In order to check text punctuation online, there are many services on the Internet. They all claim that they can analyze the entered text in Russian for the correct placement of commas. As a result of our own check of the most popular resources, only one service was identified - Оnline.orfo.ru, very close in results to testing in Microsoft Word.
Checking punctuation of Russian text online (comma placement)
Having studied each of the existing services in detail, it was revealed that, in addition to Оnline.orfo.ru other quality programs for checking Russian text for spelling simply not (this does not apply to checks based on other criteria, for example, errors in the text). This is confirmed by a large number of positive reviews. On some online text punctuation checking sites, there is no place to insert text at all.
Оnline.orfo.ru - the best service for free online text checking for punctuation
Оnline.orfo.ru checks text for punctuation, both in Russian and in other languages. The program of Informatik LLC has been developed. This organization began its activities in the development of linguistic technologies back in 1989. In 1994, Microsoft convened the best experts to determine the highest quality tools that can be used as a tool for examining the text being checked and further introducing modular packages in Microsoft Word. It was decided to allocate a license to the text checking modules of Informatic LLC. Since 1995 they were introduced into Russian Microsoft Office text packages.
Text checking on this service is limited to 4000 characters, which means that to check longer texts, you will have to enter in parts one by one.
Start checking your text for correct comma placement and spelling (free)
While checking several texts on this service, the following probable errors of missing punctuation marks were found (example in the picture). 
Text checking in Microsoft Word shows the same results. 
Other popular services missing commas not identified, only revealed a few grammatical and spelling errors.
Of course, if you have Microsoft Word, you won’t need to check punctuation in the text online, but it’s not always convenient to use this program.
In the Russian language there are many variants of using the same words and prepositions. Not many people know all the cases. This is especially true when trying to write simple statements used in everyday life. A wide range of little-used expressions are known only to Russian language teachers or simply well-read people with a good memory. Thanks to online text punctuation checking programs, you can now quickly and accurately analyze written text without wasting time searching in reference books.
Several ravens slowly circled over the clearing, and suddenly it reminded Alexei of a solemn picture of Igor’s Slaughter, full of gloomy power, reproduced in a school history textbook from a canvas by the great Russian artist.
“So I would be lying here!” - he thought, and again his whole being was filled with a stormy feeling of life. He shook himself. The chipped millstones were still slowly spinning in his head, his legs burned and ached more than ever, but Alexei, sitting on the already cold bear carcass, silvered with dry snow, began to think about what he should do, where to go, how to get to his advanced units.
He lost the tablet with the map in a fall. But even without a map, Alexey clearly understood today’s route. The German field airfield, which was attacked by attack aircraft, lay about sixty kilometers to the west of the front line. Having tied up the German fighters in an air battle, his pilots managed to pull them away from the airfield to the east for about twenty kilometers, and he, after he escaped from the double pincers, probably managed to extend a little more to the east. Therefore, he fell approximately thirty-five kilometers from the front line, far behind the backs of the advanced German divisions, somewhere in the area of the huge, so-called Black Forest, over which he had to fly more than once, accompanying bombers and attack aircraft on their short raids along near German rear. This forest always seemed to him like an endless green sea from above. In good weather, the forest swirled with caps of pine peaks, and in bad weather, shrouded in gray fog, it resembled a darkened surface of water along which small waves move.
The fact that he collapsed in the center of this protected forest was both good and bad. It’s good because it’s unlikely that here, in these virgin thickets, one could meet Germans, who usually gravitated towards roads and housing. It was bad because he had to make, although not a very long, but difficult journey through the forest thickets, where one could not hope for human help, for a piece of bread, for a roof, for a sip of boiling water. Legs... Will your legs lift? Will they go?..
He quietly stood up from the bear carcass. The same sharp pain that arose in his feet permeated his body from bottom to top. He screamed. I had to sit down again. I tried to throw off the unt. The boots did not come off, and every jerk made me moan. Then Alexey clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, pulled the boot with both hands with all his might - and immediately lost consciousness. Having woken up, he carefully unwrapped the flannel wrap. The whole foot was swollen and looked like a solid gray bruise. She burned and ached in every joint. Alexey put his foot on the snow - the pain became weaker. With the same desperate jerk, as if he was pulling out his own tooth, he took off the second boot.
