
My secret genius left me
And fiction, and sweet thoughts;
Love and desire for pleasure
Some haunt my mind.
But you order, but you loved
My old stories
Traditions of glory and love;
My hero, my Lyudmila,
Vladimir, witch, Chernomor
And finna true to sorrow
Your daydreaming was occupied;
You, listening to my light nonsense,
Sometimes she dozed with a smile;
But sometimes your gentle gaze
Throwing more tenderly at the singer ...
I will make up my mind: a talker in love,
I touch the lazy strings again;
I sit at your feet and again
I strum about the young knight.
But what did I say? Where is Ruslan?
He lies dead in an open field:
His blood no longer flows,
A greedy crow flies over him,
The horn is mute, the armor is motionless,
The shaggy helmet does not move!
A horse walks around Ruslan,
With a proud head,
There was fire in his eyes!
Does not wave its golden mane,
He does not amuse himself, he does not jump
And he is waiting for Ruslan to rise ...
But the prince's cold sleep is strong,
And for a long time his shield will not burst.
And Chernomor? He is behind the saddle
In a knapsack, forgotten by a witch,
Doesn't know anything yet;
Tired, sleepy and angry
Princess, my hero
Silently scolded from boredom;
Not hearing anything for a long time
The wizard looked out - oh marvelous!
He sees the hero is killed;
Drowned in blood lies;
Lyudmila is gone, everything is empty in the field;
The villain trembles with joy
And thinks: it happened, I'm free!
But the old carla was wrong.
Meanwhile, Naina overshadowed,
With Lyudmila, quietly put to sleep,
Seeks to Kyiv Farlaf:
Flies, hope, full of fear;
Before him are the Dnieper waves
In familiar pastures they make noise;
He already sees the golden-domed hail;
Already Farlaf is rushing through the hail,
And the noise rises on the stacks;
In the excitement of joyful people
Knocks down for the rider, crowded;
They run to please their father:
And here is the traitor at the porch.
Dragging a burden of sadness in my soul,
Vladimir the sun at that time
In his high tower
Sat, languishing habitual thought.
Boyars, knights around
They sat with gloomy dignity.
Suddenly he hears: in front of the porch
Excitement, screams, wonderful noise;
The door opened; in front of him
An unknown warrior appeared;
Everyone stood up with a deaf whisper
And suddenly they were embarrassed, they made a noise:
“Lyudmila is here! Farlaf ... really?
In a sad face changing,
The old prince rises from his chair,
Hurries with heavy steps
To his unfortunate daughter,
Fits; stepfather's hands
He wants to touch her;
But the dear maiden does not heed,
And enchanted slumbers
In the hands of a killer - everyone is looking
At the prince in vague expectation;
And the old man's restless look
He stared at the knight in silence.
But, cunningly pressing his finger to his lips,
“Lyudmila is sleeping,” Farlaf said, “
I just found her
In the desert Murom forests
In the hands of an evil goblin;
There the work was accomplished gloriously;
We fought for three days; moon
She rose above the battle three times;
He fell, and the young princess
It fell into my sleepy hands;
And who will interrupt this wondrous dream?
When will the awakening come?
I do not know - the law of fate is hidden!
And we hope and patience
Some remained in consolation.
And soon with the fatal news
Rumor flew through the hail;
People motley crowd
The Gradskaya Square began to boil;
The sad tower is open to everyone;
The crowd is freaking out
There, where on a high bed,
On a brocade blanket
The princess lies in a deep sleep;
Princes and knights around
They stand sad; trumpet voices,
Horns, tympanums, harp, tambourines
Rumble over her; old prince,
Exhausted by heavy longing,
To the feet of Lyudmila with gray hair
Prinik with silent tears;
And Farlaf, pale beside him,
In mute remorse, in vexation
It trembles, having lost its insolence.
The night has come. Nobody in the city
Sleepless eyes did not close
Noisy, they all crowded to each other:
Everyone talked about a miracle;
Young husband to his wife
I forgot in the modest light room.
But only the light of the moon is two-horned
Disappeared before the morning dawn
All Kyiv with a new alarm
Confused! Clicks, noise and howl
They appeared everywhere. Kyivians
Crowding on the wall of the city ...
And they see: in the morning mist
Tents whiten across the river;
Shields, like a glow, shine,
In the fields riders flicker,
In the distance, lifting up black dust;
The marching carts are coming,
Bonfires are burning on the hills.
Trouble: the Pechenegs rebelled!
But at this time, the prophetic Finn,
Mighty lord of spirits,
In your serene desert
With a calm heart, I expected
So that the day of fate is inevitable,
Long foreseen, risen.
In the silent wilderness of the combustible steppes
Beyond the distant chain of wild mountains,
Dwellings of winds, thundering storms,
Where and witches bold look
Afraid to penetrate at a late hour,
The wonderful valley is hidden,
And in that valley there are two keys:
One flows like a living wave,
On the stones merrily murmuring,
He pours dead water;
Everything is quiet around, the winds are sleeping,
The coolness of spring does not blow,
Centennial pines do not make noise,
Birds do not curl, doe does not dare
In the heat of summer, drink from secret waters;
A couple of spirits from the beginning of the world,
Silent in the bosom of the world,
The dense coast guards ...
With two empty jugs
A hermit appeared before them;
Interrupted by the spirits of an old dream
And they left full of fear.
Bending down, he plunges
Vessels in virgin waves;
Filled, disappeared in the air
And found myself in two moments
In the valley where Ruslan lay
In blood, mute, motionless;
And the old man stood over the knight,
And sprinkled with dead water,
And the wounds shone in an instant,
And the corpse of wonderful beauty
flourished; then living water
The old man sprinkled the hero,
And cheerful, full of new strength,
Trembling with young life
Ruslan gets up on a clear day
