In France, onion soup has long been considered a delicacy. It was this dish that put ...
Quest Source: Decision 5752. USE 2017. Russian language. I.P. Tsybulko. 36 options.
Task 17.Arrange all punctuation marks: write the number (s) followed by the comma (s).
About a wife, about something else,
What I knew about myself: from now on
There is no one to cry about him.
Should have been a soldier and in grief
Have a snack and rest
A long way was waiting for him.
(A.T. Tvardovsky)
Decision.
1. Find the words in the text that answer the question "who, what?" If such a word is not the subject in the sentence, this is an appeal. Separate with commas.
Cried (1) maybe (2) be (3) about a son,
About a wife, about something else,
What I knew about myself: from now on
There is no one to cry about him.
Should have been a soldier and in grief
Have a snack and rest
Because (4) friends (5) that soon
A long way was waiting for him.
2. Find introductory words in the text.
Cried (1) maybe (2) be (3) about a son,
About a wife, about something else,
What I knew about myself: from now on
There is no one to cry about him.
3. Write out the numbers, in the place of which there should be commas in the sentence.
In response, write in numbers without spaces or commas, in any order.
This year the Kaliningrad region celebrated its 70th anniversary. A brief moment by historical standards, but still for modern history, is already a certain period. And for some reason, in public discussions, especially those where it comes to the so-called "expansionist actions and aspirations of Russia," the topic of this exclave (a part of the land that does not have a border with the rest of the state and goes to the sea coast) sounds more and more insistent.
Let us remember how recently the editor-in-chief of the American Bloomberg agency and a permanent member of the Bilderberg Matthew Winkler, in a conversation with Putin, touching on the Kuril Islands, suddenly mentioned Kaliningrad as a joke. Our president immediately retorted, asking in turn the question - do you, they say, want to reconsider the results of World War II? In response, there was a kind of tortured, nervous laugh.
And sometimes openly at various talk shows, especially with guests from Ukraine, it sounds - you captured Crimea and add that at the international level it is necessary to raise the issue of returning the territory of the present Kaliningrad region, which was "chopped off" by Stalin after the war. Those who say such things turn out to be the typical ignorant from the historical point of view. Because as such there is no problem of the Kaliningrad region and never has been. Why? The answer is to go back to the time of the last world war.
For the first time about the dismemberment of Germany as a single state and the liquidation of Prussia it was not Stalin who spoke at all, but Churchill... In December 1941, in a conversation with our plenipotentiary in Great Britain, I. M. Maisky, he raised this topic. There is even evidence of when such a thought was first expressed by him - on December 7, 1941, at the very beginning of the victorious offensive of the Red Army near Moscow. As a true Anglo-Saxon strategist who believed that after the victory it would be necessary to knock out not only the spirit of Hitler, but also Schiller, Churchill, despite this overkill, nevertheless correctly pointed to the goal - the destruction of Prussia as the centuries-old sting of German militarism. If the heads of the USSR, the USA and Great Britain had different views about the further fate of the territory and statehood of the Third Reich, then Prussia, or rather East Prussia, with its capital in Konigsberg did not raise questions. As a part of Germany, from where aggression against Eastern Europe and Russia was constantly emanating, it was subject to liquidation. This was recorded by the decision of the Potsdam Conference in early August 1945.
Of course, there was no talk of any Kaliningrad there. Two thirds of the territory of East Prussia went to Poland, and one third of the eastern lands, where the main city of the Konigsberg region was located, was received by the USSR. And from August 1945 to March 1946, on the administrative maps of the RSFSR, the Konigsberg region was listed, which became Kaliningrad after the death of the "All-Union headman" MI Kalinin. A small piece of land also went to the Lithuanian SSR, which she calmly took with her, having become independent Lithuania, after the collapse of the USSR. The decisions of the Potsdam Conference themselves are not subject to cancellation and are indefinite.
This is the historical and legal aspect. But there is also a spiritual and moral one. The right of the winner is one thing, but perhaps, from the point of view of morality, there is some flaw here? No, and everything is perfect here.
