Summary of the Shurale fairy tale in the Tatar language. Tatar fairy tale shurale. See what "Shurale" is in other dictionaries
There is an aul near Kazan, named Kyrlay.
Even the chickens in that Kyrlai know how to sing... Wonderful land!
Although I'm not from there, but I kept love for him,
He worked on his land - he sowed, reaped and harrowed.
Is he reputed to be a big aul? No, on the contrary, it is small,
And the river, the pride of the people, is just a small spring.
This side of the forest is forever alive in memory.
Grass spreads like a velvety blanket.
There the people never knew neither cold nor heat:
The wind will blow in its turn, and the rain in its turn
will go.
From raspberries, strawberries, everything in the forest is variegated, variegated,
You pick up a full bucket of berries in an instant.
Often I lay on the grass and looked at the heavens.
Boundless forests seemed to me a formidable army.
Like warriors stood pines, lindens and oaks,
Under the pine - sorrel and mint, under the birch - mushrooms.
How many blue, yellow, red flowers are there
intertwined
And from them the fragrance flowed in the sweet air.
Moths flew away, flew in and landed,
It was as if the petals were arguing and reconciling with them.
Bird chirping, sonorous babble were heard in silence
And filled my soul with piercing joy.
Here and music, and dancing, and singers, and circus performers,
Here are boulevards, and theaters, and wrestlers, and violinists!
This fragrant forest is wider than the sea, higher than the clouds,
Like the army of Genghis Khan, noisy and powerful.
And the glory of grandfather's names rose before me,
And cruelty, and violence, and tribal strife.
2
summer forest I depicted - my verse has not yet sung
Our autumn, our winter and young beauties,
And the fun of our festivities, and the spring Sabantuy ...
O my verse, do not excite my soul with remembrance!
But wait, I was daydreaming... Here is the paper on the table...
After all, I was going to tell you about the tricks of the shurale.
I'll start now, reader, don't blame me:
I lose all reason, only I remember Kyrlai.
Of course, that in this amazing forest
You will meet a wolf, and a bear, and an insidious fox.
Here, hunters often saw squirrels,
That will rush gray hare, then a horned elk will flash.
There are many secret paths and treasures here, they say.
There are many terrible beasts and monsters here, they say.
Many fairy tales and beliefs walk in their native land
And about genies, and about peri, and about terrible shurals.
Is this true? Endless, like the sky, the ancient forest,
And no less than in heaven, maybe in the forest of miracles.
About one of them I will begin my short story,
And - such is my custom - I will sing verses.
Somehow in the night, when, shining, the moon glides in the clouds,
A jigit went from the aul to the forest for firewood.
I drove quickly on the cart, immediately took up the ax,
Knock and knock, he cuts down trees, and all around is a dense forest.
As often happens in summer, the night was fresh and damp.
Silence grew as the birds slept.
The lumberjack is busy with work, know he knocks for himself, knocks,
For a moment, the enchanted horseman forgot.
Chu! A terrible scream resounds in the distance.
And the ax stopped in a swung hand.
And our agile woodcutter froze in amazement.
He looks and does not believe his eyes. Who is this? Human?
Genie, rogue or ghost this twisted freak?
How ugly he is, involuntarily takes fear.
The nose is curved like a fishhook
Hands, legs - like branches, they will frighten even the daredevil.
Eyes flash angrily, they burn in black cavities.
Even during the day, not like at night, this look will frighten.
He looks like a man, very thin and naked,
The narrow forehead is adorned with a horn the size of our finger.
He has half a arshin fingers on the hands of curves, -
Ten fingers ugly, sharp, long
and straight lines.
And looking into the eyes of a freak that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked boldly, "What do you want from me?"
“Young horseman, don’t be afraid, robbery doesn’t attract me,
But although I am not a robber, I am not a righteous saint.
Why, when I saw you, did I let out a cheerful cry?
Because I'm used to tickling people.
Each finger is adapted to tickle more viciously,
I kill a man, making him laugh.
Well, with your fingers, my brother, move,
Play ticklish with me and make me laugh!”
“Okay, I’ll play,” the woodcutter answered him.
Only under one condition... Do you agree or not?
“Speak, little man, please be bold,
I will accept all the conditions, but let's play soon!
"If so - listen to me, how you decide -
I don't care.
Do you see a thick, large and heavy log?
Forest spirit! Let's work together first.
Together with you, we will transfer the log to the cart.
Did you notice a big gap at the other end of the log?