Looking with greedy eyes
Like an ugly dream, like a shadow
The past flashes before him.
But where is Lyudmila? He is alone!
In it, the heart, flashing, freezes.
Suddenly the knight jumped up; prophetic finn
He calls and hugs:
“Fate has come true, my son!
Bliss awaits you;
The bloody feast is calling you;
Your formidable sword will strike with disaster;
A meek peace will descend on Kyiv,
And there she will appear to you.
Take the treasured ring
Touch them on the forehead of Lyudmila,
And the secret spells will disappear forces
Enemies will be confused by your face,
Peace will come, anger will perish.
Worthy of happiness, be both!
Forgive me for a long time, my knight!
Give me your hand ... there, behind the door of the coffin -
Not before - we'll see you!"
Said he disappeared. intoxicated
Passionate and mute delight,
Ruslan, awakened for life,
She raises her hands after him.
But nothing more is heard!
Ruslan is alone in a deserted field;
Jumping, with Carla behind the saddle,
Ruslanov the impatient horse
Runs and neighs, waving his mane;
The prince is ready, he is already on horseback,
He flies alive and well
Through the fields, through the oak forests.
But meanwhile what a shame
Is Kyiv under siege?
There, looking at the fields,
The people, stricken with despondency,
Stands on towers and walls
And in fear awaits the heavenly execution;
Moaning timid in the houses,
There is silence of fear on the stognas;
Alone, near his daughter,
Vladimir in sorrowful prayer;
And a brave host of heroes
With a retinue of faithful princes
Getting ready for a bloody battle.
And the day has come. Crowds of enemies
With the dawn they moved from the hills;
invincible squads,
Worried, poured from the plain
And flowed to the wall of the city;
Trumpets blared in the city
The fighters closed, flew
Towards the daring rati,
They agreed - and the battle was brewed.
Sensing death, the horses jumped,
Went to knock swords on armor;
With a whistle a cloud of arrows shot up,
The plain was filled with blood;
Headlong riders rushed,
Horse squads mixed up;
Closed, friendly wall
There, the system is cut with the system;
With the rider there, the pedestrian fights;
There a frightened horse rushes;
There cliques of battle, there escape;
There the Russian fell, there the Pecheneg;
He is knocked over with a mace;
He was lightly struck by an arrow;
Another, crushed by a shield,
Trampled by a mad horse...
And the battle lasted until the dark night;
Neither the enemy nor ours won!
Behind the piles of bloody bodies
The soldiers closed their languid eyes,
And strong was their swearing dream;
Only occasionally on the battlefield
The mournful groan of the fallen was heard
And Russian knights of prayer.
Pale morning shadow
The wave rippled in the stream
A doubtful day was born
In the foggy east.
Clear hills and forests,
And the heavens woke up.
Still in idle rest
The battlefield slumbered;
Suddenly the dream was interrupted: the enemy camp
He rose up with noisy anxiety,
A sudden cry of battle broke out;
The heart of the people of Kiev was troubled;
They run in discordant crowds
And they see: in the field between enemies,
Shining in armor, as if on fire,
Wonderful warrior on a horse
A thunderstorm rushes, pricks, cuts,
In the roaring horn, flying, blows ...
It was Ruslan. Like god's thunder
Our knight fell on the infidel;
He roams with carla behind the saddle
In the midst of a frightened camp.
Wherever a formidable sword whistles,
Where an angry horse rushes,
Everywhere the heads fly off the shoulders
And with a cry, line upon line falls;
In an instant, an abusive meadow
Covered with mounds of bloody bodies,
Alive, crushed, headless,
A mass of spears, arrows, chain mail.
To the sound of the trumpet, to the voice of battle
Squads of equestrian Slavs
Rushed in the footsteps of the hero,
Fought... perish, basurman!
Embraces the horror of the Pechenegs;
Stormy raid pets
They are called scattered horses,
Don't dare to resist
And with a wild cry in a dusty field
They run from Kyiv swords,
Doomed to the victim of hell;
The Russian sword executes their hosts;
Kyiv rejoices ... But in the hail
The mighty hero flies;
In his right hand he holds a victorious sword;
The spear shines like a star;
Blood flows from copper mail;
A beard curls on the helmet;
It flies, brimming with hope,
Through the noisy haystacks to the prince's house.
The people, intoxicated with delight,
Crowds around with clicks,
And the prince was revived with joy.
He enters the silent chamber,
Where Lyudmila is dozing in a wonderful dream;
Vladimir, immersed in thought,
At her feet stood a gloomy one.
He was alone. his friends
The war drew into the bloody fields.
But with him Farlaf, estranged from glory,
Far from enemy swords
In the soul, despising the anxiety of the camp,
He stood guard at the door.
As soon as the villain recognized Ruslan,
His blood has cooled, his eyes have gone out,
In the mouth of an open voice froze,
And he fell unconscious on his knees ...
Treason awaits a worthy execution!
But, remembering the secret gift of the ring,
Ruslan flies to sleeping Lyudmila,
Her calm face
Touches with a trembling hand ...
And a miracle: the young princess,
Sighing, she opened her bright eyes!
It seemed as if she
Marveled at such a long night;
It seemed like some kind of dream
She was tormented by a vague dream,
And suddenly I found out - it's him!
And the prince in the arms of the beautiful.
Resurrected with a fiery soul,
Ruslan does not see, does not listen,
And the old man is dumb in joy,
Sobbing, hugging loved ones.
How will I end my long story?
You guessed it, my dear friend!
Wrong old man's anger went out;
Farlaf before him and before Lyudmila
At the feet of Ruslan announced
Your shame and gloomy villainy;
The happy prince forgave him;
Deprived of the power of sorcery,
Charles was accepted into the palace;
And, celebrating the end of disasters,
Vladimir in a tall gard
He drank in his family.
Things of bygone days
Traditions of antiquity deep.

