Tvardovsky was crying perhaps for his son. Vasily Terkin

Today we are talking about Berlin.
Jokes aside, come on, Berlin.
And it’s long gone,
Let's say the ancient city of Klin.

And on the Oder hardly
Even old people will remember
How they took six months to fight
The settlement of Borki.

And under those under Borki
Every stone, every stake
Three lives gone into memory
My fellow countryman and I.

There was a fellow countryman, neither old nor young,
At war since that day
And he was just as cheerful,
Like me.

The guy had to scramble
A cheerful spirit has always been preserved,
He repeated: “Forward, to the west,”
Moving east.

By the way, upon departure,
How the cities were surrendered
It seemed more like he was in fashion,
He was more famous then.

And strangely, it happened
Honor to him alone,
So even the generals
It was as if they didn't count.

The deadline is different, the dates are different.
Labor has been divided since ancient times:
Soldiers surrender cities
The generals take them.

In general, beaten, grated, burnt,
Wound marked double,
Surrounded in 1941,
He walked on the earth as a native.

The soldier walked, as others walked,
To unknown lands:
“What is it, where is it, Russia,
What is your own line?..”

And leaving my family in captivity,
Hurrying for the war,
I don't know what he was thinking.
What he carried in his soul.

But whatever the hassle,
Truth is truth, lies are lies.
We retreated before the deadline,
We retreated far
But they always said:
- You're lying!..

And now look west
From the capital. Native land!
It was seriously locked
Behind an iron wall.

And to a small village
That side from captivity
Not at the behest of the pike
Fully returned again

By the command of our strength,
Russian, our own.
Come on, where is she, Russia?
What doors rattle!

And, forever stopping the hunt
Get into a fight at your own discretion,
Her enemy - what a number! —
Fell prone and paws apart.

Which capital is cool above
Your flag has risen, motherland!
Wait until the fireworks
To say exactly.

The deadline is different, the dates are different.
True, the burden is not light...
But let's continue about the soldier,
As they said, fellow countryman.

Dear home, wife, children,
Brother, sister, father or mother
Here you have it in the world, -
There is somewhere to send a letter.

And our soldier -
The addressee is a white light.
Besides the radio, guys,
There are no close relatives.

There is nothing more precious on earth,
If you have a reserve
That window where you can
Knock at a certain hour.

On a trip abroad,
On the other side,
Oh, how carefully it is stored
Pain-dream about that window!

And our soldier, -
Even though there’s an end to the war now,
There is no window, no hut,
Not a housewife, even a married man,
Not a son, but there was, guys, -
I drew houses with a chimney...

They were advancing near Smolensk.
There was a rest. My fellow countryman
Addressed at a halt
To the commander: so and so, -

Allow me to leave,
They say, the case is dear,
Like, since I’m a local resident,
The yard is just a stone's throw away.

Allowed for a limited time...
The region is known to the bush.
But he looks - it’s not the right road,
The area doesn't seem to be the same.

Here is the hill, here is the river,
Wilderness, weeds as tall as a soldier,
Yes, there is a board on the post,
Like, the village of Red Bridge.

And they were found to be alive,
And just tell him
It’s all true that the serviceman -
Trustworthy orphan.

At the plank at the fork,
Taking off his cap, our soldier
I stood there as if at a grave,
And it's time for him to go back.

And, leaving the courtyard,
Hurrying for the war,
I don't know what he was thinking.
What did he carry in his soul...

But, homeless and rootless,
Returning to the battalion,
The soldier ate his cold soup
After all, and he cried.

On the edge of a dry ditch,
With a bitter, childish trembling of the mouth,
I cried, sitting with a spoon in my right,
With bread in the left - an orphan.

Maybe he was crying about his son,
About my wife, about anything else,
About myself, what I knew: from now on
There is no one to cry for him.

There must have been a soldier in grief
Have a snack and relax
Because, friends, soon
A long journey awaited him.

To the land of the Soviet region
That path was followed in war, in labor.

And the war went like this -
Kitchens in the back, where the hell are they!

You will forget about hunger
For a good war.
Just kidding, day is a city,
Two days - regional.

The time is different, the time is different -
Hit, drive, adopt.
Belarus dear,
Ukraine is golden,
Hello, sing, and goodbye.

You will forget about thirst,
Because he drinks beer
Not everyone is at war
The one that the brewery took.

So right off the bat, not right away,
Having left his native land,
Border rivers water
We fought our way across.

The score is settled, the reckoning is underway
In the light, frankly.
But let's finish about the soldier,
About the same orphan.

Where is he today in fact?
Maybe he fell in some battle,
With small inscription plywood
Covered in wet snow.

Or was he wounded again?
I rested as my duty dictated,
And again on the battlefield
Did you take Tilsit with us?

