Осенняя поэма Лѣсъ, точно теремъ расписной, — Лиловый, золотой, багряный, — Веселой, пестрою стѣной Стоитъ надъ свѣтлою поляной.
Березы желтою рѣзьбой Блестятъ въ лазури голубой; Какъ вышки, елочки темнѣютъ, А между кленами синѣютъ То тамъ, то здѣсь въ листвѣ сквозной Просвѣты въ небо, чтò оконца... Лѣсъ пахнетъ дубомъ и сосной, — За лѣто высохъ онъ отъ солнца, И Осень тихою вдовой Вступила нынче въ теремъ свой...
Какъ хорошо ей! На полянѣ, Среди широкаго двора, Воздушной паутины ткани Блестятъ, какъ сѣть изъ серебра. Просѣка узкая, какъ сѣни, Уводитъ въ теремъ, а по ней Лежитъ коверъ листвы осенней Среди кустарниковъ и пней. Тамъ, въ потаенномъ чернолѣсьѣ, Всегда затишье; частый боръ Надъ нимъ темнѣетъ въ поднебесьѣ И окружаетъ свѣтлый дворъ. Сегодня цѣлый день играетъ Въ дворѣ послѣдній мотылекъ И, точно бѣлый лепестокъ, На паутинѣ замираетъ, Пригрѣтый солнечнымъ тепломъ; Сегодня такъ свѣтло кругомъ, Такое мертвое молчанье Въ лѣсу и въ синей вышинѣ, Что можно въ этой тишинѣ Разслышать листика шуршанье. Лѣсъ, точно теремъ расписной, — Лиловый, золотой, багряный, — Стоитъ надъ солнечной поляной, Завороженный тишиной; Заквохчетъ дроздъ, перелетая Среди подсѣда, гдѣ, густая Листва янтарный отблескъ льетъ; Играя, въ небѣ промелькнетъ Скворцовъ разсыпанная стая — И снова все кругомъ замретъ... Лѣсъ розовѣетъ. А въ ворота — Среди двухъ высохшихъ осинъ — Глядятъ и синева долинъ, И мелколѣсье, и болота, И даль лиловыхъ деревень... Какъ хорошо! Но жаль чего-то, И грустно Осени весь день.
Порой задумчиво выходитъ Она на солнце изъ воротъ И бродитъ въ полѣ, и не сводитъ Очей съ желтѣющихъ болотъ. Тамъ, по лощинамъ и полянамъ, Густыхъ кустарниковъ бугры Раскинулись широкимъ станомъ, Какъ темно-красные шатры. Тамъ путь на югъ. Съ нѣмой печалью На край небесъ глядитъ она, Гдѣ даль слилась съ небесной далью, Мечтами тихими полна. А день уходитъ. Небо ясно, Прозрачный воздухъ сухъ и тихъ, Лѣса алѣютъ... И безгласно Уходитъ свѣтлый день отъ нихъ. Послѣднія мгновенья счастья! Ужъ знаетъ Осень, что такой Глубокій и нѣмой покой — Предвѣстникъ долгаго ненастья. Все строже вдаль она глядитъ, Все рѣзче тайное страданье Въ ея нѣмыхъ очахъ сквозитъ... Какое вѣщее молчанье! Глубоко, странно лѣсъ молчалъ И на зарѣ, когда съ заката Пурпурный блескъ огня и злата Пожаромъ теремъ освѣщалъ. Потомъ угрюмо въ немъ стемнѣло... Луна восходитъ, а въ лѣсу Ложатся тѣни на росу... Вотъ стало холодно и бѣло Среди полянъ, среди сквозной Осенней чащи помертвѣлой, И жутко Осени одной Въ пустынной тишинѣ ночной!
