Lyrics Есенин С.А. - Каждый труд благослови удача
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Каждый труд благослови, удача!
Рыбаку — чтоб с рыбой невода,
Пахарю — чтоб плуг его и кляча
Доставали хлеба на года.
Воду пьют из кружек и стаканов,
Из кувшинок также можно пить,
Там, где омут розовых туманов
Не устанет берег золотить.
Хорошо лежать в траве зеленой
И, впиваясь в призрачную гладь,
Чей-то взгляд, ревнивый и влюбленный,
На себе, уставшем, вспоминать.
Коростели свищут… коростели.
Потому так и светлы всегда
Те, что в жизни сердцем опростели
Под веселой ношею труда.
Только я забыл, что я крестьянин,
И теперь рассказываю сам,
Соглядатай праздный, я ль не странен
Дорогим мне пашням и лесам.
Словно жаль кому-то и кого-то,
Словно кто-то к родине отвык,
И с того, поднявшись над болотом,
В душу плачут чибис и кулик.
12 июля 1925
Bless every work, good luck!
To the fisherman - so that the net with the fish
Plowman - so that his plow and nag
They took out bread for years.
They drink water from mugs and glasses,
You can also drink from water lilies,
Where the maelstrom of pink mists
The shore will not tire of gilding.
It's good to lie in the green grass
And, glaring into the ghostly surface,
Someone's gaze, jealous and in love,
On myself, tired, remember.
Corncrake whistle ... corncrake.
Therefore, it is always so bright
Those that in life have simplified the heart
Under the fun load of work.
Only I forgot that I am a peasant
And now I'm telling myself
An idle spy, am I not strange
To my dear arable lands and forests.
As if I'm sorry for someone and someone
As if someone lost the habit of their homeland,
And from that, rising above the swamp,
Lapwing and sandpiper are crying into the soul.
July 12, 1925
To the fisherman - so that the net with the fish
Plowman - so that his plow and nag
They took out bread for years.
They drink water from mugs and glasses,
You can also drink from water lilies,
Where the maelstrom of pink mists
The shore will not tire of gilding.
It's good to lie in the green grass
And, glaring into the ghostly surface,
Someone's gaze, jealous and in love,
On myself, tired, remember.
Corncrake whistle ... corncrake.
Therefore, it is always so bright
Those that in life have simplified the heart
Under the fun load of work.
Only I forgot that I am a peasant
And now I'm telling myself
An idle spy, am I not strange
To my dear arable lands and forests.
As if I'm sorry for someone and someone
As if someone lost the habit of their homeland,
And from that, rising above the swamp,
Lapwing and sandpiper are crying into the soul.
July 12, 1925