And, leaving Russia,
Hurrying for the war,
I don't know what he was thinking.
What he carried in his soul.

Maybe it's even more bottomless here
And it hurts the living soul,
Whether so or not, we must remember
About his holy tear.

If only I could tear that tear with my hands
From Russia it happened
This stone is in German
If you convey it, it would burn right through"

The score is high, the reckoning is coming.
And behind that great suffering
Let's not forget, guys,
Let's remember the story about the soldier,
That he was left an orphan.

Terrible bill, terrible retribution
For millions of souls and bodies.
Pay - and the deed is sacred,
But in addition, for the soldier,
That he was orphaned by the war.

How far is it to Berlin?
Don't count, walk, pitch, -
Half less than half
That road from Klin,
We have already passed from Moscow.

Day follows night,
Let's draw the line with the bayonet.
But also on the bright day of victory
Let's remember, brothers, during the conversation
About an orphan soldier...

ON THE DNIPRE

Beyond the river I will still Ugra,
What's left behind
The general said to the hero:
- You and I are on the same path...

It seemed like the guy was happy,
Proceed with direct calculation:
With his guards unit
In war he will come home.

But it’s hardly my Terkin anymore,
A man worn out by life
With the girls at a party
I was thinking about smoking Kazbek...

Yet with every transition,
Every day that gets closer to her,
The side I'm from
The fellow countryman was in more pain.

And on the way, in the heat of battle,
At rest and in a dream
She lived in it by herself
Speech to the native party:

- My dear mother earth,
My forest side
Dnieper fatherland,
Hello, welcome your son!

Hello, motley aspen,
Early autumn beauty
Hello, Yelnya, hello, Glinka,
Hello, Luchesa River...

My dear mother earth,
I have tasted your power,
How sick my soul is
From afar I was eager to see you!

I bent such a hook,
I've come so far
And I saw such torment,
And I knew such sadness!

My dear mother earth,
Grandfather's smoky highway,
I don't remember about that
I’m not bragging, just like that!..

I'm coming to you from the east,
I am the same, not different.
Take a look, take a deep breath,
Meet me again.

My dear mother earth,
For the sake of a joyful day
I'm sorry, I don't know why,
Just forgive me!..

So on the way, in the heat of battle,
In the bustle of troubles and meetings
She lived in it by herself
This song or speech.

But war is all the same to her,
All are good edges:
What is the Caucasus, what is Ukraine,
That the Smolensk region is yours.

Through rivers and rivulets,
Over bridges, and swimming, and wading,
Past, past that side
The division moved forward.

And to the left at that time,
Dry in early autumn,
Occupied the hero's village
The general is completely different...
The front grew fat, like a flood,
Breadth and far. To the Dnieper, to the Dnieper
The horses walked, asking for reins,
Like from the road to the yard.

And in the dust, pockmarked with sweat,
People at the front laughed:
The infantry is doing well.
Once the wheels lag behind.

It doesn’t matter that you’re tired
On the way to the big river
So, take a spoon at a halt
They couldn't hold it in their hand.

Strong again with the holy impulse,
We walked forward in our own way,
With the suffering-happy,
Open mouth from the heat.

Ours on the left, ours on the right,
Don't get left behind on the move.
— German cuisine with warm porridge
In a hurry I forgot it in the garden.

- Prop him up and into the water.
- Took over the shore, son of a bitch!
- They say I took it right away
The locality of Berlin...

Golden Indian summer
Leaving behind
The troops were marching - and suddenly at dawn
The Dnieper battle has begun...

Maybe in other years,
Cleaning river beds
Everything that these waters hid
A person will see again.

Will be found in the sleepy silts,
He will extract from the fish haze,
Like bog oak trunks,
Gun barrels;

Russian tank paired with a German one,
That they found one end,
And both hemispheres
Steel, rubber and lead;

The trash of war is the bottom of a pontoon,
A rope broken in the sand
And an ax without an axe,
What the sapper was holding in his hand.

Maybe much more
And about this ax
Someone will say in the future
A loud song about the Dnieper;

About incredible suffering
The blood of a memorable day.

But about something, probably
He won't speak for me.
Let me not have the task yet
It was okay. No problem.
In some ways I’m richer than him, -
I followed that hot trail,
I was there. I lived then...

If with a multi-ton cargo
Trucks are lagging behind
And once upon a time the bridge was pontoon
Gets to the river -

The infantry does not wait under fire,
Statutory adhering to the article,
Behind the ferry there is a gate;
Boards, logs - for the rooks.

By night there will be crossings,
The bridges will rise in time,
And for the guys, the right bank
He hung the bushes onto the water.

Swim up, grab the mane.
Like a good horse.
Respite under a cliff
And fire protection.

It doesn’t matter that from the tunic,
A stream flows from everything...
Exactly like that Vasily Terkin
And he stepped onto the shore.

