"But here I have to make your confession of private adventures. Beautiful conservation multiplied the day from the day to me politeness ... who ended in the way she gave me her hand ... "
(CGIA, F. 13, p. 1, d. 687)
"Let my fever value, but with the help of God, I hope well to fulfill him, I am the first of the Russians here ..."
N. Rezanov - Directors of the Russian-Amer. Companies
INTRODUCTION. Our schooner is called "Avos." "Avos" is our faith and our motto. We are not enough, we apart, we have zero chances against thousands, but we survive, we master on "maybe". When "Ave Maria" is powerless, the atheistic Russia helps the supernatural "maybe". "Avos" will take out and will help. And when we traveled hooves, I will write rhymes with a seammer with the surname starting on "Avos".
I. Prolog. In San Francisco piates "Avos": the daughter of the governor sleeps in the Russian on his shoulder. The day before yesterday, she was sixteen. At the porter, sowing the wing, stand Catholicism and Orthodoxy. At the post talks to the owner.
II. X in and with t about in. And what do you think, Dovovdov ... d o in d about in. On the origin of the species? X in and with t about in. Well no...
III. (Horse prayer Arguuelo - Our Lady.) With the San Francisa Bell Tower cries the young lady. With her, Yaroslavna is auctic. No, Konchakin!
"Mother's intercession, strengthen me. I loved the aliens. I loved for the glory of the risk, for taught the words of the nashest country ... I am a state criminal. Having assumed to me like Baba Baba. And however, how can you understand me - you, who did not love?! How Niche is our Universe, who chose your son, the fruit of the spirit and dislike! "
And represented the defective: "Daughter ..." and they continued to whisper on ...
IV. X in and with t about in. And what do you think, Dovovdov ... d o in d about in. How to make the Germans and PIITS? X in and with t about in. Well no...
V. (Prayer Rezanov - Our Lady.) "Well, what do you need from me? I was from a simple family, but learned. I opened new lands, ruined in your name all my life. Why do you deprive me the last sudden? She is disgraced ... "
And from Reese came out tired and said: "I love you. No Slady. Well, what do you need from me? "
Vi. The praises ask Dovzdov that he thinks about the Rezanovsky Baba, and at this moment sees in the sky on the cloud of the Virgin.
VII. (Description of the wedding, had to be April 1, 1806.) At the wedding of Rezanov and the horses of the servant, the oranges were not at the fault. Lilac Pop Close Wedding Rings It did not. Dovsovdov and Hollow drove into the dining room on the horses, and they were not taken out. Where are these guests? The night is empty. Only two native crosses lie, confused.
Archival documents related to the case of Rezanova N. P. (comment on archival rats - gamereques and canes)
No. 1. N. Rezanov writes N. Rumyantsev that the name of the monarch will be more blessed, when the Russians will overthrow slavery to nations ...
No. 2. Rezanov writes I. I. Dmitriev, which is looking for new lands to settle a new race there, create the third world - without money and the crown. By the way, asks to assist at the courtyard of his marriage on the American.
№ 3. Extract from the history of the GG. Dovdovydova and Moastov. It follows from it that the duels and praises were shot on a duel, after that they became friends and together waved to Rezanov at the Far East.
Rezans in the second secret letter describes Mr. X ... who, joining the new Yunon vessel, opened drunkenness, which continued for three months, and during that time drank 91/2 Verders of French vodka and 2 1/2 bucket of strong alcohol . I spoke all ship. On a drunk case, every night was shot from anchor, but fortunately, the sailors were constantly drunk ...
No. 6. "Nikolai Rezanov was a turning politician. Live Rezanov for 10 years longer, what we call now by California and American British Columbia, would be a Russian territory. "
Admiral Wang Dert (USA).
№ 7. From the letter of Rezanov - Derzhavin. Rezanov reports that he got into his hands another transfer of ODY Horace "Monument" made by "one Gishpant". Next, there is a selection text itself: "I am the last poet of civilization. Not some kind of definite, but civilization as such, because in the era of the spiritual crisis, culture becomes the highest inexpensive phenomenon. For these words, the contemporaries will be removed, and the future Afro-Euro-Americans will prove the justice of my arguments, the new songs will be staged, dances will write new books ... This will be a monument! "
No. 10. A description of how Rezanov did the proposal of Consissession, as its parents opposed their marriage and how they were given, finally, their consent.
No. 11. Rezanov - Cope. Rezanov tells the bride about Russia, where silver nightingaws sing, where the pond is worth the temple of the Virgin and his snow-white contradictions, as if horse, drink water with a taste of a miracle and chasty.
A year later, they will return to Russia - the consent of the king, the Pope and the father of the King will achieve the consent!
IX. (Prayer of Our Lady - Rezanov.) She admits that sinful in nature. She was not happy with Christmas stons. On the contrary, they seemed to her the funeral, which sounded on her unenbore love. Spirit is exactly what arises between two loving, it does not deny the flesh. Therefore, I want to sneak all the churches in exchange for the opportunity to kiss lips in tobacco.
EPILOGUE. A year later, he will perish in Krasnoyarsk. She will throw the dead fruit and become the first San Francisian monk.
Repeated
Speech development. Poem A. Vorostensky "Kant"
The lesson is designed for 2 hours.
Literature
A. Voznesensky "ditch". M.: Soviet Writer, 1987.
"Books are not silent" / Collection of journalistic articles. M.: Soviet Writer, 1989.
Eduardas Megelietis. - Moscow: Izvestia, 1972.
ru.wikipedia.org.
www.c-cafe.ru/days/bio/28/017_28.php.
Journal "Banner" № 3-4, 1972
The newspaper "Crimean news" April 26, 2013: Memory cannot be covered with concrete.
Stanfish. Anthology of Russian poetry. Cost. E.Evtushenko. Minsk, Moscow: Polyfact, 1995
Educational goals:
introduce students with the work of A. Voznesensky and his poem "ditch";
comprehend the ideological content of the work;
attract attention to the blatant facts of vandalism, barbarism, looting, cruelty;
understand the reasons for the origin of human confusion;
continue the formation of the ability to read and analyze poetic texts, allocate problems, link them with life, argue your statement;
cause angry condemnation of immoral actions against the memory of the dead.
Developing goals: Develop a culture of dialogic communication during the discussion of the problem; Improve the ability to analyze, allocate the main thing and draw conclusions.
Educational goals:
create an atmosphere of cooperation;
contribute to the upbringing of the active life position of students;
be able to give a moral assessment of what is happening in life;
to convince students that the moral degradation of society threatens the death of civilization and spirituality.
Type of lesson: combined, studying new material.
Form of educational activities : Cool-grade, group, individual.
View of the lesson : Lesson-thinking.
Teaching methods : dialogic, heuristic, vividly illustrative, partially search.
Equipment:
Computer, Multimedia Projector, Music Center, Escort:
The presentation is made in the OpenOffice.org IMPRESS program;
Audio recording of the song "Dai, God" performed by A. Malinina,
Video "Khrushchev thaw. Kremlin. March1963. Communication "Artistic representativesintelligentsia »( Video taken from the site);
Reproduction of the painting V.G. Perov "Old people - parents on the grave of the Son";
Candles.
During the classes .
Organizing time.
The word teacher : Pay attention toslide №1 . What do you see?
Student : In the photos of the left depicted the fascist invaders of the times of the Great Patriotic War, and on the right - the warriors of today, the soldiers of Ukraine. This is evidenced by their ammunition and state symbolism.
Teacher: The history of mankind is, unfortunately, the history of wars, big and small. Field Kulikovo, Borodino, Kursk arc ... Russian land, polished by the blood of Russian people. A Russian man's imaginary impact of centuries performed his duty to protect his native land. And in the 20th century, Sia's share did not have passed our country. The most cruel and bloody war in the history of mankind came to our land on June 22, 1941.
What is 2015 banner for our country?
Yes, 70 years have passed since the end of the Great Patriotic War. Why do many writers continue to talk about her? Vasil Bulls: "Because that feat, the memory of it, no matter how much time will not cool in our hearts."
We live in the 21st century. Today, unfortunately, is a civil war? Brother kills his brother. Wars always carry only ruin, robbery and murder.Consider slides №2 . What do the actions of the people depicted in the pictures say?
Student : German soldiers and people in black masks are engaged in ladder.
Teacher: Yes indeed. There is such a profession that All times and under all conditions ignores any conventions. These are Marauders.There is nothing surprising. Where military conflict, there and marauders. From the corpses, gold chains, earrings and rings are broken, pick up wallets, bags and cash, hunt for mobile phones of the victims of tragedy and other objects representing any value.
And now try to formulate the subject of the lesson, given the said, but do not forget about the works read for today's day.
Student : The theme of human confouplessness in the poem A. Voznesensky "Kant".
Teacher : Well done.What do you think, are the words from the poem of Lithuanianpoet Eduardas Mezhetisa"Ash":« The pain that my heart still did not know ... "?Slide number 3 Record the topic of the lesson.
Guys, today we touch the secrets of creativity of one of the most interesting poets of the 20th century A.A. Voznesensky. Special attention will be paid to his poem "ditch", because those problems affecting it are very relevant in our time.A century in which we live, complex, controversial ... go war, where your kills your own ... The moral ideals are lost, but new ones are not created. How to stop the moral degradation of society? The role of literature in this process is enormous. She teaches, helps to form our beliefs, encourages action.
Side number 5 Wocked work.
Alter (from the greed) - The desire for profit, acquisition.
Degradation - gradual deterioration, degeneration, decline, decline or loss of positive qualities.
Vandal - Destroyer of culture, barbarian.
Vandalism - meaninglessly cruel destruction of historical monuments and cultural values, barbarism.