Epilogue

So, an indifferent inhabitant of the world,
In the bosom of idle silence,
I praised the obedient lyre
Traditions of dark antiquity.
I sang - and forgot insults
Blind happiness and enemies
Treason windy Dorida
And gossip noisy fools.
Worn on the wings of fiction,
The mind flew over the edge of the earth;
And meanwhile invisible thunderstorms
A cloud was gathering over me! ..
I was dying... Holy guardian
Primal, stormy days,
O friendship, gentle comforter
My painful soul!
You begged the bad weather;
You have restored peace to your heart;
You kept me free
Boiling youth idol!
Forgotten by light and silence,
Far from the banks of the Neva,
Now I see before me
Caucasian proud heads.
Above their steep peaks,
On the slope of stone rapids,
I feed on dumb feelings
And the wonderful beauty of the pictures
Nature is wild and gloomy;
Soul, as before, every hour
Full of languid thought -
But the fire of poetry went out.
Looking in vain for impressions:
She passed, it's time for poetry,
It's time for love, happy dreams,
It's time for inspiration!
A short day of delight has passed -
And hid from me forever
Goddess of Silent Chants...

Pushkin's interest in fairy tales manifested itself at an early stage of his work. In 1820 his first poem "Ruslan and Lyudmila" was published, the idea of ​​which originated in the Lyceum. The beginnings of the poet's interest in folklore genres would later lead to the writing of his own fairy tales. In the meantime, the poet is inspired by foreign epic literature of the Renaissance and Enlightenment (Ariosto, Voltaire) and Russian literary tales (Kheraskov, Radishchev, Karamzin, Zhukovsky). The poem also gravitates toward the bylina, a folklore genre whose protagonists are most often bogatyrs. The famous - a fairy-tale mosaic, a whirlwind of characters and events - shows that the fantastic world of a fairy tale has no boundaries.

The poem is written in iambic tetrameter. It is interesting that in the poem there is no breakdown into stanzas, and the pattern of rhymes is very free (cross-rhyme is interspersed with a pair, male - with female). Thus, a smooth musical narrative is created, devoid of a rigid rhythmic structure - the rhyme does not enclose the poem in the framework of a stanza and flows freely, as if arising by itself in the course of presentation.

Literature lesson summary

Subject. A.S. Pushkin. "Ruslan and Lyudmila": the history of creation; prologue.

Grade 5 Literary education program edited by T.F. Kurdyumova (4 lessons on this topic; this lesson is 1).

Tasks:

Educational: show the connection of the prologue with CNT.

Developing: to develop the speech and imagination of students.

Educational: love for the Motherland, love for Pushkin's poetry.

Lesson type - combined .

Time Grid

Organizational moment - 2 minutes

Problematic question - 1 minute

Formulation of the topic - 2 minutes

Presentation by pre-prepared students - 9 minutes

Fizminutka - 2 minutes

Acquaintance with the prologue to the poem "Ruslan and Lyudmila" - 23 minutes

Reflection - 3 minutes

Summing up, homework - 3 minutes.

Equipment: album “A.S. Pushkin”, a reproduction of the painting by N. Ramazanov “Pushkin at Lukomorye”, presentation.

During the classes

Organizing time : Write a number.

problem question : on the screen - a portrait of A.S. Pushkin. Question for students: who do they see on the screen? What do students know about it?

