Паша Севостьянов - Возвращение на родину
текст песни

I visited my birthplace
That village
Where he lived a boy
Where is the calancha with birch tower
The bell tower without a cross shot down.

How much has changed there
In their poor, unsightly life.
What a lot of discoveries
Behind me followed on the heels.

Father's house
I could not recognize:
No noticeable chant under the window does not wave
And the mother does not sit on the porch,
Feeding chickens with a grapy porridge.

Stain, it must have become ...
Yes, old.
I look sadly at the neighborhood:
What an unfamiliar area!
One, as the same, the mountain whites,
Yes, at the mountain
High gray stone.

Here is a cemetery!
Rotten crosses,
As if in hand -to -hand dead,
Failed with open hands.
On the path, leaning on the zool,
There is an old man, sweeping dust from a weed.
"Passerby!
Indicate, friend,
Where does Yesenina Tatyana live here? "

"Tatyana ... um ...
Yes, over that hut.
What are you?
Akin?
Al, maybe the son of a missing one? "

"Yes son.
But what, old man, with you?
Tell me,
Why do you look so sorrowful? "

"Good, my grandson,
Good, that you did not recognize your grandfather! .. "
"Ah, grandfather, is it you?"
And a sad conversation poured
Tears warm on dusty flowers.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"You will probably be thirty soon ...
And I'm ninety ...
Soon in the coffin.
It would be time to collapse. "
He says, and everything wrinkles his forehead.
"Yes! .. Time! ..
Are you not a communist? "
"Not!.."
"And the sisters became the Komsomol members.
Such muck! Just strangle!
Yesterday the icons were thrown from the shelf,
The commissar removed the cross at the Church.
Now there is nowhere to pray to God.
I go sternly now in the forest,
I pray to aspen ...
Maybe it will come in handy ...

Go home -
You will see everything yourself. "
And we are going, muging between the puppet.
I smile to arable land and forests,
And grandfather looks at the bell tower with longing.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Great, mother! Great!" -
And again I pull the scarf to my eyes.
Here a cow can burst into tears,
Looking at this poor corner.

On the wall calendar Lenin.
Here are the life of the sisters,
Sisters, not mine, -
But I'm ready to fall to my knees,
Seeing you, favorite edges.

The neighbors came ...
A woman with a child.
No one will recognize me.
In Bairovsky, our little dog
I was met with barking at the gate.

Ah, cute edge!
The wrong you became
Not the same.
Yes, and I, of course, became not the same.
Than mother and grandfather are sadder and more hopeless,
The more fun sisters laughs his mouth.

Of course, I don’t have an icon Lenin,
I know the world ...
I love my family ...
But for some reason, still with a bow
I sit on a wooden bench.

"Well, say, sister!"

And then the sister is breeding
Revealing, like the Bible, the pot -bellied "capital",
About Marx,
Engels ...
In no case
Of course, I did not read these books.

And I'm funny
Like a nimble girl
He takes me in everything for the neck ...
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
In Bairovsky, our little dog
I was met with barking at the gate.

June 1, 1924