Marauder - The one who robs the population in the districts of hostilities, as well as killed and wounded on the battlefield, robber.
In order for the work to be productive, I will submit you to three groups.
1 group - literary critics. They were engaged in preparing biographical information about the poet.
2 Group - Historians. The purpose of their research work is to introduce us through memories, letters, documents with the peculiarities of the time in which the poet lived, as well as in the meantime, which is in question in the poem "Kant".
3 Group - Artists. The task of this group is an expressive reading of poet poems.
So, the word literary critic, historians and artists.
Biographical reference poet (prepared student)Slides number 6-8.
Andrei Andreevich Voznesensky was born on May 12, 1933 in Moscow. Father, AndreyNikolayevich Voznesensky, participant in the construction of the largest hydroelectric power plants: fraternal, ingur. The surname clearly indicates the origin of the spiritual estate. Prapraded Andrei Andreevich, Andrei Polisadov, was Archimandrite, the abbot of the Anniversary of the Murom Cathedral on Posada.
Mother, Antonina Sergeyevna Voznesenskaya, nee Pustushina, too, from the Vladimir region. Here, in Kirzhach, a future poet has spent part of his childhood. During the war, evacuated from Moscow, Mother and Andrei lived in the Zaralsky Kurgan. After graduating from the Great Patriotic War, the family returned to the capital.
Spouse - Zoya Borisovna Boguslavskaya, famousproser, playwright, author of major cultural projects in Russia and abroad, initiator and coordinator of the triumph premium.For the years spent together, they managed to preserve good and tremendous attitude towards each other. To this day, Zoya Borisovna speaks so spoke about the wife: "He is a dazzling person: a kind, delighted, who knows how to race events. This is a poet that passed through its nervous cells everything that happened to us in the last four decades. "
The thrust for poetry manifested itself from Andrei Voznesensky still in his youth. Children's verses Andrei Andreevich never mentions, although, obviously, they have already discovered talent. No wonder Boris Leonidovich Pasternak, having received them by mail from the fourteen-year-old boy, invited him to himself and then climbed. In 1957, Andrei Andreevich graduated from the Moscow Architectural Institute and received the specialty "Architect". But by this time his life has already fully belonged to literary creativity.Evgeny Yevtushenko wrote: "He did not enter poetry, and exploded in it, as a salute bunch ..."
In 1958 His poems appear in periodicals, and starting from the poem "Masters" (1959), the Poetry of Voznesensky rapidly broke into the poetic space of modernity, having received the recognition of millions of readers. "Your entry into literature is rapid, stormy, I am glad that I have lived to him" - so wrote Pasternak from the hospital.
At that time, poetic evenings in the hall of the Polytechnic Museum began to collect full halls, poets attracted thousands of audiences to stadiums, became idiots of millions. And one of the first in this wonderful Pleiad was Andrei Voznesensky. His collections instantly disappeared from the counters, each new poem became an event.
In 1960, the first collections of poet poems are published - "Parabola" and "Mosaic". Staying in the United States (1961) was reflected in the cycle of poems "40 lyrical deviations from the poem" Triangular Pear "(1962). In 1963, at a meeting with the intelligentsia in the Kremlin Khrushchev, Voznesensky subjected to all kinds of insults, shouting him:" Take your passport and wipe out, Mr. Voznesensky! "
View video Khrushchev Thaw Kremlin. March 1963. Meeting "Artistic representativesintelligentsia. "
Reading poem A. Voznesensky "Spiritual Bribery".
However, despite temporary opals, the poems of Voznesensky continued to be published, and his books were reorposed to 200 thousand.
On account of the classic of Russian literature more than 20 collectors of prose and poems, including the "triangular pear", "Antimires" (1964), "Achilles and Heart" (1966), "VIEW" (1972), "Cello oak leaf" (1975), "Stained-house Master" (1976), " Temptation "(1978)," Favorite Lyrics "(1979)," Current "(1981)," Projects of the Spirit "(1984)," Kant "(1986)," Axioma "(1990)," Video "(1992) , "Girl with Persing", "Divination by the book" and others.
In 1983, the collected works in 3 volumes.
In the memory of the same million quarter of a century, Voznesensky remains the author of the legendary rock opera"Juno and Avos".
You will wake me at dawn,
Carry unreamed.
You will never forget me.
You will never see me.
Showing you from a cold,
i'll think about: "God of the Most High!
I will never forget you.
I will never see you. "
In these stitches there is something amazing, which finds a response in the hearts of millions of people in love.
Many popular pop songs are written on poetry, including "Million Scarlet Roses" (Music R. Paulza), "Song on" BIS "(Music R. Pauls)," Start first "(Music E. Martynova)," Cry Girl in the machine "(Music E. Osina)," New Moscow Sittakas "(O. Nesterov), as well as many romances to M.Tariverdiev's music.
In Voznesensky, there were many opponents from Early Youth, but no one could deny the fact that he created his own style, his rhythm.
The poet was awarded the Order "For merit to the Fatherland" of the II degree. It was awarded this award "for outstanding achievements in the development of domestic literature and many years of creative activity."
Andrei Voznesensky - Winner of the USSR State Prize (1978, for the collection of "Stained-friendly Master"), twice was honored by American premiums. At the Paris Festival "Triumph" (1996), Nuell Observater newspaper called A.A. Vorushensky "The greatest poet of modernity."
A. Voznesensky and Crimea. Crimea, Yalta, Koktebel were not so much a place to rest, but rather the source of new topics and impressions, meetings with readers and friends. Our cozy South city conquered him not only by the beauty of the sea, to which he came to "reflect with himself", but also by the fact that, as Andrei Voznesensky recognized, "if I need to work well, write something serious, I'm going here "
Here they were written by the "Ballad of the 41st year", dedicated to the partisans of the Kerchanskaya Kamencolomin, and two poems - "Dr. Autumn" and "ditch".
Work on the lesson. Slide number 9.
The poem "Kant" by A. Voznesensky wrote in 1986. In the same year, she was published in the journal "Youth."
Do not take me, rock, In Simferopolsky ditch.
Steppe. Twelfthyard look.
Chu, shovels knocking grateful grandchildren.
Genocide laid this treasure.
Almost three decades ago, the whole major country shook these lines. The wilderness of the heads, in the mid-80s, those who were played in the place of mass executions during the Great Patriotic War of innocent old people, women, children in the anti-tank RBD at the 10th kilometer of Simferopol-Feodosia, Andrei Voznesensky, told the Crimean poet Alexander Tkachenko.
Voznesensky shocked seen looting. Somebodythe fraternal graves opened in search of gold, which unfortunate sacrifices were taken with them.They say, the Germans, as a rule, their own pursuit of their victims to the threads, cut off their fingers along with the rings and out of the gold crowns, here, in December 1941, for some reason, in December 1941, for some reason, they were in a hurry. And the policemen who returned from the post-war definition knew exactly where to dig ...
A person is different from the worm.
Worms gold do not eat.
Where do you lead, ditch?
Neither colors nor orphans.
This shower cemetery is genocide.
"Grateful grandchildren"skurfi was digging, pulled out the skulls, pulled out gold crowns, teeth, found gold jewelry, which have broken 40 years in the ground. The loot carried into the buying.
What did these people moving? What did they think over the corpus abyss?
From the history of the event.
A few decades ago, L. Seifulina wrote in an angry sketch "survived one": "Simferopol turned into a solid shy and a disgusting human slaughter. On December 9, 1941, the Germans destroyed the oldest population of Crimea - Crimea. 11, 12, December 13, shot all the Jews. The Germans registered in Simferopol 14 thousand Jews ... Their mortal moan in a row was in a row in Simferopol, and in the surroundings ... one survived. Of the fourteen thousand - one. " He was covered with a Russian carpenter's violence.
Obvious memory: "Here, under the city, at the 10th kilometer, 12 thousand civilians were shot during the war, mainly Jewish nationality. ... They brought them in indoor machines. Stripped to idle. From the highway was anti-tank ditch. So, we need a moat and beat them from the machine gun. They shouted all scary - over the steppe stood stood. Was December. All filmed galoshes. A few thousand galosh lay ... "
Analytical work on the text of the poem. Slide number 10.
What do you think about the name of the poem? (It is necessary to return to this issue after a complete analysis of the poem at the end of the lesson).
What impression was the poem?
Who shares his memories about this terrible event?
Consider an excerpt from the memories of Vasily Fedorovich (Chapter "Afterword").
What so suddenly outraged and excited Vasily Fedorovich and his companions? Why did they see the scary sleep? (Consider individual fragments of the chapter "Afterword")
Reading by heart the poem "ditch".
Case number 1586. What is this business? (Chapter "Case", 2nd paragraph)
Who are these chobs? Who was in business? (Chapter "Case", 3rd paragraph)
Answer:Here are the names of "grateful grandchildren", named by A. Voznesensky:
a) TUNYADS Kirillov,
b) the craneman of the objolchozstroy nyukhalov,
c) Employee Riya Kremensky,
d) doctor Limornko,
e) resell gold anywhere not working Ahmedov, Melikyan, Fedulov, Meleskin,
e) Among the races was a pregnant woman - the seller of Melikhov. The youngest is 28 years old.
The ruin of cemeteries is a crime or something more?
Answer: Not hunger and needed to this crime, not because of a piece of bread tearned the graves of "grateful grandchildren." There was no question - not to abandon them. Cruelty manages people.
What word does the behavior of these people call the poet?
Answer: Alch.
Reading the poem "Alch. Former Prolog
Work on the lexical meaning of the word "Alch" using an intelligent dictionary.The poet is trying to get to the reasons to the deep roots of this disease. He sees his task in the following: "The more I will collect evil on the pages," he assures, "the less it will remain in life."