Theme wording : A.S. Pushkin (about him).

Task : learn more (more) about Pushkin's life

Performance by pre-prepared students (presentation, accompanying text to the slides). The class makes brief notes of important or interesting events in the life of A.S. Pushkin, which either the speaker draws attention to, or the teacher helps to correctly place the emphasis on the speaker, also monitors the timely recording in students' notebooks.

The approximate content of the presentation below was discussed with the students in advance.

A.S. Pushkin was born in the family of a retired major in Moscow. Pushkin's father (Sergey Lvovich) belonged to an old but impoverished noble family. The poet's mother, Nadezhda Osipovna, was the granddaughter of Peter the Great's favorite arap Hannibal. Parents did little with their children, but already in childhood Pushkin had the opportunity to join literature: famous writers (Karamzin, Zhukovsky, Batyushkov) visited Pushkin's Moscow House.

The upbringing in the Pushkin family was in the spirit of that time: the children received their initial home education from tutors (a teacher, usually a foreigner, hired in bourgeois families for the upbringing and primary education of children) and French teachers (the language of communication of the nobles was French).

Yakovleva Arina Rodionovna - the nanny of A. Pushkin - is a real storehouse of Russian nationality. In the year when Alexander Pushkin was born, his father gave Arina Rodionovna freedom, but she refused and remained a guardian angel for her pet until the end of her life.

A pre-prepared student reads an excerpt from a poem by heart :

…in the evening silence

You were a cheerful old woman,

And she sat above me in a shushun,

In big glasses and with a frisky rattle.

You, rocking the cradle of a child,

My youthful ear captivated me with melodies

And between the sheets she left a flute,

Which she herself enchanted.

Reading another passage:

The master was

And where did you get it from!

And where are reasonable jokes,

Sayings, jokes,

Fables, epics

Orthodox antiquity! ..

Listening is so comforting.

And I would not drink, and I would not eat,

I would listen and sit.

Who came up with them so well?

Questions for the class : What words are not clear? What is the poem about?

vocabulary work : shushun - women's short-brimmed outerwear or jacket. (On the screen, the guys write in a notebook).

A pre-prepared student reads the poem "Nanny" by heart:

Friend of my harsh days,

My decrepit dove!

Alone in the wilderness of pine forests

For a long, long time you've been waiting for me.

You are under the window of your room

Grieving like clockwork

And the spokes are slowing down every minute

In your wrinkled hands.

Looking through the forgotten gates

To the black distant path:

Longing, forebodings, worries

They squeeze your chest all the time.

That makes you wonder...

Questions for the class : What words are not clear? What is the poem about? What genres of UNT were named in the first poem you read? How does the poet respond to them? What is the other task before us? (The guys formulate another task - to show love for UNT A.S. Pushkin; to reveal the connection between the UNT and the prologue of the poem "Ruslan and Lyudmila").

Teacher's word. The event that predetermined the life path of the future genius was enrollment in the Tsarskoye Selo Imperial Lyceum. Here Pushkin studied various sciences, here his freedom-loving views on life and social order were formed. At the Lyceum, Pushkin met his best friends - A. Delvig, I. Pushchin, V. Kuchelbecker. And it is here, in the Lyceum, that the idea of ​​"Ruslan and Lyudmila" arises. This fairy-tale poem will be finished and printed in St. Petersburg in 1920.

Fizminutka.

Prologue to the poem "Ruslan and Lyudmila".

A) Speech with a message prepared in advance by the student. Sample message text:Pushkin was 20 years old when he finished his poem "Ruslan and Lyudmila". The poem was a great success. The first poet of that time, who was considered Pushkin's teacher in poetry, gave him his portrait with the inscription: "To the winner-student from the defeated teacher on that highly solemn day on which he finished the poem" Ruslan and Lyudmila ", 1820, March 26, good Friday." In 1828, Pushkin republished his poem, writing a prologue, where he emphasized its fabulous side. The beginning of the "Prologue" reproduces the tale of Arina Rodionovna "About Tsar Saltan" recorded by Pushkin. Among the miracles that the prince creates in himself, the entry also indicates such a miracle: “By the sea, by the seashore, there is an oak, and on that oak there are golden chains, and a cat walks along the chains; goes up - tells fairy tales, goes down - sings songs. From this nanny's cat comes Pushkin's "scientist cat". In tone and content, the Prologue is already close to Pushkin's fairy tales. This Pushkin's fairy tale - "Prologue" - did a great job: it opened access to literature for folk poetry, brought a new lively stream into literature, brought the literature of the social elite closer to the language and feelings of the people.

Notes in students' notebooks: Zhukovsky's quote; the great deed of the "Prologue": opened access to literature for folk poetry, introduced a new lively stream into literature, brought together the literature of the social elites with the language and feelings of the people.

B)Listening to an audio recording of an expressive reading of the prologue by an actor.

vocabulary work (in notebook):

Lukomorye is a sea bay, a bay, a bend of the sea coast; scientist - learned, taught something; unknown - inexplicable, mysterious, unknown; a vision is a ghost, something imagined; a knight is a brave, valiant warrior in Ancient Rus'; in succession - in turn; captivates - captures; to wither - to become weak, painful, frail.