There, hold the log stronger, all your strength is needed! .. "
Shurale squinted at the indicated place.
And, without contradicting the horseman, the shurale agreed.
His fingers are long and straight, he put them in the mouth of the log...
Sages! Can you see the lumberjack's simple trick?
The wedge, pre-plugged, knocks out with an ax,
Knocking out, performs a clever plan in secret.
Shurale will not move, will not move his hand,
He stands, not understanding the clever inventions of man.
So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle, disappeared into the darkness ...
Shurale's fingers pinched and remained in the crack.
Shurale saw the deception, shurale yells, yells.
He calls the brothers for help, he calls the forest people.
With repentant prayer, he says to the jigit:
"Have pity, have pity on me! Let me go, dzhigit!
I will never offend you, dzhigit, or my son.
I will never touch your entire family, O man!
I won't hurt anyone! Do you want me to take an oath?
I will tell everyone: “I am a friend of a horseman. Let him walk
In the woods!"
My fingers hurt! Give me freedom! let me live
on the ground!
What do you want, jigit, for the profit from the torment of the shurale?
The poor fellow cries, rushes about, whines, howls, he is not himself.
The woodcutter does not hear him, he is going home.
“Is it possible that the cry of the sufferer will not soften this soul?
Who are you, who are you, heartless? What is your name, jigit?
Tomorrow, if I live to see our brother,
To the question: “Who is your offender?” - whose name shall I name?
“So be it, I say, brother. Don't forget this name:
I was nicknamed "The God-Minded One" ... And now -
it's time for me to go."
Shurale screams and howls, wants to show strength,
He wants to escape from captivity, to punish the woodcutter.
"I will die. Forest spirits, help me quickly!
I pinched Vgoduminuvshiy, the villain ruined me!
And in the morning shurales came running from all sides.
"What's wrong with you? Are you crazy? What are you upset about, you fool?
Calm down! Shut up! We can't stand screaming.
Pinched in the past year, what are you doing this year
are you crying?"
Tatar folk tale with pictures. Illustrations: K Kamaletdinov
Made and sent by Anatoly Kaydalov._____________________
There is an aul near Kazan, named Kyrlay.
Even the chickens in that Kyrlai know how to sing... Wonderful land!
Although I'm not from there, but I kept love for him,
He worked on his land - he sowed, reaped and harrowed.
Does he have a reputation for being a big aul? No, on the contrary, it is small,
And the river, the pride of the people, is just a small spring.
This side of the forest is forever alive in memory.
Grass spreads like a velvety blanket.
There the people never knew neither cold nor heat:
The wind will blow in its turn, and the rain in its turn
will go.
From raspberries, strawberries, everything in the forest is variegated, variegated,
You pick up a full bucket of berries in an instant.
Often I lay on the grass and looked at the heavens.
Boundless forests seemed to me a formidable army.
Like warriors stood pines, lindens and oaks,
Under the pine - sorrel and mint, under the birch - mushrooms.
How many blue, yellow, red flowers are there
intertwined
And from them the fragrance flowed in the sweet air.
Moths flew away, flew in and landed,
It was as if the petals were arguing and reconciling with them.
Bird chirping, sonorous babble were heard in silence
And filled my soul with piercing joy.
Here and music, and dancing, and singers, and circus performers,
Here are boulevards, and theaters, and wrestlers, and violinists!
This fragrant forest is wider than the sea, higher than the clouds,
Like the army of Genghis Khan, noisy and powerful.
And the glory of grandfather's names rose before me,
And cruelty, and violence, and tribal strife.
I depicted the summer forest - my verse has not yet been sung
Our autumn, our winter and young beauties,
And the fun of our festivities, and the spring Sabantuy ...
O my verse, do not excite my soul with remembrance!
But wait, I was daydreaming... Here is the paper on the table...
After all, I was going to tell you about the tricks of the shurale.
I'll start now, reader, don't blame me:
I lose all reason, only I remember Kyrlai.
Of course, that in this amazing forest
You will meet a wolf, and a bear, and an insidious fox.
Here, hunters often saw squirrels,
Now a gray hare will rush, then a horned elk will flash.
There are many secret paths and treasures here, they say.
There are many terrible beasts and monsters here, they say.
Many fairy tales and beliefs walk in their native land
And about genies, and about peri, and about terrible shurals.
Is this true? Endless, like the sky, the ancient forest,
And no less than in heaven, maybe in the forest of miracles.
About one of them I will begin my short story,
And - such is my custom - I will sing verses.