What does the poet see the reasons for the conflict? Criminal or spiritual process - the main thing for him? (Chapter "Sin")
In the people, the ruin of cemeteries is not just a crime, but a sin in front of people, their conscience, killed.
Appeal to the picture V. Pereova "Old men on the grave of the Son" . Slide number 11. The canvas "Old men-parents on the grave of the Son belongs to the brush of the Great Russian artist Vasily Grigorievich Pereova. Canvas is executed in traditional Russian realism. Most likely, the topic of the canvas was inspired by Perov's literary work I.S. Romegenev - "fathers and children."The plot of the paintings is very simple. Closeup depicted old men. The silhouette of the crumpled spin artist seeks to pass the bitter experiences of the heroes on the grave of the Son, which is located right in front of their legs of the parents. They can't leave the place from where it seemed to be closer to their son, before the memories of him. No need to be a very insightful person to immediately notice that huge sadness and sadness that covered old people.There is no greater grief for parents than to bury your children. Perhaps old men regret that they were not with their child while they could do anything to avoid trouble. And now, killed by the grief, they are trying at least somehow compensate and spend a long clock on the grave of the Son.
Two feelings are wildly close to us -
They have hearts of food -
Love for native ashes,
Love for the deputy coffins.
A. S. Pushkin.
Reading the poem of E. Megatelife "ash" (Aliger translation).
In Russia, the memory of the deceased people has always been sacred.
Output: "This process is not a criminal - spiritual process."
Head "Eyes and Jewels of the RVA" - confirmation of the monostomy of what is happening (reading chapter on the roles).
How do your actions evaluate the heads?
Answer: Do not consider a crime. Everyone is enriched as can.
Who redeemed the light of good in their souls? Why did they become such?
Head "Lake".
The recognized and seen there, under Simferopol, makes the poet look in a new way to see everything that happens, to feel stronger than the gravity of responsibility for the surrounding. So appears in the poem head "Lake".
The author speaks in the poem not only about the tragedy associated with the last war. Voznesensky worry environmental problems. This chapter affects the topic of the ecology of the human soul and environmental ecology.
I woke up at night. Someone said to me:
"The Dead Sea is the Sacred Baikal."
The poet is worried that the science was harmful to the lake, it is afraid that in history we will: "These, Baikal ruined which." He calls to change the situation, take care of the lake and the animal world.
"... The conscience of the people should be clean."
What is the meaning load of the head "Lake"? How is it related to the basic events of the poem?
Environment is terrible,
Ecology of the Spirit of Scary! (Ch. "Introduction")
Thus, the main thing for the poet is the ecology of the Spirit, and not nature. The poet concludes: the main cause of crime is in the confusion of people, in the absence of serious mental work, the work of the soul, in the oblivion of moral principles.
But there are real people, those who do not blame all sins time, and takes responsibility for themselves! This is seen from the chapters dedicated to Chernobyl.
Raising Chernobyl's problem, A. Voznesensky is feeling guilt for what happened at the station.
Chapters "Man", "Hospital".
Herbs from Simferopol Poet opposes the present courage and heroism of people who have eliminated the Chernobyl accident. Voznesensky admires the human feat, putting a man in a temper with God. The poet bowed to a human feat and protests against Alcchi multipleness:
Goodbye hopes great lies.
Be careful, the world is not too late.
"... Spiritual rebirth, spiritual update is possible ... not all kinds of indifference and inertness."
Refrain sounds the words of the poet:"Because he is a man!"
Many of these people will die. But this is another question: Which of them are dead? Novoryli, digging the corpses under the Simferopol - the dead. Spiritually, morally, and not physically decomposed.
And there is an eternal dispute, the eternal battle between good and evil, light and darkness, between alive and dead. (expressive readinggL "Fight")
This is the main meaning of the poem, then for which it is written. Even through the most black paintings, through the mood of hopelessness, painfully shine in the poem is a bright, pure feeling of hope. The poet hopes that the concept of "Alch" will disappear (gL "Epilogue")
Read the poem. Turning over its last page. Much makes thinking of Voznesensky. On the writing desk letters, hundreds of readership letters.
"The poem awakens the conscience. How terribly what you write about how terrible when people cease to be people and only "know how to live." Thank you for you beat in Nabat against the greed and peaceful deafness, "writes Danilov from Kemerovo.
"When I read the poem, wept." (Former front-line).
"My parents died from the hands of the fascists in Feodosia in December 1941. Maybe they lie in this area ... Blasting the grinders are akin to the cruelty of the executioners. " (Donetsk).
Your "ditch" shook me, I won my soul and filled with retribution. May the literature of Russian retribution of all bastards! Imagine what this poem cost you. " (Woman from Frunze).
It was hard to write even physically. Terrified and the abyss, which opened behind him. I myself am not faint of heart, I saw anything. But after seen broken skulls and children's hair, I could not fall asleep about a month. The human mind probably is not designed for such overloads. After the "RVA" still can not write a single poem. Seen, nerves burned. Everything seemed hopeless after this story. How is it possible in our time, with our people?
Art features of the poem. Slide number 12.
What is the genre of the work?
Why does A. Voznesensky combine prose and poetry?
Answer: The fact is stronger than the poems themselves. But poetry deepens the image, creates emotional heat. Poetry and prose complement each other.
Through the whole poem passes a repeated repetition of one phrase. What?Answer: "Where do you lead, ditch?"
How is this reception called in the literature?
Answer: Refrain. (Verse and stanza, chorus, in a certain order repeated in the poem, song).
In the poem are found Metaphors, spacious vocabulary, contrast, polyphony, discrepancy, completeness of each chapter.
Are you ready to take responsibility for everything that happens around?
So that the world does not blow up
Need a century of world
New look, new look,
Non-standard world ...
What kind of new look says Voznesensky?
What is the meaning of the name? Why is the poem wearing a subtitle "spiritual process"?
Answer: Ditch - the abyss, on the edge of which is our country. Or we all saved, or die all together. Alone does not survive. The "spiritual process" is the moral degradation of society leading to death.
The outcome of the lesson.
Sounds song performed by A. Malinina "Dai, God."
What made you think about the poem A. Voznesensky "ditch"?
How to protect the dead from living diggers?
Answer: The poem of Voznesensky makes think about the moral wild of our youth.The author puts to the shameful post of the ravers of graves, scum, which for the sake of profit is engaged in what they are digging "in skeletons, next to the lively expensive, crown crowns and ticks with light headlights." What did the man come about? How is his consciousness corrupted?
Prayer. I do not understand what what, and I do not know,What happened to you, the country.Only fate fell evilBe unhappy at all times?
Whether tears flow from Besality before this omnipotent fate ... What happened to you, Russia, what happened, Russia, with you?!
I do not understand what you are to blame for the sky and in front of people either the saint, nor the match, nor brother, nor good, nor shame, no love.
Unbearable, gloomy face ... Do you, Great Rus! Teach me to God to pray, for you I will not be praying for you.
I suggestlight candles , candles of memory and grief, adoration candles.
Teacher : Guys, give, God, so that you feel in your life as possible as possible a leaning heart pain from the manifestations of spiritual severity and greed!
D / s. Essay - Reflection: "Reading the Poem of the Voznesensky" ditch ", .."
The final word of the teacher.
True and fiction in the poem.
A. Voznesensky in the poem remained a living boy. This is an artistic fiction. There was quite another in life. A woman remained alive, the mother of four children, her surname Gurja. She recalls that they brought her to Rives along with other children and her mother in one car. She then turned out to be extremely at the Rava, when the Germans prepared to shoot. She managed to whisper his mother "" Mom, I probably remain alive. "Daughter, scary as", - the last words that mother told her in response. Then the shots rang out. Earth's bodies did not fall asleep. December. Frost. The corpses did not decompose. Three days lacked she in the Rives under the corpses in one shirt, as in the ice shell. In the near village, the house was not allowed, they were afraid of execution. As survived - it is difficult to say. But smile learned forever.
and critical burghers
immediately the molasses have expired.
You are not Pushkin and unlikely lemmed.
Lost your verse. But the post is good.
You, comrade, is a spiritual bribemer.
You take the guy articles.
Maybe New Yesenin and Khlebnikov
in the door publishing not passed
because the editor of Srebrenikov
runs his handles.
I understand that life is not a shinty.
About Heavenly Sulet, Soul!
The soul of the bribe.
She is not written either Shisha.
Asian e.megelaitis
This redhead dust under the legs, rubbank
From the bones, is not fragments covered with Rzhoy?
This maybe the sharp feet of the child,
What kind of white butterfly chased in between.
Ile handles - the child is reached to the mother,
Hugging the neck, caresses her ...
Or was this crushed stone big hands,
With love for chest pressed children.
This ash, which is distributed with the wind,
Was his eyes laughing and crying sometimes
Was lips, smile, music, light,
The kisses were this ashes gray.
He was hearts, alarm, joy, flour,
Was brains, woven convolutions of living,
Like life to the end, as if the letter beyond the letter,
Just white on black written in them.
These hair is curls, braids and strands,
What is dashed by a dead robe,
Someone broke and excitedly stroking
And dry lips tossed sometimes.
Clean thrill hearts, inspirational speeches,
Golden Hope, Shine Eye ...
Crematoriums of terrible burning stoves.
Ash ... ash ... only ash remained from you.
Flying over a barbed wire,
Bird soft touches the edge of the wing
Wild rose, on Divo Bagrova and Zhugay,
What bloomed on this bloody earth.
Pain that my heart still did not know
Turned into a spiny, salted lump.
And, like a bullet, in the laryngee forever stuck,
To breathe I could not and forget I could not.