For the first time, our troops reached German soil in East Prussia in the winter of 1945. And for our soldiers and commanders she was not just alien and hostile, but also cursed. In those days, Alexander Tvardovsky wrote one of the most poignant and profound, without any jokes, chapters of his "Terkin", which he called "About an orphan soldier." It reflects with impeccable accuracy the mood of the soldiers who entered the territory of Germany. The lyrical hero of Tvardovsky, when the offensive was underway near Smolensk, asked to go to his village for several hours and ended up there in the ashes. I found out that his entire family had died:
But, homeless and homeless,
Returning to the battalion
The soldier ate his soup cold
After all, and he cried.
Cried, perhaps, for his son,
About a wife, about something else,
What I knew about myself: from now on
There is no one to cry about him.
And in February 1945, the poet thinks about what happened to his hero:
Where is he now, in fact.
Maybe he fell in some battle,
Plywood with small lettering
It skidded with a damp snowball.
Or was he hurt again
I rested, as the duty commands,
And again on the battlefield
Did Tilsit take with us?
Tilsit is East Prussia, now Sovetsk on the border with Lithuania.
Maybe it's even deeper here
And the living soul hurts
Is it so, no, we must remember
About his saint's tear.
If I had that tear with my hands
From Russia happened
In German this stone
To convey, - it would burn through and through.
These were the feelings experienced by those who have already had three and a half years of the most terrible war with millions of victims in their native land behind them. They do not have even a shadow of malevolence and desire to "chop off" something. And there is a burning bitterness of loss and a desire to quickly end the war victoriously, crushing the enemy. Therefore, the part of the former East Prussia, which became the Kaliningrad region, quite legally and naturally turned soon into a stronghold for deterring a potential enemy from the west and a reliable shield for Russia.
Time, of course, heals, but even today the overwhelming majority of the region's residents know very well by what right their land became the westernmost part of Russia. And there can be no question of any return of her somewhere and to someone. Although at a purely superficial level, an outside observer sometimes gets the impression that they are, as it were, ready to separate themselves from the rest of Russia.
Over the past two years, I had to visit this land three times as an ordinary tourist. And I can say that at the level of names, cultural and historical symbols, the Prussian past seems to be returning to everyday life. The names Konigsberg, Rauschen (present-day Svetlogorsk) or Krantz-Zelenogradsk can be seen on souvenirs, other goods, and graphic design of cities. But at the same time Europeanness, if I may say so, does not at all conflict with natural Russianness.
You can have a cup of delicious coffee with great cakes or rolls at the Konigsbacker (Royal Baker's) bakery and hear not-so-old veterans talking next door that NATO, no matter how hard it goes, will break its teeth about the power of our armed forces. And a saleswoman in the market is discussing with enthusiasm the international tank biathlon championship shown on TV. Or here's a case: once a local resident, a private trader on the Curonian Spit, gave me a lift and started talking about the fact that exercises are taking place in neighboring Lithuania, only 15 kilometers away:
- My former fellow paratroopers call me and say that if something happens we will drive up to you. And it will be necessary, so we will hit them ...
But in such moods there is not even a shadow of aggression, here, rather, a defensive reaction and a living historical memory.
And at the same time in Zelenogradsk, for example, there is a bike ride, called by its organizers "Tour de Kranz". And on the streets of this town and Svetlogorsk, large photographic posters are installed, capturing architecture and everyday scenes of almost a century ago. Everything refers to the Prussian past, but at the same time does not conflict with the Russian present. Moreover, even a public organization has appeared here, which is engaged in the improvement of cities and towns under the motto “ European city of Russia". They install original benches and sports equipment for adults and children on the streets and in parks.
Tourism is actively and successfully developing in the region. After all, the local resorts are more than 150 years old. In recent years, the number of hotels and guest houses has grown. And the number of tourists this summer alone has increased by 10 percent compared to last year. Despite the fact that the Baltic weather is capricious, but the purest sea air, the developing tourist infrastructure attract the inhabitants of "mainland" Russia here.