Somehow in the night, when, shining, the moon glides in the clouds,
A jigit went from the aul to the forest for firewood.
I drove quickly on the cart, immediately took up the ax,
Knock and knock, he cuts down trees, and all around is a dense forest.
As often happens in summer, the night was fresh and damp.
Silence grew as the birds slept.
The woodcutter is busy with work, know he knocks for himself, knocks,
For a moment, the enchanted horseman forgot.
Chu! Some kind of terrible scream is heard in the distance.
And the ax stopped in a swung hand.
And our agile woodcutter froze in amazement.
He looks and does not believe his eyes. Who is this? Human?
Genie, rogue or ghost this twisted freak?
How ugly he is, involuntarily takes fear.
The nose is curved like a fishhook
Hands, legs - like branches, they will frighten even the daredevil.
Eyes flare viciously, they burn in black cavities.
Even during the day, not like at night, this look will frighten.
He looks like a man, very thin and naked,
The narrow forehead is adorned with a horn the size of our finger.
He has half a arshin fingers on the hands of curves, -
Ten fingers ugly, sharp, long
and straight lines.
And looking into the eyes of a freak that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked boldly, "What do you want from me?"
“Young horseman, don’t be afraid, robbery doesn’t attract me,
But although I am not a robber, I am not a righteous saint.
Why, when I saw you, I let out a cheerful cry?
Because I'm used to tickling people.
Each finger is adapted to tickle more viciously,
I kill a man, making him laugh.
Well, with your fingers, my brother, move,
Play ticklish with me and make me laugh!”
“Okay, I’ll play,” the woodcutter answered him.
Only under one condition... Do you agree or not?
“Speak, little man, please be bold,
I will accept all the conditions, but let's play soon!
“If so - listen to me, how you decide - I don’t care.
Do you see a thick, large and heavy log?
Forest spirit! Let's work together first
Together with you, we will transfer the log to the cart.
Did you notice a big gap at the other end of the log?
There, hold the log stronger, all your strength is needed! .. "
Shurale squinted at the indicated place.
And, without contradicting the horseman, the shurale agreed.
His fingers are long and straight, he put them in the mouth of the log...
Sages! Can you see the lumberjack's simple trick?
The wedge, pre-plugged, knocks out with an ax,
Knocking out, performs a clever plan in secret.
Shurale will not move, will not move his hand,
He stands, not understanding the clever inventions of man.
So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle, disappeared into the darkness ...
Shurale's fingers pinched and remained in the crack.
Shurale saw the deception, shurale yells, yells.
He calls brothers for help, he calls the forest people.
With repentant prayer, he says to the jigit:
"Have pity, have pity on me! Let me go, dzhigit!
I will never offend you, dzhigit, or my son.
I will never touch your entire family, O man!
I won't hurt anyone! Do you want me to take an oath?
I will tell everyone: “I am a friend of a horseman. Let him walk in the forest!”
My fingers hurt! Give me freedom! Let me live on earth!
What do you want, jigit, for the profit from the torment of the shurale?
The poor fellow cries, rushes about, whines, howls, he is not himself.
The woodcutter does not hear him, he is going home.
“Is it possible that the cry of the sufferer will not soften this soul?
Who are you, who are you, heartless? What is your name, jigit?
Tomorrow, if I live to see our brother,
To the question: “Who is your offender?” - whose name shall I call?
“So be it, I say, brother. Don't forget this name:
I was nicknamed "The God-Minded One" ... And now it's time for me to go.
Shurale screams and howls, wants to show strength,
He wants to escape from captivity, to punish the woodcutter.
"I will die. Forest spirits, help me quickly!
I pinched Vgoduminuvshiy, the villain ruined me!
And in the morning shurales came running from all sides.
"What's wrong with you? Are you crazy? What are you upset about, you fool?
Calm down! Shut up! We can't stand screaming.
Pinched in the past year, why are you crying this year?
The fairy tale "Shurale" by the Tatar writer Gabdulla Tukay (1886–1913) is based on folklore material rich in poetic images. Folk art generously nourished the inspiration of the poet throughout his short creative activity.
Tukay's tales contain many miracles and funny stories. Water witches inhabit lakes, in a dense forest, forest undead easily and freely, preparing intrigues for a careless person. But all his shurales, genies and other forest spirits have no character mysterious power that darkens people's lives; rather, they are naive and gullible forest creatures, in a collision with which a person always comes out victorious.