I raise a heavy unprecedented eye
And I can't take it from the sky,
All his creature to a person I call
Human ash squeezing in handstone
On April 7, 1986, we rode from Simferopol on the Feodosi highway. The clock on the taxi driver shield was shown 10 in the morning. Taxi driver Vasily Fedorovich Forest, years old, sixty, weathered ruddy, cargo, with blue, faded from seen by her eyes, again and again repeated his painful story. Here, under the city, at the 10th kilometer, 12 thousand civilians were shot during the war. "Well, we, boys, I was ten years old, I ran to look at how they were shot. They brought them in indoor machines. Stripped to idle. Anti-tank ditch came from the highway. So, we need a moat and beat them from the machine gun. They shouted all scary - over the steppe stood stood. Was December. All filmed galoshes. Several thousand Golosh lay. Coultry traveled by on the highway. The soldiers were not shy. The soldiers were all drunk. Noticing us, they gave us a turn. Yes, I still remembered the table stood, where the passports were selected. The whole steppe was littered with passports. Many have been injected with semi-intensive. Earth breathe. Then we found a box from under Gutalin in the steppe. Heavy. In it, the gold chain was two coins. So all the savings of the family. People with them carried the most valuable. Then I heard who revealed this burial, Coldishly drank. Last year they were judged. Well, you already know about it, "... I not only knew, but also wrote a poem under the name" Alch "about it. Doodlery went on another name: "ditch". I asked witnesses. The acquaintances showed me archival documents. The poem ended, but everything was not crazy. Again and again pulled the death of death. Although what will you see there? Only overgrown kilometers of the steppe. "... I have a neighbor, Valya Adapter. He may, one of all and escaped. His mother pushed his mother along the way. " Get out. Vasily Fedorovich is noticeably worried. The poor, once a plastered pillar with an inscription about the victims of the assumptions of the ass, all in the cracks, says rather about oblivion than about memory. "Imprint?" The buddy unzipped the camera. By the highway, the flow of "MAZOV" and "Zhiguli". The emerald shoots of wheat walked to the horizon. To the left at the waters idyllically, a tiny rural cemetery. Moat has long been leveled and turned green, but guessed it outlines that went across the highway a kilometer and a half. Bells shy branches of a bloomed thorns. Cherelli rare acacia trees. We, descending from the sun, slowly bureled from the highway. And suddenly - what is it?! On the path among the green field, the square of the freshly burned well; The land of cheese is still. Behind him is another. Around the pile of buried bones, exhaleted clothing. Black, like smoke, skulls. "Again digging, bastards!" - Vasily Fedorovich Donkey all. It was not in the newsreel, not in the stories of witnesses, not in a nightmarish dream - and here, near. That's just digested. Skull, behind him. Two tiny, children. But the split on the shards adult. "These are the crowns gold pliers dive." Crazy female boots. My God, hair, scalp, children's redhead hair with braided pigtail! How tightly stuck, right, on something else hoping, in the morning before execution! .. What bastards! This is not a literary reception, not fictional heroes, not the pages of the criminal chronicle, these are us, next to the hiding highway, stand in front of the pile of human skulls. This is not a villain of antiquity, but the current people. Nightmare some. The bastards dug this night. A broken cigarette with a filter is lying around. I didn't even drop away. About her copper transplane sleeve. "German," says Vasily Fedorovich. Someone raises her, but immediately throws, thinking about the danger of infection. Skull lay a pile, the mysteries of the universe - dark brown from long years underground - like a huge mushroom-dymoviki. The depth of professionally dug mines is about two human growth, one at the bottom moves a shit. At the bottom of the second, it lies the root, the spoiled shovel - it means that today will come?! In horror, look at each other, everything is not believing how in a terrible dream it is. To which the man should reach, how corrupted should be consciousness to dig in skeletons, next to a lively expensive to crush the skull and ticks to pull off the crowns at light headlights. And even almost without hiding, leaving all the tracks in plain form, demonstratively somehow, with a challenge. And people who quietly rushing around the highway, probably, have fun: "Someone again there is golden digging?" Yes, everything was crazy, or what?! Next to we stuck on a peg of a tin poster: "digging is prohibited - cable." Cable can not, and people can be? It means that even the trial did not suspend the consciousness of this bastard, and, as they told me, they only talked about criminals on the process, not about the fate of the buried themselves. And where does the epidstance look? From these wells can get any infection, the epidemic can lose weight. In the steppes, children run. And the spiritual epidemic? Not the graves they robes, not in miserable gold grams of a despicable metal, and the souls are robbed, the souls are buried, their own, yours! The militia is worn along the highway for drivers and cobblers, and here will not look here. At least post put. One by 12 thousand. Memory of people is sacred. Why not think not only about the legal, but also about the spiritual protection of burial? Click the cry, and the best sculptors will put stele or marble wall. To people sacred trembling. 12 thousand worthy of this. We, four, stand on the tenth kilometer. We are ashamed, the nefples say - what, what to do? Can. Lawn on site broke, slab to block and put a border? Yes, and the names would not hurt to remember. We do not know what - but something needs to be done, and immediately. So I once again ran into a revived last year's business number 1586. Where are you leading, ditch?
Introduction
I appeal to the reader's turtles: did our mind exhausted yourself? We stand over the steppe. On the highway dusting Crimea. Shuddered the skull under the scalp my. Next - black, like a mushroom smoke, is smoked. He gathered a smile in his cam. I felt a kind of secret connection - as if I was connected to the conversation - that I stretched from us to the apparatus without an eye, like an wireless phone. - ... Marya Lvovna, Hello! "Mom, we were listed ..." Buri again, Skozich's interference ... "Sell, Alexander? "Bad, Fedor Kuzmich ..." Right Hichkokovsky Kich ... Skull. Tamerlan. Do not open the tomb. War breaks out from there. Do not argue the shovel of spiritual fungny girls! Enhances terrible than the plague. Simferopolsky did not stop the process. Communication broke up? Psychiatrist - in the hall! How to prevent the illuminum process, that conditionally, I called Alcu?! What, to hell, the poet you, the "People of Glas"? What drank your loaf? In front of the twelve thousand couples, do something, and not talk! The foreman will not save. Look, country, - My mother screams from trenches. The environment is terrible, the Ecology of the Spirit is terrible. Wherever I walked, whatever I read, I go to Simferopolsky ditch. And, black, swimming skulls, skulls, like an eclipse of white minds. And when I go out to Luzhniki, now every time I will see you requiring pupils twelve thousand pairs of eyes.Ditch
Do not take me, rock, in Simferopolsky ditch. Steppe. Twelfthyard look. Chu, shovels knocking grateful grandchildren. Genocide laid this treasure. - Delay the shovel! - We were people. - Here, take it! I have a diamond. "You, dad, don't shake bones." Rent a snack and step again. Good people are the first to open joy. God forbid the first to see this fresh pit, where the skull is open. Valya! It was your mother. This is a friend, this is a friend, it is a friend, gold and bone dust. From the skeleton, the bracelet removed the bat, and the other, behind the wheel, rushing. This is the distance, it is the distance, the distance. Skull. Night. And blooming almonds. The infernal bomber calmly pressed after the dressing on the pedal. Bil shovel metal. Who got into his skull? But he did not recognize him in the dark. Skinny, like a kocherga, Hamlet took a skull and crowns twisted a number. A person is different from the worm. Worms gold do not eat. Where are you leading, ditch? Neither colors nor orphans. This shower cemetery is genocide. Stepha Tornado carry from passports. And no one brought hyacinth.Legend
"The angel of death is behind the soul, like an open scary troll." In the books of old words I read that it all consisted of a variety of eyes. And the philosopher wondered above the mirror mirror, - why is it from a variety of eyes? If he became mistaken (delayed your hour), - went away. Leaving a new look. Surprised soul he gave a couple of eyes. Dostoevsky it was, they say. You go on the ground, Valentin, Valentine! The Angel of Mother saved you. And for the time you have endowed you with a brine from twelve thousand couple eyes. You are walking between the plains, the new rhinestone. How painful new look! The chest is not in the brilliance of icons - in the silent ulcers of pupils. Like wool shirts! You shout at night, you see the roots of the reasons. In the morning, in horror, you look at the troll. But when he, the other, will arrive at the soul, you will not give him my eyes. Not with seraphim wing, like windsurfing wearing, pulled out and cut me a language. I enters without words in Simferopolsky ditch Angel - Valya Adapter.A business
Where are you leading, ditch?Killed them in December 1941. Simferopol action is one of the planned and spent spent. Where are you leading, where? In case No. 1586. "... The jewelry made of burial on the 10th kilometer systematically kidnapped. On the night of June 21, 1984, neglecting the norms of morality, from said grave kidnapped the golden case of pocket watches weighing 35.02 gr. From the calculation of 27 rubles 30 kopecks. for gr., Golden bracelet 30 gr. Cost 810 rub. - just 3325 rubles. 68 cop. ... July 13 kidnapped gold crowns and bridges with a total value of 21925 rubles, the gold ring of the 900th sample with a diamond value of 314 rubles. 14 cop., Four chains in the amount of 1360 rubles., Golden Ducat Foreign Chacking worth 609 rubles. 65 kopecks, 89 coins of royal chasing worth 400 rubles. Each "... (by 2 l. 65 - 70). Who was in business? Doctor of the Moscow Institute of An, Driver "Intercoleozstroy", Worker, Opener Worker, Cinema Worker. Russians, Azerbaijani, Ukrainian, Armenian. Age 28 - 50 years. They responded to the court, whining the golden crowns. Two had a full mouth of "Red Gold". Dates they received small, they suffered more those who resold.
