Иван Бунин - Косцы - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Her charm was in responses, in the sonority of the birch forest. The charm of it was that she was in no way: she was connected with everything that we saw, felt and they, these Ryazan Kosets. The charm was in that unconscious, but the blood relationship that was between them and us - and between them, us and this bakery field, which surrounded us, this field air, which they and we and we and we since childhood, these pretending time, these clouds. In the already pink -advanting West, this snowmate, young forest, full of copper herbs to the waist, wild noble flowers and berries, which they were constantly torn and ate, and this large road, its expanse and protected distant distance. The beauty was that we were all the children of our homeland and were all together and we all were fine, calmly and lovingly without a clear understanding of our feelings, for they should not be, should not understand when they are. And even in that (no longer recognized then) the charm that this homeland, our common home was Russia, and that only its soul could sing in the way the Kosets sang in this breath of their birch forest.

The beauty was that it was as if not singing, but just sighs, the ups of a young, healthy, singing chest. She sang one breast, as the songs were once singing only in Russia and with that spontaneity, with that incomparable lightness, naturalness, which was characteristic of only Russian in the song. It was felt - a person was so fresh, strong, so naive in the ignorance of his strength and talents and so full of song that he needs only to sigh lightly to speak the whole forest to that kind and affectionate, and sometimes daring and powerful sonority, which these sighs filled him with these sighs . They moved, without the slightest effort throwing the braids around them, exposing wide semicircles before them