Bunin, analysis of the works of the KOST, the plan. Bunin, the analysis of the works of the KOST, the plan as described in the story of the KOST

Posted on 09.03.2018

What brief content of the story "Kosov" Bunina Grade 5?

Bunin "Koshos" summary for the reader's diary?

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Vera Kalin-A

2 weeks ago

I.A. Bunin lived away from the native land, therefore a nostalgic shade, sadness and longing for her beloved land are present in his works, as he would write.

Being very far from Russia, in the heart of France, the writer remembers what once, a long time ago he had a chance to see and hear. I was remembered by the author of the story, how did Ryazan Koshos met him on the road. Not only their appearance, their work, but the impression of how they sang, merging into their choir harmoniously with all the nature, which then surrounded them, made a strong impression on the Bunin.

It seemed to him that they were not singing, but exhale the song. And these sounds were so Russians, relatives that the writer remembered this case for a long time and pushed him into reflections on how the life is fleeting and every moment.

He admires the ability of the author to outlines everything that was then around: and Muraba, and the Golden Sunset, and the song of Kostov. The fact that it will never return that he himself is part of this all, this land, gives special sadness and gives an understanding on a deeper, already philosophical level, all the work.

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Enot - Nina.

2 weeks ago

The work of I. Bunin "Kospers" tells about the meeting of the author and men who mowed the grass, about all the experiences of the author, who caused this meeting. As well as about the emotions that the narrator experienced, having heard the song that the Kospers sang.

These were not local men, but wandering workers. They walked from afar, stopping in different places to help local with haynekeos. They were strange, unlike the local and talking, and clothes, and their habits. For example, ate boiled amansor, considering them delicious.

The most amazing in the koski was their song. This is a kind of anthem of unity man and nature, who fascinated the storyteller. In the song, various events and adventures were praised, there were a lot of magic in them and even grief. But the main thing that was in the song is happiness. And happiness it was from the fact that they have a native land from them, which loves them and protects, always helps and always stand up. And while it is, that is, and happiness.

It was a long time ago, in that life, which "will not come back forever." The narrator went on a big road, and ahead, in a small birch grove, the men mowed the grass and sang.

The narrator surrounded the fields of "middle, original Russians".

It seemed that there was no, never, never, nor the time nor dividing him for the century, for years in this forgotten - or blessed - the country.

The costers went from afar "According to our, Oryol Places" to an even more fertile steppe, on the way, helping to cope with abundant hay. They were friendly, carefree and "hoots to work." They differed from local kostov talking, customs and clothing.

A week ago, they mowed in the neighbor from the estate of the story of the forest. Driving by, he saw Kosov "went to work" - drank spring water, became in a row and allowed braids with a wide semicircle. When the narrator returned, the costers had dinner. He noticed that they eat "terrible mushroom mushrooms, cooked in the bowler. The narrator was horrified, and Kosov, laughing, said: "Nothing, they are sweet, clean chicken!".

Now they sang, and the narrator listened and could not understand, "What is the wonderful charm of their songs." The beauty was in the blood relationship that felt a storyteller among themselves and these simple kids, one with their surrounding them.

And there was still in that ... the beauty that this homeland was, this common house was Russia, and that only her soul could sing in the way the Kospers sang in this birch forest responded to each breath.

Singing was like a single sigh of a strong young breast. So directly and easily sled only in Russia. The kosps walked, without the slightest effort "exposing the glades" and exhaled a song in which "parted with the rim of kart", they walked and said goodbye to death, but still did not believe "in this hopelessness." They knew that there would be no real separation, while they were "native sky, and around - infinite Russia", spacious, free and complete fabulous wealth.

A kind of well done cried in the song, and his native land was stuck for him, they saw his beasts and birds, he received carpets-aircraft and invisible hats, flowed for him dairy rivers and unfolded a self-balancing tablecloth. He destroyed from the dungeon with a clear falcon, and hid it from the enemies of Debry Doodle.

And it was still in this song what felt the narrator, and Kosos: infinite happiness. These distant days have passed, because nothing is forever, abandoned their children "Ancient Interters ... Divorces of Prayers and Sweets, Wise Mother Cheese-Earth." The end, "Limit of God's Forgiveness".

Brief content of the story of the Bunin "Kosks"

Bunin. "KOSTS". Content in summary

So, let's try to briefly retell the small masterpiece Ivan Alekseevich. Retelling "Kostov" Bunin will begin with the fact that on the edge of the forest where young birchings grow, the author and his satellite see the working gosts. The writer displays their noble appearance, tidy and hard work. They enjoy their occupation. This friendly company seems to be committed carefree.