It was confirmed that they received at least 68 thousand rubles of income. One asked: "How did you feel, Roy?" Replied: "What would you feel, taking out the golden bridge, damaged bullet? Or pulling children's boots with a bone residue? " They hardly achieved that buying this defective goods.
Maria Yanovna
Call her Marya Yanna. Gagarin, 6. Oh, the soul of Marya Yanna, carry us to eat! Hyacinths grow. Daughter of the Dasha in the war was 10. He graduated from Filfak. Laughter. Freckles raised. Doctor loved. Their firstborn Alexander is fashionable, as an arrestant, became a poet. Yesterday I wrote "LG": "New Pushkin! We finally waited. True, folded. But it is difficult to get to the concert. The life of another son is incomprehensible yet, he founded the "DNA" ensemble. Marya isnovna great-grandfather Anastasi ... ... Like a field-riding, Skull Maria Yanovna rushes on the steppe, Skull Dasha - about ten years old.Alter. Former Prologue
Call you, initial Alch! Although the era, alas, not Laman. The beast is needed only Harch. Man gave birth to Alch. Not judge, he needs, and the doctor. Friend, sick our spirit. Do you hear crying at night? This passion is alone - Alch. Alichie Medica Cloak. Acute growth of shortage. Lights restaurant "Izba". Grow companions metastase - Alcba. Do not infect me with black blood, syringe hide, passion, with love rival - alch! .. - It alch is alch, primal alch, I need the body as bile, erected on the bones I arcade palazzo founded Canberra and Kerch. How I will shoot, Alch, everything will envelop the gloomy, will remember in the literature ... What is richer than Alch? Weak computer and sword. And how can you burn me? - Only speech that is richer than you, only speech, only begging things. - Only Alch. Only Alch, the poorly alch. Only "al", only "A! ..", only "Whove". · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · - Only the speech, but speech, the original speech. Like the river, we are talking about. The question "to bear - not to transmit" they did not have. Do not find in them and infernal chic pants gella and hippopotamus. Everything was clear. Getting any heavy job of work, because basically were not rich people, so we hunted more than crowns and clasp. It was scolded that the metal of the sample sample. Grumbled that the bodies are dropped with a random pile, it is difficult to work. One worked in the pit - two at the top took and broke the skulls, pulled the teeth with pliers, "purified from dirt and remnants of teeth," the "Coral" and Sevastopol "Yantar" will be bored with the Hyde appraiser, of course, That "crowns and bridges have been in the ground for a long time." Worked in rubber gloves - they were afraid of infections. The team was friendly. Fucked family. "Witness Nyuhalova revealed that her husband is away from home from time to time, it is explained by the fact that works as a painter of high-altitude, and regularly bring the salary." The spiritual processes of the Scientific and Technical Age gave rise to a "new novel", "New Movie" and the psychology of "new thief". By analogy with the mass "pop art" and the decadent "Art-Nuovo", you can divide today's Alchi on Pop Alchi and Alch-Nuovo. First poprimitivnee, it works like the firstling instinct, bride-price, three ways to pull the taxi driver taxi pool, weight wrong. The second is more difficult, it has philosophy, combines with ambition and instinct of power. But what breakdown to measure the monstristence of such a new genre, how is the rustling of souls? On the first day of the process, they say, the hall was filled with inquisitive personalities, which attentive burial coordinates. On the second day, the hall was empty - they threw the information obtained. Shovels, bayonets and scooped, hid at the next rural cemetery. Digulate at the light of headlights. From the summer sky, breaking, fell silent, as if the sparks of other shovels working beyond the horizon. Where are you leading, ditch?Snowy knight NTR
Who nights under the nasturtium buried his talent? Surround, NTR knight rises a diamond. Paul plot mined a stingy knight RTR. Easy, deputy minister, your portfolio. In that portfolio - "Volga", "Volvo", half and mansion, your mad will, a former guy from the dorm. In the ears on Mario Luzi, despises you daughter. Surround Knight NTR, see what night! "Diamonds on trees, diamonds on the fields, diamonds on the road, diamonds in heaven ..." Your son will die from pop art. Wife saves art nouveau. Your driver sins pop decorators. Alter screames you. In the morning you will leave the porch and see a terrible garden - it grows above, above, with the branches of "video" hang. It is clear to all irrevocably that he buried in dreams. At the tops, the helicopters carry gold in Brukes. "Diamonds on the roads, diamonds in the fields I was mistaken - on trees, diamonds in heaven." Where does the chain reaction of the Simferopol crime, engaged with human memory, the connection, the concepts of freedom and morality? I repeat, this process is not a criminal - spiritual process. Not in six gravestone worms. Why are they growing, these Novoryla? What is the reason for this confusion, separating from the roots, why today a son will shoot a mother from housing? Or is it a break of a blood generic connection in the name of the relationship of the machine? Why, as in Georgia, do not celebrate the day of remembering the fallen? Memory do not bury."The German-fascist invaders on the 10th km were shot by civilians mainly Jewish nationality, Crimea, Russians," we read in archival materials. Then in the same RBU executed partisans. This is the depths of sacred historical. And on the past, when blasphesed sacred shadows? Boyan, Skovorod, Shevchenko taught uncanyful. Not hunger, no need to crime. Why in the eternal, terrible and holy days of the Leningrad blockade exactly hunger and suffering highlighted aggravated morality and disinterested stoicism? Why is now serving a morgue, give out a shocked family of grandmother and mother, quietly suggests: "Recalculate the number of valuable metal teeth from the mortuary," without embarrasing the horror of the said? "Psychology is changing," says me, looking in Chekhovsky, thinking a lawyer, "they were previously killed simply in the" Axiff ". Recently, the case was: the Son and Mother consisted to kill Father-Tirana. Sonlets son connected a current from the outlet to the father's bed. When the father, drunk, as usual, to the touch, lying on a rosette, it hit him here. True, the technique was weak, I had to finish. " Only two of our heroes were previously convicted, and then only for the membership. So they were like everyone else? In restaurants, they paid gold, which means that everyone knew around? Whose wine here? From where they got out, shining samples, these gold worms, blowing rings, seductive ducats - from the darkness of centuries, from our life, of sweet Mediterranean, from the depths of the instinct? Who belongs to them, these tokens are tempting, - Mixer from Mycene, steppes or future larsshnice? Who is the victim? Who owns underground jewels whose are they? We stand at the 10th kilometer. A draw grass is fresh. Somewhere far to the north the draws of the meadow, draws the draws of the groves, the unworthy of the people are mesh rivers and lakes? Whose are they? Whose are you with you?
Lake
I woke up at night. Someone said to me: "The Dead Sea is the Sacred Baikal." I felt the eye on myself, as if I was the killer and the thief. I hear - the Irkutyan is not sleeping in the MGL. Smokes And the ancestor woke up in the ground. When you are sick, we are all sick. Baikal, you are a crystal liver of the country! And someone added from the depths: "Baikal - the conservation conscience of the country." I sailed on the boat the edge of Baikal. The evening survived trust. Well, really science lied over the knocked out of Baikal? And do we really be in history - "these, Baikal ruined which"? We must hang the bulletin, how omul feels, seal. This is not only a number of numbers - the conscience of the people should be clean. That is why, pointing out the show, our prohibitions of the Spirit are fighting, so that the reserve has become a lake, so that its water is not pulled, so that no one ever says: "The Dead Sea is the Sacred Baikal."Debt
History is a direct debt. I must Napoleon Arbat, who was bedrooms. Genghis Khan I have to 300 years ago unpainted Bam. One person should I have a garden ring. We will continue. I have to be deranged poet named Spear. Yeast. I have to boys in 2000 for gas and for water and the deceased northern fish. (He says: "Thank you!"). Will the buttercity of the scientific and technical revolution?Human
Forgive me, man, man, - History, Russia and Europe, that the forces of the blind monstrous trial falls on the edge of my and my age. Sorry I'm just a person. Hope, crowned by Nobel, as a terrible genie, rushed over Chernobyl. Sorry, who closed the compartment. Science, humanity? What struck and what else did not break through, and what warned us in Chernobyl? What if - not an unemployment war? Goodbye, hopes great lie. Be careful, the world is not too late! Oh my God! If I am like God's, I'm sorry that you are kind of my! God is in the one who infected the object went, the reactor was extinguished, burned the skin and clothing. He did not save himself. Saved Kiev and Odessa. He just did, as a person. God is in music written in Mecc. He is a helicopter who saved and saved, and Dr. Gale, the peer of Hiroshima, a person who flies.Hospital
We will then figure out who is to blame where to cognize poisoned fruit? Vienna closer Carpathians. Bed cherry blooms. A new look opens. Why does he look without his strength in the ward? Not for gold, not for the check. Because the kids departed by himself, because he is a man. When the robot could not turn off the trouble, he stepped into the contaminated compartment. We stayed alive - and I, and you - because he is a man. Not much looks like Feofan Greek. We are dressed in sockets, so as not to infect it, because he is a man. He looks at you, on me, on the country. The doctor does not smear the century all night, the bone marrow replants him, because he is a man. The donor is also not siz - distribute your life. Life alone is not bottomless parsec. Why could he have a bone marrow dot? Because he is a man. He looks at sunrise. Eight souls waiting for him. Dream dream is the embankment of rivers. I believe, he will not die, it is a people, because he is a man.Point
Among the empty shards-planets, the only alive, laughs, Mulone Mulone Thinks, Mozart is silent, looking for the words of the Earth Green Head. Button. There is nothing.Jorik