IN)Conversation (+ oral word drawing) :

If we had to depict the wonderful world described in Pushkin's prologue on canvas, where would you start?

How well do you imagine the characters, the area? Describe.

Is there a place in your picture for the author of the prologue? (There are two ways to answer this question. If students agree to portray the author in their picture, then they must definitely prove this by referring to the text (a little prompt from the teacher is needed so that the children turn to the text): “And I was there ...”, also the author we are told that a scientist cat told him a fairy tale, which means that the author was there and listened to the cat. Or the students will answer in the negative. You can also ask the question “How else does the author manifest himself in the text?” This question is difficult for fifth graders, because they cannot perceive all the information that is given in the text.You should also pay attention to the ironic-joking tone: “There the prince casually captivates the formidable king ...”, “There is a stupa with Baba Yaga, wandering by itself ...” Recall the definition and role of irony : irony is a statement expressing mockery or cunning; a trope in which the true meaning is hidden or contradicts (opposed) to the obvious meaning. Irony creates the feeling that the subject of discussion is not what it seems.).

Answering these questions, the fifth-graders talk about the fact that they will first draw a huge oak tree on the seashore and a fabulous cat in the picture.

And why is the cat "scientist"?

Answers may be different: wise, educated, trained, a cat who knows songs and fairy tales. Here you need to clarify the answers of the children and remember the cat Bayun. The space of the picture is filled with images of fairy-tale heroes and fragments of fairy-tale plots. We have a good idea of ​​​​heroes, how to draw them, because they came to us from folk tales. And from what? (a question for students; you can also remember how a folk tale differs from a literary one).

Pushkin's "Prologue" is called a concise encyclopedia of Russian fairy-tale folklore. And why? (Students, answering this question, largely rely on the previous one: borrowing key plots and motifs from folk tales, and here - a return to the topic and to the tasks that were formulated).

Expressive reading of the prologue by students (2-3 students).

At the end of the work on oral verbal drawing (if there is time), you can compare your impressions with a reproduction of the painting “Pushkin at Lukomorye” (1843) by N. Ramazanova.

Reflection : a test on Pushkin's biography, poems that were voiced in the lesson, and on questions of conversation. It is carried out in a notebook, the child sets an assessment for himself in the form of a smiley (cheerful - 5, slight bewilderment - 4, annoyance - 3). Criteria: everything is correct - 5, 1-2 errors - 4, 3 errors - 3.

Summing up and grading .

Homework: Reading the Prologue by heart is expressive. Draw the wonderful world described in Pushkin's prologue. At the next lesson (at the beginning or at the end) you can arrange a drawing competition.

List of used literature

Pushkin, A.S. Ruslan and Lyudmila (Electronic resource) http://lib.rus.ec/b/107145

Textbook-reader on literature for grade 5 (Text) / edited by T.F. Kurdyumova. - M, 2008.

Pourochnye developments in literature. Edition 2, supplemented. Programs and textbooks T.F. Kurdyumova (102 hours) and V.Ya. Korovina (68 hours). Grade 5 (Text). - M., 2004. S. 84-88.

Kortaeva, I.Yu. Collective reading. "Ruslan and Lyudmila" A.S. Pushkin. Grade V (Text) // "Lessons of Literature", 2000, No. 4. - With. 12.

Blagoy, D.D. Pushkin A.S. (Text)

Introduction

A.S. Pushkin (1799-1837) the greatest Russian poet and writer, the founder of new Russian literature, the creator of the Russian literary language. Pushkin is the author of numerous works that have become classics of Russian and world literature. One of the most famous Russian writers and poets in Russia and abroad. The variety of developed genres and styles, the lightness, elegance and accuracy of the verse, the relief and strength of characters (in large forms), "enlightened humanism", the universality of poetic thinking and Pushkin's personality predetermined his paramount importance in Russian literature; Pushkin raised it to the level of the world.

The freedom-loving mood of the young poet does not go unnoticed by the authorities, and under the guise of official necessity, Pushkin is sent to the south. During his stay in the Caucasus and Crimea, Pushkin wrote The Fountain of Bakhchisaray, The Robber Brothers. In 1820, his poem "Ruslan and Lyudmila" was published.

The poem "Ruslan and Lyudmila" was and still is a huge success with readers. How did the poem come about? Why was she so loved? This I would like to reveal in my work, as well as how the poem is studied at school.

The history of the creation of the poem by A.S. Pushkin "Ruslan and Lyudmila"

A poem is a large poetic work with a narrative or lyrical plot. Many genre varieties of poems are known: heroic, didactic, satirical, historical, lyric-dramatic, etc. The well-known poem by A.S. Pushkin “Ruslan and Lyudmila” belongs to one type of such poems.