Approached the evening, and the author again wants to meet with Kosari. He sees them for the meal. They enjoy a dish of amansor, which they seem sweetly and reminds chicken. The workers rested and decided to sing. It seemed that their voices were filled with forest air with special charm, wondrrrogram.

The song seemed sad, but they performed her with a special deletion. At that moment the author realized that there was no hopelessness in her life. Huge destination can help anyone and help you out. Until the night, pleased the costers with their songs. The writer enjoyed this moment and inhaled fresh flavors of sophisticated forest herbs, surprised by the harmonious plexus of man and nature.

The end of the story is a little sad, the author nostalgically recalls Kostov and their singing. He felt happy next to these workers, and their songs presented him with true joy. Bunin is sincerely sorry that not to return more of those fabulous moments.

Features of the plot

Ivan Alekseevich himself claimed that he wrote about the beauty in all its forms, part of his soul transferred in the description of the Russian nature in the work of I. Bunin "Kosks". Analysis of the story must begin with the features of the plot. Like many other short works of the writer, the story "Kosov" does not have certain storylines. This is a kind of memory of how he met in the field of Ryazan Kostov, who were incredibly nicely sang.

The story is deeply and heartfelt transferred to the feelings that wrapped the writer during their singing. Already then the narrator understood that he would never forget that foreman. The author is surprised at how deep the Russian soul is that even it is not clear to him all the subtleties of the song of rural workers.

Composite and genre peculiarity

A clearly pronounced composition in the story "Kosov" is not. It is worth noting that individual characters here also do not stand out. There is only a separate image of kostov. In the first place in the work, copyright and thoughts float.

In his reflections, the writer compares these workers with something charming, merged into a single artel, sees that their singing is very harmoniously woven into the life of nature, but they do not even think about it. During singing, the author feels like a part of this nation. Their song, the surrounding nature is inseparable from their homeland, Russia.

What genre can be attributed to this work? Perhaps this is a kind of poem in prose, where the writer reflects on the Russian man. After all, the Bunin was so necessary abroad spiritual unity with Russia. And it can be called poetic sketch, lyrical essay. The story is saturated with epithets, metaphors, comparisons.

Nature in the story of the Bunin "Kosters"

The description of the Russian nature in the work of Ivan Alekseevich showed how thin it felt. The birch forest does not seem to the song of Kostov. The author describes the old road, which threaten the curly ant, argues that his grandfathers and great-grandfathers went on this road. A beautiful light clouds sailed in the afternoon, and in the evening the sky began to go.

In the village of this nature perfectly feel worm. The reader also wants to divide the delight and the joy transmitted by the author in the description of the terrain and the process of Senokos. Immediately before the eyes, the paintings of A. A. Plastov "Senokos" and G. G. Myasoyedov "Strying Time" Kosov ". They can even be called illustrations for the story of the Bunin.

The author depicts the kinship of strong workers with nature. These people are not in such a difficult work. They sing a song that merges together with a birch forest. Trees respond to wonderful singing. The color gamut in the work is also very rich: Seremo, golden, blue, cumache, pink, black, red. The feature of this and other stories are repeats, so it looks like a poem in prose. The word "charm" is repeated several times. It refers to the nature and song of the Kostov.

Workers in the story

Kosters did not just worry, but also sang. It seemed that in the work they did not even make special efforts. The workers swung around themselves with braids, and they bared entire glads. The writer is not depicting local, but Ryazan Kostov, who came from another region of Russia, but differ in cohesion. In their movements, a special hunt for work was noticed.

And happily was the author to observe their coherent labor. Spit they allowed widespread, as if playing. They walked exactly each other, podney stumps and bushes. Even in the sighs of these workers, the writer saw Russian beauty. In this prosaic poem, Bunin chances the work of Kostov.

The meaning of the people's song

In its work "Koshos" Ivan Bunin slightly describes the song of the fields of the field, chanting the darling side, happiness, hope. Some lines are dedicated to the beloved girl, unhappy love. The beauty of the singing of kostov in the responses of the soundness. They are the children of their Earth, so such a mental impulse is only peculiar to them.