I noticed one more feature. Here they create unique objects and places for vacationers, marked with special creativity. They treat them with care, with special love. I will not be unfounded.
Svetlogorsk has a unique embankment in its own way. Not very long, located under the mountain. Equipped with benches with a roof of the original shape, which is useful when it rains. The beach is a small area along the promenade: sand and large stones by the water. People, with children and small dogs, begin to sunbathe and swim at the slightest appearance of the sun. I remember a touching picture - the rain begins, and a woman in a bathing suit takes her dog in her arms and covers it with her panama. There are many cafes on the embankment and an excellent fish restaurant.
And in Zelenogradsk there is a wonderful promenade, wide and long. You can walk, run. It's great that there are a lot of benches. You can, frozen on a bench, look at the sea, listen to the surf, breathe in clean air. I would never leave.
In Svetlogorsk there is a small church in honor of the icon of the Mother of God “Joy of All Who Sorrow”, where you simultaneously experience a feeling of grief caused by loss and joy because there is a place where innocent children and adults are remembered (in 1972, a military the plane and all children and staff were killed). Everyone can enter this temple and remember them and pray for their relatives and friends, and for themselves, a sinner. You can write notes, they will be read either in this church, or in the nearby church of St. Seraphim of Sarov.
In general, Orthodoxy is another, apart from the military, protective and spiritual factor of the region. The current Patriarch Kirill, while still Metropolitan of Smolensk and Kaliningrad, applied his zeal and talent to the emergence of churches and parishes here. Until the 90s, there were practically no Orthodox churches and monasteries in the region. The Protestant churches were empty, but they were well preserved. Now they have become Orthodox churches.
An old water tower is visible from any corner of Zelenogradsk. And from its observation deck you can see the whole city with its German houses, new buildings and, of course, the sea. A modern lift will take you to the site. You can go down on foot, looking at works of art, folk crafts, artisans, members of the union of artists. Since there is an art collection dedicated to cats inside the tower. Drawn cats, knitted, sewn, embroidered, molded and all sorts of others. Cats are full of kitsch and cats are almost high art. Below you can buy souvenirs about cats. This museum tower with its collectives is friends with a similar tower somewhere in Poland. It forms part of the complex, which also consists of the Paradox Hotel with its museum of skulls and skeletons - the Ministry of Emergencies.
Or such an amazing and mysterious place on the Curonian Spit - the Dancing Forest. It raises many questions. Why do trees grow in such a bizarre way, why do they twist and twist so? The explanation that it was caused by a fire is somehow not entirely satisfying. Very beautiful, trees and their groups create many images that cause different associations. A unique place. Paradise for the photographer, especially with the imagination.
Changes for the better are visible in the region. In Zelenogradsk, the repair and renovation of old streets began, and in Svetlogorsk a magnificent cinema, concert and exhibition complex "Yantar Hall" appeared in Svetlogorsk.
Until recently, local border crossings operated in the region, when Kaliningraders and Poles from neighboring voivodeships, without visas, using passport inserts, crossed the border and freely went on excursions and shopping. And suddenly, during the NATO summit in Warsaw in July this year, Poland, ostensibly for security reasons, eliminated the special border crossing regime. At the same time, the Poles themselves bear losses, so much in trade and tourism was designed for guests from the Kaliningrad region. And they themselves came to us for cheap gasoline. Not to mention the fact that ties were strengthened on a human and everyday level. And there was no question of any Russophobia on the part of ordinary people. Himself a witness - last year he traveled to Gdynia, Sopot and Gdansk. They never rude to me, but, on the contrary, willingly entered into conversations, in every possible way showing that they were glad to have guests.
Until now, the previous order at the border has not been restored. Polish politicians now cite lack of security on the Russian side. You might think that they went to them in tanks. So they, with an eye on the United States, beat the interests of their own citizens in defiance of their neighbors. Stupidity and stupidity, wild arrogance.
