Author of quotes: Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov. Page 4

There are several points, for the reason already says nothing, and I say more: language, eyes, and behind them the heart, if it exists.

And the heat and the battle wearied
Me), but the turbid wave
Was heat, was red.
On the shore, under the shade of an oak,
Passing blockages of the first row,
Stood in a circle. One soldier
Was on his knees; gloomy, rude
It seemed the facial expression,
But tears dripped from eyelashes,
Covered with dust... on his coat,
Back to the tree, lay
Their captain. He was dying;
In his chest barely blackened
Two wounds; his blood a little bit
Oozing. But high chest
And hard was rising, eyes
Wandered afraid, he whispered...
Save me, brothers. - Dragging in the Torah.
Wait a minute - the wounded General...
Can't hear for a Long time... he groaned,
But all are weak and gradually
Calmed down and gave the soul to God.

That was a terrible silence,
Not long Dellosa it
But in this strange waiting
Heart beat more than one.
Suddenly a volley... look: lay in rows,
What needs? local shelves
People tested... In arms,
Friendly! rang out behind us.
Blood zagorelsya chest!
All the officers come...
Top ran to the rubble
Who did not jump off the horse...
Cheers - and stopped. - There's daggers,
In the butt! and went to the slaughter.
And two hours in the jets thread
The battle lasted. Cut severely
Like animals, silently, chest Breasts,
The Creek flooded bodies.
Wanted water I scoop...

Time - it was under Giami,
We passed through a dark forest;
Fire breathing, burning above us
Azure bright heavens.
We were promised a brutal fight.
From the mountains of Ichkeria far
Already in Chechnya and his alive call
Crowds flocked Udaltsov.
Over the antediluvian forests
Beacons flashed all around;
And the smoke of their the wound a pillar,
The stretched clouds;
And aimilia forests;
Was wildly sicalis voice
Under their green tents.
Barely got out of the train
In the clearing, it started...

But these Shibko swashbuckling
Fun lot of little help;
Cool evening used
We lubovnica on them
No bloodthirsty excitement
As the tragic ballet;
But I've seen performances,
What you do on stage is not...

Scattered in the wide field,
Like bees, with a whoop the Cossacks;
So pokazalsya icons
There on the edge of the two, and more.
But the turban one Murid
In Circassian red goes important
The horse is light grey all boils
He waved, calling - where are the brave?
Who will fight to the death!
Now, look in the black hat
Cossack went Greben;
The rifle snatched quickly,
Very close... the shot... light smoke...
Hey you, villagers, for him...
What? hurt! - Nothing to speak of...
And gunfire...

Chu - a long shot! buzz
A stray bullet... nice sound...
Here's a hoot - and again all around
Subsided... but the heat really was asleep
Lead the horses to the watering
Zashevelilis infantry;
Here rode one, another!
The noise, the voices. Where the second company?
What viucit? - what about the captain?
Push the wagon now!
The Savelyevich! Oh you Give me the tinderbox!
The lift hit the drum
Buzzing music of the regimental;
Entering between the columns,
Jingle guns. General
Forward with his entourage jumped...

I'm near
At the river, following the Prophet,
Peaceful Tartar prayer
Works without raising his eyes;
But a circle sitting others.
I love the color of their yellow faces,
Similar to the color of nagovis,
Their hats, the sleeves are thin,
Their dark and wicked eyes
And their guttural conversation.

But lying in the thick grass,
Asleep and under a wide shadow
Chinar Il vines,
Circle beleuta tents;
Cossack skinny horses
Standing side by side, povesa nose;
The copper cannons sleeping servants,
Barely Smoking wicks;
In pairs, the chain is away;
Bayonets are burning under the sun of the South.
Here is a conversation about the old days
In a tent near me heard;
Like when Ermolov went
In Chechnya, in a car Accident, to the mountains;
How it was fought, how we beat them,
As dostavalas us.

And to think that I used to,
My cross I bear without murmurs:
Ile another punishment?
Yet that's not one. I was diagnosed with this;
The fate of a Turk or a Tatar
For all I exactly grateful;
God's happiness is not asking
And silently tolerate evil.
Perhaps, heaven of the East
Me with the teachings of their Prophet
Involuntarily brought together. Though
And life were often nomadic,
Works, care night and day,
All consideration interfering with,
Results in the primitive form
The sick soul: heart is sleeping,
Space there is no imagination...
And no work the head...

And know you also no need
Where am I? I? In what neck of the woods?
Soul, we are strangers to each other,
Yes hardly there is a kinship of soul.
Pages of the past reading
Each one of them examining
Now ustanovim mind
I lost faith in everything.
Funny heart hypocrite
In front of him for so many years;
Good used more to fool the world!

And pathetic, and crazy one
Those who grumble on the law of destiny:
What? We are all his slaves.

The dawn is breaking - why? why?
It is one that will illuminate all:
It will illuminate the abyss of darkness,
Where we are dying non-refundable.

No regrets princes:
Their hatred is their love.
Trouble eternal danger.