Both legs were no good. Apparently, when the plane's impact on the tops of the pine trees threw him out of the cockpit, something pinched his feet and crushed the small bones of the metatarsus and fingers. Of course, under normal conditions he would not even think of getting up on those broken, swollen legs. But he was alone in the thicket of the forest, behind enemy lines, where meeting a man promised not relief, but death.
And he decided to go, go east, go through the forest, without trying to look for convenient roads and residential places, go, no matter the cost.
He resolutely jumped up from the bear's carcass, groaned, gritted his teeth and took the first step. He stood there, pulled his other leg out of the snow, and took another step. There was a noise in my head, the forest and the clearing swayed and floated to the side.
Alexei felt himself weakening from tension and pain. Biting his lip, he continued to walk, getting out to the forest road that led past a damaged tank, past an Uzbek with a grenade, deep into the forest, to the east. It was still okay to walk on the soft snow, but as soon as he stepped onto the hard, wind-blown, ice-covered hump of the road, the pain became so unbearable that he stopped, not daring to take even another step. So he stood, awkwardly spreading his legs, swaying as if from the wind. And suddenly everything turned gray before my eyes. The road, the pine trees, the gray needles, the blue oblong gap above it had disappeared... He stood at the airfield near the plane, and his mechanic, or, as he called him, “techie,” lanky Yura, shining teeth and the whites of his eyes, always sparkling on his unshaven and with an always grimy face, with an inviting gesture, he showed him to the cockpit: they say, it’s ready, let’s take off... Alexey took a step towards the plane, but the ground was burning, burning his feet, as if he was stepping on a hot stove. He rushed to jump over this hot earth directly onto the wing, but bumped into the cold fuselage and was surprised. The fuselage was not smooth, varnished, but rough, lined with pine bark... There was no airplane - he was on the road and fumbling with his hand along a tree trunk.
"Hallucination? “I’m going crazy from shell shock,” thought Alexey. - Walking along the road is unbearable. Turn into virgin lands? But this will slow down the journey much..." He sat down on the snow, again, with the same decisive, short jerks, pulled off his high boots, tore them apart in the ascents with his nails and teeth so that they would not crowd his broken feet, took a large downy scarf made of Angora wool from his neck, tore it in half, wrapped his feet and put his shoes back on.
Now the going has become easier. However, to walk is incorrectly said: not to walk, but to move, move carefully, stepping on your heels and raising your legs high, as one walks through a swamp. After a few steps, the pain and tension made me feel dizzy. I had to stand with my eyes closed, leaning my back against a tree trunk, or sit down on a snowdrift and rest, feeling the sharp beating of the pulse in my veins.
He moved like this for several hours. But when I looked back, at the end of the clearing I could still see the illuminated bend in the road, where a dead Uzbek stood out as a dark spot in the snow. This made Alexei very upset. It was upsetting, but not frightening. He wanted to go faster. He rose from the snowdrift, gritted his teeth tightly and walked forward, marking small goals in front of him, concentrating his attention on them - from pine to pine, from stump to stump, from snowdrift to snowdrift. On the virgin snow of a deserted forest road, a sluggish, winding, indistinct trail, like the one left by a wounded animal, curled behind him.
4
He moved like this until evening. When the sun, setting somewhere behind Alexey, threw the cold flame of sunset onto the tops of the pines and gray twilight began to thicken in the forest, near the road, in a hollow overgrown with juniper, Alexey saw a picture, at the sight of which it was as if a wet towel had been drawn along his back to the very neck and hair moved under the helmet.
While there, in the clearing, the battle was going on, in the ravine, in the juniper thickets, there must have been a medical company located. The wounded were brought here and laid on pine needle pillows. So they now lay in rows under the shade of bushes, half-covered and completely covered with snow. At first glance, it became clear that they did not die from their wounds. Someone, with deft swings of a knife, cut their throats, and they lay in identical positions, throwing their heads far back, as if trying to see what was happening behind them. The mystery of the terrible picture was immediately clarified. Under a pine tree, near the snow-covered body of a Red Army soldier, holding his head in her lap, her sister, a small, fragile girl in a fur hat tied under her chin with ribbons, sat waist-deep in the snow. The handle of a knife stuck out between her shoulder blades, glistening with polish. And standing nearby, clutching each other’s throats in a final, deadly fight, stood a German in a black SS uniform and a Red Army soldier with his head bandaged with bloody gauze. Alexey immediately realized that this man in black had finished off the wounded with his knife, stabbed his sister, and then was captured by the man he had not finished off, who had put all the strength of his fading life into his fingers squeezing the enemy’s throat.