And at the same time, ideas about the blockade of the Kaliningrad region, its separation from the rest of Russia and neighboring Europe, are increasingly being thrown into the information field. In the hope that we will let go of the protective sword. But they won't wait. And the policy of blocking Russia's westernmost edge will eventually fail, even if they really want to implement it.
http://www.peremeny.ru/books/osminog/12238#more-12238
Today we are talking about Berlin.
All jokes, go Berlin.
And for a long time no trace,
Let's say the ancient city of Klin.
And on the Oder hardly
Even old people will remember
How they took half a year in battle
Settlement Borki.
And under those near Borki
Every stone, every stake
I went into memory for three lives
We are with a fellow countryman.
The countryman was not old, not young,
At war from the same day
And he was just as funny
Like me.
The guy had to skedaddle,
A cheerful spirit always took care
Repeated: "Forward, to the west",
Moving east.
By the way, when leaving,
How the cities were rented
More like he was in fashion,
More famous then.
And strangely enough,
Honor to him alone,
So even the generals
It was as if they were not counted.
The term is different, different dates.
Labor has been divided since ancient times:
Soldiers surrender cities
The generals take them.
In general, broken, grated, burnt,
Wound marked double
Surrounded in forty-one
On the ground he walked dear.
A soldier walked, as others walked,
To unknown lands:
“What is where she is, Russia,
Which line is your own? .. "
And in captivity throwing a family,
In a hurry for the war,
I don’t guess what he thought
What he carried in his soul.
But no matter how hassle,
Truth is true, a lie is a lie.
We retreated before the deadline
We retreated far
But they always said:
- You're lying! ..
And now look west
From the capital. The native land!
He was locked in earnest
Behind the iron wall.
And to a small village
That captive side
Not by the pike
Fully returned again
At the behest of our strength
Russian, her own.
Well, where is she, Russia,
What doors are thundering!
And, forever knocking down the hunt
Get into a fight on your own,
Her enemy - what a count! -
He fell prone and paws apart.
What capital is cool
Raised your flag, motherland!
Let's wait until the fireworks
To tell exactly.
The term is different, different dates.
True, the burden is not light ...
But let's continue about the soldier,
As they said, a fellow countryman.
Dear home, wife, children,
Brother, sister, father or mother
You have in the world -
There is where to send a letter.
And our soldier -
The addressee is white light.
Except for the radio guys
There are no close relatives.
The most precious thing on earth
If you have in reserve
The window where you can
Knock at a certain hour.
On a hike abroad
In the alien side
Oh, how carefully kept
Pain is a dream of that window!
And our soldier -
Although now the end of the war, -
There is no window, no hut,
Not a mistress, even if he is married,
Not a son, but there were guys -
I painted at home with a pipe ...
They attacked near Smolensk.
The rest fell. My countryman
Addressed at the halt
To the commander: so and so, -
Allow me to leave,
Say, dear case,
Like, since a local resident,
The yard is just a stone's throw away.
Allowed in due time ...
The edge is known to the bush.
But he looks - the wrong road
The area seems to be not the same.
Here is the hill, here is the river,
Wilderness, tall weeds to a soldier,
Yes, there is a plate on the column,
Like, the village of Krasny Most.
And they found that they were alive
And just tell him
It's all true that the servant -
A faithful orphan.
At the plank at the fork
Taking off his cap, our soldier
He stood as if on a grave
And it's time for him to go back.
And, leaving the courtyard,
In a hurry for the war,
I don’t guess what he thought
What did he carry in his soul ...
But, homeless and homeless,
Returning to the battalion
The soldier ate his soup cold
After all, and he cried.
At the edge of a dry ditch
With a bitter, childish trembling mouth,
Cried, sitting with a spoon in his right,
With bread on the left - an orphan.
Cried, perhaps, for his son,
About a wife, about something else,
What I knew about myself: from now on
There is no one to cry about him.