At dawn the fog is thick,
Confusing smokes and hazes,
Slipped somewhere along the banks,
Like a river on top of a river,

And still in the midst of battle,
Today, perhaps, just about
Together with the shore, with the earth
A platoon will be dropped into the water.

However, everything is familiar -
The duration of a war is as long as a lifetime.
From the border outpost
To the capital's Moscow River
And back - so many rivers!

This is the last fighter
Climbs out onto the sand
And chews the cracker immediately,
That’s why I got wet in the Dnieper,

He's wet, rustling his pants.
Nothing! - That's what the landing is for.
- We're advancing. The Dnieper is behind us,
Eh, Comrade Lieutenant?..

The battle raged for the crossing,
And below, a little to the south -
Germans from left to right,
Being late, we continued on our way.

But we can’t miss each other anymore,
Terkin says sternly:
- Let them surrender on the left,
Reception here is closed for now,

And on the left on the move, on the move
The bayonets arrived in time
They were pushed into the water, into the water,
And flow the water...

And still between the shores
Indiscriminately, at random
Pile bombs helped
Drive, lay out the roll...

But already from the cellars,
From bushes, forest dens
People were walking - kindred spirits -
On the sides of the roads...

To the headquarters on the eastern shore
Weaved with a stitch, side
A certain German with no trousers,
Having fun, honest people.

- From the crossing?
- From the crossing.
Just from Dnieper.
- Swimmed, then?
— Swim, the devil,
Because the heat has come...
- Full, damn it!
Purebred.
- He hurries into captivity, as if to a halt...

But already the platoon's favorite -
Terkin, I didn’t get involved in jokes.
He smoked, looked casually,
Busy with his own thoughts.
Behind him is the road
Many times it was longer.
And he was silent not in offense,
Not as a reproach to anyone, -
I just knew and saw more
Lost and saved...

- My dear mother earth,
All Smolensk relatives,
I'm sorry, I don't know why,
Just forgive me!

Not in your cruel captivity,
On the front road,
And in the native rear, deep
Terkin leaves yours.
The bitter year has passed,
Won't go back.

- Well, brother, Vasily Terkin,
Are you crying?..
- Guilty...

ABOUT THE ORphan SOLDIER

Today we are talking about Berlin.
Jokes aside, come on, Berlin.
And it’s long gone,
Let's say the ancient city of Klin.

And on the Oder hardly
Even old people will remember
How they took six months to fight
The settlement of Borki.

And under those under Borki
Every stone, every stake
Three lives gone into memory
My fellow countryman and I.

There was a fellow countryman, neither old nor young,
At war since that day
And he was just as cheerful
Like me.

The guy had to scramble
A cheerful spirit always takes care
He repeated: “Forward, to the west,”
Moving east.

By the way, upon departure,
How the cities were surrendered
It seemed more like he was in fashion,
He was more famous then.

And strangely, it happened
Honor to him alone,
So even the generals
They didn't seem to count.

The deadline is different, the dates are different.
Since ancient times, labor has been divided:
Soldiers surrender cities
The generals take them.
In general, beaten, grated, burnt,
Wound marked double,
Surrounded in 1941,
He walked on the earth as a native.

The soldier walked as others walked,
To unknown lands:
“What is it, where is it, Russia,
What is your own line?..”

And leaving my family in captivity,
Hurrying for the war,
I don't know what he was thinking.
What he carried in his soul.

But whatever the hassle,
Truth is truth, lies are lies.
We retreated before the deadline,
We retreated far
But they always said:
- You're lying!..

And now look west
From the capital. Native land!
It was seriously locked
Behind an iron wall.

And to a small village
That side from captivity
Not at the behest of the pike
Fully returned again

By the command of our strength,
Russian, our own.
Come on, where is she, Russia?
What doors rattle!

And, forever stopping the hunt
Get into a fight at your own discretion,
Her enemy - what a number! —
Fell prone and paws apart.

Which capital is cool above
Your flag has risen, motherland!
Wait until the fireworks
To say exactly.

The deadline is different, the dates are different.
True, the burden is not light...
But let's continue about the soldier,
As they said, fellow countryman.

Dear home, wife, children,
Brother, sister, father or mother
Here you have it in the world, -
There is somewhere to send a letter.

And our soldier -
The addressee is a white light.
Besides the radio, guys,
There are no close relatives.

There is nothing more precious on earth,
If you have a reserve
That window where you can
Knock at a certain hour.

On a trip abroad,
On the other side,
Oh, how carefully it is stored
Pain-dream about that window!

And our soldier, -
Even though there’s an end to the war now,
There is no window, no hut,
Not a housewife, even a married man,
Not a son, but there was, guys, -
I drew houses with a chimney...