So the blizzard buried them - a fragile girl in a fur hat, covering the wounded man with her body, and these two, the executioner and the avenger, who clung to each other at her feet, shod in old tarpaulin boots with wide tops.
Meresyev stood amazed for several moments, then hobbled over to his sister and tore the dagger out of her body. It was an SS knife, made in the form of an ancient German sword, with a mahogany handle, into which a silver SS badge was embedded. The rusty blade bears the inscription: “Alles für Deutschland.” Alexey removed the leather scabbard of the dagger from the SS man. A knife was necessary on the way. Then he dug out a crusty, icy raincoat from under the snow, carefully covered his sister’s corpse with it, and placed several pine branches on top...
While he was doing all this, it got dark. In the west, the gaps between the trees went dark. Frosty and dense darkness surrounded the ravine. It was quiet here, but the night wind was blowing through the tops of the pines, the forest was rustling, sometimes soothingly melodious, sometimes gusty and alarming. A snowball, no longer visible to the eye, was dragging along the ravine, quietly rustling and tingling the face.
Born in Kamyshin, among the Volga steppes, a city dweller, inexperienced in forestry matters, Alexey did not take care in advance of either lodging for the night or a fire. Caught in pitch darkness, feeling unbearable pain in his broken, overworked legs, he did not find the strength to go for fuel, climbed into the dense growth of a young pine forest, sat down under a tree, curled up all over, hid his face in his knees, clasped in his hands, and, warming himself with his breath, froze, greedily enjoying the ensuing peace and stillness.
There was a pistol at the ready with the hammer cocked, but it is unlikely that Alexey would have been able to use it on this first night he spent in the forest. He slept like a stone, not hearing the steady noise of the pines, nor the hoot of an eagle owl moaning somewhere along the road, nor the distant howl of wolves - none of those forest sounds with which the thick and impenetrable darkness that tightly surrounded him was full.
But he woke up immediately, as if from a jolt, when the gray dawn was just breaking and only the nearby trees stood out in vague silhouettes from the frosty darkness. He woke up, remembered what was wrong with him, where he was, and in hindsight was frightened by this night so carelessly spent in the forest. The dank cold penetrated the “damn skin” and fur of the overalls and penetrated to the bones. The body was shaking with small, uncontrollable trembling. But the worst thing was my legs: they hurt even more acutely, even now when they were at rest. He thought with fear that he needed to get up. But he stood up just as decisively, with a jerk, as yesterday he tore off his high boots. Time was precious.
To all the hardships that befell Alexei, hunger was added. Just yesterday, while covering his sister’s body with a raincoat, he noticed next to her a canvas bag with a red cross. Some animal was already busy there, and crumbs were lying in the snow near the gnawed holes. Yesterday Alexey paid almost no attention to this. Today he picked up the bag. It contained several individual bags, a large can of canned food, a stack of someone's letters, a mirror, on the back of which was inserted a photograph of a thin old woman. Apparently there was bread or crackers in the bag, and birds or animals made short work of this food. Alexey stuffed the can and bandages into the pockets of his overalls, saying to himself: “Thank you, dear!”, straightened the raincoat that had been thrown off the girl’s feet by the wind, and slowly walked to the east, which was already glowing orange behind a network of tree branches.
He now had a kilogram can of canned food, and he decided to eat once a day, at noon.
5
To drown out the pain that every step caused him, he began to distract himself, thinking and calculating his path. If you do ten to twelve kilometers a day, he will reach his home in three, or at most four days.
So good! Now: what does it mean to walk ten to twelve kilometers? A kilometer is two thousand steps; therefore, ten kilometers is twenty thousand steps, and this is a lot, considering that after every five hundred to six hundred steps you have to stop and rest...