Should have been a soldier and in grief
Have a snack and rest
Because, friends, that soon
A long way was waiting for him.
To the land of the Soviet land
He walked that way in war, in labor.
And the war went like this -
Kitchens in the back, damn them where!
You will also forget about hunger
For a good war.
Jokes or something, a day is a city,
Two days - regional.
The term is different, the time is different -
Hit, drive, take over.
Dear Belarus,
Ukraine is golden,
Hello, we sang, and goodbye.
You will also forget about thirst,
Because he drinks beer
In war, not everyone
The one that took the brewery.
So whether on the move, not on the move,
Having arrived from their native land,
Border rivers water
We crossed with battles.
The account is settled, the reckoning is in progress
In the light, honestly.
But let's finish about the soldier
About the same orphan.
Where is he now, in fact.
Maybe he fell in some battle,
Plywood with small lettering
It skidded with a damp snowball.
Or was he hurt again
I rested, as the duty commands,
And again on the battlefield
Did Tilsit take with us?
And, leaving Russia,
In a hurry for the war,
I don’t guess what he thought
What he carried in his soul.
Maybe it's even deeper here
And the living soul hurts
Is it so, no, we must remember
About his saint's tear.
If I had that tear with my hands
From Russia happened
In German this stone
To convey, - it would burn through and through "
The account is great, there is a reckoning.
And beyond that great suffering
Let's not forget guys
Let's remember about the soldier,
That he was left an orphan.
The score is terrible, the reckoning is terrible
For millions of souls and bodies.
Pay - and the deed is holy
But in addition to the soldier,
Orphaned in the war.
How far is Berlin
Do not count, walk, pitch, -
Half half
The road from Wedge,
We have already passed from Moscow.
Day after night follows
Let's draw the line with a bayonet.
But also on the bright day of victory
Let's remember, brothers, during the conversation
About an orphan soldier ...
- 12.
And still in the midst of a fight
Today, maybe just about,
Together with the shore, with the land
A platoon will be dropped into the water.However, everything is familiar, -
The term of the war, that life is a century.
From the border outpost
To the Moscow River Capital
And vice versa - so many rivers!This is the last fighter
Crawls out onto the sand
And immediately chews the biscuit,
Because - it got wet in the Dnieper,Wet himself, rustling his pants.
Nothing! - That's the landing.
- We are advancing. Dnipro is behind us,
And, comrade lieutenant? ..The battle thundered for the crossing,
And below, a little to the south -
Germans from left to right
Late, we kept our way.But no longer missed
Terkin strictly says:
- Let them surrender on the left,
The reception is closed here,And on the left on the move, on the move
Bayonets arrived in time
They were pushed into the water, into the water,
And the water itself teca ...And still between the shores
Indiscriminately, at random
Bomb piles helped
Drive, roll forward ...But already from the cellars,
From the bushes, forest dens
The people walked - dear souls -
On the side of the road ...To the headquarters on the eastern shore
Weaved with a stitch, side
A certain German flawless,
Cheerful people honest.From the crossing?
- From the crossing.
Just from the Dnieper.
- Swam, then?
- Swam, devil,
Because - the heat came ...Well fed, damn it!
Purebred.
- He is in a hurry to be taken prisoner, as if to a halt ...But already the platoon's favorite -
Terkin didn’t joke.
He smoked, looked loose,
Busy with his thought.
Behind his back is the road
It was longer many times.And he was silent not in offense,
Not to reproach anyone, -
I just knew and saw more
Lost and saved ...Mother earth is my dear,
All Smolensk relatives,
Forgive me for what - I don't know
Just forgive me!
Not in your cruel captivity
On the front road,
And in the deep home rear
Leaves Terkin yours.
The bitter period has passed,
Will not go back.What are you, brother, Vasily Terkin,
Are you crying? ..
- I'm sorry ...
About an orphan soldier
Today we are talking about Berlin.
All jokes, go Berlin.
