Валентин Клементьев - Николай Тряпкин - Стихи о борьбе с религией - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Poems about the fight against religion

Once the father comes - in the evening, from labor rhysthana,

Twisted my ear and I have a little posted "Ermak".

"Did you heard, delets? I received a task today -

Tomorrow the temple unload. Most Holy Spleach Slightly. "

"What's next?" - "And then the briefs are already fees:

From halftone explosives - and Vikhore to the seventh heavens.

Come on here tomorrow. We will get out there in God's kamors.

Right in books. I gang something and myself. "

And in me already younth rang all the tendons

And cried to the constellations and to the eternal srices of the Earth.

And behind the evening field, installing sunset wings,

Byzantine miracle was shining in a buggy dust.

I loved these chapters, whipped by obsessed unfortunately,

And Sundays, and whistling of unprecedented haircuts.

This Dedovsky Temple, who adorned the whole of our neighborhood

And all our Yudol sanctified his crown!

Let him not honor the saints and looked at the church, he was not baptized,

But when the bell tower called dwying copper,

I came in the floor, and I got humbly in the door,

And looked in the depth, immersed in dusk by a third.

Shouted the soul, and trembled a candle Merzian

And the rattling choirs overthrew the wave for the wave.

And everything mounted to me that I stepped on the limit of the Mirozdan

And that the eternity itself fired the lights before me.

No, I was not with God, I was not in the temple stood rustic,

And the soul fell at all under a different voluntary.

These prophetic hymns flying to the felling universal!

This is a poor heart, washed by the best rain! ..

And I came there - look at anyone!

I can not now forget the sad suffer, -

How father's hands disappeared from the walls of gilding,

As a father's ax left the traces on icons.

Altar broke, sparkled parquet plates,

And the gross dust covered all windows around.

And stood at the walls of our sorrowful aunt ulities,

Sucking a tear with a piece of paper with his flap.

And then I watched my father's hands trembled,

As a partner, he silently swallowed to sleep ...

I did not take anything, nor the uniform stuff,

And looked at the tops so that people do not look into the eyes.

I loved these vaults, having taken away to the obsess

And Sunday choirs, and the hums from all the steps ...

This Dedovsky temple built by the builder is local

And on the penny assembled in the doors of my fraud!

And I watched there, where the stripping tribe was again,

Wall under the dome, clinging for every cornice.

And I did not know then that the gross seed wasted

In this heart, mine, what was sad at the feasible riz.

And the year will be sold, and Surak is unwinding,

And everything will be remembered - this temple, and the ax, and the hairstyles, -

And about these walls I will gradually

And a high song that will take this mezh.

Let his grandson listen to - and the grandfather does not look so crookedly:

Although the timers were, but I loved the truth of the old man! ..

You forgive me, God, for later these gusts

And for this my horde cry.

The poem of Nikolai Rollykina in reading the People's Artist of Russia Valentina Clementieva. Video prepared a bureau of promoting fiction joint ventures of the joint venture of Russia Rezh.I. Pankov. Music I.S. Bakha