Yesterday, Alexey, in order to shorten the path, outlined some visible landmarks for himself: a pine tree, a stump, a bump in the road - and strove for them as if for a resting place. Now he has translated all this into the language of numbers, translated into the number of steps. He decided to make the journey between resting places a thousand steps, that is, half a kilometer, and rest by the hour, no more than five minutes. It turned out that from dawn to sunset he would walk ten kilometers, albeit with difficulty.
But how hard the first thousand steps were for him! He tried to switch his attention to counting to ease the pain, but after walking five hundred steps, he began to confuse, lie and could no longer think about anything else except the burning, tugging pain. And yet he walked these thousand steps. No longer having the strength to sit down, he fell face down into the snow and began to greedily lick the crust. I pressed my forehead to him, my temples, in which the blood was pounding, and experienced unspeakable bliss from his chilling touch.
He looked at his watch and shuddered. The second hand clicked off the last moments of the fifth minute. He looked at her with fear, as if when she completed her circle, something terrible was going to happen; when she touched the number “sixty”, he immediately rose to his feet, groaned and moved on.
By noon, the forest twilight sparkled with thin threads of sunlight breaking through the thick needles, and the forest smelled strongly of resin and melted snow, and he made only four transitions. He sat down in the middle of the road in the snow, not having the strength to reach the trunk of a large birch tree that lay almost at arm's length. He sat for a long time with his shoulders slumped, not thinking about anything, not seeing or hearing anything, not even feeling hungry.
He sighed, threw several lumps of snow into his mouth and, overcoming the numbness that was holding his body, took a rusty can from his pocket and opened it with a dagger. He put a piece of frozen, tasteless lard into his mouth and wanted to swallow it, but the lard melted. He felt the taste of it in his mouth and suddenly felt so hungry that he could hardly force himself to tear himself away from it and began to eat the snow just to swallow something.
Before setting off again, Alexei cut sticks from juniper. He leaned on them, but walking became more and more difficult hour by hour.
6
...The third day of the journey through the dense forest, where Alexey did not see a single human trace, was marked by an unexpected incident.
He woke up with the first rays of the sun, shivering from cold and internal chills. In the pocket of his overalls he found a lighter, made for him as a souvenir from a rifle cartridge by mechanic Yura. He somehow completely forgot about her and that it was possible and necessary to start a fire. Having broken dry mossy branches from the spruce tree under which he slept, he covered them with pine needles and lit them. Yellow, nimble lights burst out from under the bluish smoke. The resinous dry tree began to work quickly and cheerfully. The flame spread to the pine needles and, fanned by the wind, flared up with groans and whistles.
The fire crackled and hissed, spreading dry, beneficial heat. Alexei felt comfortable, he lowered the zipper of his overalls, took out from the pocket of his tunic several worn-out letters written in the same round, diligent handwriting, and took out from one a photograph of a thin girl in a motley, colorful dress, sitting with her legs tucked up in the grass. He looked at it for a long time, then again carefully wrapped it in cellophane, put it in a letter and, holding it thoughtfully in his hands, put it back in his pocket.
“Nothing, nothing, everything will be fine,” he said, turning either to this girl or to himself, and thoughtfully repeated: “Nothing...”
Now, with familiar movements, he tore off the high boots from his feet, unwound the pieces of the scarf, and carefully examined his legs. They swelled even more. The toes stuck out in different directions, as if the feet were rubber and had been inflated with air. Their color was even darker than the day before.
Alexey sighed, saying goodbye to the dying fire, and again wandered along the road, creaking his sticks on the icy snow, biting his lips and sometimes losing consciousness. Suddenly, among other noises of the forest, which his accustomed ear had almost ceased to detect, he heard the distant sound of running engines. At first he thought that he was imagining it because he was tired, but the engines were humming louder and louder, then howling at first speed, then dying down. Obviously, they were Germans, and they were traveling along the same road. Alexey felt his insides immediately go cold.
Fear gave Alexei strength. Forgetting about fatigue and the pain in his legs, he turned off the road, walked across the virgin soil to a dense spruce undergrowth and then, entering the thicket, sank into the snow. It was difficult to notice him from the road; to him the road was clearly visible, illuminated by the midday sun, already standing over the jagged fence of spruce tops.