And for a long time no trace,
Let's say the ancient city of Klin.And on the Oder hardly
Even old people will remember
How they took half a year in battle
Settlement Borki.And under those near Borki
Every stone, every stake
I went into memory for three lives
We are with a fellow countryman.The countryman was not old, not young,
At war from the same day
And he was just as cheerful
Like me.The guy had to skedaddle,
A cheerful spirit is always ashore,
Repeated: "Forward, to the west",
Moving east.By the way, when leaving,
How the cities were rented
More like he was in fashion,
More famous then.And strangely enough,
He alone is honored,
So even the generals
It was as if they didn't count.The term is different, different dates.
Labor has been divided since ancient times:
Soldiers surrender cities
The generals take them.In general, beaten, grated, burnt,
Wound marked double
Surrounded in forty-one,
On the ground he walked native.A soldier walked, as others walked,
To unknown lands:
"What's where she is, Russia,
On what line is it? .. "And in captivity throwing a family,
In a hurry for the war,
I don’t guess what he thought
What he carried in his soul.But no matter how hassle,
Truth is true, a lie is a lie.
We retreated before the deadline
We retreated far
But they always said:
- You're lying! ..And now look west
From the capital. The native land!
He was locked in earnest
Behind the iron wall.And to a small village
That captive side
Not by the pike
Fully returned againAt the behest of our strength
Russian, her own.
Well, where is she, Russia,
What doors are thundering!And, forever knocking down the hunt
Get into a fight on your own,
Her enemy - what a count! -
He fell prone and paws apart.What capital is cool
Raised your flag, motherland!
Let's wait until the fireworks
To tell exactly.The term is different, different dates.
True, the burden is not light ...
But let's continue about the soldier,
As they said, a fellow countryman.Dear home, wife, children,
Brother, sister, father or mother
You have in the world -
There is where to send a letter.And our soldier -
The addressee is white light.
Except for the radio guys
There are no close relatives.The most precious thing on earth
If you have in reserve
The window where you can
Knock at a certain hour.On a hike abroad
In the alien side
Oh, how carefully kept
Pain is a dream of that window!And our soldier -
Although now the end of the war, -
There is no window, no hut,
Not a mistress, even if he is married,
Not a son, but there were guys -
I painted at home with a pipe ...They attacked near Smolensk.
The rest fell. My countryman
Addressed at the halt
To the commander: so and so, -Allow me to leave,
Say, dear case,
Like, since a local resident,
The yard is just a stone's throw away.Allowed in due time ...
The edge is known to the bush.
But he looks - the wrong road
The area seems to be not the same.Here is the hill, here is the river,
Wilderness, tall weeds to a soldier,
Yes, there is a plate on the column,
Like, the village of Krasny Most.And they found that they were alive
And just tell him
It's all true that the servant -
A faithful orphan.At the plank at the fork
Taking off his cap, our soldier
He stood as if on a grave
And it's time for him to go back.And, leaving the courtyard,
In a hurry for the war,
I don’t guess what he thought
What he carried in his soul ...But, homeless and homeless,
Returning to the battalion
The soldier ate his soup cold
After all, and he cried.At the edge of a dry ditch
With a bitter, childish trembling mouth,
Cried, sitting with a spoon in his right,
With bread on the left - an orphan.Cried, perhaps, for his son,
About a wife, about something else,
What I knew about myself: from now on
There is no one to cry about him.Should have been a soldier and in grief
Have a snack and rest
Because, friends, that soon
A long way was waiting for him.To the land of the Soviet land
I walked that path in war, in labor.And the war went like this -
Kitchens in the back, damn them where!You will also forget about hunger
For a good war.
Jokes or something, a day is a city,
Two days - regional.The term is different, the time is different -
Hit, drive, take over.
Dear Belarus,
Ukraine is golden,
Hello, we sang, and goodbye.You will also forget about thirst,
Because he drinks beer
In war, not everyone
The one that took the brewery.So whether on the move, not on the move,
Having arrived from their native land,
Border rivers water
We crossed with battles.The score is settled, the reckoning is in progress
In the light, honestly.
