Александр Пушкин — Хочу воспеть, как дух нечистый ада (Монах)

Khochu vospet, kak dukh nechisty ada
Osedlan byl bradatym starikom;
Kak ovladel on chernym klobukom,
Kak on vtolknul Monakha greshnykh v stado.

Pevets lyubvi, ferneysky starichok,
K tebe, Volter, ya nyne obrashchayus.
Kuda, skazhi, devalsya tvoy smychok,
Kotorym ya v Zhan d’Arke voskhishchayus,
Gde kist tvoya, skazhi, uzheli vvek
Ikh ni odin ne naydet chelovek?
Volter! Sultan frantsuzskogo Parnasa,
Ya ne khochu sedlat konya Pegasa,
Ya ne khochu iz muz nadelat dam,
No day lish mne tvoyu zlatuyu liru,
Ya budu s ney vsemu izvesten miru.
Ty khmurishsya i govorish: «Ne dam».
A ty poet, proklyaty Apollonom,
Ispachkavshy prostenki kabakov,
Pod Gelikon upavshy v gryaz s Vilonom,
Ne mozhesh li ty mne pomoch, Barkov?
S usmeshkoyu dayesh ty mne skrypitsu,
Sulish vino i muzu pol-devitsu:
«Posleduy lish primeru moyemu».
Net, net, Barkov! skrypitsy ne vozmu,
Ya stanu pet, chto v golovu pridetsya,
Pust kak-nibud stikh za stikhom polyetsya.

Nevdaleke ot tekh prekrasnykh mest,
Gde derzostny vosstal Ivan-velikoy,
Na golove zlatoy nosyashchy krest,
V glushi lesov, v pustyne mrachnoy, dikoy,
Byl monastyr; v glukhikh yego stenakh
Pod starost let odin sedoy Monakh
Svyatym zhityem, molitvami spasalsya
I dney k kontsu spokoyno priblizhalsya.
Nash truzhenik ne slishkom byl bogat,
Za pyshnost on ne mog popastsya v ad.
Imel kota, imel psaltir i chetki,
Klobuk, stikhar da shtof zelenoy vodki.
Vzoshedshi v dom, gde mirno zhil Monakh,
Ne zolota uvideli b vy gory,
Ne mramor tam prelstil by vashi vzory,
Tam ne visel Rafayel na stenakh.
Uvideli b vy stul ob trekh nogakh,
Da v ugolku skameyka v pol-arshina,
Na koyey spal i zavtrakal Monakh.
Tam pukhovik nad lavkoy ne vzduvalsya.
Khotya monakh, on v pukhe ne valyalsya
Mezh dvukh prostyn na myagkikh tyufyakakh.
Ves krugly god svyatoy otets postilsya,
Ves bozhy den on v kelye provozhdal,
«Pomiluy mya» v polgolosa chital,
Yel plotno, spal i vsyaky chas molilsya.

A ty, Monakh, myatezhny yezuit!
Krasney teper, kol ty krasnet umeyesh,
Kol sovesti khot kapelku imeyesh;
Krasney i ty, bogaty Karmelit,
I ty stydis, Pecherskoy Lavry zhitel,
Serdets i dush smirenny povelitel...
No, lira! stoy! — Daleko zaneslo
Uzhe menya protivu ryasok rvenye;
Besit popov ne nashe remeslo.

Pankraty zhil schastliv v uyedinenye,
Nadeyalsya uvidet vskore ray,
No ni odin zemli bezvestny kray
Zashchitit nas ot dyavola ne mozhet.
I v tekh mestakh, gde cherny satana
Pod strazheyu ot zlosti kogti glozhet,
Uznali vdrug, chto razgorozhena
K monastyryam svobodnaya doroga.
I vdrug tolpoy vse cherti podnyalis,
Po vozdukhu na krylyakh poneslis —
Inoy v Parizh k pleshivym karteziantsam.
S kopeykami, s chervontsami polez,
Tot v Vatikan k bryukhatym italyantsam
Burgonskogo i makaroni nes;
Tot devkoyu s prelatom povalilsya,
Tot molodtsom k monashenkam pustilsya.
I slyshal ya, chto budto stary pop,
Odnoy nogoy uzhe vstupivshy v grob,
Dvukh molodykh venchal pered naloyem.
Chert pribezhal amurov s tselym royem,
I vdrug dyachok na krylose vskhrapel,
Pop zamolchal — na devitsu glyadel,
A devitsa na dyakona glyadela.
U zhenikha krov silno zakipela,
A bes vsekh ikh k sebe zhe v ad povel.