Singing Kosov Bunin compares with soul singing. He does not even find words to express all the charms of this song. There is a connection with all around the world. These naive, who did not know their strength and talents, people sank so that even the forest responded to their sounds. They were heard of joy and hopelessness at the same time. One of the kostov mourned himself: "Oh, and all the ways to me, well done, ordered." Can they sing so sweet and mourn those who have nowhere to go, and roads are closed everywhere? These people do not believe in hopelessness. The most important thing that was in the song - it is impossible to return past happy days.

The image of the motherland in the work

Being in emigration, Bunin appeals to the past and shows it transformed. The writer pulls to compatriots, he loves Russia. Therefore, in the story of the Bunin "Koshos" of the Motherland is shown free and distant. The writer depicted Ryazan peasants, their inspired work, taking the soul of the song during the Senokos on the Oryol Earth. Thus, the author recalls those times when he was good and calm in his homeland.

It was in Russian material that the works of the emigrant period of Ivan Alekseevich were built. In a foreign land, the writer constantly recalled his native land, about her fields, villages, peasants and nobles, nature. Ivan Bunin was a great sign and a Russian man, and the Russian nobleman. West writer alien, he could not write about him. The works of Bunin were filled with the classical traditions of Russian literature. Also, the master of the word did not bypass the side of love, life, the future of the whole world.

The writer appears in the story described in the story calls "native category". And Russia he calls not just a homeland, but a common house. In the words "infinite dear Rus" expresses his love for her. With an unsightly Russian outback, he is connected by blood. The writer claims that it would always be a native sky that would always be a native heaven before a person.

Sad ending

At the end of the story, readers see the sad memory of the Kosps and their song. Once and he was happy in Russian expanses. But those days passed. From this, the author is very sad. He would like to return the past times. But, unfortunately, left his homeland because of political views and fear of persecution.

Like other works of the writer, "Kosters" are filled with anxiety for the fate of Russia. Bunin proves that he is a real analyst of the life of the Russian people, his character, language, traditions. At the end of the story, the writer says that the fairy tale for Russian people has already passed, God's mercy passed.

Idea

The story "Kosov" is called poetic sketch, which is accompanied by the reflection of the author about the fate of Russia. Once, traveling on a steamer, Bunin heard the song of movers. This served as a reason for writing this poem in prose. The writer argues about the Russian man, about the spiritual union of people with his country. The main thing is that Ivan Alekseevich wanted to show: listening to the song of Kostov, everyone feels in one whole - Russia. Everyone must feel his land and be proud of it. After all, the kosps sang so easily and naturally as the Russian man can.

Bunin Ivan Alekseevich refers to emigration to the past, which he creates in the transfiguration. How much of the thrust of this writer to its compatriots, how strong and deeply his love for his homeland is evidenced by the story called "Kosov". It takes about the peasants of the Ryazan land, their work, singing during the bowl, which takes over the soul. The costers of the Bunin are a very lyrical work. Summary We will submit below.

What is the main charm of this story for the author?

Not only in the wonderful singing of men. She was that the narrator, and the peasants - the children of their homeland, and everyone was together, everything was calm, well, although they did not understand these feelings, because they should not be understood. This was another (not conscious then) Charm: Motherland, the common house is Russia, and only her soul could sing exactly how it was done by Kospers in the Birch Forest, who responded to any sigh. We will also tell you about this in more detail when we describe the brief content of the works of Bunin "Kosov".

What did Ivan Alekseevich wrote about emigration?

It should be especially noted that all the creations of the Bunin belonging to the emigrant period are built (with rare exceptions) in Russian material. Ivan Alekseevich recalled on someone else's land, her villages and fields, nobles and peasants, nature. The writer knew the Russian nobleman and man perfectly, he had a rich margin of memories and observations belonging to Russia. About the West, alien to him, he could not write and never found in France of the second homeland. Bunin remained faithful to the traditions of Russian classical literature and continued in his work, trying to solve the questions of love, life, the future of the world.

Feeling of doomed, thickening

He, as before, shifts death and life, horror and joy, despair and hope. But previously never in his works with such an exacerbation did not speak the feeling of the doomes and the fraud of all things: the power, glory, happiness, beauty - as in the creations of the emigrant period. Russia was non-state from the writer, no matter how far he was. But it was a moved country, not the one started before the window-leaving into the garden, it was and at the same time as if it did not exist. In response to doubt and pain in the image of our country, it becomes more and clearer to compensate for the Russian, which was supposed to move from the past, which could not disappear. Sometimes in the power of a particularly heavy sense of remoteness from his homeland, the Bunin visited various illicitings, but the horizon remained disturbing.