In the afterword to the first edition of Shurale, Tukay wrote:
“... it is hoped that talented artists will appear among us and draw a curved nose, long fingers, a head with terrible horns, show how the fingers of the shurale were pinched, paint pictures of the forests where the goblin were found ...”
Seventy years have passed since the death of the remarkable Tatar poet, since then many artists have sought to fulfill his dream.
The artist Fayzrakhman Abdrakhmanovich Aminov worked for a long time and with enthusiasm on illustrations for Shurala, trying to express in them the artistic richness and national character of the fairy tale.
Born in 1908 near Perm, since childhood, the artist heard and loved Tukay's fairy tales, which, like the fairy tales of A. S. Pushkin, live deeply among the people.
For illustrations, the artist singled out the most striking and characteristic places in the text and leads the viewer through a fascinating fairy tale from sheet to sheet.
Here is the village of Kyrlay. To a knowledgeable person it is immediately clear that it is not simple and the huts there are somehow unusual - they seem to be hiding under the trees, but from whom? The grasses on the outskirts are lush and tall. In such a village, anything can happen, and the forest is nearby ...
So immediately, from the first sheet, begins fantasy world fairy tales. All the details of the illustrations are carefully thought out, the artist persistently searches for his own creative style, and the events of a magical narrative are woven into the finest lace of his graphic language.
A young dzhigit rides into the forest in the evening, and he seems to be waiting for him, the damp haze rises to meet him, knotted branches-arms are already stretching over the young man, but he calmly rides and dozes.
The forest in Aminov's illustrations is not just a forest, but precisely that impenetrable, fantastic thicket, endowed with witchcraft power, where goblin must certainly be found. The trees either take on the shape of a person, or they stretch twisted branches towards the traveler, reinforcing the impression of an unheard-of thing.
A very special place in the illustrations is occupied by herbs and flowers, which do not exist in nature, they are created by the artist's imagination. With what care each flower is made! However, careful "made" does not interfere with the perception of the picture as a whole. In this painstaking work, the author reveals his big love to nature, his personal, cherished attitude towards it.
From leaf to leaf, the intensity of events grows; a strange voice from the tree calls out to the horseman, and now it is standing in front of him, like an ancient curved root overgrown with moss - shurale. He immediately declares that he has come to tickle him to death with his terrible fingers. But the man outwitted, and now the gullible shurale fills the forest with cries for help.
The composition of this sheet is very interesting: dark silhouette Shurale, taken out into the open space, is perfectly readable and at the same time organically merges with the forest. Perhaps, it is in this sheet that the graphic style found by the author is most fully expressed.
And here is the last sheet, in it, of course, the artist’s love for funny joke. With what humor each shurale is depicted!
... Early morning, the fog erases the outlines of the trees, but the tops of the forest have already been gilded by the rising sun. The forest people fled to the screams of the shurale. The old forester raised his curved finger instructively, the other two openly rejoice at someone else's misfortune. For the "injured" - a shuralikha with shuralyaty, shuralyata are still small, they are afraid of everything, but it's so interesting to see! And here is the mischievous woodsman: in order to see better, he hangs himself on a bough - and how touching helplessness is in this "terrible" shural!
Color plays a big role in illustrations. Made in watercolor technique, they are decorated with great taste in light silver colors of various tonalities. The clarity of the composition, beautiful realistic language make the work of the artist Aminov very original and interesting.
I
There is an aul near Kazan, named Kyrlay.
Even the chickens in that Kyrlai know how to sing ... A wondrous land!
Although I'm not from there, but I kept love for him,
He worked on his land - he sowed, reaped and harrowed.
Is he reputed to be a big aul? No, on the contrary, it is small,
And the river, the pride of the people, is just a small spring.
This side of the forest is forever alive in memory.
Grass spreads like a velvety blanket.
There the people never knew neither cold nor heat:
The wind will blow in its turn, and in its turn it will rain.
From raspberries, strawberries, everything in the forest is variegated, variegated,
You pick up a full bucket of berries in an instant.
Often I lay on the grass and looked at the heavens.
Boundless forests seemed to me a formidable army.
Like warriors stood pines, lindens and oaks,
Under the pine - sorrel and mint, under the birch - mushrooms.
How many blue, yellow, red flowers intertwined there,
And from them the fragrance flowed in the sweet air.
Moths flew away, flew in and landed,
It was as if the petals were arguing and reconciling with them.
Bird chirping, sonorous babble were heard in silence
And filled my soul with piercing joy.
Here and music and dancing, and singers and circus performers,
Here boulevards and theaters, and wrestlers and violinists!