Uzh temna noch na nebesa vskhodila,
Uzh v gorodakh utikh vsednevny shum,
Luna v okno Monakha osvetila.
V molitvennik ves ustremivshy um,
Pankraty nash Nikoly pred ikonoy
So vzdokhami zemnye klal poklony.
Prishel Molok (tak dyavola zovut),
Pankratia pod chernoy ryaskoy skrylsya.
Svyatoy Monakh molilsya uzh, molilsya,
Vzdykhal, vzdykhal, a dyavol tut kak tut.
Byet chas, Molok ne khochet ottsepitsya,
Byet dva, byet tri — nechisty vse sidit.
«Uzh budesh moy», — on sam s soboy vorchit.
A nash starik uzh perestal krestitsya,
Na lavku sel, poter glaza, zevnul,
S molitvoyu tri raza protyanulsya,
Zevnul opyat, i... chut-chut ne zasnul.
Odnako zh net! Pankraty vdrug prosnulsya,
I snova bes Monakha soblaznyat,
Chtob usypit, Bobrova stal chitat.
Monakh skuchal, Monakh tomu divilsya.
Vek ne zeval, kak bogu on molilsya.
No — net uzh sil; kresty, psaltir, slova, —
Vse pozabyl; sedaya golova,
Kak yabloko, po grudi pokatilas,
So lbu ruka v koleni opustilas,
Molitvennik upal iz ruk pod stol,
Svyatoy vzdremal, vskhrapel, kak stary vol.

Neschastny! spi... Pankraty vdrug prosnulsya,
Vzad i vpered so strakhom oglyanulsya,
Perekrestyas s posteli on vstayet.
Glyadit vokrug — svetilnya nagorela;
Chut slaby svet vokrug sebya liyet;
Chto-to v uglu kak budto zabelelo.
Monakh idet — chto zh? yubku vidit on.

«Chto vizhu ya!.. il eto tolko son? —
Vskrichal Monakh, ostolbenev, bledneya. —
Kak! eto chto?..» — i, prodolzhat ne smeya,
Kak vkopanny, pred beloy yubkoy stal,
Molchal, krasnel, smushchalsya, trepetal.

Ognyu lyubvi yedinstvenna pregrada,
Lyubovnika sladchayshaya nagrada
I prelestey yedinstvenny pokrov,
O yubka! rech k tebe ya obrashchayu,
Stroki sii tebe ya posvyashchayu,
Odushevi pero moye, lyubov!

Lyublyu tebya, o yubka dorogaya,
Kogda, menya pod vecher ozhidaya,
Natalya, snyav parchovy sarafan,
Toboyu lish okruzhit tonky stan.
Chto mozhet byt togda tebya mileye?
I ty, vias vokrug prekrasnykh nog,
Strui ruchyev prozrachneye, svetleye,
Kasayeshsya tekh mest, gde yuny bog
Pokoitsya mezh rozoy i lileyey.

Il, kak Filon, za Khloyey pobezhav,
Prizhat yee v obyatia stremitsya,
Zeleny kust tebya vdrug uderzhav...
Ona dolzhna, stydyas, ostanovitsya.
No pozdno vse, Filon, yee dognav,
S ney na travu dushistuyu valitsya,
I plamenna, drozhashchaya ruka
Schastlivogo lyubovyu pastukha
Tebya za kray tikhonko podnimayet...
Ona yemu vzor tomny osklablyayet,
I on... no net; ne smeyu prodolzhat.
Ya trepeshchu, i serdtse silno byetsya,
I, mozhet byt, chitateli, kak znat?
I vasha krov s stremlenyem strasti lyetsya.
No nash Monakh o yubke rassuzhdal
Ne tak, kak ya (ya molod, ne postrizhen
I schastiyem nimalo ne obizhen).
On ne byl rad, chto yubku uvidal,
I v tot zhe chas smeknul i dogadalsya,
Chto v kogti on nechistogo popalsya.

Monakh