They were advancing near Smolensk.
There was a rest. My fellow countryman
Addressed at a halt
To the commander: so and so, -

Allow me to leave,
They say, the case is dear,
Like, since I’m a local resident,
The yard is just a stone's throw away.

Allowed within the time limit...
The region is known to the bush.
But he looks - it’s not the right road,
The area doesn't seem to be the same.

Here is the hill, here is the river,
Wilderness, weeds as tall as a soldier,
Yes, there is a board on the post,
Like, the village of Red Bridge.

And they were found to be alive,
And just tell him
It’s all true that the serviceman -
Trustworthy orphan.

At the plank at the fork,
Taking off his cap, our soldier
I stood there as if at a grave,
And it's time for him to go back.

And, leaving the courtyard,
Hurrying for the war,
I don't know what he was thinking.
What did he carry in his soul...

But, homeless and rootless,
Returning to the battalion,
The soldier ate his cold soup
After all, and he cried.

On the edge of a dry ditch,
With a bitter, childish trembling of the mouth,
I cried, sitting with a spoon in my right,
With bread in the left - an orphan.

Maybe he was crying about his son,
About the wife, about anything else,
About myself, what I knew: from now on
There is no one to cry for him.

There must have been a soldier in grief
Have a snack and relax
Because, friends, soon
A long journey awaited him.

To the land of the Soviet region
He walked that path in war, in labor.

And the war went like this -
The kitchens are in the back, where the hell are they!

You will forget about hunger
For a good war.
Just kidding, day is a city,
Two days - regional.

The time is different, the time is different -
Hit, drive, adopt.
Belarus dear,
Ukraine is golden,
Hello, sing, and goodbye.

You will forget about thirst,
Because he drinks beer
Not everyone is at war
The one that the brewery took.

So right off the bat, not right away,
Having left his native land,
Border rivers water
We fought our way across.

The score is settled, the reckoning is underway
In the light, frankly.
But let's finish about the soldier,
About the same orphan.

Where is he today in fact?
Maybe he fell in some battle,
With small inscription plywood
Covered in wet snow.

Or was he wounded again?
I rested as my duty dictated,
And again on the battlefield
Did you take Tilsit with us?

And, leaving Russia,
Hurrying for the war,
I don't know what he was thinking.
What he carried in his soul.

Maybe it's even more bottomless here
And it hurts the living soul,
Whether so or not, we must remember
About his holy tear.

If only I could tear that tear with my hands
From Russia it happened
This stone is in German
If I conveyed it, I would have burned right through it.”

The score is high, the reckoning is coming.
And behind that great suffering
Let's not forget, guys,
Let's remember the account about the soldier,
That he was left an orphan.

The bill is terrible, the retribution is terrible
For millions of souls and bodies.
Pay - and the deed is sacred,
But in addition, for the soldier,
That he was orphaned by the war.

How far is it to Berlin?
Don't count, walk, pitch, -
Half less than half
That road from Klin,
We have already passed from Moscow.

Day follows night,
Let's draw the line with the bayonet.
But also on the bright day of victory
Let's remember, brothers, during the conversation
About an orphan soldier...

ON THE ROAD TO BERLIN

On the way to Berlin
The gray fluff of the feather beds flutters.

Wires of silent lines,
Soaked linden branches
The down of the feather bed curled like frost,
Sticky on the sides of the cars.

And wheels of guns, kitchens
Dirt and snow interfere with the fluff.
And lies down on his overcoat
A wet snowstorm with fluff...

Boring foreign climate,
Alien red brick land,
But the war itself
And the earth trembles as usual,
Crispy crushed stone tiles
Shaking off the rooftops...

Mother Russia, we are half the world
Your wheels are gone,
Left behind somewhere
There is a wide reach of your rivers.

Long, long time behind the convoy
To a foreign land he followed
The white color of your birch
And along the way it faded away.

With the Volga, with ancient Moscow
How far away you are these days.
Between you and us -
Three languages ​​that are not ours.

It's not Russian who gets up late
Above the bad side.
Crushed tiles are crunchy
Getting wet in a puddle under the wall.

Everywhere there are inscriptions, marks,
Arrows, signs, icons,
wire mesh rings,
Fences, doors, cages -
Everything is deliberately for melancholy...

Our dear mother earth,
In days of trouble and in days of victory
There is no one brighter and more beautiful than you
And there is nothing more desirable to the heart.
Thinking about the soldier's
Unpredicted fate
Even lie in a mass grave
Better, it seems, in you.

And it's only a mile to home,
Reach you alive
Show up in those areas:
- Hello, my homeland!

Your warrior, servant of the people,
I can report with honor:
Fought for four years
Returned from a trip
And now he wants to live.

He fulfilled his duty for glory
Your battle banners.
Who else is eligible
Love you like he does!