Thanks to his nanny, Arina Rodionovna, the great Russian poet Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin forever fell in love with folk tales. They became material for his own fairy tales-poems. Bursov B.A. The fate of Pushkin - Soviet writer. Leningrad. department, 1986, p. 60

One of the most famous is "Ruslan and Lyudmila", in which Prince Ruslan sets off on a long journey to find his wife Lyudmila, who was kidnapped by the evil sorcerer Chernomor. Having overcome many obstacles, Ruslan frees his beloved. The poem ends with the triumph of Good over Evil.

And it begins with the famous introduction “A green oak near the seashore ...” This is a picture of various fairy-tale motifs and images, giving the key to understanding the genre of the work.

When you read these poetic lines, Russian folk tales come to mind - “The Frog Princess”, “Mary the Princess”, “Baba Yaga”, “The Tale of Ivan Tsarevich, the Firebird and the Gray Wolf”, “Koschey the Immortal” ...

"Ruslan and Lyudmila" is an original work in which the features of a fairy tale are combined with the features of a romantic poem. 2

The plot of the poem is fabulous, everything in it breathes youth and health, the sad is not sad, but the terrible is not scary, because sadness easily turns into joy, and the terrible becomes ridiculous. The triumph of truth over deceit, malice and violence is the essence of the poem. A.S. Pushkin worked on his poem for 3 years. He began to write it before graduating from the Tsarskoye Selo Lyceum in 1817 and finished in March 1820.

The poem "Ruslan and Lyudmila" was written in 1818-1820, after the poet left the Lyceum; Pushkin sometimes pointed out that he began to write a poem while still at the Lyceum, but, apparently, only the most general ideas belong to this time. Indeed, after leaving the Lyceum, leading a “most scattered” life in St. Petersburg, Pushkin worked on the poem mainly during his illnesses. The poem began to be published in the "Son of the Fatherland" in the spring of 1820 in excerpts, the first separate edition was published in May of the same year (just in the days of Pushkin's exile to the south) and evoked indignant responses from many critics who saw in it "immorality" and "indecency" ”(A.F. Voeikov, who had begun the journal publication of a neutral-friendly analysis of the poem, criticized it in the last part of the review under the influence of I.I. Dmitriev). P. A. Katenin took a special position, reproaching Pushkin, on the contrary, for insufficient nationality and excessive “smoothing” of Russian fairy tales in the spirit of French salon stories. A significant part of the reading public accepted the poem enthusiastically, with its appearance the all-Russian glory of Pushkin began. Slonimsky A.I. Pushkin's skill. -- Moscow: State. ed. thin literature, 1963, p. 187 - 216

Maymin E.A. Pushkin. Life and art. -- Moscow: "Nauka", 1982, p. 35 - 39

The epilogue (“So, an indifferent inhabitant of the world ...”) was written by Pushkin later, during his exile to the Caucasus. In 1828, Pushkin prepared a second edition of the poem, added an epilogue and a newly written famous so-called "prologue" - formally part of the First Song ("At the seashore there is a green oak ..."), which strengthened the conventionally folklore coloring of the text, and also reduced many erotic episodes and lyrical retreats. As a preface, Pushkin reprinted some critical reviews of the 1820 edition, which, in the new literary environment, have already become frankly ridiculous. In 1830, again rejecting the old accusations of immorality in the "Refutation of Critics", the poet emphasized that now he was not satisfied with the poem, on the contrary, the lack of a genuine feeling: "No one even noticed that she was cold."

Pushkin set the task of creating a "heroic" fairy tale poem in the spirit of Ariosto, known to him from French translations of "Furious Roland" (critics called this genre "romantic", which should not be confused with romanticism in the modern sense). He was also inspired by Voltaire (“The Virgin of Orleans”, “What the Ladies Like”) and Russian literary fairy tales (such as the popular tale about Yeruslan Lazarevich, “Bakhariyana” by Kheraskov, “Ilya Muromets” by Karamzin, or especially “Alyosha Popovich” by Nikolai Radishchev). The immediate impetus for the beginning of work on the poem was the release in February 1818 of the first volumes of Karamzin's "History of the Russian State", from which many details and the names of all three of Ruslan's rivals (Rogdai, Ratmir and Farlaf) were borrowed.

The poem is written in astrophic iambic tetrameter, which became, starting with Ruslan and Lyudmila, the decisively dominant form of the romantic poem.

The poem contains elements of parody in relation to Zhukovsky's ballad "The Twelve Sleeping Maidens". Pushkin consistently ironically reduces the sublime images of Zhukovsky, saturates the plot with humorous erotic elements, grotesque fantasy (the episode with the Head), uses “common” vocabulary (“I strangle”, “sneezed”). Pushkin's "parody" of Zhukovsky initially does not have a negative connotation and is rather friendly; it is known that Zhukovsky "heartily rejoiced" at Pushkin's joke, and after the release of the poem, he presented Pushkin with his portrait with the inscription "To the winner-student from the defeated teacher." Subsequently, in the early 1830s, the mature Pushkin, inclined to critically reevaluate his youthful experiences, lamented that he parodied The Twelve Sleeping Virgins "for the sake of the mob."

