Шостакович - Казнь Степана Разина
текст песни

As in the Belokamennaya Stolkoye Moscow
A thief along the street runs with a makuy maku.
Samad does not fear him today.
Not to the rolls ... They take the rustle to the rustle!
The king gives a bottle of malvasia,
A pimple squeezes out in front of the Svesk mirror,
Trying a new Rizumrud ring -
And to the square ... Stenka Razin is being taken!
Like a barrel of a gorgeous barrel,
Belarudes rolled the boyars.
Lounzer's dent
Today is a holiday! Stenka Razin is being taken!
Rushing the merchant, cracking with peas.
Two buffoons rush to jump,
Semenite Yaryzhka-Plut ...
Stenka Razin is being taken!
In scabs everything, barely alive,
Elders with a vervio on the clock,
Something shackle, crawl ...
Stenka Razin is being taken!
And shameful girls, too,
Under the hops, jumping up from Rogi,
a cucumber smeared the faces,
Rubatata - in the thighs of itching ...
Stenka Razin is being taken!
And under the screech of the Sagittaries,
under spit from all sides,
On the spinning cart
He sailed in a white shirt.
He was silent, did not wipe
All braided in the crowd;
only grinned bitterly,
She grinned at himself:
"Stenka, Stenka, you're like a branch
Lost foliage.
How you wanted to enter Moscow!
So you drove into Moscow ...
Okay, spit, spit, spit -
Nevertheless, the joy of the enthusiasm.
You always spit, people,
In those who want goodness to you.
The clerk beat me with a brush in the teeth,
Cheated, retreat:
"Did you think of a marching people?!
You will know how a margin !! "
I held on. The eye did not hide.
I got into blood in response:
"A marriage of boyars is true!
Supply people - no! Not!"
I don't renounce myself
Choosing a lot to his own.
Before you, people, I repent
But not what the clerk wanted.
My head is guilty.
I see myself, my execution:
I was against - half
It was necessary - to the end.
No, the wrong people are sinful,
That the boyars hung on the towers.
I am sinful in my eyes
The fact that he hung them little.
Sinful in that in the world of malice
I was a good Ostolop.
Sinful in that the enemy of slaughter,
I myself was a little serf.
Sinful because I thought to fight
For a good king.
There are no good kings, fools ...
Stenka, you will die in vain! "
The bells are buzzing over Moscow.
They lead to the frontal stall.
In front of a stenchka, in the wind rinsing,
The leather apron of the executioner beats.
And in the hands of the executioner above the crowd
The blue ax is like a Volga, blue.
And floating, silvering, on an ax
Strugs, strings, as if seagulls in the morning.
And through snouts, rowing, Hari
Tselovnikov, changed,
Like glare among hmari,
Stenka saw his face.
Were in the faces of Dahl and the height,
And in the eyes of the gloomy-humble,
as if in small secret Volga,
Stenkina's strings rushed.
It is worth to endure everything,
be on the rack, wheel,
If sooner or later
Faces germinate menacingly
The faceless on the face ...
And calmly (not in vain, apparently, he lived)
Stenka put his head on the block,
chin in the edge of a chopped harsh
And the back of the head ordered: "Come on, an ax ..."
The head rolled, in the blood of grief,
The head croaked: "Not in vain ..."
And already on an ax is not strings - streams, streams ...
What, people are standing without celebrating?
Hats to the sky and dance!
But the area froze was frozen,
Slightly the colet of the berdyshi.
Even buffoons subsided.
Among the dead of silence
Fleas jumped
From Armenians to Shushuns.
The area understood something
The area of ​​the cap was removed,
And hit three times
bells, bells.
And from the blood and Chuba is heavy,
My head still tossed, lived.
From the place of the frontal, ground,
where it is to go away,
Views with letters of the submissions
The head was thrown.
Judging, trembling Popik flew up,
He wanted to close the eyelids of Stenkina,
But, having sucks, a star is scary,
The pupils pushed his hand.
On the king from these damn eyes
The chilly hat of Monomakh shook.
And cruelly, not hiding the celebrations,
The head laughed over the king.