MoSHkin - Татьяна Ларина ч.24-28
текст песни

The words of A.S. Pushkin
Music I.V. Moshkin

Tatyana Larina Part 24-28

XXIV

Her sister was called Tatyana.
For the first time in this name
Pages are gentle novel
We will consecrate by hand.

And then? It is pleasant, sonorously;
But with him, I know, inseparable
Memory of antiquity
Il girlish! We all have to

Frankly: there is very little taste
We have in our names
Do not talk about poetry;
The enlightenment is not blessed

And we got from him
Zemanism is nothing more.

Guitar's

XXV

So, she was called Tatyana.
Not the beauty of his sister,
Not the freshness of her ruddy
She would not attract eyes.

Dika, sad, silent,
Like a forest is fearful,
She is in her family family
It seemed a stranger girl.

She did not know how to caress
To the father, not to his mother;
The child herself, in the crowd of children
I didn't want to play and jump

And often the whole day is one
She sat silently by the window.

XXVI

Thoughtfulness, her friend
From the most lullabies,
The flow of rural leisure
Dreams decorated her with dreams.

Her pampered fingers
Did not know the needles; bowing to the hoop
She is silk pattern
I did not revive the canvases.

Hunting to rule a sign,
With an obedient puppy child
Prepared jokingly
To decency - the law of light,

And it is important to repeat to her
Mom's lessons.

XXVII

But dolls even during these years
Tatyana did not pick up in her hands;
About leading cities, about fashion
I did not conduct conversations with her.

And there were children's leprosy
It is alien to her: terrible stories
In the winter in the darkness of nights
They captivated her heart more.

When the nanny collected
For Olga in a wide meadow
All her little friends,
She did not play the burners,

She was bored with a sonorous laughter
And the noise of their windy pleasures.

Sax

XXVIII

She loved on the balcony
Warn the dawn of the sunrise,
When on a pale sky
Stars disappears a round dance

And quietly the edge of the earth brightens,
And, the messenger of the morning, the wind blows,
And gradually the day rises.
In winter, when the night shadow

Half a world has a share,
And a share in idle silence,
With a fanned moon,
The east of the lazy rests,

At the usual hour I was awakened
She got up with candles.

Sax

Oh, dear Tatyana.
Divine beauty

From the rock opera "Evgeny Onegin" 2 part