But let's finish about the soldier
About the same orphan.Where is he now, in fact.
Maybe he fell in some battle,
Plywood with small lettering
It skidded with a damp snowball.Or was he hurt again
I rested, as the duty commands,
And again on the battlefield
Did Tilsit take with us?And, leaving Russia,
In a hurry for the war,
I don’t guess what he thought
What he carried in his soul.Maybe it's even deeper here
And the living soul hurts
Is it so, no, we must remember
About his saint's tear.If I had that tear with my hands
From Russia happened
In German this stone
To convey, - burned through and through "The account is great, there is a reckoning.
And beyond that great suffering
Let's not forget guys
Let's remember to the account about the soldier,
That he was left an orphan.Terrible account, terrible retribution
For millions of souls and bodies.
Pay - and the deed is holy
But in addition to the soldier,
Orphaned in the war.How far is Berlin
Do not count, walk, pitch, -
Half half
The road from Wedge,
We have already passed from Moscow.Day after night follows
Let's draw the line with a bayonet.
But also on the bright day of victory
Let's remember, brothers, during the conversation
About an orphan soldier ...
On the road to Berlin
On the road to Berlin
Gray feather-bed down is twisted.The wires of the lines that have gone silent
Soaked linden branches
The feather-bed down flew like frost,
On the sides of the cars stuck.And wheels of cannons, kitchens
Mud and snow interfere with the fluff.
And lies on the overcoat
Wet blizzard with fluff ...Boring foreign climate,
An alien land is red brick
But the war goes by itself
And the earth trembles as usual
Crunchy crushed stone tiled
Shaking off the rooftops ...Mother Russia, we are half the world
Your wheels have passed
Leaving behind somewhere
Your rivers are a wide stretch.For a long, long time behind the train
To the edge of a stranger stretched after
The white color of your birch
And on the way it came to naught.With the Volga, with ancient Moscow
How far you are today.
Between you and us -
Three languages \u200b\u200bare not ours.Late day is not Russian
Over the unwelcoming side.
Tiled rubble crunchy
Get wet in a puddle under the wall.Everywhere there are inscriptions, marks,
Arrows, signs, icons,
Wire mesh rings,
Fences, doors, cages -
Everything is on purpose for longing ...Our dear mother earth,
In days of trouble and in days of victory
You are not brighter and more beautiful
And there is no more desirable heart.Thinking about the soldier
Unpredictable fate
Even lie in a brotherly grave
Better, it seems, in you.
Today we are talking about Berlin.
All jokes, go Berlin.
And for a long time not in sight,
Let's say the ancient city of Klin.
And on the Oder hardly
Even old people will remember
How they took half a year in battle
Settlement Borki.
And under those near Borki
Every stone, every stake
I went into memory for three lives
We are with a fellow countryman.
The countryman was not old, not young,
At war from the same day
And he was just as funny
Like me.
The guy had to skedaddle,
A cheerful spirit always took care
Repeated: "Forward, to the west",
Moving eastward.
By the way, when leaving,
How the cities were rented
More like he was in fashion,
More famous then.
And strangely enough,
Honor to him alone,
So even the generals
It was as if they were not counted.
The term is different, different dates.
Labor has been divided since ancient times:
Soldiers surrender cities
The generals take them.
In general, broken, grated, burnt,
Wound marked double
Surrounded in forty-one
On the ground he walked dear.
A soldier walked, as others walked,
To unknown lands:
“What is where she is, Russia,
Which line is your own? .. "
And in captivity throwing a family,
In a hurry for the war,
I don’t guess what he thought
What he carried in his soul.
But no matter how hassle,
Truth is true, a lie is a lie.
We retreated before the deadline
We retreated far
But they always said:
- You're lying! ..
And now look west
From the capital. The native land!
He was locked in earnest
Behind the iron wall.
And to a small village
That captive side
Not by the pike
Fully returned again
At the behest of our strength
Russian, her own.