This fragrant forest is wider than the sea, higher than the clouds,
Like the army of Genghis Khan, noisy and powerful.
And the glory of grandfather's names rose before me,
And cruelty, and violence, and tribal strife.
II
I depicted the summer forest - my verse has not yet sung
Our autumn, our winter, and young beauties,
And the fun of our festivities, and the spring Sabantuy ...
O my verse, do not excite my soul with remembrance!
But wait, I was daydreaming... Here is the paper on the table...
After all, I was going to tell you about the tricks of the shurale.
I'll start now, reader, don't blame me:
I lose all reason, only I remember Kyrlai.
III
Of course, that in this amazing forest
You will meet a wolf, and a bear, and an insidious fox.
Here, hunters often saw squirrels,
Now a gray hare will rush, then a horned elk will flash.
There are many secret paths and treasures here, they say.
There are many terrible beasts and monsters here, they say.
Many fairy tales and beliefs walk in their native land
And about gins, and about peri, and about terrible shurals.
Is this true? Endless, like the sky, the ancient forest,
And no less than in heaven, maybe in the forest of miracles.
IV
About one of them I will begin my short story,
And - such is my custom - I will sing verses.
Somehow in the night, when shining, in the clouds, the moon glides,
A jigit went from the aul to the forest for firewood.
I drove quickly on the cart, immediately took up the ax,
Knock and knock, he cuts down trees, and all around is a dense forest.
As often happens in summer, the night was fresh and damp.
Silence grew as the birds slept.
The woodcutter is busy with work, know he knocks for himself, knocks.
For a moment, the enchanted horseman forgot.
Chu! Some terrible cry is heard in the distance,
And the ax stopped in a swung hand.
And our agile woodcutter froze in amazement.
He looks and does not believe his eyes. What is this? Human?
Genie, rogue, or ghost, is that crooked freak?
How ugly he is, involuntarily takes fear!
The nose is curved like a fishhook
Hands, legs - like branches, they will frighten even the daredevil.
Viciously flashing, the eyes in the black cavities are burning,
Even during the day, not like at night, this look will frighten.
He looks like a man, very thin and naked,
The narrow forehead is adorned with a horn the size of our finger.
He has half a arshin fingers on the hands of curves, -
Ten fingers are ugly, sharp, long and straight.
V
And looking into the eyes of a freak that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked boldly, "What do you want from me?"
“Young dzhigit, don’t be afraid, robbery doesn’t attract me.
But although I am not a robber, I am not a righteous saint.
Why, when I saw you, did I let out a cheerful cry?
Because I'm used to tickling people.
Each finger is adapted to tickle more viciously,
I kill a man, making him laugh.
Well, move your fingers, my brother,
Play ticklish with me and make me laugh!
“Okay, I’ll play,” the woodcutter answered him. —
Only under one condition... Do you agree or not?
- Speak, little man, please be bold,
I will accept all the conditions, but let me play soon!
- If so - listen to me, how you decide - I don't care.
Do you see a thick, large and heavy log?
Forest spirit! Let's work together first.
Together with you, we will transfer the log to the cart.
Did you notice a big gap at the other end of the log?
There hold the log stronger, all your strength is needed! ..
Shurale squinted at the indicated place
And, without contradicting the horseman, the shurale agreed.
His fingers are long and straight, he put them in the mouth of the log...
Sages! Can you see the lumberjack's simple trick?
The wedge, pre-plugged, knocks out with an ax,
Knocking out, performs a clever plan in secret.
Shurale will not move, will not move his hand,
He stands, not understanding the clever inventions of man.
So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle, disappeared into the darkness ...
Shurale's fingers pinched and remained in the crack.
Shurale saw the deception, shurale yells, yells.
He calls the brothers for help, he calls the forest people.
With repentant prayer, he says to the jigit:
"Have pity, have pity on me!" Let me go, dzhigit!
I will never offend you, dzhigit, or my son.
I will never touch your entire family, O man!
I won't hurt anyone! Do you want me to take an oath?
I will tell everyone: “I am a friend of a horseman. Let him walk in the forest!”
My fingers hurt! Give me freedom! Let me live on earth!
What do you want, zhigit, for the profit from the torment of the shurale?
The poor fellow cries, rushes about, whines, howls, he is not himself.
The woodcutter does not hear him, he is going home.
“Won’t the cry of the sufferer soften this soul?”
Who are you, who are you, heartless? What is your name, jigit?
Tomorrow, if I live to see our brother,
To the question: “Who is your offender?” - Whose name shall I call?
