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- Tell me, uncle, it's not without reason
- Moscow, burnt by fire,
given to the French?
After all, there were fighting battles,
Yes, they say, what else!
No wonder the whole of Russia remembers
About the day of Borodin!
- Yes, there were people in our time,
- Not like the current tribe:
Bogatyrs - not you!
They got a bad share:
Few returned from the field ...
Do not be the Lord's will,
They wouldn't give up Moscow!
We retreated in silence for a long time.
It was annoying, they were waiting for the battle,
The old people grumbled:
“What are we? for winter quarters?
Do not dare, or something, commanders
Aliens tear up their uniforms
About Russian bayonets?
And here we found a large field:
There is a roam where at will!
They built a redoubt.
Our ears are on top!
A little morning lit up the guns
And forests blue tops -
The French are right here.
I scored a charge in the cannon tight
And I thought: I will treat a friend!
Wait a minute, brother Musyu!
What is there to be cunning, perhaps for battle;
We will go to break the wall,
Let's keep our heads up
For your homeland!
For two days we were in a skirmish.
What's the use of such nonsense?
We waited the third day.
Everywhere speeches began to be heard:
"Time to get to the buckshot!"
And here on the field of a formidable battle
The night shadow fell.
I lay down to take a nap at the gun carriage,
And it was heard before dawn,
How the French rejoiced.
But our open bivouac was quiet:
Who cleaned the shako all battered,
Who sharpened the bayonet, grumbling angrily,
Biting a long mustache.
And the sky just lit up
Everything suddenly stirred,
The formation flashed behind the formation.
Our colonel was born with a grip:
Servant to the king, father to the soldiers...
Yes, sorry for him: struck by damask steel,
He sleeps in the damp earth.
And he said, his eyes sparkling:
"Guys! Isn't Moscow behind us?
Let's die near Moscow
How our brothers died!”
And we promised to die
And the oath of allegiance was kept
We are in the battle of Borodino.
Well, it was a day!
Through the flying smoke
The French moved like clouds
And all to our redoubt.
Lancers with colorful badges,
Dragoons with horse-tails,
All flashed before us
Everyone has been here.
You will not see such battles! ..
Worn banners like shadows
Fire gleamed in the smoke
Damask steel sounded, buckshot screeched,
The hand of the fighters is tired of stabbing,
And prevented the nuclei from flying
A mountain of bloody bodies.
The enemy knew a lot that day,
What does the Russian fight remote mean,
Our hand-to-hand combat!
The earth shook - like our breasts;
Mixed in a bunch of horses, people,
And the volleys of a thousand guns
Merged into a long howl ...
Here it is dark. Were all ready
In the morning start a new fight
And stand to the end...
Here the drums crackle -
Yes, there were people in our time,
Mighty, dashing tribe:
Bogatyrs are not you.
They got a bad share:
Few returned from the field.
If it weren't for God's will,
They wouldn't give up Moscow!
famous poem
On October 15, 1814, one of the greatest poets of mankind, Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov, was born. He died very young - he was not yet twenty-seven years old. During his short life, he created many brilliant creations. But there is, perhaps, no one more popular among them than the poem "Borodino".
The whole world knows the word "Borodino". This is the name of a village located not far from Moscow, on the old Smolensk road. On September 5, 1812, a great battle took place near Borodino: Russian troops under the command of Field Marshal M.I. Kutuzov defeated the French army, led by the famous commander - Emperor Napoleon I.
Borodino is one of the greatest battles in history, in which our fate was decided - the fate of the peoples of Russia, Borodino is the most important moment in the course of the Patriotic War of 1812. In this battle, the patriotic upsurge of the Russian army and the entire Russian society was manifested with the highest force. Borodino is the great defeat of Napoleon, the beginning of his decline and the final death of his "invincible" army. This is the vast and deep meaning that M. Yu. Lermontov put into the title of his poem.
A simple Russian soldier tells about the great battle. He recalls with delight how, on the day of Borodin, the Russian army swore to stand up for their homeland with their heads, to break the onslaught of the enemy, to block his path. And how she kept the “oath of allegiance” in battle. In the face of an old soldier, Lermontov portrayed the protagonist of the war - the people.
The poet managed to tell a lot in a small poem. Here is the night before the battle, and the morning of the great battle, and the colonel's call to die near Moscow, and the French offensive. And finally, victory:
Here the drums crackle -
And the basurmans retreated.
The old soldier says that the Russian army was so eager for a speedy and complete victory that
... Were all ready
In the morning start a new fight
And stand to the end...
This invincible spirit of the Russian army crushed Napoleon's invasion.
