Александр Пушкин — Октябрь уж наступил — уж роща отряхает (Осень)

Oktyabr uzh nastupil — uzh roshcha otryakhayet
Posledniye listy s nagikh svoikh vetvey;
Dokhnul osenny khlad — doroga promerzayet.
Zhurcha yeshche bezhit za melnitsu ruchey,
No prud uzhe zastyl; sosed moy pospeshayet
V otyezzhiye polya s okhotoyu svoyey,
I strazhdut ozimi ot beshenoy zabavy,
I budit lay sobak usnuvshiye dubravy.

Teper moya pora: ya ne lyublyu vesny;
Skuchna mne ottepel; von, gryaz — vesnoy ya bolen;
Krov brodit; chuvstva, um toskoyu stesneny.
Surovoyu zimoy ya boleye dovolen,
Lyublyu yee snega; v prisutstvii luny
Kak legky beg saney s podrugoy bystr i volen,
Kogda pod sobolem, sogreta i svezha,
Ona vam ruku zhmet, pylaya i drozha!

Kak veselo, obuv zhelezom ostrym nogi,
Skolzit po zerkalu stoyachikh, rovnykh rek!
A zimnikh prazdnikov blestyashchiye trevogi?..
No nado znat i chest; polgoda sneg da sneg,
Ved eto nakonets i zhitelyu berlogi,
Medvedyu, nadoyest. Nelzya zhe tsely vek
Katatsya nam v sanyakh s Armidami mladymi
Il kisnut u pechey za steklami dvoynymi.

Okh, leto krasnoye! lyubil by ya tebya,
Kogda b ne znoy, da pyl, da komary, da mukhi.
Ty, vse dushevnye sposobnosti gubya,
Nas muchish; kak polya, my strazhdem ot zasukhi;
Lish kak by napoit, da osvezhit sebya —
Inoy v nas mysli net, i zhal zimy starukhi,
I, provodiv yee blinami i vinom,
Pominki yey tvorim morozhenym i ldom.

Dni pozdney oseni branyat obyknovenno,
No mne ona mila, chitatel dorogoy,
Krasoyu tikhoyu, blistayushchey smirenno.
Tak nelyubimoye ditya v semye rodnoy
K sebe menya vlechet. Skazat vam otkrovenno,
Iz godovykh vremen ya rad lish yey odnoy,
V ney mnogo dobrogo; lyubovnik ne tshcheslavny,
Ya nechto v ney nashel mechtoyu svoyenravnoy.

Kak eto obyasnit? Mne nravitsya ona,
Kak, veroyatno, vam chakhotochnaya deva
Poroyu nravitsya. Na smert osuzhdena,
Bednyazhka klonitsya bez ropota, bez gneva.
Ulybka na ustakh uvyanuvshikh vidna;
Mogilnoy propasti ona ne slyshit zeva;
Igrayet na litse yeshche bagrovy tsvet.
Ona zhiva yeshche segodnya, zavtra net.

Unylaya pora! ochey ocharovanye!
Priatna mne tvoya proshchalnaya krasa —
Lyublyu ya pyshnoye prirody uvyadanye,
V bagrets i v zoloto odetye lesa,
V ikh senyakh vetra shum i svezheye dykhanye,
I mgloy volnistoyu pokryty nebesa,
I redky solntsa luch, i pervye morozy,
I otdalennye sedoy zimy ugrozy.

I s kazhdoy osenyu ya rastsvetayu vnov;
Zdorovyu moyemu polezen russkoy kholod;
K privychkam bytia vnov chuvstvuyu lyubov:
Chredoy sletayet son, chredoy nakhodit golod;
Legko i radostno igrayet v serdtse krov,
Zhelania kipyat — ya snova schastliv, molod,
Ya snova zhizni poln — takov moy organizm
(Izvolte mne prostit nenuzhny prozaizm).

Vedut ko mne konya; v razdolii otkrytom,
Makhaya grivoyu, on vsadnika neset,
I zvonko pod yego blistayushchim kopytom
Zvenit promerzly dol i treskayetsya led.
No gasnet kratky den, i v kamelke zabytom
Ogon opyat gorit — to yarky svet liyet,
To tleyet medlenno — a ya pred nim chitayu
Il dumy dolgiye v dushe moyey pitayu.

I zabyvayu mir — i v sladkoy tishine
Ya sladko usyplen moim voobrazhenyem,
I probuzhdayetsya poezia vo mne:
Dusha stesnyayetsya liricheskim volnenyem,
Trepeshchet i zvuchit, i ishchet, kak vo sne,
Izlitsya nakonets svobodnym proyavlenyem —
I tut ko mne idet nezrimy roy gostey,
Znakomtsy davniye, plody mechty moyey.

I mysli v golove volnuyutsya v otvage,
I rifmy legkiye navstrechu im begut,
I paltsy prosyatsya k peru, pero k bumage,
Minuta — i stikhi svobodno potekut.
Tak dremlet nedvizhim korabl v nedvizhnoy vlage,
No chu! — matrosy vdrug kidayutsya, polzut
Vverkh, vniz — i parusa nadulis, vetra polny;
Gromada dvinulas i rassekayet volny.

Plyvet. Kuda zh nam plyt?

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