С. Есенин - Запели тесаные дроги - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

We sang the tesan drogs,

Plains and bushes run.

Chapel on the road again

And memorial crosses.

Again I am sick with warm sadness

From an oat breeze.

And on the lime of the bells

The hand involuntarily is baptized.

Oh Russia, raspberry field

And Xin, who fell into the river,

I love joy and pain

Your lake longing.

Do not measure cold sorrow,

You are on the foggy shore.

But do not love you, do not believe -

I can't learn.

And I will not give these chains

And I will not part with a long dream,

When native steppes ring

Prayer -laying coat.

-

-

The first years of life in Moscow brought Yesenin a lot of unpleasant discoveries. He was oppressed by the city vanity, therefore, more and more often, the poet mentally turned to his small homeland - the village of Konstantinovo. Yesenin lacked the Russian space, to which he was so used to, and narrow Moscow streets caused him a feeling of annoyance and irritation. It is not surprising that during this period he wrote poetry dedicated to his native nature, which he missed very much. Even the fact that the “rural poet” was not taken seriously, could not change the worldview of Yesenin, who invariably associated his work with the chanting of the beauty of meadows, forests and lakes.

The poet has repeatedly admitted that his native lands are amazingly beautiful. However, this beauty carries a shade of centuries -old Russian sadness. Remembering Konstantinovo, Yesenin was especially acutely experiencing this feeling, to which bitterness, longing and hopelessness were mixed. However, the poet was sincerely grateful to fate for being born and growing in the Ryazan region, which became for him a symbol of that old Russia, which was composed of poetic dresses for many generations of writers.

In 1916, Yesenin wrote the poem “The Teseny Dogs sang ...”, inspired by memories of his native land. A miniature sketch from the life of yesterday's teacher, who was forced to get to the house on a cart, is filled with warmth and light sadness. The path lies through rural cemeteries with dilapidated chapels, and the author who considers himself an atheist notes that "a hand involuntarily is baptized on the lime of the bell."

However, against the backdrop of sorrow, which is the faithful companion of Yesenin, another strong feeling is gradually awakening, and the poet, turning to his native land, admits: “I love your lake longing to the joy and pain.” The author emphasizes that now he is very far from his favorite places, and his life flows in a completely different channel than before. It would seem that in the everyday bustle of the longing for the homeland should gradually disappear, giving way to joy from its own successes in the literary field. However, Yesenin worships the Russian land and claims that "do not love you, not to believe - I cannot learn." For him, there is nothing more expensive than hearing how “native steppes ring prayer -laying coat”, and how the “raspberry field” of Russia, endless and limitless, is transformed under the influence of a light breeze, which the poet calls “oatmeal”.