“So be it, I say brother. Don't forget this name:
I was nicknamed "The God-Minded One" ... And now - it's time for me to go.
Shurale screams and howls, wants to show strength,
He wants to escape from captivity, to punish the woodcutter.
- I will die! Forest spirits, help me quickly
I pinched Vgoduminuvshiy, the villain ruined me!
And in the morning shurales came running from all sides.
- What's wrong with you? Are you crazy? What are you upset about, you fool?
Calm down! Shut up, we can't stand screaming.
Pinched in the past year, why are you crying this year
translation: S. Lipkin
There is an aul near Kazan, named Kyrlay.
Even the chickens in that Kyrlai know how to sing ... A wondrous land!
Although I'm not from there, but I kept love for him,
He worked on his land - he sowed, reaped and harrowed.
Is he reputed to be a big aul? No, on the contrary, it is small,
And the river, the pride of the people, is just a small spring.
This forest side is forever alive in memory.
Grass spreads like a velvety blanket.
There the people never knew neither cold nor heat:
The wind will blow in its turn, and the rain will fall in its turn.
From raspberries, strawberries, everything in the forest is variegated, variegated,
You pick up a bucket full of berries in an instant!
Often I lay on the grass and looked at the heavens.
Boundless forests seemed to me a formidable army.
Like warriors stood pines, lindens and oaks,
Under the pine - sorrel and mint, under the birch - mushrooms.
How many blue, yellow, red flowers intertwined there,
And from them the fragrance flowed in the sweet air.
Moths flew away, flew in and landed,
It was as if the petals were arguing and reconciling with them.
Bird chirping, sonorous babble were heard in silence,
And filled my soul with piercing joy.
Here and music, and dancing, and singers, and circus performers,
Here are boulevards, and theaters, and wrestlers, and violinists! ..
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I depicted the summer forest - my verse has not yet sung And the fun of our festivities, and the spring Saban-tuy ... But wait, I was daydreaming... here is the paper on the table... I'll start now, reader, don't blame me: Of course, that in this amazing forest Here, hunters often saw squirrels, There are many secret paths and treasures here, they say, Many fairy tales and beliefs walk in their native land Is this true? Endless, like the sky, the ancient forest, About one of them I will begin my short story, Somehow in the night, when, shining, the moon glides in the clouds, I drove quickly on the cart, immediately took up the ax, As often happens in summer, the night was fresh and damp; The woodcutter is busy with work, you know, knocking himself, knocking, Chu! Some terrible cry is heard in the distance, And our agile woodcutter froze in amazement. Genie, rogue or ghost, this twisted freak? The nose is curved like a fishhook Eyes flash angrily, they burn in black cavities. He looks like a man, very thin and naked, He has half a arshin fingers on the hands of curves, And, looking into the eyes of a freak that lit up like two fires, “Young horseman, don’t be afraid, robbery doesn’t attract me, Why, when I saw you, did I let out a cheerful cry? — Each finger is adapted to tickle more viciously, Well, move your fingers, my brother, “Okay, I’ll play,” the woodcutter answered him.— “Speak, little man, please be bold, “If so, listen to me, how you decide - I don’t care. Forest spirit. Forest sheep. Let's work together. You will notice a big gap at the other end of the log, Shurale squinted at the indicated place, His fingers are long and straight, he put them into the mouth of the log. The wedge, pre-plugged, knocks out with an ax, Shurale does not move, does not move his hand, So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle, disappeared into the darkness ... Shurale saw the deception, shurale yells, yells, With repentant prayer, he says to the jigit: I will never offend you, dzhigit, or my son, I won’t hurt anyone, do you want me to take an oath? My fingers hurt! Give me freedom, let me live on earth The poor fellow cries, rushes about, whines, howls, he is not himself, “Is it possible that the cry of the sufferer will not soften this soul? Tomorrow, if I live to see our brother, Shurale screams and howls, wants to show strength, "I will die! Forest spirits, help me quickly And in the morning shurales came running from all sides. Calm down, shut up, we can't stand the scream. |
Gabdulla Tukay. "Shurale" in Tatar
Nәk Kazan artynda bardyr ber avyl -
"Kyrlay" dilar;
Җyrlaganda koy өchen, “tavyklary җyrlai”, dilar.
Gәrchә andanda tugmasam yes, min beraz torgan let's go;
Җirne әz-mәz tyrmalap, chachkәn let's go, urgan let's go.
Ul avylnyn, hich onytmyym, һәryagy urman ide,
Bolyn st.