Changing day and night in battles,
Without taking off your hat for a month,
Your warrior, protector son,
He walked and hurried to you, dear,
On the way to Berlin.

On the inevitable road
The down of the feather beds swirls like a cloud.
Cities burnt scrap
It smells like a burnt feather.

And amid the roar of cannon fire To the east, out of the darkness and stench,
Like from the gates of hell,
People are flowing along the highway.

Shocked, scorched,
Of all bloods, multi-tribal,
Bitter, pack, foot people...
There is one route to the east.

To the east, through the smoke and soot,
From one prison deaf
Europe is going home.
The fluff of the feather beds is like a blizzard over her.

And on the Russian soldier
French brother, British brother
, Pole brother and everything in a row
With friendship as if guilty,
But they look from the heart.

At an unknown crossroads
For some oncoming moment -
They themselves are drawn to their hair
The girls' hands are mute.

And from those speeches, smiles
The soldier himself is covered in paint;
This is Europe, thank you
Everyone speaks Russian.

He stands, the liberator,
Hat with a star on one side.
I say, well, I’m an amateur to help,
I'm simple about that.

Like, this is our service,
No reproach to other flags...
- Hey, where are you going, mom?
- And then go home, son.

In a stranger, on a journey far away,
In a motley crowd of people
Suddenly the words of my native speech,
Grandma in a fur coat, with a staff.

Like old age, but not decrepitude
Harnessed to that knapsack.
Crosswise on the road
Entirely woven with a scarf,

She said hello and stood up.
To match a fellow countryman,
Rustic, simple
Our hard worker mother.

Mother of the holy eternal power,
From unknown mothers,
What in labor is unwearable
And in any of your troubles;

That fate repeated
On earth a hundred times in a row,
And they grow up in sleepless love,
And they lose us, soldiers;

And they live without folding their arms,
They won't close their eyes,
If we still need, perhaps,
Grandchildren instead of sons.

Mother is alone in a foreign land somewhere!
- How far is it to the yard?
- To the yard? There is no yard
And because of the Dnieper...

Stop, guys, this is no good,
So that with the road
I was coming home from abroad
Soldier's mother on foot.

No, dear, in order
Let us do it, don't bother us.
First things first, the horse
Get it with full harness.

Get your equipment
Cover your feet with a rug.
And also a cow for you
Along with the dowry sheep.

On the road, a teapot with a mug
Yes, a bucket in reserve,
Yes, a feather bed, and a pillow, -
It’s a burden for the Germans, but for us...

- To nothing. Where, dear ones? —
And guys - there is no need -
The wall clock is being dragged
And they drive a bicycle.

- Well, goodbye. Happy riding!
Trying to say something
And she coughed from laughter,
The mother shakes her head.

- Why, children, the path is not close,
Suddenly they will detain me where:
No note, no receipt
I don't have a horse
- Don't be sad about it,
Go and go.
As for the authorities -
Everyone has their own leading edge.

Go, roll it down the hill,
And something will happen
Then tell me, don’t forget:
Like, Vasily Terkin supplied, -
And your path is free.

We will be alive in the Dnieper region
Let's wrap it in pies.
- God bless you
And save yourself from a bullet...

Must be far away somewhere
This grandmother is traveling today,
He rules, squinting with tears.
And from the sides of the narrow road,
On land not yet Russian -
White color of native birches.

Oh, how joyful and painful
To see them in another land!..

Border control post,
Let her and her horse through!