The noise was getting closer. Alexey remembered that his lonely footprint was clearly visible in the snow of the abandoned road. But it was too late to leave; the engine of the front car was humming somewhere very close. Alexey pressed himself even tighter into the snow. First, a flat, cleaver-like armored car, painted with lime, flashed among the branches. Swaying and clinking with chains, he approached the place where Alexei’s trail turned into the forest. Alexei held his breath. The armored car did not stop. Behind the armored car was a small open all-terrain vehicle. Someone in a high-topped cap, with his nose buried in a brown fur collar, was sitting next to the driver, and behind him on a high bench were machine gunners in gray-green overcoats and helmets. At some distance, snorting and clanging its tracks, came another, already large, all-terrain vehicle, on which about fifteen Germans were sitting in rows.
Alexei pressed himself into the snow. The cars were so close that he could smell the warm stench of gasoline burning in his face. The hair on the back of his head moved and his muscles curled into tight balls. But the cars passed, the smell dissipated, and from somewhere in the distance the barely audible noise of engines could be heard.
After waiting for everything to calm down, Alexey got out onto the road, on which the staircase tracks of caterpillars were clearly imprinted, and continued his journey along these tracks. He moved in the same regular steps, rested in the same way, ate in the same way, having covered half of the day's journey. But now he walked like an animal, carefully. An alarmed ear caught every rustle, his eyes scoured around, as if he knew that a large dangerous predator was sneaking and hiding somewhere nearby.
A pilot accustomed to fighting in the air, for the first time he met living, undefeated enemies on the ground. Now he was following their trail, grinning maliciously. It’s not fun for them to live here, the land they occupied is uncomfortable, not hospitable! Even in the virgin forest, where Alexey has not seen a single human, living sign in three days, their officer has to travel under such an escort.
“Nothing, nothing, everything will be fine!” - Alexey encouraged himself and kept walking, walking, walking, trying not to notice that his legs were hurting more and more acutely and that he himself was noticeably weakening. The stomach was no longer deceived by the pieces of young spruce bark that he constantly gnawed and swallowed, nor by the bitter birch buds, nor by the tender and sticky pulp of young linden bark that stretched under the teeth.
Before dusk he had barely completed five stages. But at night he lit a fire, covering a huge half-rotten birch trunk lying on the ground with pine needles and dead wood. While this trunk was smoldering hotly and dimly, he slept, stretched out in the snow, feeling the life-giving warmth in one side or the other, instinctively turning and waking up to throw dry wood to the dying log, wheezing in the lazy flame.
A snowstorm broke out in the middle of the night. They stirred, made an alarming noise, groaned, and the pine trees creaked overhead. Clouds of prickly snow dragged along the ground. A rustling darkness danced over the hooting, sparkling flame. But the snowstorm did not alarm Alexei. He slept sweetly and greedily, protected by the warmth of the fire.
Fire protected from animals. But there was no need to be afraid of the Germans on such a night. They will not dare to appear in a blizzard in a deep forest. And yet, while the overworked body rested in the smoky warmth, the ear, already accustomed to animal caution, caught every sound. In the morning, when the storm subsided and a thick whitish fog hung in the darkness over the quiet land, it seemed to Alexei that behind the ringing of pine tops, behind the rustle of falling snow, he heard the distant sounds of battle, explosions, machine gun fire, rifle shots.
“Is it really the front line? So soon?"
7
But, when in the morning the wind cleared away the fog, and the forest, silvered during the night, gray and cheerful, sparkled in the sun with needle-like frost and, as if rejoicing at this sudden transformation, the bird brethren chirped, sang, chirped, sensing the coming spring, no matter how much Alexey listened , he could not catch the noise of the battle - neither shooting, nor even the roar of cannonade.
Snow fell from the trees in white, smoky streams, sparkling prickly in the sun. Here and there heavy spring drops fell on the snow with a light thud. Spring! This morning, for the first time, she declared herself so decisively and persistently.