Теперь ужъ тишина другая: Прислушайся — она растетъ; А съ нею, блѣдностью пугая, И мѣсяцъ медленно встаетъ. Всѣ тѣни сдѣлалъ онъ короче, Прозрачный дымъ навелъ на лѣсъ — И вотъ ужъ смотритъ прямо въ очи Съ туманной высоты небесъ. О, мертвый сонъ осенней ночи! О, жуткій часъ ночныхъ чудесъ! Въ сребристомъ и сыромъ туманѣ Свѣтло и пусто на полянѣ; Лѣсъ, бѣлымъ свѣтомъ залитой, Своей застывшей красотой Какъ будто смерть себѣ пророчитъ. Сова, и та молчитъ: сидитъ Да тупо изъ вѣтвей глядитъ... Порою дико захохочетъ, Сорвется съ шумомъ съ высоты, Взмахнувши мягкими крылами, И снова сядетъ на кусты И смотритъ круглыми глазами, Водя ушастой головой По сторонамъ, какъ въ изумленьи... А лѣсъ стоитъ въ оцѣпенѣньи, Наполненъ блѣ Autumn poem Lѣs, as if we were looking at the painted one, - Purple, gold, crimson, - Merry, colorful wall Stands above the light glade.
Birch trees with yellow thorn Shine in azure blue; How are the towers, the Christmas trees are dark, And between the maples there is blue Now there, then here in the foliage through Enlightenments into the sky, what are the windows ... Lѣs smells like oak and pine, - For a long time he dried up from the sun, And Autumn is a quiet widow Today I entered my house ...
How good she is! On the glade, Among the wide courtyard Air spider web fabric Shine like silver. The avenue is narrow, like a dream, Leads into the tower, and along it There is a carpet of autumn foliage Among bushes and stumps. There, in the hidden blacks, Always calm; frequent fight Above him it gets dark into the skies And surrounds the light courtyard. Today is a whole day playing In the courtyard of the last moth And, like a white petal, It freezes on the web Covered by the warmth of the sun; Today it is so light all around Such a dead silence In the lѣsu and in the blue heights, What can be in this silenceѣ Hear the rustling of the leaves. Lѣs, as if we were looking at the painted one, - Purple, gold, crimson, - Stands above a sunny glade, Spellbound by the silence; Zakvokhchet thrush, flying Among the podsda, where, thick The foliage pours an amber gleam; Playing, flashes into the sky Skvortsov scattered flock - And again everything around will freeze ... Lѣs pink. And at the gate - Among two dried up aspen - The blue of the valleys are also looking, And small forest, and swamps, And the distance of the lilac villages ... How good! But sorry for something And it's sad Autumn all day.
Sometimes it goes out thoughtfully She's in the sun out of the gate And wanders into the floor, and does not reduce Eat the yellow marshes of the eyes. There, across the hollows and glades, Dense bushes mounds Spread out in a wide camp, Like dark red tents. There is a path to the south. With my sadness She is looking at the edge of heaven, Where the distance has merged with the heavenly distance, Full of quiet dreams. And the day is gone. The sky is clear Transparent air dry and quiet Lѣsa alѣut ... and silently The bright day is leaving them. The last moment of happiness! Autumn already knows what Deep and quiet peace - Forerunner of long bad weather. She looks more and more sternly into the distance, More and more secret suffering In her nѣmyh eyes shines through ... What a total silence! Deeply, strangely, I was silent And at dawn, when the sunset Purple shine of fire and gold Fire tower illuminated. Then gloomily it got dark in it ... The moon rises, and in lѣsu Shadows fall on the dew ... Now it became cold and cold Among the glades, among the through Dead autumn thicket, And creepy Autumn alone Into the desolate silence of the night!
Now the silence is different: Listen - it grows; And eat it, frightening with blasphemy, And the month slowly rises. All tni slal it is shorter, Transparent smoke brought to the forest - And now he looks straight into the eyes From the misty heights of heaven. Oh, the dead sleep of an autumn night! Oh, terrible hour of night miracles! Into silver and damp fogѣ Light and empty in the meadow; Lѣs, blym flooded with light, With its frozen beauty As if he were prophesying death. Owl, and she is silent: sits Yes, stupidly looking out of the way ... Sometimes he will laugh wildly It will break with the noise from the height, Flapping soft wings And sit on the bushes again And looks with round eyes Driving with an eared head On the sides, like amazement ... And lѣs stands in appraisal, Filling blѣ Смотрите также: | |