Today we are talking about Berlin.
Jokes aside, come on, Berlin.
And it’s long gone,
Let's say the ancient city of Klin.
And on the Oder hardly
Even old people will remember
How they took six months to fight
The settlement of Borki.
And under those under Borki
Every stone, every stake
Three lives gone into memory
My fellow countryman and I.
There was a fellow countryman, neither old nor young,
At war since that day
And he was just as cheerful,
Like me.
The guy had to scramble
A cheerful spirit has always been preserved,
He repeated: “Forward, to the west,”
Moving east.
By the way, upon departure,
How the cities were surrendered
It seemed more like he was in fashion,
He was more famous then.
And strangely, it happened
Honor to him alone,
So even the generals
It was as if they didn't count.
The deadline is different, the dates are different.
Labor has been divided since ancient times:
Soldiers surrender cities
The generals take them.
In general, beaten, grated, burnt,
Wound marked double,
Surrounded in 1941,
He walked on the earth as a native.
The soldier walked, as others walked,
To unknown lands:
“What is it, where is it, Russia,
What is your own line?..”
And leaving my family in captivity,
Hurrying for the war,
I don't know what he was thinking.
What he carried in his soul.
But whatever the hassle,
Truth is truth, lies are lies.
We retreated before the deadline,
We retreated far
But they always said:
- You're lying!..
And now look west
From the capital. Native land!
It was seriously locked
Behind an iron wall.
And to a small village
That side from captivity
Not at the behest of the pike
Fully returned again
By the command of our strength,
Russian, our own.
Come on, where is she, Russia?
What doors rattle!
And, forever stopping the hunt
Get into a fight at your own discretion,
Her enemy - what a number! -
Fell prone and paws apart.
Which capital is cool above
Your flag has risen, motherland!
Wait until the fireworks
To say exactly.
The deadline is different, the dates are different.
True, the burden is not light...
But let's continue about the soldier,
As they said, fellow countryman.
Dear home, wife, children,
Brother, sister, father or mother
You have this in the world, -
There is somewhere to send a letter.
And our soldier -
The addressee is a white light.
Besides the radio, guys,
There are no close relatives.
There is nothing more precious on earth,
If you have a reserve
That window where you can
Knock at a certain hour.
On a trip abroad,
On the other side,
Oh, how carefully it is stored
Pain-dream about that window!
And our soldier, -
Even though there’s an end to the war now, -
There is no window, no hut,
Not a housewife, even a married man,
Not a son, but there was, guys, -
I drew houses with a chimney...
They were advancing near Smolensk.
There was a rest. My fellow countryman
Addressed at a halt
To the commander: so and so, -
Allow me to leave,
They say, the case is dear,
Like, since I’m a local resident,
The yard is just a stone's throw away.
Allowed within the time limit...
The region is known to the bush.
But he looks - it’s the wrong road,
The area doesn't seem to be the same.
Here is the hill, here is the river,
Wilderness, weeds as tall as a soldier,
Yes, there is a board on the post,
Like, the village of Red Bridge.
And they were found to be alive,
And just tell him
It’s all true that the serviceman -
Trustworthy orphan.
At the plank at the fork,
Taking off his cap, our soldier
I stood there as if at a grave,
And it's time for him to go back.
And, leaving the courtyard,
Hurrying for the war,
I don't know what he was thinking.
What did he carry in his soul...
But, homeless and rootless,
Returning to the battalion,
The soldier ate his cold soup
After all, and he cried.
On the edge of a dry ditch,
With a bitter, childish trembling of the mouth,
I cried, sitting with a spoon in my right,
With bread in the left - an orphan.
Maybe he was crying about his son,
About my wife, about anything else,
About myself, what I knew: from now on
There is no one to cry for him.
There must have been a soldier in grief
Have a snack and relax
Because, friends, soon
A long journey awaited him.
To the land of the Soviet region
That path was followed in war, in labor.
And the war went like this -
Kitchens in the back, where the hell are they!
You will forget about hunger
For a good war.
Just kidding, day is a city,
Two days – regional.
The time is different, the time is different -
Hit, drive, adopt.
Belarus dear,
Ukraine is golden,
Hello, sing, and goodbye.
You will forget about thirst,
Because he drinks beer
Not everyone is at war
The one that the brewery took.
So right off the bat, not right away,
Having left his native land,
Border rivers water
We fought our way across.
The score is settled, the reckoning is underway
In the light, frankly.
But let's finish about the soldier,
About the same orphan.
Where is he today in fact?
Maybe he fell in some battle,
With small inscription plywood
Covered in wet snow.
Or was he wounded again?
I rested as my duty dictated,
And again on the battlefield
Did you take Tilsit with us?
And, leaving Russia,
Hurrying for the war,
I don't know what he was thinking.
What he carried in his soul.
Maybe it's even more bottomless here
And it hurts the living soul,
Whether so or not, we must remember
About his holy tear.
If only I could tear that tear with my hands
From Russia it happened
This stone is in German
If I conveyed it, I would have burned right through it.”
The score is high, the reckoning is coming.
And behind that great suffering
Let's not forget, guys,
Let's remember the story about the soldier,
That he was left an orphan.
Terrible bill, terrible retribution
For millions of souls and bodies.
Pay - and the deed is sacred,
But in addition, for the soldier,
That he was orphaned by the war.
How far is it to Berlin?
Don't count, walk, pitch, -
Half less than half
That road from Klin,
We have already passed from Moscow.
Day follows night,
Let's draw the line with the bayonet.
But also on the bright day of victory
Let's remember, brothers, during the conversation
About an orphan soldier...

And still in the midst of battle,
Today, perhaps, just about
Together with the shore, with the earth
A platoon will be dropped into the water.

However, everything is familiar, -
The duration of a war is as long as a lifetime.
From the border outpost
To the capital's Moscow River
And back - so many rivers!

This is the last fighter
Climbs out onto the sand
And chews the cracker immediately,
That’s why it got wet in the Dnieper,

He's wet, rustling his pants.
Nothing! - That's what the landing is for.
- We're advancing. The Dnieper is behind us,
Eh, Comrade Lieutenant?..