Volodya, to be or not to be part of the spiritual process, in which God, Energy Sport, does not understand Belmes? Volodya, to be or not to be a witness, as an ambition, a gap with a hoof, in your skull introduces a plospheric? What is there, Volodya? How shore life looks? What is behind the scenes? So-called soul to be il not to be? - That's what a mystery. What is tormented? What did you want to say? Il as it happened, from rehearsals to the apartment of our apartment on the boilers you enter the reinforcement? Today "be", which means "not to be". But there must be someone to kill evil! About this black to orbits whites skull on a break. Poor Volodya! Jorik, come! Six years we have, lips without having, rich in that not to forget. So who has, does not know how. From there, "to be or not to be", you will be easy to do the homeland, rich in that not to forget. Volodya, Hamlet Szorzogen! .. Only a woman sighs through everyday life: "Poor, poor Volodya" ... "To be - not to be", "to be not to be," the eternal voice of the neighborhood. "Not to be" - the intercession is hammered to forget. You broke the old test. You, not being, is. It is a pity that farther than Mozambique. Where are you leading, ditch? What poles have a series of telephone say? As if the packs of distant skulls are sitting with insulators.Eyes and jewels RVA
- Gray Brown Live Live Children's Maiden Women's Peeled Turquoise Innocent Innoble Angel Omalese Multi-Through Friendly Lovely Full Summaged Mad Sweets Blue Unbearable Happy Almighty Blue - (Golden Cold Commission Pomegranate Faceted Greek Turkish Show-windows Large Fake Emerald Pre-Wedding Children Dreamable Waitted Covered Heated Natives ) - Frightened arrested outstanding desperate pathetic submissive driven - (hidden protective attached native warm) - Crying terrible misunderstanding blinds who understood angry praying dead - (buried icy forgotten) - gray brown of arrogant evaluating - (purified gold store sparkling divergent storubes) - HeavenlyConfession of display
I should not have a damn! What money underground lie? Vereshchagin in Avoska carries a skull, as the empty dishes pass. Yes, I am a grommet. And your morality did not reveal the great graves? Hands in the blood did not maral - did I kill them? Who I was, a sexsworth, a man without problems, Hochma spirit in a car of any combining sex with a chill computer? I would call myself - a display. In the blazes, the color of the wallpaper goes the tribe of the display. So that there was no failure in the family, call the display. What with you, the display, do not smoke to us "surf"? No money, displays, we are prompted by any! "2-17-40 ... ... 86 Sample ... rub ..." Doctor, give an injection double! Broke the display. Left - pain. You break the matches all night. The baby pigtails are shot. I broke the entire program of the mother's mother ... Old tank ditch, where are your nightingale? Tango listens to the eyelids. "If there is no love, you don't call me, you will never return me ..." There was a story about today's conjuncture of love, I shake myself in Vienna.Vienna story
I slow, inclusive ignition. Where to go? The night was chic. Trembled hood like a nervous greyhound. Everything is impatible with the age of Balzak me through the skin with bubbles Epos - champagne air with an admixture of Balzam! I lowered the left glass. And two young Delons came up - in Mount Mountain, neck creeps. "Free, Miss? Relax not mind? Five hundred per evening, a thousand per night. " I broke out. Me, as a prostitute, perceived! And the heart beat terribly: you want, you shine, you are young! I was indignant. I said yes". The other added, swaying by hiding, having filled the blue imperfection: "Suddenly there is a friend, like you are a richness? I take the same - a thousand per night. " Ah, bastards! CARE FIGHTS! Throwing them with gas, I was moving away. And the heart beat from longing and happiness! "Five hundred for the evening, a thousand per night." Supermen, they did not think without letters. "... September 23 at 20 o'clock in the apartment ... - suggested c. Sh. To buy a gold coin of the Tsarist Chacking. Dignity 10 rubles. and called coin price of 500 rubles., in order to obtain profits at the same time the cost of 140 rubles., explaining that only the specified amount will sell the coin to her. However, his criminal intent is not fully brought for reasons beyond him, t. To. S. refused to buy a coin ... "" ... On September 25, 17 hours, being intoxicated in the apartment t. Fasonovoy unjustly, of hooliganism, loud swearing insulted Fasonovu, showing special insolence, grabbed her by the shoulders, spat in her face, then began to beat her indoor kitchen, I slapped on the torso and other parts of the body, causing her according to findings Forensic medical examination Small bodily harm, not reasons for health disorder. He continued its hooligan actions for 20 to 30 minutes. Than interfered with a relaxing rest of his people around him "(t. 1, l. 201 - 203). Where are you leading, ditch?Pit
I jumped into the pit I. Shadow hugged me. The day was at the top. Skull I saw. I took a step into the corner on the loose land, and felt a terrible blow ... I woke up. Candelabra burns, sticking. The dungeon looks like a warehouse. All low-headed. He drinks, smelleding his troll. - What do you want? - They say. - A New Look. Laugh. Skidali: "Degenerate! Give life - and take. But the refund is unthinkable. The poet lives so many lives in a row, how many times the look is updated. " And I gave all my life out of sight. Oh, to have time to dissect him and eyeless give .. And the last thing that I could see - it's the same you, father and mother of ... · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · Shovel that you stepped. And she deceived you on the forehead. " I'm lying in the meadow. I laugh that there are strength. Eyelids cuts me blue. How do I love you! Not my sister, life, but a loved one - life, I love your body, and soul, and blue, how you tremble from the sun, squeezing me look, your fingers, black from the butter! Where are you leading, ditch? Shadows follow us. Words come to life. At one time I wrote the poem "Live Lake" dedicated to the Transcarpathian ghetto, shot in the years of the war with fascists and flooded water. Last year I read the poems of these on the evening in Richmond. After the evening, the Ulyana Gabarra came to me, Professor of Literature of the Richmond University. Neither Bloodynikov was not in her face. One look. She told that her whole family died in this lake. She herself was the baby then, miraculously saved, then fell into Poland. Then in the States.The poem is at one time illustrated Chagall. In the foreground, his drawing of a child detained on his mother's knees. Now for me it is Ulyana Gabarra. Is the poem what I write? Cycle poems? That's just least takes me. It takes me that evil has become less. The wigbed skull looks at me. The more I will collect evil on the pages - the less it will remain in life. Is prose with poetry? And evil with life? Back in "Lake", I first introduced the prose to the poem, but it had a phantasmagoric task. The protocol prose of "case" where the monstrous fantasy. People revealed when I talked about these facts. Some did blue eyes, others did not advise you to get involved. Fortunately, most other. But now, Simferopol craftsmen, some faces ordered to make metal detectors on schemes published in radio journal. The narrative is delayed. Ditch stretches. New and new faces open. When will this horror end? But no, still rod, more ... where are you, ditch, lead?
Racket
Motorcycles Rocky. Town over the river. From the savings of the depositor lead in disorder. Militia Racket, Militia Racks speck out the traders. This crime sorrows. Started on the dispute. And the one who grows, tortured in grove - headlights to the emphasis. "What do you hold for jeans, Capitoline?" "And every boss is in the paw, pliz?!" Where are the remnants of capitalism? Their grandparents did not find capitalism. Limiters boys than you looked? The abyss of the subconscious - not "AT-two". In the Demon's Wildrages on the Millennium Motorcycles flies by Alchba. But on the laws to tear straps. The town from the rumors is deceptor. Without a belt, it leads to the miones of these - a real policeman. He has a note from the bullet, the gymnastrrus is twice sewn from a knife.Slow
Among business skorpionisch living nearby benefits, short-haired skorpomosch rescuing unfortunate lives. Where are you driving at midnight? Would save you! Your way is blocked, soak, and ditch across the path.Parody
"Our factory without awards. He rushed again. I am shutting the unit to buy to firms. Foreign liqueur. "Sharpe" take. I am almost like in paradise. Removed the game! The contract is not signed. Firmachi went stains on the cheeks. - Provoked? - Yes, how! There in showcases and whiskey and ham and other anti-Soviet. He again bored without awards, our factory. Purchase the aggregate to firms me. Like in paradise! "Sharpe" take, "Djeje-". Foreign liqueur. Removed the game! I do not sign the contract. Skaskadnashvavodznagradonopat kfirmachammyachiyagregatzAgricultural Agreement Summaging Schnaligru bought our factory. He is again without awards ... "A New Look
What do I want? A new look, so the eyelids hurt. What do I want? Renaissance. Become, Odessa, Ryazan, spiritual Tuscany for us! So that we left the descendants not to Alter - bright, like a blissful pineapple. In the "New Life", like Zlak, Zelell a new look. A new look gave rise to Renaissance. I like a pillar of philosophical I want to open, the Tower of Sukharev resurrect. Against the Squilphousovka of Alala, Bela, HTR Age of Peter. I want the house, without spoiling the earth, steamed on the air cushion, so that He would not be brought for a separation from the Earth - for the separation of the sky. A New Look! A new look does not accept satrap, in this Fedorov I am collected. 20 million mining, blind completely. Saws to the country in the country. I came to him still in betraying and whistle. He looks like a beaver. Necrota. In a robe, like a cosmonaut, running a fresh twist, he pilotted a new look. I want a man's need left, do not live to pay when. There is no era of a wallery villages, when she was "for wands" workday. Is Alch, if you want to live in human? Unless greedy soul, that he had made, get - car keys and a diamond in nefalshivyh ears. Each woman is affectionate and difficult life must certainly be dressed, if at night - in Velasquez, if the day - then in the costume of Carden. Dressed, living, suffering, reaches the level of world non-standard! (Eau de cologne "March 8" cut off all the world's non-standard.) Along the path running nonstandard world. Tanning, lies the world non-standard. World non-standard entered the deficit. Young nostradi pedsovet holds. I am more expensive than ondatre among bright snows, the world non-standard non-standard minds. So that the world does not blow up, you need a century new look, a new look, non-standard world.Fly crows