Lermontov was born when the Patriotic War was over and the victorious Russian troops were already in Paris. But since childhood, he heard stories about the Patriotic War and about the famous battle.
Upon leaving the military school, the poet joined the Guards Regiment as an officer. Soldiers who happened to participate in the Battle of Borodino served in the regiment: after all, the service of a soldier in those days lasted twenty-five years. Experienced warriors willingly shared memories of past battles with recruits. It is no coincidence that the young soldier calls the narrator "uncle". These are fighters of different generations.
Lermontov not only depicted the battle as it could be seen and remembered by an ordinary participant in the battle - a man from the people, but also spoke about it in simple language, interspersed with folk expressions and jokes: “wait a minute, brother, musyu”, “well, it was a day ”, “our ears are on top of our heads”, “our colonel was born with a grip”, “sleeps in the damp earth”, “the infidels retreated”. About the enemy army, "uncle" speaks in the singular - in a popular way: "given to the Frenchman", "the Frenchman rejoiced."
In Lermontov's "Borodino" the very thick of the battle is depicted, military labor is shown. Before Lermontov, there were no such descriptions in Russian poetry.
"Borodino" belongs to those rare works of poetry that adults re-read many times in their lives and at the same time understand and love the youngest.
Irakli Andronikov
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- Tell me, uncle, it's not for nothing
Moscow burned by fire
given to the French?
After all, there were fighting battles,
Yes, they say, what else!
No wonder the whole of Russia remembers
About the day of Borodin!
- Yes, there were people in our time,
Not like the current tribe:
Bogatyrs are not you!
They got a bad share:
Few returned from the field ...
Do not be the Lord's will,
They wouldn't give up Moscow!
We retreated silently for a long time,
It was annoying, they were waiting for the battle,
The old people grumbled:
“What are we? for winter quarters?
Do not dare, or something, commanders
Aliens tear up their uniforms
About Russian bayonets?
And here we found a large field:
There is a roam where at will!
They built a redoubt.
Our ears are on top!
A little morning lit up the guns
And forests blue tops -
The French are right here.
I scored a charge in the cannon tight
And I thought: I will treat a friend!
Wait a minute, brother Musyu!
What is there to be cunning, perhaps for battle;
We will go to break the wall,
Let's keep our heads up
For your homeland!
For two days we were in a skirmish.
What's the use of such nonsense?
We waited the third day.
Everywhere speeches began to be heard:
"Time to get to the buckshot!"
And here on the field of a formidable battle
The night shadow fell.
I lay down to take a nap at the gun carriage,
And it was heard before dawn,
How the French rejoiced.
But our open bivouac was quiet:
Who cleaned the shako all battered,
Who sharpened the bayonet, grumbling angrily,
Biting a long mustache.
And the sky just lit up
Everything suddenly stirred,
The formation flashed behind the formation.
Our colonel was born with a grip:
Servant to the king, father to the soldiers...
Yes, sorry for him: struck by damask steel,
He sleeps in the damp earth.
And he said, his eyes sparkling:
"Guys! Isn't Moscow behind us?
Let's die near Moscow
How our brothers died!”
And we promised to die
And the oath of allegiance was kept
We are in the battle of Borodino.
Well, it was a day! Through the flying smoke
The French moved like clouds
And all to our redoubt.
Lancers with colorful badges,
Dragoons with ponytails
All flashed before us
Everyone has been here.
You will not see such battles!
Worn banners like shadows
Fire gleamed in the smoke
Damask steel sounded, buckshot screeched,
The hand of the fighters is tired of stabbing,
And prevented the nuclei from flying
A mountain of bloody bodies.
The enemy knew a lot that day,
What does the Russian fight remote mean,
Our hand-to-hand combat!
The earth shook like our breasts;
Mixed in a bunch of horses, people,
And the volleys of a thousand guns
Merged into a long howl ...
Here it is dark. Were all ready
In the morning start a new fight
And stand until the end...
Here the drums crackle -
And the basurmans retreated.
Then we began to count the wounds,
Count comrades.
Yes, there were people in our time,
Mighty, dashing tribe:
Bogatyrs are not you.
They got a bad share:
Few returned from the field.
If it weren't for God's will,
They wouldn't give up Moscow!
Moscow burned by fire
given to the French?
After all, there were fighting battles,
Yes, they say, what else!
No wonder the whole of Russia remembers
About the day of Borodin!
- Yes, there were people in our time
,
Not like the current tribe:
Bogatyrs - not you!
They got a bad share:
Few returned from the field ...
Do not be the Lord's will,
They wouldn't give up Moscow!