Light sides of the image of the emigrant period

However, the bunin was not always in despondency. Summary ("Kosov", 1921) proves that he, on the contrary, began to see more than, perhaps earlier, when everything seemed to him obvious and not needing approval. He now broke out the words that he used to keep in himself, did not say - they turned out transparently, freely, even. It is difficult to imagine anything more enlightened than the work of the Kospers Bunin. Summary does not transmit all its features and moods, but even from it it can be concluded that this story is a look from afar, with all the features inherent in it. The work in itself as if insignificant: in the Berezova Forest, the costers from the Ryazan land came to the Orlovshchina, sing and kit. But the Bunin was again able to see in a single moment of distant and immeasurable, associated with all of Russia. A small space was filled and turned out not a story. And in this lake reflected great hail.

The thought of not an easy, the tragic fate of our country is permeated by all the emigrant period.

The narrator recalls how he walked on the road, and not far from her in a young birch forest and mowed kosli. These events occurred a long time ago. The life that everyone lived at that time will never come back.

"Fields stretched around," Bunin writes. Summary ("kosps") opens with a description of nature. The big old road, rich in ruts, led to infinite distance. The sun was gradually inclined to the west, herd flock serge in front. On the ground was sitting the old shepherd along with the subpask. It seemed that time in this forgotten (perhaps a blessed) country does not exist. And the Kospers went and walked, and at the same time sang among silence. The birch forest was also free and easy for them, which was noted in the work of the Kospers Bunin. Summary will continue to describe the peasants.

Kosmov

They were Ryazan, Nonmen, passed through these lands, moving into place more fertile. Friend and carefree, no burdened, they loved the work. Their clothes were kinder than the local. So you can describe the peasants, lighting briefly the story of I. A. Bunin "Kosks".

The author of a week ago she was riding and watched as they mowed in the near forest. Sweet drunk from the Zhbanov pure spring water, the men cheerfully fled to the workplace. And then the narrator watched them dinner: they sat around an extinct fire, got sides of something pink of cast iron. Looking around, he understood with horror that they ate these people mushrooms agricultures. And they only laughed: "They are sweet, as if chicken."

Song kostov

Kosos flew now: "You sorry-goodbye, kind friend!" Slowly advanced in the forest. And the narrator, together with his companion he listened to them, standing still, realizing that he would never forget this forefall hour. He realized that it was impossible to understand what was the charm of this song. It is about Bunin I. A. A brief content ("Kosov") will not give all the dramatic of the work, but we note that the beauty was in everything: in the sound of the birch forest, and that this song is not separately, herself By itself, and was inextricably linked with the feelings and thoughts of the storyteller and his companion, as well as with the feelings and thoughts of the Ryazan Kostov themselves. He felt in her that a person does not know about his talents and forces and so naive in this his ignorance, which is only to sigh a little, as the forest will immediately respond to this song.

What else was the charm of her, despite all that would probably be hopelessness? It was that a person did not believe in this hopelessness. He spoke, mourning himself that all the ways to him were ordered. But they do not cry and do not express in the song of their grief those who really do not have anywhere in the road. It was sang in it that happiness rolled out, the night with her dark deaf overtakes from all sides. And how closely the man was with this, alive for him, deaf, with her magic forces and virginity. Everywhere was for him overnight, shelter, the intercession of someone whispering someone's voice: "The morning of the evening wisely, not the tillage, sleep quietly, there is nothing impossible." A man of all troubles helped the beasts and birds forests, wisdom, beautiful princes and even Baba Yaga. For him were invisible caps, carpets-aircraft, the self-auctor trees were buried, the dairy rivers flowed, and there were keys with live water from the Char of death. The merciful God forgivers for all the deletes of hot, sharp knives.

There was another one in this song, they knew well in the depths of the soul and listeners, and these Ryazan men. In those days they were infinitely happy, and now this time is already irremittent, infinitely far away.

Potted a fairy tale, since everything is your term. God's forssibility has come an end. So ends his work Bunin Ivan Alekseevich ("Kosov"). Brief content, of course, are not able to convey the entire charm of the artistic text. This is especially true for works depicting thoughts and feelings. It is possible to completely imbued with them, only after reading the full content. "Kosters" (Bunin I. A.) is a work, small by volume, so you can always contact him - it does not take much time.