"Ruslan and Ludmila". A knight who embodies the ideal qualities of a valiant husband - physical strength, spiritual nobility, the prowess of a warrior.

History of creation

Pushkin wrote the poem "Ruslan and Lyudmila" after graduating from the Lyceum, this is his first completed poem. The author worked on this work mainly during forced inactivity due to illness, and the rest of the time he led a "most scattered" life in St. Petersburg.

In this text, chivalrous poems that Pushkin knew in French translation, satirical poems and images inspired by ancient Russian epics and fairy tales, as well as literary tales of Russian authors, among which works have already been created on the “heroic” theme, and Kheraskov.

The names of Ruslan's competitors and the details of their biographies were taken by Pushkin from the History of the Russian State. The poem also contains a parody of a romantic ballad called "The Twelve Sleeping Maidens". In Pushkin, lofty images are reduced and diluted with frivolous jokes, grotesque and colloquial expressions, the characters of the characters are masterfully written out. The poem "Ruslan and Lyudmila" is included in the school curriculum and is studied in the fifth grade.

The Moscow Theater-Workshop named after staged a play based on the poem "Ruslan and Lyudmila". The premiere took place in 2014. And by the new year 2018, she staged a musical on ice based on this work, which ran from December 23, 2017 to January 7, 2018 at the Megasport Palace of Sports in Moscow.

Heroes also appeared on TV screens. In 1972, a two-part film based on Pushkin's poem was released. The roles of Ruslan and Lyudmila are played by actors Valery Kozinets and Natalia Petrova.

Plot and biography

Prince Ruslan marries Lyudmila, the youngest daughter. There is a feast, next to the newlyweds - the princely sons and a crowd of friends, the prophetic Bayan sings and plays the harp in honor of the young couple. There are three men at the feast who do not rejoice with the rest. These are Ruslan's rivals - the boastful Farlaf, the Khazar Khan named Ratmir and a certain knight Rogdai.

The feast is coming to an end, the guests are leaving. Prince Vladimir blesses the bride and groom, and they go to the bedroom. However, Ruslan's love dreams are not destined to come true - the light suddenly fades, thunder rumbles, a mysterious voice is heard, something rises and disappears into the darkness. When Ruslan comes to his senses, it turns out that Lyudmila is no longer next to the hero - the girl has been kidnapped by an "unknown force".

Prince Vladimir is amazed by this incident and is angry with the young son-in-law, who allowed his youngest daughter to be kidnapped like this straight from the bedchamber and could not protect the girl. The angry prince calls on the young knights to go in search of Lyudmila and promises the girl as a wife to the one who finds her, and together with the girl also half the kingdom. Not only Ruslan, who wants to return his young wife, is sent on a search, but also a trio of competitors - Ratmir, Rogdai and Farlaf. Knights saddle horses and gallop away from the princely chambers along the banks of the Dnieper.

The heroes are traveling together. Ruslan yearns, others - who boast in advance of the feats that they will accomplish, who soars in erotic dreams, and who maintains a gloomy silence. By evening, the heroes drive up to the crossroads and each sets off on his own path. Ruslan rides alone and leaves for a cave, inside of which a fire is burning. In the cave, the hero finds a gray-bearded old man who is reading a book in front of a lamp.

The old man declares that he has been waiting for a hero for a long time. It turns out that the "unknown force" that dragged the girl away is an evil sorcerer, a well-known thief of beauties. This villain lives in the impregnable northern mountains, where no one has yet reached, but Ruslan will certainly overcome obstacles and defeat Chernomor in battle.

From such news, Ruslan cheers up, and the old man leaves the hero to sleep in a cave, and at the same time tells him his own story. The old man comes from Finland, where he worked as a shepherd and led a carefree life, until one day he fell in love with the evil beauty Naina. She did not reciprocate the young shepherd, and the young man abandoned his peaceful pursuits and became a warrior.

He spent ten years in battles and sea campaigns, but the girl again rejected his claims and gifts obtained in battles. Then the hero decided to try to go from the other side and began to learn witchcraft in order to bewitch the beauty. He managed to summon Naina with the help of witchcraft, but she appeared before him in the repulsive image of an old hag.

The hero learned that while he was learning to conjure, forty years had passed unnoticed, and his passion had grown old. Now Naina is 70 years old. And, worst of all, the spells worked - the old woman loves the hero. It turned out at the same time that the passion itself during this time became an evil sorceress. Seeing and hearing all this, the hero ran away in horror, forgetting his own love interest. And having escaped, he settled in this cave and now lives as a hermit.

In the morning Ruslan sets off in search of Lyudmila. In the meantime, the hero Rogdai is on the trail of the hero, who wants to kill the hero and thus remove the obstacle that stands between him and Lyudmila. Having identified himself, Rogdai almost kills the braggart Farlaf, who flees from him in fear. The character of Rogdai, therefore, can be called treacherous - the character is cruel and angry, does not hesitate to act meanly.

