Bronze Horseman – Pushkin


event, described in this story, based on truth. flooding details borrowed from contemporary magazines. The curious can cope with the news, compiled in. n. Berhe.


On the shore of desolate waves
he stood, full of great thoughts,
And looking into the distance. Prior to nim wide
River swept; poor canoe
On it sought lonely.
by mossy, marshy shores
Blackened huts here and there,
Shelter miserable Finn;
And the forest, unknown rays
In the fog concealed the sun,
Around noisy.

And he thought:
From here we will face Swede,
There will be a city laid
For evil haughty neighbor.
Nature here we are destined
In Europe, open a window (1),
Foot hard to become at sea.
Here on the new wave it
All flags will come to us
I zapiruem on premises.

A hundred years later, and the young grad,
Polnoschnyh countries the beauty and wonder,
From the forests of darkness, from melting blat
Voznessya pыshno, proudly;
Where before the Finnish angler,
Sad stepson nature,
One is the low coasts
Throwing in uncharted waters
Its oldness seine, now there,
The lively shores,
Gromada slender crowded
Palaces and towers; ships
Crowd from all ends of the earth
To the rich tend piers;
The granite dressed Neva;
Bridges hanging over the waters;
dark green gardens
It covered the island,
And before junior capital
Faded old Moscow,
As before by a new queen
Porfyronosnaya widow.

Love you, Peter's creation,
I love your strong, harmonious appearance,
Neva majestic flow,
Its granite coastline,
Your iron fence pattern,
Your thoughtful nights
transparent twilight, glitter moonless,
When I am in my room
Writing, I read without lamps,
And clear the sleeping masses
deserted streets, and bright
Admiralty needle,
And not letting the darkness of night
On the golden skies,
One dawn replace another
hurry, giving the night a half-hour (2).
I love your brutal winter
Motionless air and frost,
Running sled along the wide Neva;
Girlish face brighter roses,
And the glitter and noise and voices balls,
A single hour revels
Hissing foam glasses
And punch blue flame.
I like the liveliness of militant
Amusing Mars field,
Ratey infantry and horses
monotonous prettiness,
These slender build zyblemom
Rags so the banners of victory,
Radiance caps of copper,
Riddled through and through in the battle.
Love, military capital,
Your stronghold smoke and thunder,
When the queen polnoschnaya
He gives his son in the royal house,
Or a victory over the enemy
Russia triumphs again,
Or, cracking his blue ice,
Neva to its seas carries,
AND, hear veshni days, rejoices.

paint, city ​​Petrov, and stay
Steadfastly as Russia,
Yes, dying the same with you
And the defeated element;
Enmity and captured the ancient their
Let the waves Finnish forget
And vain malice will not
Disturb the eternal dream of Peter!

Was a terrible time to,
On her fresh memories ...
about her, my friends, for you
I will begin my story.
Sad is my story.


Clouded over Petrograd
Breathed November autumn coldness.
Noisy splashing wave
In his fence edge slim,
Neva tossed, as a patient
In his bed restless.
Oh, it was late and dark;
Angrily fought rain through the window,
And the wind blew, sadly howling.
At the time of the guest house
Eugene came a young ....
We will be our hero
Call this name. It
it sounds nice; for a long time with him
My pen to amicably.
Nicknamed him we do not need,
Although in past times
It, may be, and shone,
And the pen Karamzin
The family devotion sounded;
But now the light and rumor
it is forgotten. Our hero
Lives in Kolomna; where something is,
Dichitsya noble and tuzhit
It is not about gender počiûŝej,
Neither of forgotten antiquity.

so, house cometh, Evgeniy
He shook off his coat, undressed, lay down.
But for a long time he could not sleep
The excitement of the different reflections.
What did he think? o tom,
That he was a poor, that labor
He was supposed to deliver a Statement
And the independence and honor;
What could God give him added
Mind and money. That in fact there
Such idle lucky,
Uma Nedalniy sloths,
That life which is easy!
What is it for only two years;
He also thought, weather
not appeased; the river
everything was coming; that hardly
On the Neva bridges have been removed from
And what will he Parasha
Two days, three Lucena.
Eugene then sighed heart
And razmechtalsya, as a poet:

Marry? Well…. for what is not?
It difficult, of course,
But what, he is young and healthy,
Work day and night ready;
He somehow arrange themselves
Shelter afflicted and
And it will calm Parasha.
"It will, may be, another year -
A place to get - Parasha
I entrust our economy
And education of children ...
And let us live - and so to the grave,
Hand in hand we arrive we both,
And our grandchildren will be buried ... "

So he dreamed. And sad to
Him that night, and he wanted,
The wind howled not so sad
And the rain pounded the window
Not so angry ...
sleepy eyes
He finally closed. And so
Thinning haze stormy night
And so pale day comes ... (3)
terrible day!
Neva all night
Rushed to the sea against storm,
Not having won their wild dope ...
And to argue she was not able to ....
Morning over her Brega
Closely heaps of people,
admiring spray, mountains
And foam angry waters.
But the force of the winds from the Gulf
Peregrazhdennaya Neva
was back, angry, burliva,
And flooded island.
Weather Forest svirepela,
Neva vzduvalasʹ and Revel,
Bubbling cauldron and clubs,
And suddenly, like a beast ostervenyas,
The town rushed. Pre her
everything ran; all around
Suddenly emptied - suddenly Water
Vtekli in underground cellars,
We rushed to the grill channels,
And Petropolis emerged as a newt,
Waist deep in the water submerged.