The battle raged for the crossing,
And below, a little to the south -
Germans from left to right,
Being late, we continued on our way.

But we can’t miss each other anymore,
Terkin says sternly:
- Let them surrender on the left,
Reception here is closed for now,

And on the left on the move, on the move
The bayonets arrived in time
They were pushed into the water, into the water,
And flow the water...

And still between the shores
Indiscriminately, at random
Pile bombs helped
Drive, lay out the roll...

But already from the cellars,
From bushes, forest dens
People were walking - kindred spirits -
On the sides of the roads...

To the headquarters on the eastern shore
Weaved with a stitch, side
A certain German with no trousers,
Having fun, honest people.

From the crossing?
- From the crossing.
Just from Dnieper.
- You swam, then?
- Swim, the devil,
That's why it's hot...

Full, damn it!
Purebred.
- He hurries into captivity, as if to a halt...

But already the platoon's favorite -
Terkin, I didn’t get involved in jokes.
He smoked, looked casually,
Busy with his own thoughts.
Behind him is the road
Many times it was longer.

And he was silent not in offense,
Not as a reproach to anyone, -
I just knew and saw more
Lost and saved...

My dear mother earth,
All Smolensk relatives,
I'm sorry, I don't know why,
Just forgive me!
Not in your cruel captivity,
On the front road,
And in the native rear, deep
Terkin leaves yours.
The bitter year has passed,
Won't go back.

What are you doing, brother, Vasily Terkin,
Are you crying?..
- Guilty...

About an orphan soldier

Today we are talking about Berlin.
Jokes aside, come on, Berlin.
And it’s long gone,
Let's say the ancient city of Klin.

And on the Oder hardly
Even old people will remember
How they took six months to fight
The settlement of Borki.

And under those under Borki
Every stone, every stake
Three lives gone into memory
My fellow countryman and I.

There was a fellow countryman, neither old nor young,
At war since that day
And he was just as cheerful
Like me.

The guy had to scramble
A cheerful spirit always takes care
He repeated: “Forward, to the west,”
Moving east.

By the way, upon departure,
How the cities were surrendered
It seemed more like he was in fashion,
He was more famous then.

And strangely, it happened
Honor to him alone,
So even the generals
They didn't seem to count.

The deadline is different, the dates are different.
Since ancient times, labor has been divided:
Soldiers surrender cities
The generals take them.

In general, beaten, grated, burnt,
Wound marked double,
Surrounded in 1941,
He walked on the earth as a native.

The soldier walked as others walked,
To unknown lands:
"What is it, where is it, Russia,
What is your line?.."

And leaving my family in captivity,
Hurrying for the war,
I don't know what he was thinking.
What he carried in his soul.

But whatever the hassle,
Truth is truth, lies are lies.
We retreated before the deadline,
We retreated far
But they always said:
- You're lying!..

And now look west
From the capital. Native land!
It was seriously locked
Behind an iron wall.

And to a small village
That side from captivity
Not at the behest of the pike
Fully returned again

By the command of our strength,
Russian, our own.
Come on, where is she, Russia?
What doors rattle!

And, forever stopping the hunt
Get into a fight at your own discretion,
Her enemy - what a number! -
Fell prone and paws apart.

Which capital is cool above
Your flag has risen, motherland!
Wait until the fireworks
To say exactly.

The deadline is different, the dates are different.
True, the burden is not light...
But let's continue about the soldier,
As they said, fellow countryman.

Dear home, wife, children,
Brother, sister, father or mother
You have this in the world, -
There is somewhere to send a letter.

And our soldier -
The addressee is a white light.
Besides the radio, guys,
There are no close relatives.

There is nothing more precious on earth,
If you have a reserve
That window where you can
Knock at a certain hour.

On a trip abroad,
On the other side,
Oh, how carefully it is stored
Pain-dream about that window!

And our soldier, -
Even though there’s an end to the war now, -
There is no window, no hut,
Not a housewife, even a married man,
Not a son, but there was, guys, -
I drew houses with a chimney...

They were advancing near Smolensk.
There was a rest. My fellow countryman
Addressed at a halt
To the commander: so and so, -

Allow me to leave,
They say, the case is dear,
Like, since I’m a local resident,
The yard is just a stone's throw away.

Allowed within the time limit...
The region is known to the bush.
But he looks - it’s the wrong road,
The area doesn't seem to be the same.

Here is the hill, here is the river,
Wilderness, weeds as tall as a soldier,
Yes, there is a board on the post,
Like, the village of Red Bridge.

And they were found to be alive,
And just tell him
It's all true that the serviceman -
Trustworthy orphan.

At the plank at the fork,
Taking off his cap, our soldier
I stood there as if at a grave,
And it's time for him to go back.

