Lyrics Есть небольшое сельское кладбище - русская литература

There is a small rural cemetery in one of the remote corners of Russia. Like almost all our cemeteries, it looks sad: the ditches surrounding it have long been overgrown; gray wooden crosses wilted and rot under their once painted roofs; the stone slabs are all shifted, as if someone is pushing them from below; two or three plucked trees barely give a meager shadow; the sheep roam immaculately through the graves ... But there is one between them that does not concern a person who is not trampled by an animal: some birds sit on it and sing at dawn. An iron fence surrounds her; two young Christmas trees are planted at both ends: Evgeny Bazarov is buried in this grave. To her, from a nearby village, two already decrepit old people often come - her husband and wife. Supporting each other, they go with a heavy gait; they will come nearer to the fence, fall down and kneel down, and cry for a long time and bitterly, and for a long time and carefully look at the mute stone under which their son lies; they will change in a short word, the dust will be removed from the stone and the Christmas tree branch will be corrected and prayed again, and they cannot leave this place, from where they seem closer to their son, to the memories of him ... Are their prayers, their tears fruitless? Is love, holy, faithful love not omnipotent? Oh no! No matter how passionate, sinful, rebellious heart may have hidden in the grave, the flowers growing on it, calmly look at us with their innocent eyes: they tell us not about one eternal calm, about that great calm of "indifferent" nature; they also speak of eternal reconciliation and endless life ...