Siege! access! evil waves,
thieves, climb in the window. Chelny
With glass takeoff beat astern.
Trays under wet veil,
The debris huts, logs, roof,
Goods thrifty trade,
Possessions pale poverty,
Storm demolished bridges,
Coffin with blurred cemetery
Float through the streets!
Sees God's anger and punishment awaits.
Alas! all killed: shelter and food!
Where it will take?
In that terrible year
The late king of another Russian
With the glory of the rules. on balcony
sad, sheepish, he went out
and rumors: "With God's element
Kings not sovladet ". He sat down
And in the eyes of the sorrowful thought
On the evil scourge looked.
We stood Stogniy lakes
And these wide rivers
Pour in the streets. Palace
Island seemed sad.
Said the king - from end to end,
The Middle and Far streets
The dangerous road amid the stormy waters
His empty generals (4)
Save and fear obuyaly
And home tonushtiy people.

Then, Petrov Square,
Where the house in the corner of the new ascended,
Where over the elevated porch
With podyatoy paw, like living,
Two lions standing guard,
A beast marble Convertible,
hatless, hands clenched cross,
I sat motionless, terribly pale
Evgeniy. he feared, poor,
Not for himself. He did not hear,
As ascended greedy shaft,
He soles washing away,
As the rain lashed his face,
like the wind, wildly zavыvaya,
With his hat and suddenly tore.
His desperate eyes
At one end navedenы
were motionless. like a mountain,
From the depth of the perturbed
We get up there and the waves were angry,
There's a storm howled, there rushed
The wreckage of God ..., Christ! there -
Alas! blizehonko to the waves,
Almost at the Bay -
fence unpainted, that rests
And the old house: there one,
The widow and daughter, it Paracha,
His dream .... Or in a dream
He sees it? il all our
And life is nothing, empty like a dream,
Ridicule of the sky above the earth?
And he, as though bewitched,
As if to marble chained,
Can not get! around him
Water and nothing else!
And I will turn my back on him
The unshakable heights,
Outraged over the Neva
Stands with outstretched hand
Idol of bronzovom horses.


But here, saturate the destruction
And naglыm buystvom utomyasy,
Neva back entailed,
His admiring perturbation
And leaving with neglect
their prey. so the villain,
With his ferocious gang
In the village vorvavshys, aching, cuts,
Smashing and robbing; wails, rasp,
Nasyle, abuse, anxiety, howl!….
And plunder the burdening,
fearing pursuit, weary,
Hurry home robbers,
Booty in the way of dropping.

The water subsided, and Mostovaya
opened, Eugene and my
hurry, soul breathless,
In hope, fear and anguish
For almost resigned River.
But the triumph of victory are full
Still seething angry waves,
As if beneath smoldering fire,
Even their foam covers,
Neva and heavy breathing,
As with the battle ran horse.
Eugene looks: He sees a boat;
He runs it as a find;
He calls the carrier -
And Carrier carefree
Him for a dime willingly
Through waves of terrible luck.

And long with turbulent waves
He fought an experienced rower,
And hidden deep between their rows
Hourly with daring swimmers
Canoe was ready - and finally
He reached the shore.
Familiar streets running
In place of the familiar. looks,
Can not learn. kind of awful!
All filled up in front of him;
that dropped, that demolished;
Skrivilisʹ Domik, other
completely collapsed, other
waves shifted; round,
As if in a field of battle,
body roll. Evgeniy
meteoric, no memory,
Exhausted from the torment,
runs to, where waiting for him
The fate of the unknown is known,
As with the sealed letter.
And here he is running too suburb,
And Bay, and close to home ....
What's this?…
He stopped.
I went back and returned.
Looks ... ... is still looking.
Here's the place, where their home is worth;
Here willow. Collars were here -
demolished their, it is seen. Where is the house?
And full of gloomy care
everything goes, he walks around,
Interprets aloud to himself -
And suddenly, hit the lobe rukoyu,
I burst out laughing.
night haze
City tremulous gone
But for a long time people did not sleep
And they talked among themselves
On the last day.
morning ray
Due to fatigue, pale clouds
He flashed over tihoyu capital
And I have not found traces
woes yesterday; purple
Already covered was evil.
The order of the former all included.
Already on the streets free
With its cold insensitivity
people went. bureaucratic people,
Leaving his night shelter,
At the service was. brave shopkeeper
being of good cheer, revealed
Neva robbed basement,
SBIR a major loss
Near-vent. With households
They were taken to boats.
Count Khvostov,
Poet, favorite skies,
Oh immortal verses sung
Misfortune Neva banks.