We retreated silently for a long time
,It was annoying, they were waiting for the battle,
The old people grumbled:
"What are we? For winter quarters?
Do not dare, or something, commanders
Aliens tear up their uniforms
About Russian bayonets?
And here we found a large field:
There is a roam where at will!
They built a redoubt.
At our ears on top
!
A little morning lit up the guns
And forests blue tops -
The French are right here.
I scored a charge in the cannon tight
And I thought: I will treat a friend!
Wait a minute, brother Musyu!
What is there to be cunning, perhaps for battle;
We'll go break the wall
,
Let's keep our heads up
For your homeland!
For two days we were in a skirmish.
What's the use of such nonsense?
We waited the third day.
Everywhere speeches began to be heard:
"Time to get to the buckshot!"
And here on the field of a formidable battle
The night shadow fell.
I lay down to take a nap at the gun carriage,
And it was heard before dawn,
How the French rejoiced.
But our open bivouac was quiet:
Who cleaned the shako all battered,
Who sharpened the bayonet, grumbling angrily,
Biting a long mustache.
And the sky just lit up
Everything suddenly stirred,
The formation flashed behind the formation.
Our colonel was born with a grip
:
Servant to the king, father to the soldiers...
Yes, sorry for him: struck by damask steel,
He sleeps in the damp earth.
And he said, his eyes sparkling:
"Guys! Isn't Moscow behind us?
Let's die near Moscow
How our brothers died!
"
And we promised to die
And the oath of allegiance was kept
We are in the battle of Borodino.
Well, it was a day! Through the flying smoke
The French moved like clouds
And all to our redoubt.
Lancers with colorful badges,
Dragoons with ponytails
All flashed before us
,
Everyone has been here.
You will not see such battles! ..
Worn banners like shadows
Fire gleamed in the smoke
Damask steel sounded, buckshot screeched,
The hand of the fighters is tired of stabbing
,
And prevented the nuclei from flying
A mountain of bloody bodies.
The enemy experienced a lot that day
,
What does the Russian fight remote mean,
Our hand-to-hand combat!
The earth was shaking - like our chests,
Mixed in a bunch of horses, people
,
And the volleys of a thousand guns
Merged into a long howl ...
Here it is dark. Were all ready
In the morning start a new fight
And stand until the end...
Here the drums crackle -
And the busurmans retreated.
Then we began to count the wounds,
Count comrades
.
Yes, there were people in our time
,
Mighty, dashing tribe:
Bogatyrs are not you.
They got a bad share:
Few returned from the field
.
If it weren't for God's will,
They wouldn't give up Moscow!
1837
"Tell me, uncle, it's not without reason
Moscow burned by fire
given to the French?
Were there fights?
Yes, they say, what else!
No wonder the whole of Russia remembers
About the day of Borodin!
- Yes, there were people in our time,
Not like the current tribe:
Bogatyrs are not you!
They got a bad share:
Not many returned from the field ...
Do not be the Lord's will,
They wouldn't give up Moscow!
We retreated silently for a long time,
It was annoying, they were waiting for the battle,
The old people grumbled:
“What are we? For winter quarters?
Don't the commanders dare
Aliens tear up their uniforms
About Russian bayonets?
And here we found a large field:
There is a roam where at will!
They built a redoubt.
Our ears are on top!
A little morning lit up the guns
And forests blue tops -
The French are right here.
I scored a charge in the cannon tight
And I thought: I will treat a friend!
Wait a minute, brother, Musyu!
What is there to be cunning, perhaps for battle;
We will go to break the wall,
Let's keep our heads up
For your homeland!
For two days we were in a skirmish.
What's the use of such nonsense?
We waited the third day.
Everywhere speeches began to be heard:
"Time to get to the buckshot!"
And here on the field of a formidable battle
The night shadow fell.
I lay down to take a nap at the gun carriage,
And it was heard before dawn,
How the French rejoiced.
But our open bivouac was quiet:
Who cleaned the shako all battered,
Who sharpened the bayonet, grumbling angrily,
Biting a long mustache.
And the sky just lit up
Everything suddenly stirred,
The formation flashed behind the formation.
Our colonel was born with a grip;
Servant to the king, father to the soldiers...
Yes, sorry for him: struck by damask steel,
He sleeps in the damp earth.
And he said, his eyes sparkling:
"Guys! Isn't Moscow behind us?
Let's die near Moscow
How our brothers died!”
And we promised to die
And the oath of allegiance was kept
We are in the battle of Borodino.
Well, it was a day! Through the flying smoke
The French moved like clouds
And all to our redoubt.
Lancers with colorful badges,
Dragoons with ponytails
All flashed before us
Everyone has been here.