Aleksey decided to eat the pitiful remains of canned food - a few fibers of meat covered with aromatic lard - in the morning, as he felt that otherwise he would not be able to get up. He carefully scraped the jar with his finger, cutting his hand in several places on its sharp edges, but he imagined that there was still lard left. He filled the jar with snow, raked up the gray ashes of the extinguished fire, put the jar in the smoldering coals, and then with pleasure, in small sips, drank this hot water, slightly smelling of meat. He put the jar in his pocket, deciding to boil tea in it. Drink hot tea! This was a pleasant discovery and cheered Alexey up a little as he set off again.
But here a great disappointment awaited him. The night storm completely covered the road. He blocked it with slanting, pointed snowdrifts. The monochromatic sparkling blue hurt my eyes. My feet got stuck in the thick, still-unsettled snow. It was difficult to pull them out. Even the sticks, which got stuck on their own, didn’t help much.
By noon, when the shadows under the trees turned black and the sun peeked through the tops onto the clearing of the road, Alexey managed to take only about one thousand five hundred steps and was so tired that every new movement was an effort of will. He was rocking. The ground slipped from under my feet. He fell every minute, lay motionless for a moment on the top of the snowdrift, pressing his forehead against the crunchy snow, then got up and took a few more steps. I felt uncontrollably sleepy. I felt the urge to lie down, forget myself, and not move a single muscle. Come what may! He stopped, numb and staggered from side to side, then, painfully biting his lip, brought himself to consciousness and again took several steps, dragging his feet with difficulty.
Already middle-aged, but still far from “on vacation with the graces,” the woman Susan, the owner of her own art gallery and the wife of a wealthy businessman, one day receives a package from her ex-husband Edward, her first love. The parcel contains a book and a letter with the following text: “Hello, my ex-sweetheart, I wrote a book, read it and let’s meet sometime and drink coffee.” Susan opens the manuscript, and there...
There is a chilling thriller of a certain and quite popular genre. A family (mom, dad, daughter) drives along a deserted Texas road at night and comes across “straw dogs” who play “funny games” with them with fatal consequences. However, the eternal plot about primitive ultra-violence quickly transforms into another, no less eternal - about revenge. And in parallel with the film adaptation of the fictional novel, the main part of the film is transformed in the same way.
At first glance, it may seem that Nocturnal Animals is a movie about cruelty and retribution. But in fact it is about cruelty and retribution of a different kind. And not only about them. Tom Ford plunges into such abyss of the hell of human nature and does it so deftly and beautifully that it is unclear why the hell he used to design expensive clothes instead of filming. Yes, if you didn't know, this Tom Ford is the same Tom Ford who has boutiques, colognes and accessories for a lot of money. And Nocturnal Animals is his second film.
It should be noted that if the couturier’s past affects his new activity, it is extremely favorable. The costumes harmoniously complement the images of the characters, and his impeccable sense of style helps him masterfully use some purely artistic decisions as storytelling tools: for example, bright color spots form rhyme pairs, with the help of which two separate stories are linked into one. Which is very important, since integrity is the defining quality of the picture and part of its main idea at the same time. Edward, with the help of a book about his alter ego Tony, tells his own story of murder of love and redemption, designed to shock the reader, turn his mind inside out. Moreover, the reader - not in the synecdochic, but in the most literal sense.
The imaginary dissimilarity, the inconsistency of the two lines and their real close connection, which in the end turns into identity, illustrates the applicability of the law on the unity of opposites to the human psyche. As is known, a person has everything, and it is all constantly in motion, flowing into each other depending on various circumstances, often not the most pleasant, and even more often - against the will of the subject. Amy Adams' character Susan dreamed more than anything else of not being like her mother. Jake Gyllenhaal's character wants to spend his life with Amy Adams' character. The character of Michael Shannon, a minor one, but, as usual, brilliantly performed, upholds the law. But circumstances, heartless, soulless, personified in the images of “night animals,” as always, ruined everything.
What circumstances prompted Tom Ford to retrain from tailor to film maker is unknown, but his progress on the new path is impressive. The first film, A Single Man, was a cute but boring gay drama, but Nocturnal Animals takes it to heights that few others reach. He so famously combines aesthetic visuals, deep psychologism, perfectly executed by first-class actors, and an exciting script that if you don’t look at Wikipedia, you won’t be able to guess yesterday’s debutant in him. It even becomes scary - what will happen next.