but the poor, my poor Eugene ...
Alas! his troubled mind
Against the terrible shocks
I could not resist. a tumultuous noise
Neva and winds heard
In his ears. awful doom
silently full, he wandered.
His tormented some sleep.
A week has passed, month - he
By not returning home.
His desert area
Given in hiring, I came out period,
The owner of the poor poet.
Eugene for his good
I did not come. He soon light
He became alien. The whole day wandering on foot,
And I slept on the pier; pitalsâ
The submitted piece window.
Clothing dilapidated it
Torn and smoldering. wicked children
Threw stones after him.
Often coachman whip
his whipped, because
That he could not make out the road
never too; it seemed - he
I do not take notice. on deaf
There was a noise of inner anxiety.
And so it is a miserable century
lug, neither beast nor man,
No This is not, any resident of light
Neither the ghosts of the dead ...
Once he was asleep
Nevsky wharf. days of summer
Tending to fall. breathing
stormy wind. Grim shaft
Clapped on the pier, penalties murmuring
And byas on smooth steps,
As the petitioner at the door
He was not the judges who heard the.
The poor man woke. darkly was:
rain dripped, the wind howled dismally,
And with him away, in the darkness of night
Echoes hour ....
Eugene jumped; vividly remembered
He is the last horror; hastily
He got up; I went for a walk, and suddenly
I stopped - and around
Quietly began to drive the eyes
With the fear of the wild on the face.
He found himself under the posts
Big house. On the porch
With podyatoy paw as living
Lions stood guard,
And right in the sky dark
On a rock fences
Idol with outstretched hand
I am sitting on a bronze horse.

Eugene shuddered. cleared
It is a scary thought. He found out
I place, where the flood played,
Where the waves of prey crowded,
Rebelling angrily around him,
And lions, and area, and that,
Who still towered
In the darkness of brass head,
Togo, whose will rock
The city was founded under the sea ....
He is terrible in the surrounding haze!
What a thought on his brow!
What power it hidden!
And in this horse a fire!
Where will you leap, proud horse,
And where you put down your hoofs?
About a powerful lord of fate!
Is not it you above the abyss
On high, bridle iron
Russia picked up on its hind legs? (5)

Around the foot of the idol
Poor madman walked
And the eyes of the wild brought
On the face of half Dzyarzhautsau.
Inconveniencing his chest. forehead
To lay lattice hladnoy,
Podernulis eyes mist,
The heart flame ran,
boiled blood. He became gloomy
Before gordelivыm istukanom
AND, clenched teeth, fingers clenched,
How seized with force Black,
«Good, builder of the miraculous! —
he whispered, angry trembling, —
uzo you!... "And suddenly scooted
run set off. thought
His, that the formidable king,
Instantly wrath is kindled,
Face gently drawn ....
And it is an empty space
Runs and hear for yourself -
As if the rumble of thunder -
Seriously calls skakane
Shocked by bridge.
AND, illuminated by the pale moonlight,
Stretched out his hand in the sky,
Behind him rushing Bronze Horseman
The bell-galloping horse;
And all the night with a poor madman.
Where the foot or paid,
Him everywhere Bronze Horseman
With a heavy tramp of galloping.

And from that time, happened when
Go of the area it,
His face was depicted
confusion. To mind
He pressed his hand quickly,
How would it humbling flour,
Cap worn by Sima,
Confused eyes did not raise
And I walked bottom panel.

the small island
On vzmorʹe visible. Sometimes
Berths to seine
Fisherman fishing on a belated
And poor cook your dinner,
Or official visit,
Taking a walk in the boat on Sunday,
deserted island. not adults
There is no blade of grass. deluge
There, play, Unknown
ramshackle little house. Above the water
He remained as a black bush.
His last spring
Fresh on the boat. Was it empty
And all destroyed. On the threshold
I found my madman,
And then his body hladny
They buried for the sake of God.

(1) Algarotti said somewhere: "Petersburg is the window through which Russia looks in Europe".

(2) See verses Prince. Viazemsky Countess G ***.

(3) Mickiewicz beautiful poems described the day, St. Petersburg prior to flooding, in one of his best poems - Oleszkiewicz. The only pity, that the description was not accurate. Snow was not - Neva was not covered with ice. Our description rather, even though it is not bright colors of the Polish poet.

(4) Count Miloradovich and general adъyutant Benkendorf.

(5) See the description of the monument to Mickiewicz. It is borrowed from the Ruban - as noted by Mickiewicz himself.

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