Текст песни Гоголь - Мертвые души
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Здесь расположен текст песни Гоголь - Мертвые души, перевод и видео.
Отрывок №2
Не так ли и ты, Русь, что бойкая необгонимая тройка, несешься? Дымом дымится под тобою дорога, гремят мосты, всё отстает и остается позади. Остановился пораженный божьим чудом созерцатель: не молния ли это, сброшенная с неба? что значит это наводящее ужас движение? и что за неведомая сила заключена в сих неведомых светом конях? Эх, кони, кони, что за кони! Вихри ли сидят в ваших гривах? Чуткое ли ухо горит во всякой вашей жилке? Заслышали с вышины знакомую песню, дружно и разом напрягли медные груди и, почти не тронув копытами земли, превратились в одни вытянутые линии, летящие по воздуху, и мчится, вся вдохновенная богом!.. Русь, куда ж несешься ты, дай ответ? Не дает ответа. Чудным звоном заливается колокольчик; гремит и становится ветром разорванный в куски воздух; летит мимо всё, что ни есть на земле, и косясь, постораниваются и дают ей дорогу другие народы и государства. And what Russian does not like fast driving? Is his soul, who wants to spin, go for a walk, say sometimes: "God damn it all!" - Is it his soul not to love her? Is it not to love her, when something ecstatic and wonderful is heard in her? It seems that an unknown force caught you on the wing to yourself, and you fly yourself, and everything is flying: miles are flying, merchants are flying towards them on the shelves of their carriages, a forest with dark frames of spruce and pine trees is flying on both sides, with a clatter of thunder and crows, All the way to the far away distance, and something terrible is enclosed in this rapid flash, where the lost object does not have time to be identified, only the sky above the head, and the light clouds, and the waving month alone seem immovable. Oh, three! A bird of three, who invented you? To know, you could only be born to a brisk people, in a land that does not like to joke, but it's evenly-smoothly spread out to half a light, and go and count the versts until it charges you in your eyes. And it's not tricky, it seems, the road projectile, not grabbed by an iron with a screw, but hastily alive, with one ax and a chisel, the Yaroslavl quick-witted man has equipped and assembled you. Not in German jackboots coachman: beard and mittens, and sits the devil knows what; But he pulled himself up, and swung, and tightened the song-the horses swirl, the spokes in the wheels mingled into one smooth circle, only the road fluttered, and the pedestrian stopped crying in fright: and then she rushed off, rushed, flew! ... And now you can see in the distance, As something is stinging and drilling air.
Excerpt # 2
Is it not you, Rus, that a brisk, unreachable troika, are you rushing? With smoke, the road beneath you, bridges rumbling, everything lags behind and remains behind. The contemplative astonished by God's miracle stopped: is not this lightning thrown from the sky? What does this horrifying movement mean? And what is the unknown power in these unknown horses? Oh, horses, horses, what horses! Are there vortexes in your manes? Is the ear burning in every part of your veins? We heard a familiar song from the height, we unfastened our copper breasts and, almost without touching the hoofs of the earth, turned into some elongated lines flying through the air, and rushes, all inspired by God! .. Russia, where are you rushing, give an answer? Does not give an answer. A bell rings with a wonderful ringing; The air is rumbling and the wind is bursting into the air; Everything that is not on the earth flies by, and other peoples and states give way and repentance and give way to it.
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