It's frosty. The road is white and smooth,
Not a cloud in the entire sky...
The driver's mustache and beard are frozen,
He is trembling in his robe.
His back, shoulders and hat are covered in snow,
He wheezes, urging the horses,
And his horses cough as they run,
Sighing deeply and difficultly...
Common views: former glory
Desert Russian land,
The scaffolding rustles gloomily,
Casting giant shadows;
The plains are covered with a diamond carpet,
Villages drowned in snow
A landowner's house flashed on a hill,
The church heads flashed...
Ordinary meetings: a convoy without end,
A crowd of praying old women,
Thundering mail, figure of a merchant
On a pile of feather beds and pillows;
State truck! about a dozen carts:
Guns and backpacks are piled up.
Toy soldiers! Thin, mustacheless people,
They must still be new recruits;
Sons are seen off by male fathers
Yes mothers, sisters and wives:
“They are taking away, they are taking away the hearty ones to the regiments!” —
Bitter moans are heard...
Raising his fists over the driver's back,
The courier is rushing furiously.
On the road itself, having caught up with the hare,
Mustachioed landowner huntsman
Swung across the ditch on a nimble horse,
He takes the prey from the dogs.
Stands aside with all his retinue
The landowner calls the greyhounds...
Ordinary scenes: hell at the stations -
They swear, argue, jostle.
“Well, touch it!” The guys are looking out of the windows,
The priests are fighting at the tavern;
At the forge a horse beats in the lathe,
It turns out covered in soot
Blacksmith with a red-hot horseshoe in his hand:
“Hey, guy, hold her hooves!..”
I made my first stop in Kazan,
She fell asleep on the hard sofa;
From the hotel windows I saw a ball
And, I confess, I took a deep breath!
I remembered: a little over an hour or two
It remains until the New Year.
"Happy people! how fun they are!
They have peace and freedom,
They dance, they laugh!.. but I don’t know
Have fun... I'm going to suffer!.."
There is no need to allow such thoughts,
Yes, youth, youth, grandchildren!
Here again they scared me with Trubetskoy,
It was as if she had been turned back:
“But I’m not afraid - permission is with me!”
The clock has already struck ten,
It's time! I dressed up. “Is the coachman ready?”
- Princess, you better wait
“Dawn,” noted the old caretaker. —
The snowstorm has begun to rise! —
"Oh! Or you'll have to try it again!
I'll go. Hurry, for God's sake!..”
The bell is ringing, you can't see anything,
What's next is a worse road,
Started to push hard in the sides,
Somehow we're going in ridges,
I don’t even see the coachman’s back:
A hillock appeared between us.
My wagon almost fell,
The troika jumped back and stood.
My coachman groaned: “I reported:
Wait! the road is gone!..”
She sent the road to look for the coachman,
She covered the tent with matting,
I thought: right, midnight is close,
I suppressed the clock spring:
Twelve struck! The year has ended
And a new one was born!
Throwing back the mat, I look forward -
The blizzard is still spinning.
What does she care about our sorrows?
Until our new year?
And I'm indifferent to your anxiety
And to your groans, bad weather!
I have my own fatal melancholy,
And I fight with her alone...
I congratulated my driver.
“There is a winter quarters nearby,”
He said, “We’ll wait for dawn in it!”
We arrived and woke up
Some wretched forest guards,
Their smoky stove was flooded.
A forest dweller told horror stories,
Yes, I forgot his stories...
We warmed ourselves up with tea. It's time to retire!
The blizzard howled more and more horribly.
The forester crossed himself, the night light went out
And with the help of stepson Fedya
He rolled two huge stones against the doors,
"For what?" - The bears won! —
Then he lay down on the bare floor,
Everything soon fell asleep in the guardhouse,
I thought and thought... lying in the corner
On frozen and hard matting...
At first the dreams were funny:
I remembered our holidays,
Lights burning hall, flowers,
Gifts, congratulatory bowls,
And noisy speeches, and caresses... all around
Everything is cute, everything is expensive -
But where is Sergei?.. And thinking about him,
I forgot everything else!
I jumped up quickly as soon as the coachman
The chilled man knocked on the window.
As soon as it was light, the forester led us out onto the road,
But he refused to accept the money.