You will not see such battles! ..
Worn banners like shadows
Fire gleamed in the smoke
Damask steel sounded, buckshot screeched,
The hand of the fighters is tired of stabbing,
And prevented the nuclei from flying
A mountain of bloody bodies.
The enemy knew a lot that day,
What does the Russian fight remote mean,
Our hand-to-hand combat!
The earth was shaking like our chests
Mixed in a bunch of horses, people,
And the volleys of a thousand guns
Merged into a long howl ...
Here it is dark. Were all ready
In the morning start a new fight
And stand to the end...
Here the drums crackle -
And the basurmans retreated.
Then we began to count the wounds,
Count comrades.
Yes, there were people in our time,
Mighty, dashing tribe:
Bogatyrs are not you.
They got a bad share:
Not many returned from the field.
If it weren't for God's guidance,
They wouldn't give up Moscow!
It was probably written in January 1837, in connection with the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Patriotic War of 1812, which was being celebrated that year.
The Battle of Borodino has long attracted the attention of Lermontov. Among the youthful works of the poet (1830-1831) there is a poem similar in concept to "The Field of Borodin" (the story of a participant in the events).
In 1837 Lermontov thoroughly revised his earlier poem. The narration, devoid of the individual features of the narrator, is replaced in the new edition by the lively, folk, characteristic speech of the old soldier, whose image became central in the poem.
Mind, selfless courage, effective patriotism of the Russian people - these are the qualities that, according to Lermontov, determined the victory over Napoleon.
Speaking about a specific historical event, which is depicted almost with documentary accuracy, Lermontov carries out an idea that had a topical sound: he contrasts the heroes of the spirit, the heroes of the recent past, with the generation of his contemporaries dormant in inaction.
Borodino. Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov - Tell me, uncle, it's not without reason - Moscow, burned by fire, is given to the Frenchman? After all, there were combat fights, Yes, they say, some more! No wonder the whole of Russia remembers About the day of Borodin! - Yes, there were people in our time - Not like the current tribe: Bogatyrs - not you! They got a bad share: Few returned from the field ... If it weren't for the Lord's will, They wouldn't give up Moscow! We retreated in silence for a long time. It was annoying, they were waiting for the battle, The old people grumbled: “What are we? for winter quarters? Do not dare, perhaps, the commanders Aliens to tear off their uniforms O Russian bayonets? And then we found a large field: There is a roam where in the wild! They built a redoubt. Our ears are on top! A little morning lit up the guns And forests blue tops - The French are right there. I hammered the charge into the cannon tightly And I thought: I will treat my friend! Wait a minute, brother Musyu! What is there to be cunning, perhaps for battle; Already we will go to break the wall, Already we will stand with our heads For our homeland! For two days we were in a skirmish. What's the use of such nonsense? We waited the third day. Speech began to be heard everywhere: "It's time to get to the buckshot!" And now a shadow fell on the field of the formidable Night Sich. I lay down to take a nap at the carriage, And it was heard until dawn, As the Frenchman rejoiced. But our open bivouac was quiet: Who cleaned the beaten shako, Who sharpened the bayonet, grumbling angrily, Biting his long mustache. And as soon as the sky lit up, Everything suddenly stirred noisily, The formation flashed behind the formation. Our colonel was born with a grip: Servant to the tsar, father to the soldiers... Yes, it's a pity for him: he was slain by damask steel, He sleeps in the damp ground. And he said, flashing his eyes: “Guys! Isn't Moscow behind us? Let us die near Moscow, as our brothers died!” And we promised to die, And we kept the oath of allegiance in the Battle of Borodino. Well, it was a day! Through the flying smoke the French moved like clouds, And all on our redoubt. Lancers with colorful badges, Dragoons with horse-tails, All flashed before us, All have been here. You will not see such battles!.. Banners were worn like shadows, Fire shone in the smoke, Damask steel sounded, buckshot screeched, The hand of the fighters was tired of stabbing, And the mountain of bloody bodies prevented the cannonballs from flying. The enemy experienced a lot that day, What does Russian combat mean, our hand-to-hand combat! .. The earth shook - like our breasts; Horses and people mingled in a heap, And the volleys of a thousand guns Merged into a drawn-out howl... Here it was getting dark. Everyone was ready To start a new battle in the morning And to stand to the end ... Here the drums crackled - And the Busurmans retreated. Then we began to count wounds, Comrades to count. Yes, there were people in our time, Mighty, dashing tribe: Heroes - not you. They got a bad share: Few returned from the field. If it weren't for God's will, Moscow wouldn't be given away!