Migration Raven! Migration Raven! Will be in the skies of the highway from the Black Volga. Bazaarchik is ruined. Empty in Hovrine Perron, the electric train stood in the dark of the ranks. Claws are not a bit. Children need to take care! What are you kinking on us, Gray Tornado? Maybe a bureaucrat, immeasurable number, bears from the choir, the bad weather followed? They change the course. Broke the course of nature. Where are you bothering, darkness? On Kerch or Cover? Do you remember - Mole in Pensna, Walking a coup, directed the migration of thieves to Moscow? Or maybe grafoman shall pass? The whole street of Vorovsky was covered with pen. Above us, the skies shouted to MegaFon: "Watch your children! Migration Raven. " You and your daughter in a carriage walked the yard, you were covered with the abdomen from Heaven. And in your back, skin-skinned com, the Crow migration was rushed. Someday you come to the beach together. Stripping through the tan pattern of different times. And you will only chase my shoulder: "What a sorry unfortunate birds! Migration Raven. " If alch eventually going into gold, I think, is going to artists and unselfishness becomes spiritual values. The Church of Christ the Savior in honor of the victory over Napoleon was built on nationwide funds. The gift of Tretyakov city of his kid was disinterested. At one time I had to write that the Tretyak Building dies from dampness. Now Moscow resolutely took up his restructuring, having ruled the proud of the Knot of Volokat. New Valves will be inserted by the Punchy Heart of Zamoskvorea. Almost the new building is erected. But how carefully you need to build and restore - after all, there is an operation on the heart! A dismantled demon, Vereshchaginsky "Apotheosis", the philosophical philon moves for 4 years to the store. I was invited to look at the last time on the old walls before the resettlement of the biggest cloth - the masterpiece Alexander Ivanov. I walked to the gallery through the interruption streets and the lanes - soon there will be a protected pedestrian zone. How anxiously became in the empty halls! Everyone knew that it was necessary for the better, but some sadness was, something went along with the walls, soaked with the breath of so many people and years.Before repair
In the year of the galeus approximation, I say goodbye to the Tretyakov Gallery. Pictures shot. Empty Anfiladers. The lap from the last canvas descended a person similar to Filatova. Removed from the wall "The phenomenon of Christ" stupid women. On the walls of the divorce. You yourself with articles rushing repairs. The "phenomenon of Christ" leaves the people to the fossil fund. Did you feel that everything is crime, why are you kept from tears? The last captain leaves from the vessel - the artist of Christ is incomprehension. Artist Christ did not succeed. Figurine disappearing from the eyes, did you think - he approached? He, the fir, is removed from you. Before New Svidanya, Gallery! Before the new drawing, beauty. Not us, not for us you will be, Halley. To new spectators, "the phenomenon of Christ". On the street, apart operators and zapahnuv satin tunic, walked a man like Filatov. I was designated. It was not him.Diagnosis
The year already, as I collided with the horror RVA. Year already, how the head is cleaned. The doctor said that I was a nerve with a head, I go to a woolen hat. Juna drives his palms above his head, says: "As if the boom is carrying ice!" My opponent grunts, muzzle down: "I said that it was cold upgrades." Is there really a dress from the inside? And grave thought can brain extinguish? In me, moans and screams, lying cold worlds. Where are you leading, ditch?Battle
Lambog teeth and shovel. At the 10th verst, we have ordered us. Storyl with Novoryl, corop for two! Will overfulfill a plan for survivors! Labor, as in the tropics - to panties. Aerobics of the Dead. Who is your finger counting, who goes ahead. Who bury the model who digs under MCAT. Run, how truth - upside down! - The first who will throw com? Following their witch flying on a shovel riding ... Fair poster vodruzhon on the sixth "Dead - the majority, but of the living - the minority". Do not eat: "Panhid alive!" I did not know the smiles of the tooths. Allilucer - now master of bold speeches. Climbing with the blades of the Greaterna, the wise men. They scarce the country - just do not hold! But the Live Raised Excavator rises ahead of the dead men - Pasternak, and - the humpback from the shovel - the settlement, and the plant's planting cherry. And the Heavenly people are next to them, who risks not for metal, whose improper shovel The helicopter death of the reactor buried the dead and the creators, the dead and the creators - Eternal Fight: Eternal Risk, Eternal Dreams! The sparks of the oncoming shovel from Tver before the Yangtze, the fight of the dead shovel and living. Pasternak, you thorn to the fence Sadilov, unselfish tucking pants into boots. And Varnak did not take you between the shining. The shovel of the crown is your wreath. How he is in the word weighing, my stupid people. Not by chance, he is a shovel called. Sit it up with a crowd over yourself - you will see a woman with a blond scythe. Turned away with backs. Looks at sunset. The stem is lowered to the ground. For you at sunset, the battle boils - the dead and the creators, the dead and the creators. It's all matritsi- ruet "az, beeches, Rtsy" on canvas shroud, in the addresses of madrasahs. There are two nations - as you neither mills are the dead and the creators, creators and the dead. I live the nefple. For strikes - Mercy? But for the new opinion, my years fly. The outgoing century is reading crosses in the initials of crossed shovel. At the holes the dead and the creators. There is no border at Being. Century Twenty some of the tiles broke my shovel.The final
Life is the plot of the final. The court punished punished. People hurried to the grave. Steppe is sad. To her again, the slope in the rag is a proceed. And no one carries hyacinth.Epilogue
I gathered all the abomination on the page, like a doctor to burn you, Alch. Do not manuscripts burn? Still as dry! The authors are eternal, they say. Still like dry. Lagging, creating, in the fire of a falcony mountain. Alter, burn! All four hero in me look - moat, Alch, speech, look. - You're to be Goyai sought for Russian dawn. In the ashes, the gaps are silent. I grabbed your side by side. In the shower - blisters. Or do you yourself burn from the inside? This jealousy is yours invites Lunch that there was an underground nature. This is Alch, it is Alch, it's worse than Alchi, your life twisted the duck. - You thwarted my comrade. Chestolyubnichay, cramps, yach! .. Like a glance or a pure substance, alch stands over the fire. I saw, the only one of the people, like a pathetic smile. We combined in the smile of that alkonost, and the Jocona, and the Linkos. And behind it, like snakes, the endless body of yours sailed. And I realized that Alchi is a ditch, it was a moat, where the people were killed. Help - shouted from black vapors. And the smile revealed your mouth. And I saw a flexible sting that your faces concerned me. I remember, the sting grabbed and tougher, like a wick - Alchi "Amnesty, executioner ... Three desires appointed ..." "Three desires broke up to Kamchatka ..." Okay! To die you, Alch. Did not resurgent so that, Alch, and still - to forget you in the world of new passions. In the eyelids, the boy will ask, the boy in the reader will ask, confusing the display: "What does the word" Alch "mean?" March 6, 2015.Spiritual process
Afterword
On April 7, 1986, we rode from Simferopol on the Feodosi highway. The clock on the taxi driver shield was shown 10 in the morning. Sam taxi driver Vasiliy Fedorovich Forest, sixty years that way, weathered red-cheeked, overweight, with blue, faded from the vision of the eyes, and again repeated his painful story. Here, under the city, at the 10th kilometer, 12,000 civilians were executed during the war.
"Well, we, boys, I was ten years old, I ran to look at how they were shot. They brought them in indoor machines. Stripped to idle. From the highway was anti-tank ditch. So, we need a moat and beat them from the machine gun. They shouted all scary - over the steppe stood stood. Was December. All filmed galoshes. Several thousand Golosh lay. Coultry traveled by on the highway. The soldiers were not shy. The soldiers were all drunk. Noticing us, they gave us a turn. Yes, I still remembered the table stood, where the passports were selected. The whole steppe was littered with passports. Many have been injected with semi-intensive. Earth breathe. Then we found a box from under Gutalin in the steppe. Heavy. In it, the gold chain was two coins. So all the savings of the family. People with them carried the most valuable. Then I heard who revealed this burial, Coldishly drank. Last year they were judged. Well, you are already in the know "... I not only knew, but also wrote a poem called "Alch" about it. Doodle down another name: "Ditch". I asked witnesses. The acquaintances showed me archival documents. The poem ended, but everything was not crazy.
Again and again pulled the death of death. Although what will you see there? Only overgrown kilometers of the steppe. "... I have a neighbor, Valya Adapter. He may, one of all and escaped. His mother on the way out of the car pushed out ". Get out. Vasily Fedorovich is noticeably worried. The poor, once a plastered pillar with an inscription about the victims of the assumptions of the ass, all in the cracks, says rather about oblivion than about memory. "Imprint?" The buddy unzipped the camera. By the highway, the flow of "MAZOV" and "Zhiguli". The emerald shoots of wheat walked to the horizon. To the left at the waters idyllically, a tiny rural cemetery. The ditch has long been aligned and Green, but his outlines were guessed, walking across the kilometer highway on one and a half. Bells shy branches of a bloomed thorns. Cherelli rare acacia trees. We, descending from the sun, slowly bureled from the highway. And suddenly - what is it?! On the way among the green field, the square of the freshly burdened well; The land of cheese is still. Behind him is another. Around the pile of buried bones, exhaleted clothing. Black, like smoke, skull. "Again digging, bastards!" - Vasily Fedorovich Donkey all. It was not in the newsreel, not in the stories of witnesses, not in a nightmarish dream - and here, near. That's just digested. Skull, behind him. Two tiny, children. But the split on the shards adult. "These are the crowns gold pliers dive." Crazy female boots. My God, hair, scalp, children's redhead hair with braided pigtail! As they are tightly stuck, right, something else hoping, in the morning before execution! .. What bastards! This is not a literary reception, not fictional heroes, not the pages of the criminal chronicle, these are we, next to the carrying highway, stand in front of the pile of human skulls. This is not a villain of antiquity, but the current people. Nightmare some. 