Zurma, disan, zur tүgelder, bu avyl bik kechkenә;
Halkynyn echkәn suy bik kechkenә - inesh kenә.
Anda bik salkyn va bik essay tүgel, urta һava;
Җil da vaktynda isep, yangyr da vaktynda java.
Urmanynda kyp-kyzyl kura җilәk tә җir җilәk;
Kuz achyp yomganchy, hychshiksez, җyyarsyn ber chilak.
Bik khozur! Rat-rat tora, gaskar kebi, chyrshy, narat;
Төplәrendә yatkanym bar, khәl җyep, kүkkә karap.
Yukә, kaennar tobendә kuzgalaklar, gombәlәr
Berlә bergә үsә alli-gөlle gөllar, gonҗәlәr.
Ak, kyzyl, al, sap-sary, zәңgәr, yasheldәn chәchkәlәr;
һәr tarafka tәmle islәr chәchkәli bu chәchkәlәr.
Үpkәlilәr chәchkәlәrne torle tosle kүbәlәk-
lәr kilep, kitkәn bulyp, tagyn da shunda chүgәlәp.
Bervakyt chut-chut itep sair Khodaynyn koshlary;
Kitа җannarny kisep, yaryp sadai khushlary.
Monda boulevard, dance club һәm, circus that shul;
Monda orchestra, theater da shul, concert ta shul.
Zur bu urman: chitlәre kurenmider, digez kebi,
Biniһaya, bihisaptyr, gaskari Chyngyz kebi.
Kylt itep iskә tөshәder namnary, dәүlәtlәre
Kart babaylarnyn, monks kүrsәң, boten Saulәtlәre.
Achyla aldynda tarikhtan pardese theater:
Ah! disen, without nick bolai son? without dә Haknyn bandase.
Җәy kөnen yazdym beraz; yazmyym әle kysh, kozlaren,
Alsu yozle, kara kashly, kara kuzle kyzlaryn.
Bu avylnyn min җyen, maidan, sabany tuylaryn
Yazmyymyn kurkyp, eraklarga kitar dip uylarym...
Tukta, min yuldin adashkanmyn ikәn bit, kүr аle,
Әllә nik istәn dә chykkan, suz bashym bit “Shurale”.
Az gyna sabrit әle, әy kariem! khazer yazam;
Uilasam aulymny, gaklymnan da min hazer yazam.
Bilgele, bu cap-kara urmanda һәr ertkych that bar,
Yuk tүgel ayu, bүre; tolke - җiһan kortkych that bar.
һәm dә bar monda kuyan, аrlәn, tien, yomran, poshi,
Ochrata auchy bulyp urmanda kүp yörgәn keshe.
Bik kue bulganga, Monda җen-parilәr bar, dilar,
Torle albasty, ubyrlar, shүrәlelәr bar, dilar,
һich gaҗәp yuk, bulsa bulyr, - bik kalyn, bik kүp bit st;
Kukt ni bulmas disen, - ochsyz-kyryysyz kuk bit st!
Shul turydan az gyna - bish-alty suz soylim aleh,
Gadәtemcha az gyna җyrlym әle, koylim әle.
Bik matur ber ayly kichta bu avylnyn ber geget
Kitkan urmanga utynga, yalgyzy ber at җigep.
Tiz baryp җitkәn Җeget, eshkә totyngan bargach uk,
Kisә hood utynna balta berlәn "tuk" that "tuk"!
Җәyge tonnen gadetenchә, ton beraz salkyn ikәn;
Barcha kosh-kort yoklagan bulganga, urman tyn ikken.
Shundy tyn, yakhshy һavada beznen utynchy isә,
Alny-artny, unny-sulny belmichә, utyn kisә.
Baltasy Kulda, Geget eshten beraz tuktap tora;
Tukta, chu! Yamsez tavyshly әllә nәrsә kychkyr.
Siskanep, beznen Җeget katyp kala ayagүrә,
Anlamastan, karshysynda alla nindi "yat" kүrә.
Narse bu? Kachkynmy, enme? Yә өrәkme, nәrsә bu?
Charming cat, bik kileshsez, alla nindi nәrsә bu!
Boryns kap-kakre - bogelgunder tämam karmak kebi;
Toz tugel kullar, ayaklar yes - botak-tarmak kebi.
Yaltyry, yalt-yolt kilader echka batkan kuzlare,
Ochar cat, kүrsәn әgәr, tөnlә tүgel - kondezlәre.