And, leaving the courtyard,
Hurrying for the war,
I don't know what he was thinking.
What did he carry in his soul...

But, homeless and rootless,
Returning to the battalion,
The soldier ate his cold soup
After all, and he cried.

On the edge of a dry ditch,
With a bitter, childish trembling of the mouth,
I cried, sitting with a spoon in my right,
With bread in the left - an orphan.

Maybe he was crying about his son,
About the wife, about anything else,
About myself, what I knew: from now on
There is no one to cry for him.

There must have been a soldier in grief
Have a snack and relax
Because, friends, soon
A long journey awaited him.

To the land of the Soviet region
He walked that path in war, in labor.

And the war went like this -
The kitchens are in the back, where the hell are they!

You will forget about hunger
For a good war.
Just kidding, day is a city,
Two days - regional.

The time is different, the time is different -
Hit, drive, adopt.
Belarus dear,
Ukraine is golden,
Hello, sing, and goodbye.

You will forget about thirst,
Because he drinks beer
Not everyone is at war
The one that the brewery took.

So right off the bat, not right away,
Having left his native land,
Border rivers water
We fought our way across.

The score is settled, the reckoning is underway
In the light, frankly.
But let's finish about the soldier,
About the same orphan.

Where is he today in fact?
Maybe he fell in some battle,
With small inscription plywood
Covered in wet snow.

Or was he wounded again?
I rested as my duty dictated,
And again on the battlefield
Did you take Tilsit with us?

And, leaving Russia,
Hurrying for the war,
I don't know what he was thinking.
What he carried in his soul.

Maybe it's even more bottomless here
And it hurts the living soul,
Whether so or not, we must remember
About his holy tear.

If only I could tear that tear with my hands
From Russia it happened
This stone is in German
Tell me, it would burn right through"

The score is high, the reckoning is coming.
And behind that great suffering
Let's not forget, guys,
Let's remember the account about the soldier,
That he was left an orphan.

The bill is terrible, the retribution is terrible
For millions of souls and bodies.
Pay - and the deed is sacred,
But in addition, for the soldier,
That he was orphaned by the war.

How far is it to Berlin?
Don't count, walk, pitch, -
Half less than half
That road from Klin,
We have already passed from Moscow.

Day follows night,
Let's draw the line with the bayonet.
But also on the bright day of victory
Let's remember, brothers, during the conversation
About an orphan soldier...

On the way to Berlin

On the way to Berlin
The gray fluff of the feather beds flutters.

Wires of silent lines,
Soaked linden branches
The down of the feather bed curled like frost,
Sticky on the sides of the cars.

And wheels of guns, kitchens
Dirt and snow interfere with the fluff.
And lies down on his overcoat
A wet snowstorm with fluff...

Boring foreign climate,
Alien red brick land,
But the war itself
And the earth trembles as usual,
Crispy crushed stone tiles
Shaking off the rooftops...

Mother Russia, we are half the world
Your wheels are gone,
Left behind somewhere
There is a wide reach of your rivers.

Long, long time behind the convoy
To a foreign land he followed
The white color of your birch
And along the way it faded away.

With the Volga, with ancient Moscow
How far away you are these days.
Between you and us -
Three languages ​​that are not ours.

It's not Russian who gets up late
Above the bad side.
Crushed tiles are crunchy
Getting wet in a puddle under the wall.

Everywhere there are inscriptions, marks,
Arrows, signs, icons,
wire mesh rings,
Fences, doors, cages -
Everything is deliberately for melancholy...

Our dear mother earth,
In days of trouble and in days of victory
There is no one brighter and more beautiful than you
And there is nothing more desirable to the heart.

Thinking about the soldier's
Unpredicted fate
Even lie in a mass grave
Better, it seems, in you.

Job source: Decision 5752. Unified State Exam 2017. Russian language. I.P. Tsybulko. 36 options.

Task 17. Place all punctuation marks: indicate the number(s) in whose place(s) there should be a comma(s).

About my wife, about anything else,

About myself, what I knew: from now on

There is no one to cry for him.

There must have been a soldier in grief

Have a snack and relax

A long journey awaited him.

(A. T. Tvardovsky)

Solution.

1. Find words in the text that answer the question “who, what?” If such a word is not the subject of a sentence, it is an address. Separate with commas.

Cried (1) maybe (2) maybe (3) about his son,

About my wife, about anything else,

About myself, what I knew: from now on

There is no one to cry for him.

There must have been a soldier in grief

Have a snack and relax

Because (4) friends (5) that soon

A long journey awaited him.

2. Find introductory words in the text.

Cried (1) maybe (2) maybe (3) about his son,

About my wife, about anything else,

About myself, what I knew: from now on

There is no one to cry for him.

3. We write down the numbers where commas should appear in the sentence.

We write the answer in numbers without spaces or commas, in any order.