The bastards dug this night. A broken cigarette with a filter is lying around. I didn't even drop away. Near her copper transplane sleeve. "German"- says Vasily Fedorovich. Someone raises her, but immediately throws, thinking about the danger of infection. The skulls lay chest, these mysteries of the Mirozdanya are brown-dark from the long underground years - as if huge smoky mushrooms. The depth of professionally dug mines is about two human growth, one at the bottom moves a shit. At the bottom of the second, it lies the root, the spoiled shovel - it means that today will come?! In horror, we look at each other, everything is not believing as in a terrible dream it is. To which the man should reach, how corrupted should be consciousness to dig in skeletons, next to a lively expensive to crush the skull and ticks to pull off the crowns at light headlights. And even almost not hiding, leaving footprints in the mind somehow defiantly, challengingly. And people who quietly rushed along the highway probably have fun: "Someone again is Goldishko Root?" Yes, everything was crazy, or what?! Next to us stuck on the peg of a tin poster: "Damn it is prohibited - cable". Cable can not, and people can be? It means that even the trial did not suspend the consciousness of this bastard, and, as they told me, they only talked about criminals on the process, not about the fate of the buried themselves. And where does the epidstance look? From these wells can get any infection, the epidemic can lose weight. In the steppes, children run. And the spiritual epidemic? Do not steal from the graves they do not work, and they rob the soul filthy lucre in miserable gold grams, soul buried, your, yours! The militia is worn along the highway for drivers and cobblers, and here will not look here. At least post put. One by 12 thousand. Memory of people is sacred. Why not think not only about the legal, but also about the spiritual protection of burial? Click the cry, and the best sculptors will put stele or marble wall. To people sacred trembling. 12 thousand worthy of this. We, four, stand on the tenth kilometer. We are ashamed, the nefples say - what, what to do? Maybe the lawn on the spot is broken, slate to block and put the border? Yes, and the names would not hurt to remember. We do not know what - but something needs to be done, and immediately. So I once again faced with a revived last year's business No. 1586. Where do you lead, ditch?
INTRODUCTION
I appeal to reading turtles:
did our mind exhausted yourself?
We stand over the steppe.
On the highway dusting Crimea.
Shuddered the skull under the scalp my.
Near - black,
like mushroom smoke, buried.
He gathered a smile in his cam.
I felt
some secret connection -
as if I was connected to the conversation -
what stretched from us
to the devices without eyes,
like an wireless phone.
- ... Marya Lvovna, Hello!
Mom, we were listed ...
Again storms, interference cosmich
Fixed, Alexander? - Bad, Fedor Kuzmich ...
Straight Hichkokovsky Kich ...
Skull. Tamerlan. Do not open the tomb.
War breaks out from there.
Do not cut shovel
spiritual fungny!
Enhances terrible than the plague.
Simferopolsky did not stop the process.
Communication broke up time?
Psychiatrist - in the hall!
How to prevent the poor process
what is conditionally "decorating" called?!
What, to hell, the poet you, the "people"?
What drank your loaf?
In front of the twelve thousand pairs of eyes
do something, not talk!
Do not save the foreman.
Look, Country, -
son mother screams from trenches.
Environment is terrible,
ecology of the Spirit is terrible.
I wichely walked
whatever I read, -
all I go to Simferopolsky ditch.
And, black, swim skulls, skulls,
as the eclipse of white minds.
And when I go to Luzhniki,
now every time
i will see demanding pupils
twelve thousand couple eyes.
Do not take me, rock,
in Simferopolsky ditch.
Steppe. Twelfthyard look.
Chu, shovels knock
grateful grandchildren.
Genocide laid this treasure.
Hold the shovel!
We were people.
Here, take it! I carried a brilliant.
You, dad, don't
bones shake.
Rent a snack and step again.
Good people first
joy to open.
God forbid first you see
this fresh pit,
where the skull is open.
Valya! It was your mother.
This is a friend, it is
this is a friend, it is
gold and bone dust.
From the skeleton, the bracelet was removed the bat
and the other, driving, hurried.
"The German-fascist invaders on the 10th km were shot by civilians predominantly Jewish nationality, Crimea, Russians"- We read in archival materials. Then in the same RBU executed partisans. This is the depths of sacred historical. And on the past, when blasphesed sacred shadows? Boyan, Skovorod, Shevchenko taught uncanyful. Not hunger, no need to crime. Why is the eternal, the terrible and the holy days of the Leningrad blockade is hunger and misery have highlighted the exacerbation of morality and selfless stoicism? Why now serving a morgue, giving a shocked family of grandmother and mother, quietly offers: "Recalculate the number of valuable metal teeth at the late", not embarrasing the horror of what was said? "Changes psychology, - tells me, squinting in Chekhovsky, thinking lawyer, - early killed simply in the "Axiff Affect". Recently, the case was: the Son and Mother consisted to kill Father-Tirana. Sonlets son connected a current from the outlet to the father's bed. When the father, drunk, as usual, to the touch, lying on a rosette, it hit him here. True, the technique turned out to be weak, I had to finish ". Only two of our heroes were previously convicted, and then only for the membership. So they were like everyone else? In restaurants, they paid gold, which means that everyone knew around? Whose wine here? Location popping, flashing ribs sample, these gold pieces, hollow ring, seductive ducats - from the dark ages of our lives, from the sweet Mediterranean, from the depths of instinct? Who belongs to them, these tokens are tempting, - the master from Mycena, the depths of the steppe or the future Laroshnice? Who is the victim? Who owns underground jewels whose are they? We stand at the 10th kilometer. A draw grass is fresh. Somewhere far to the north stretch drawn meadows, drawing hobs are ruined, unworthy people are mesh rivers and lakes? Whose are they? Whose are you with you?
Now you will hear an unusual reading by the poet of your poems, although by nature it is always unusual. Because the poet reads "over" the rules of prowness - he has other impulses.
Many, having heard the first time, as poets read, are surprised - where is the logic! Where "paintings" transmitting content! Where are the little performances of the "theater of one actor", which are arranged from reading verses dramatic artists! Where finally the connection of these qualities, which demonstrate professional readers with academic restraint!
And nevertheless, the true lovers of poetry, for which she - the condition of life, attracts, fascinates the author's reading.
Why? Yes, because in the "monotonous" reading of the poet always approaching the secret of the birth of verse. In his reading the initial chords of the folding music. Because the poet instinctively cares to be heard through the word "swing", ie rhythmic foundation on which his poetic magic holds. In these, it would seem, formal things for it dominant content. The poet, as a composer, hears the music of life. But every poet has her ear on her. Only his inherent musicality sends the listener something that knocks his heart, and often stronger than the skill of the artist-interpreter. However, rather it will be that here we are dealing with different arts.
The artist who reads poetic poems is, as it were, our representative in his poetic world. Every time in my illuminates this world, according to its own interpretation, that is, enters the world of Pushkin, Lermontov, Tyutchev, Blok, Mayakovsky ... every time is added on to the poet himself.
Poet reading his own, - a unique time document, the original source of his knowledge, so they can read the "better" or "worse" in terms of performance skills. It does not matter! The value of the emanation, radiation, the "glow" of their personality. Peculiar spiritual radiation. Through terrifying "technical" rattle plate comes the voice of Ivan Bunin: "Well, well, I drink ... It would be nice to buy a dog ..." And still, eternal, bewildered, almost childish voice Pasternak: "Do not sleep, do not sleep, the artist, Do not indulge in a dream, you are always hostage, in time in captivity ... "
From this it is impossible to go away!
Also, I think it is impossible to tear off from what and how the Voznesensky reads!
When I read "ditch", and now I listen to him in the author's reading, everything climbs into the ears of the epigraph chosen by the Radishchey to his executed book: "I looked around myself, - my soul was vulnerable to my soul."
The terrible document of Andrei Voznesensky "Kant" (I want to call the Poemsensky poem: talks about fascism, about our home-grown fascism.
If people could come to the place where, during the war, the Nazis shot women, children, old people, shot prisoners of war and partisans, and Delvito, sharing the square of the mortal field to "squares", dig a human skull to get gold from teeth or collect decorations with skeletons, these same people appear they were in other circumstances, for example, in December 1941, when the Nazis murdered here, could well be among them.
Fascism begins with violence. Violence - from disrespect for the human person, with its impairment, we pay expensive now for the fact that they have previously neglected with such eternal categories as conscience, moral debt, honor, and because the concepts are indivisible and do not require any adjectives! This or is in a person, or not.
... and the poet shouts! He is shocked. As was shocked by Tolstoy, when I wrote my "I can't be silent!", Phonus feeling, as delayed on his neck, the next loop of the next Russian gallows. As Zola was shocked when he wrote his "I blame!", I feel that innocent drift can be shot and can shoot.
Writer, which is worthy of this title, is the nude conscience of the people. When others can still occupy information, he has an infarction of conscience. He just can not. Must shout what hurts.
"Kant" of Voznesensky had a huge resonance. The poem was told, what happened on the Simferopol highway was discussed in institutions, schools, mines. People are still born as conscientious, I believe in it. Thousands of letters went to the journal "Youth", first published a poem. Criminals, desecrated a terrible memory field, tried. The field is turned into a memorial.
"A person can become better, if you show him, what it is," said Anton Pavlovich Chekhov. Today, our literature - prose, poetry seek to speak the people to the truth. We have a lot of work on renewal, according to the moral rehabilitation of society.
The poem of the Voznesensky "ditch" fiercely fights against the spiritual corrosion, because the point of the poet is His Word, if it goes from his soul's vague! ..