Yap-yalangach, nәp-nәzek, lakin keshe tosle үze;
Urta barmak builygy bar manlaenda mogeze.
Kakre tugelder monyn barmaklary - bik toz tozen,
Tik kileshsez - һәrbere dә yarty arshynnan ozyn.
Bik ozak torgach karashyp, kuzne kuzgә nyk terap,
Endash batyr utynchy: "Sina minnәn ni kirk?"
- Ber dә shiklәnmә, eget, sin, min karak-ugry tugel;
Yul da kismimen, shulai da min biguk tugri tugel.
Gadәtem: yalgyz keshelәrne kytyklap үterәm;
Min әle kүrgəch blue, shatlanganymnan үkerәm.
Tik kytyklarga yaralgandyr minem barmaklarim,
Bulgalydydyr kölderep adäm үtergan chaklarym.
Kil ale sin da beraz barmaklarynny selket, and
Yash eget! Kilche ikәү uynyk beraz keti-keti.
- Yakhshy, yakhshy, suz da yuktyr, min karyshmy uynymyn,
Teak blue shartymga künmässen, diep min uylymyn.
Nәrsә shartyn, soyla, and bichara adamchek kenam!
Tik tiz uk uynykchy, zinhar, nәrsә kushsan da kүnәm.
- Sөyloem shartymny sina, yakhshy tynlap tor: анә
Shunda bar ich bik ozyn һәm bik yuan ber bүrәnә.
Min da koch-yardam birermen, әydә, iptash, kuzgalyk.
Shul agachny berga-berga ushbu arbaga salyk.
Bүrәnәnen ber ochynda bar әchelgan yarygy,
Shul җirennan nyk kyna sin that, and urman sarygy!
Bu kiңәshkә shүrәle da kүnde, kilmichә kira,
Kitte kushkan җirgә, atlap adymyn ire-ire;
Kuydy iltep auzin аchkәn bүrәnәgә barmagyn. -
Kariem, kүrdenme inde yash egetnen karmagyn?
Sukkalydydyr balta berlәn kystyrylgan choyga bu,
Khәylәsene әkren-әkren kiterәder koygә bu.
Shүrale tykkan kulyn - selkenmider, kuzgalmyidyr;
Belmi insan khailasen - һich baltaga kuz salmyidyr.
Sukkaly huckster, akhyrda choy chygyp, bushap kitep,
Shүrәlenenң barmagy kaldy - kysyldy shap itep.
Sizde eshne Shүrale dә: kychkyra and bakyra,
Syzlana һәm yardәmenә sүrәlelәr chakyra.
Khazer inde Shүrale bezneң Җegetkә yalyna,
Tәүbә itә eshlәrennәn, from gelekkә salyn:
- Sin beraz kyzgan mine, kotkarchy, and adamgenam;
Mondin ary үzenңә, uglyңa, nәsleңgә timәm.
Bashkalardan da tiderm, st minem dustym, diep,
Anar urmanda yörgә min үzem kushtym, deep.
Bik avyrta kullarym, dustym, җibаr, zinhar, җibаr;
Shүrәlene rәnҗetүdәn nәrsә bar sina, no bar?
Tibrәnә dә yolkyn, bichara gaklynnan shasha;
Shul arada yash Җeget өygә kitәrҙ matasha.
At bashynnan totkan st, bu Shүrәlene belmi da;
Ul monyn furyadlaryn asla kolakka elmi da.
- And Җeget, һich yuk ikәder mәrkhәmatәt hisseң sinen;
Әytche, zinhar, mәrhәmәtsez! Who's son? Who is blue?
Irtәgә kilgәnche dustlar, tәndә җanym of the torso gәr,
Shul falәn atly keshe kysty diermen sorasalar.
- Aytsem Aitim, sin belep kal:
chyn atym "Byltyr" minem.
Bu Geget abzan bulyr bu, bik belep tor sin, enem!
Shүrale fөryad itader; audan ychkynmak bula,
һәm dә ychkyngach, Җegetkә ber-ber ash kylmak bula.
Kychkyra: kysty, kharap itte yavyz "Byltyr" mine,
Aһ, үlәm bit, bu bәladәn whom kilep yolkyr mine?
Irtagesen shүrәlelәr bu fakyrne tirgilәr:
- Sin yulәrsen, sin kotyrgan, sin tilergәnsen, dilar.
Aytәlәr: "kychkyrma sin, tiz yakhshylyk berlәn tyel!
And yulęr! Kyskanga was tyr, kychkyralarmy was!"
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