“No need, dear! God protect you
The roads further on are dangerous!”
The frosts got stronger along the way
And they soon became terrible.
I completely closed my tent -
And dark, and terrible boredom,
What to do? I remember poems, I sing,
Someday the torment will end!
Let the heart weep, let the wind roar
And my path is covered by snowstorms,
Still, I'm moving forward!
I drove like this for three weeks...
One day, hearing some kind of soda,
I opened my mat,
She looked: we were driving through a vast village,
My eyes were immediately blinded by:
Bonfires burned along my road...
There were peasants, peasant women,
Soldiers and a whole herd of horses...
“Here is the station: silver coins are waiting,”
My driver said. - We'll see her
She, tea, is walking nearby...”
Siberia sent its wealth,
I was glad to have this meeting:
“I’ll wait for the silver coin! Maybe something
I’ll find out about my husband and ours.
There is an officer with her, their way from Nerchinsk...”
I'm sitting in the tavern, waiting...
A young officer entered; he smoked
He didn't nod his head to me,
He looked and walked somehow arrogantly,
And so I said with sadness:
“You saw, right... do you know
Those... victims of the December case...
Are they healthy? What is it like for them there?
I would like to know about my husband...”
He turned his face towards me impudently -
The features were angry and harsh -
And, releasing a ring of smoke from his mouth,
He said: “They are undoubtedly healthy.”
But I don’t know them - and I don’t want to know,
I never saw many convicts!.. -
How painful it was for me, my dears! I'm silent...
Unhappy! You offended me!..
I only cast a contemptuous glance,
The young man walked out with dignity...
Some soldier was warming himself at the stove here,
He heard my curse
And a kind word is not barbaric laughter -
Found in my soldier's heart:
- Healthy! - he said, - I saw them all,
They live in the Blagodatsky mine!.. -
But then the arrogant hero returned,
I hastily went into the tent.
Thank you, soldier! thank you dear!
It was not for nothing that I endured the torture!
In the morning I look at the white steppes,
A bell was heard ringing,
I quietly enter the wretched church,
Mixed with the crowd of pilgrims.
After listening to mass, she approached the priest,
I asked to serve a prayer service...
Everything was calm - the crowd did not leave...
I was completely overwhelmed by grief!
Why are we so offended?
Christ? Why are you covered in reproach?
And rivers of long-accumulated tears
Fell on hard slabs!
It seemed that the people shared my sadness,
Praying silently and strictly,
And the priest’s voice sounded sorrowful,
Asking for God's exiles...
Poor, lost temple in the desert!
I was not ashamed to cry in it,
The participation of the sufferers praying there
It doesn't hurt a murdered soul...
(Father John, who served the prayer service
And he prayed so earnestly,
Then I was a priest in the dungeon
And he became related to us in soul.)
And at night the coachman did not hold back his horses,
The mountain was terribly steep
And I flew with my kibitka
From the high peak of Altai!
In Irkutsk they did the same to me,
How did they torment Trubetskaya...
Baikal. Crossing - and it’s so cold,
That the tears in my eyes froze.
Then I parted with my wagon
(The toboggan run has disappeared).
I felt sorry for her: I cried in her
And I thought, I thought a lot!
A road without snow - in a cart! First
The cart kept me busy
But soon after, neither alive nor dead,
I learned the beauty of the cart.
I also learned hunger along the way,
Unfortunately, they didn't tell me
That nothing can be found here,
The Buryats kept the post office here.
They dry the beef in the sun
Let them warm themselves with brick tea,
And the one with lard! Lord save
Give it a try, you unaccustomed ones!
But near Nerchinsk they gave me a ball:
Some smart merchant
In Irkutsk he noticed me and overtook me
And in honor of my rich holiday
Arranged... Thank you! I was glad
And delicious dumplings, and a bath...
And I slept through the whole holiday like a dead woman
In the living room he is on the sofa...
I didn’t know what awaited me ahead!
I rode to Nerchinsk this morning,
I can’t believe my eyes - Trubetskoy is coming!
“I caught up with you, I caught up with you!”
— They are in Blagodatsk!- I rushed to her,
Shedding happy tears...
Only twelve miles away is my Sergei,
And Katya Trubetskoy is with me!