Idealized image of the Motherland

In the work written in 1921, the idealized image of the Motherland arises, which was once, and which will never be more. We hope you managed to understand this by reading the brief content of the story I. A. Bunin "Kosov". The author reflects in this product a huge love of Russia. At the beginning of the story, it is depicted by a picture of Russian nature, amazingly poetic. These are fields, wilderness of the original, middle of Russia. Moreover than one of the June days. The big old road, which thickets the ant, is cut by ruts, traces of life of grandfathers and fathers, goes into the distance ...

In this description, the reader finds all the attributes of Russia pre-revolutionary years. The road is one of the favorite characters of our Motherland, a reminder of the connection of generations, about ancestors, with it is also associated with a loss of ideas about the existence of time. Then we are presented with a description of the Kostov who sing a song where blood relations were reflected with their native land. She causes admiration for the listeners.

Bitterness loss

All this might have the readers of the work cause only the best feelings if it were not for the anticipation of the phrase that it was infinite for a long time ago, since the life, which at that time lived, will not come back. The work of the "costers" of Bunin, the summary of which was presented to you, displays the complex feelings that owned the soul of the writer in the emigrant time. Relief communication with homeland is always experiencing hard. It is doubly difficult to have to be aware that it is no longer possible to return it - no longer exists. Retelling the works of Bunin "Kosov" displays it.

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We walked along a big road, and they mowed in a young birch forest near her - and sang.
It was a long time ago, it was infinite for a long time, because the life that we all lived at that time would not return forever.
They mowed and sang, and the whole birch forest, not yet lost her density and freshness, still full of colors and smells, sounded responded to them.
We had the fields, the wilderness of the middle, original Russians. It was boring the time of June day. The old major road, overgrown with a curly ant, risen by stalking, traces of the long-standing life of our fathers and grandfathers, left us to an endless Russian distance. The sun was leaning to the West, it began to enter the beautiful light clouds, softening blue behind the far-rated fields of fields and throwing to the sunset, where the sky was already golden, great bright pillars, as they write them in church paintings. The flock of sheep SERLO Ahead, the old man was sat with the subpasses on the ground, pushing the whip ... It seemed that there was no yes never and there was neither time nor dividing it on the century, for years in this forgotten - or blessed - the country. And they walked and sang among her eternal field silence, simplicity and primitiveness with some epic freedom and challenge. And the birch forest took and picked up their song as free and freely as they sang.
They were "distant", Ryazan. They passed a small artel on our, Orlovsky, places, helping our hay and arguing on the bottom, to earn money during the work pore in the steppes even more fertile than ours. And they were carefree, friendly, as there are people in the far and long path, on vacation from all family and economic ultrasounds, were "hugs to work", permanently rejoicing her beauty and sporting. They were somehow older and kinder than ours, - in the custom, in the hawk, in the language, - tidy and beautiful clothes, with their soft leather bochilles (1), white faded on the onchsum, clean portraits and shirts with red, cumachers gates And the same lastics (2).
A week ago, they mowed the forest from us from us, and I saw, driving, as they went to work, in the way: they drank spring water from the wooden Zhibanov - so long, so sweet, as they drink only the beasts yes good, healthy Russians Bathers, - Then they were baptized and cheerfully fled to the place with white, shiny, induced as a razor of braids on the shoulders, on the run entered into a row, the braids were allowed all the prosecution, widely, playing, and went, went free, smooth. And on the return path, I saw their dinner. They sat on the closed glade near the extinct campfire, tested slices of something pink from the cast iron.
I said:
- Bread-salt, hello.
They answered:
- Good health, please help!
Polyana went down to the ravine, discovering still bright behind green trees West. And suddenly, looking around, I saw with horror that the fact that they ate was terrible with their dope mushrooms-mushrooms. And they just laughed:
- Nothing, they are sweet, clean chicken!
Now they sang: - "You sorry, goodbye, kind of friend!" - They moved along the birch forest, thoughtlessly depriving his thick herbs and flowers, and sang, not noticing himself. And we stood and listened to them, feeling that you can never forget this forever hour and never understand, but most importantly, do not express well what such a wonderful charm of their singing.
Her charm was in responses, in the soundness of the birch forest. She was in the fact that she was not in itself: she was connected with everything that we saw, we felt and they, these Ryazan costers. The charm was in that ironsistent, but the blood relationship, which was between them and us - and between them, us and this chopping field, which was surrounded by us, with these field air, which they breathed and me, from childhood, this forever time, these clouds On the already sparing west, this fresh, young forest, full of sophisticated herbs in the belt, wild indiscreet colors and berries, which they fucked up and ate, and this big expensive, her spacious and reserved. The charm was that we were all the children of their homeland and were all together and all of us were good, calmly and lovingly without a clear understanding of our feelings, because they should not be understood when they are. And even in that (already completely intimidated by us then) the beauty that this homeland was, this our common house was Russia, and that only her soul could sing in the way the Kospers sang in this birch forest responded for each sigh.
The beauty was that it was as if not singing, namely, only sighs, rises of a young, healthy, singement breast. One chest sang, as Songs once in Russia and with that directness, with that incomparable ease, naturalness, which was characterized in the song only Russian. It was felt - a man is so fresh, strong, so naive in the ignorance of his strength and talents and so full of a song that he only needs to lightly sigh, so that all the forest responded to that good and affectionately, and sometimes bold and powerful sonor, which these sighs filled . They moved, without the slightest effort to throw around themselves, wide semi-windows exposing before sideways, podneying, having sighing the districts and bushes and without the slightest voltage sighing, each in his own way, but in general, expressing one, making something single, completely solid , unusually beautiful. And perfectly perfectly special, purely Russian beauty were those feelings that they told them with their sighs and half-clocks along with the responding distance, the depth of the forest.
Of course, they "said goodbye, parted" and with "Roda Kartka" and with their happiness, and with the hopes and with the one with whom this happiness was connected:

You forgive, goodbye, kind friend,
And the birth of ah yes forgive kid! -

They spoke, they sighed each in different ways, with one or another measure of sadness and love, but with the same careless hopeless urban.

You forgive, goodbye, kind, wrong,
Do you have the heart of black mud! -

They said, in different ways complaining and stronger, hitting words differently, and suddenly everyone merged into a completely consistent feeling of almost delight in front of their death, young audacity before the fate and some extraordinary, uncompaning generosity, - exactly shake their heads and We threw on the whole forest:

Kohl do not love, not Mil - God with you,
If you're better find - forget! -

And around the forest responded to a friendly force, the freedom and the chest sounding of their votes, silenced and again, the threshing rode, picked up:

Ah, if you'd better find - forget,
If you find worse - you will regret!

What was the charm of this song, her inecilious joy with all her probably hopelessness? The fact that a person still did not believe and could not believe, in his power and disadvantage, in this hopelessness. - "Ah, yes, all the ways to me, well done, ordered!" - He said, mourning himself sweetly. But I do not cry! Sweet and do not sing their sorrows those who really do not have any way or the road. - "You'd sorry, goodbye, the birthmark of Pipper!" - the man said - and he knew that he still does not have true separation from her, with his homeland, that wherever he threw his share, everything will be his native sky over him, and around - the infinite dear Rus, the disastrous for him, bald, is Only with its freedom, spaciousness and fabulous wealth. - "The sun rolled red for the dark forests, ah, all the birds of Pttashkli, all sat down; places!" - My happiness has rummaged, he sighed, the dark night with her deaf hesitates me, - and still felt: so he kneaded with this wilderness, alive for him, virgin and magical forces, which everywhere he has a shelter, overnight, There is someone's intercession, whose kind of good care, whose voice whispering: - "Not tillage, the morning of the evening wisdom, for me there is nothing impossible, sleep quietly, dyatyatko!" "And from all sorts of misfortunes, by faith, his birds and beasts of forests, princesses are beautiful, wise and even Baba Yaga herself, sprawling him" in his infancy. " Aircraft carpets, invisible hats were for him, the dairy rivers were flowing, treasures of self-auctor, from all mortal spells they beat the keys of everlasting water, he knew prayers and spells, miraculously, again, in his faith, flew out of dungeon, throwing out a clear falcon , I hit the raw earth-mother, treated him from the dashing neighbors and the collars of Debry Doodle, black swords of marsh, the sands of volatile - and forgot the merciful God for all the posters removed, the knives are sharp, hot ...
Another, I say, it was in this song, - this is what we knew well and they, these Ryazan men, in the depths of the soul, that we were infinitely happy in those days, now indefinitely distant - and irrevocable. For everything has been my deadline - I have passed for a fairy tale for us: our ancient intercessors refused us, the leakage of the beasts, the prophetic birds scattered, the self-shared tablecloths were crushed, the prayers and spells were crumbling, the mother's cheese, the life-grooved keys were dried - and ended, Limit of God's Forgiveness.

Paris, 1921

(1) Fug hotels - half boots.
(2) Lasting - plug-in stripes.