Leaving behind the frightened Farlaf, Rogdai goes further and meets a certain old woman. She tells the hero where he should go to find the enemy, and when Rogdai disappears from sight, the old woman approaches the coward-Farlaf, who is lying in the mud, and tells him to go straight home, because Lyudmila, they say, will belong to him anyway, it makes no sense continue risking yourself. And the cowardly hero does as the old woman says. Rogdai, meanwhile, catches up with Ruslan and attacks him from behind. In the fight, Rogdai dies - Ruslan pulls the scoundrel out of the saddle and throws him into the waters of the Dnieper, where he drowns.

Lyudmila, meanwhile, comes to her senses in the chambers of Chernomor, furnished in the manner of the palace from the Thousand and One Nights. The heroine lies under a canopy, beautiful girls look after her - they braid her braids, dress her, decorate with a pearl belt and a crown. Someone invisible at the same time sings songs that are pleasant to the ear. Outside the window of the room, Lyudmila sees mountain peaks, snow and a gloomy forest.

Inside the Black Sea chambers there is a garden with exotic trees and lakes, nightingales sing, fountains beat. Above Lyudmila, a tent unfolds by itself, luxurious dishes appear in front of the heroine, music sounds. When the heroine gets up after the meal, the tent disappears, and when in the evening Lyudmila begins to fall asleep, invisible hands pick her up and carry her to bed.

The girl, meanwhile, is not happy about anything and is waiting for a dirty trick. Suddenly, uninvited guests invade the heroine's bedchamber - a shaven-headed dwarf, whose long gray beard is carried on pillows by araps. Lyudmila attacks the dwarf, who gets frightened, gets tangled in his beard and moves away to the squeal of the heroine. Here the reader sees the character of Lyudmila - this young maiden is determined to defend her honor and freedom and, not buying into ostentatious luxury, remains faithful to her lover.

Later, Lyudmila finds the invisibility cap of Chernomor and hides from the sorcerer under it, and in the meantime, the evil sorceress Naina flies to Chernomor in the guise of a winged snake and informs him of the approach of Ruslan. Chernomor, on the other hand, believes that nothing threatens him as long as his beard is intact.

Ruslan, meanwhile, finds himself on a field littered with human bones and armor, where a battle once took place. Among the abandoned weapons, the hero finds a steel spear. At night, the hero drives up to a huge living head in a helmet, which at first he takes for a hill. After a short skirmish, the hero turns his head, and a sword is revealed under it.

The head tells the hero where it came from, and it turns out that earlier it rested on the shoulders of the giant knight. He had an evil and envious younger dwarf brother - Chernomor. This brother persuaded the giant to go in search of a sword that could kill any of the two of them, and when the sword was discovered, Chernomor cut off his older brother's head. Since then, the head has been placed here to guard the sword. However, the head gives the magic weapon to Ruslan and calls on the hero to take revenge.

Meanwhile, Khan Ratmir, who went to look for Lyudmila along with the other three knights, is lured by some beautiful girls to a castle on a rock. Ruslan continues to go north, towards the mountains. Lyudmila continues to hide under the invisibility cap, walking around the palace of Chernomor in this form and mocking the servants of the evil sorcerer. The cunning dwarf attracts the attention of the girl, pretending to be a wounded Ruslan, but at that moment the sound of a battle horn reaches him and Chernomor goes to see what is happening there.

A fight with Ruslan begins, during which the wizard becomes invisible. The hero grabs the sorcerer by the beard, and they rush under the sky for two days, until Chernomor begins to ask for mercy. Ruslan demands to take him to Lyudmila, and on the ground he cuts off the villain's beard and ties it to his own helmet.

The beloved discovered by Ruslan is sleeping soundly, and the hero goes with her to Kyiv, where Lyudmila must wake up. On the way, Ruslan meets a poor fisherman, whom he recognizes as Khan Ratmir. He found happiness with his young wife and no longer dreams of Lyudmila.

Meanwhile, the witch Naina teaches the cowardly Farlaf how to defeat Ruslan. The scoundrel stabs Ruslan to sleep and takes Ludmila to Kyiv. The girl, meanwhile, does not regain consciousness, even when she is in her own chamber. It is impossible to wake the heroine, and meanwhile the city is surrounded by the rebellious Pechenegs.

Ruslana is revived by an old Finn and gives the hero a magic ring that should awaken Lyudmila. The hero breaks into the ranks of the Pechenegs and strikes left and right, putting the enemy to flight. Then Ruslan enters Kyiv, finds Lyudmila in the tower and touches her with a ring. The girl wakes up, Prince Vladimir and Ruslan forgive the coward Farlaf, and Chernomor, who, along with his beard, has lost his magical powers, is taken to the palace.

Quotes

“I still have my faithful sword,
The head has not yet fallen off the shoulders.

“I heard the truth, it happened:
Though the forehead is wide, but the brain is small!

And a girl at seventeen
What hat does not stick!

“Every day I wake up from sleep,
I heartily thank God
Because in our time
There aren't many wizards."