Well, where is she, Russia,
What doors are thundering!
And, forever knocking down the hunt
Get into a fight on your own,
Her enemy - what a count! -
He fell prone and paws apart.
What capital is cool
Raised your flag, motherland!
Let's wait until the fireworks
To tell exactly.
The term is different, different dates.
True, the burden is not light ...
But let's continue about the soldier,
As they said, a fellow countryman.
Dear home, wife, children,
Brother, sister, father or mother
You have in the world -
There is where to send a letter.
And our soldier -
The addressee is white light.
Except for the radio guys
There are no close relatives.
The most precious thing on earth
If you have in reserve
The window where you can
Knock at a certain hour.
On a hike abroad
In the alien side
Oh, how carefully kept
Pain is a dream of that window!
And our soldier -
Although now the end of the war, -
There is no window, no hut,
Not a mistress, even if he is married,
Not a son, but there were guys -
I painted at home with a pipe ...
They attacked near Smolensk.
The rest fell. My countryman
Addressed at the halt
To the commander: so and so, -
Allow me to leave,
Say, dear case,
Like, since a local resident,
The yard is just a stone's throw away.
Allowed in due time ...
The edge is known to the bush.
But he looks - the wrong road
The area seems to be not the same.
Here is the hill, here is the river,
Wilderness, tall weeds to a soldier,
Yes, there is a plate on the column,
Like, the village of Krasny Most.
And they found that they were alive
And just tell him
It's all true that the servant -
A faithful orphan.
At the plank at the fork
Taking off his cap, our soldier
He stood as if on a grave
And it's time for him to go back.
And, leaving the courtyard,
In a hurry for the war,
I don’t guess what he thought
What he carried in his soul ...
But, homeless and homeless,
Returning to the battalion
The soldier ate his soup cold
After all, and he cried.
At the edge of a dry ditch
With a bitter, childish trembling mouth,
Cried, sitting with a spoon in his right,
With bread on the left - an orphan.
Cried, perhaps, for his son,
About a wife, about something else,
What I knew about myself: from now on
There is no one to cry about him.
Should have been a soldier and in grief
Have a snack and rest
Because, friends, that soon
A long way was waiting for him.
To the land of the Soviet land
He walked that way in war, in labor.
And the war went like this -
Kitchens in the back, damn them where!
You will also forget about hunger
For a good war.
Jokes or something, a day is a city,
Two days - regional.
The term is different, the time is different -
Hit, drive, take over.
Dear Belarus,
Ukraine is golden,
Hello, we sang, and goodbye.
You will also forget about thirst,
Because he drinks beer
In war, not everyone
The one that took the brewery.
So whether on the move, not on the move,
Having arrived from their native land,
Border rivers water
We crossed with battles.
The account is settled, the reckoning is in progress
In the light, honestly.
But let's finish about the soldier
About the same orphan.
Where is he now, in fact.
Maybe he fell in some battle,
Plywood with small lettering
It skidded with damp snow.
Or was he hurt again
I rested, as the duty commands,
And again on the battlefield
Did Tilsit take with us?
And, leaving Russia,
In a hurry for the war,
I don’t guess what he thought
What he carried in his soul.
Maybe it's even deeper here
And the living soul hurts
Is it so, no, we must remember
About his saint's tear.
If I had that tear with my hands
From Russia happened
In German this stone
To convey, - burned through and through "
The bill is great, there is a reckoning.
And beyond that great suffering
Let's not forget guys
Let's remember about the soldier,
That he was left an orphan.
The score is terrible, the reckoning is terrible
For millions of souls and bodies.
Pay - and the deed is holy
But in addition to the soldier,
Orphaned in the war.
How far is Berlin
Do not count, walk, pitch, -
Half half
The road from Wedge,
We have already passed from Moscow.
Day after night follows
Let's draw the line with a bayonet.
But also on the bright day of victory
Let's remember, brothers, during the conversation
About an orphan soldier ...
