Scars Thank you like a modest Russian light. Analysis of the poem of Rubatov "Russian Spark

(Text of the collection I submit after an additional editorial board and adjustment.)

Warm Light of Poetry Rubtsova is heating.

"When I read Rubtsova,
I see how my native word
In his verses sings and crying ...
Through the pines noise in them wedding jumps,
Clause bubans!
And light flies into all the ends ...
... do not be lazy and up
In the row of the poet ... Rodnikova
Row of sullen rubar ...
"Row of Rubtsova" Gennady Morozov

Chapter one.
Words Rubtsova raspberry ringing.

In the center of Vologda on the Herzen Street there is a wooden house of x1x century with carved platbands.
On the second floor of this architectural structure there is a small museum "Literature. Art. Century xx. Two destinies. "
In the four small halls of the museum are located, more than modest expositions about the life and work of Gavrilina V.A. and Rubtsova N.M.
Leisurely peering into museum materials about the fate of these two wonderful people, I tried to learn something new, but moreover about what I already knew did not find it.
However, in the halls with the expositions of notes, glasses and other personal items Gavrilina V., I suddenly remembered the winged phrase, it seems to be Ludwig Van Beethoven:
"Music should carve fire from the human soul."
I saw this phrase on a stand on the booth in the school class, where my son studied, but for some reason she took over in my memory at that moment.
Nevertheless, there is a great point to visit small museums.
Of course, I doubtedly as in the authenticity of Rubatov's vests, and in the fact that an old, who saw the types of harmonica, who was the one who presented the Poet writer Belov Vasily Ivanovich.
Almost in all Rubotovsky museums you can see these items.
Carefully reading the handwritten copies of Rubatov's poems written by calligraphic handwriting, his character, accuracy, careful attitude towards his word is guessed between the lines.
In the process of reflection, these stands in my memory have surfaced words from the Prolog Gospel from John: -
"In the beginning there was a word, and the word was with God, and the word was God" (John 1: 1).
And then these words, as it were, connected with the phrase of Beethoven about the meaning of music in our lives.
So I found the answer to, it would seem, a simple questioning question: - How and where is the word born?
The word is sound. The sound reigns in nature, accompanying movement, breathing and even cosmic silence of death. Words and sounds power over life and death. They give birth to love and jealousy, cool mixed on hatred.
Rubtsov wrote:
"…Your fate
No less trigger
Also carving
Fire from a word!
But the work of the mind
Insomnia of the patient
Just tribute
For joy not earthly,
In her hand
Sparkling word
Suddenly feel
How zipper manual!
("He took a cold dead stone man")

Nikolai Rubtsov, every cell of his feelings and the natural gift of the mind felt the incredible value and strength of each word said.

He did not tolerate falsehood or in relations with people or the words of others.
"... After all, the power of the poetic
Not at all in the volume of verse ...
... Why with boring
Write a criquid language
Let it be a verse simple and sonorous
And let her feel bubbles in it! "
("Phenomena, affairs, breast events" N. Rubtsov.)

Slowly moving away from the stand to the stand, peering into the beauty of the poet calligraphic handwriting, suddenly suddenly come to a simple way:
- Feeling wakes thought. Thought with simple sound gives rise to a word.

***
Chapter Second.
Rubatov's words ranked prayer on the Pamirs.

In the soul of each of us, the poets are not equally revered by us, but one is undoubtedly: - this happens in some particular place, at some time and in some significant situations in our life fate.
Thus, my acquaintance happened to the poet-countryman by Rubtsov Nikolai Mikhailovich.
In 1968, I arrived in the city of Khorog to the new place of his officer service on the Pamir.
By that time, I had already managed to defamore the USSR "from the southern mountains to the northern seas" there and back.
He graduated from the evening school, technical school, worked at the plant at the factory, did in the collective farm for horseshoes, the horse took the firewood from the forest, three more than a year served in the Soviet army in the north in the wilderness of the Arkhangelsk swamp.

In Khorog, I temporarily had to live in the Leninist control room.
In the evening, I spread a political map of the world on the floor, laid the mattress on it, I was added to him, and under a cotton pillow (sized fist), to make the headboard, lined Toma V.I. Lenin or reports of CPSU congresses as it was not softer in this room.
So, under the urchorized strict views of the members of the Politburo of the Central Committee of the CPSU, who gave me portraits on the wall at me, I rested and wrote coursework at the university at night.
Somehow, swarming in the waste paper of party publications, in search of a material for test work on the history of the CPSU, suddenly stumbled upon tenderloin from some newspapers.
There, among the selection of poems already known at the time of the poets E. Evtushenko and A. Voznesensky, I saw the poem "Rustic Nights" N. Rubtsova.
I confess you for this Pamir Star Suprebskaya night the miserable number of times, with a spasm in my throat, read and re-read the words of this poem:

"Wind under the windows, quiet as dreaming
And behind the gardens at dusk fields ...
... for me, like music again the world will be filled
Joy dating with a girl simple
I love everything without memory in the village camp I,
Bringing my heart at twilight fields
Cries of quiends, early stars flickering,
Rushing of stroned young horses ... "
(1966 "Rustic Nights")

In each word of verse, thousands of kilometers from their village, on the distant Afghan-Chinese border, I felt the breath of his small homeland. Words are simple, but they are saturated with Russian spirit. It even seemed to me that the native land somewhere here, nearby, behind the snowy caps of the mountain Pamir vertices.
After a couple of days, in the library of the Khogogo frontier, I was given to read, already a pretty read, a thin collection of verses of Nikolai Rubatova "Lyrics".

Somewhat later I learned that the comic song "Ah, what I do":
"Oh, what I do, why am I torment
Patient and small organism?
Ah, what such occasion?
After all, people are fighting for communism! ...
... I drank on the pole, drank at the equator -
Throughout the path.
So notice me, to the erochny mother,
Blizzard-Metelitsa, oh, notice ... ",

Which we sang in the evenings under the guitar chords in the shady Dushanbinsky courtyards are also written by Rubricov.
***

CHAPTER THREE.
Vologda rumors about Rubtsov and not only ...

Take time, my service was walking in Central Asia.
And not only scars and Yesenin to serve me and loving helped me.
It was in my life and its "neutral strip" on which I, with the "blessing" of Vladimir Semenovich Vysotsky, tears flowers for his wife, voluntarily who told me to Pyanj, on the border, scorched by the Afghan sun.
However, everything is sooner or later, has its origin and end.
Fate sometimes pretends to people, can be as a reward for their long-suffering and deprivation, and pleasant surprises.
In 1977 I was transferred to my native Vologda.
With the light hand of the good patronage of our family - Zynovenko Nina Pavlovna, sincere reverence Rubtsova N.M., we temporarily settled in one of the apartments in the house number 3 on Yashin Street, in the entrance, where Nikolai Mikhailovich lived to the last moment of his life.
Zinovovenko Nina Pavlovna Recent years of life was the Estimate Propagandist of Poetry Rubatov.
She actively contributed and helped Maya Andreevna flight, the founder of the Moscow Museum N.M. Rubtsova, collect material about the life and work of the poet.
Nina Pavlovna, a member of the Great Patriotic War, who left his autograph on the portal column of Reichstag, as well as the neighbors of Rubatov told me about some circumstances of the tragic death of Nikolai Mikhailovich and his life in this house, but I see no meaning to retell something with their words.
About this Vologda drama has already been told and written so much that the aircraft and unprecedented in one tangled tangle contradictions.
Rubtsov, foreseen even such peres, wrote:
"... about Rus! Who am I offended here?
Do not listen to evil old ... "
Fame to any poet comes always difficult, sometimes only after death, and sometimes it does not come at all.
The Path of Rubtsova in poetry was a thorny and made his way through military lipholet, orphans, hunger, cold, do not comfort and loneliness in the crowd.
He was talking about him when his verses sprouted in songs in the souls of people.
Today, the circulation of editions of Pochov Rubtsov exceeded more than five million copies, and during the lifetime of the poet, only four skinny books were released by a slightly more than 40 thousand copies.
Of course, after the death of the poet, thanks to the personal participation of the poet's friends: - Korotheeva V.V., Kunyaeva S. Skeinov V., Gleb Gorbovsky and some others, the literary world learned almost the whole truth about the life and death of Rubatov N.M.
Different collections of poet poems were repeatedly published.
In 1983, "Memories of Rubtsov" were published
In 1993, when white house was shot in Moscow from tanks, Korotaev V.V. A new, additional collection of "Memories of Rubtsov" and the collection of verses N.M. Rubtsova "Russian Ogonok".

The one who said that when the guns say, the muses are silent, probably, he knew little as a war and about Russian poets.
Interest in the Poetry of Rubatov and to this day does not fade, I suppose that while Russia stands it will increase and put up.
Rubtsova's books are not parted in stores, even in expensive gift bindings.
In Vologda, the festivals "Rubtsovskaya Autumn" are held annually, in the art gallery and other sites are performed songs on poete verses by amateur groups and individual performers.
In connection with the appearance in 1994, the collection of verses of Derbina L. "Kroshka" and her own books "Memories of Rubtsov" rose a wave of a rapid discussion of the life and death of Rubatov, and his "bride", a failed wife, and his land plot, L. A. Granovskaya derbina.
Once again, the excitement around the name of the Rubatov broke out again after being published in 2006, the book of the Surov, a famous Vologda entrepreneur, with "Young nails" of the collector of ancient antiquity.
This book called "Rubtsov. Documents, photos, evidence "
He came out five thousandth editions in the form of a massive folio in a rude colorful performance.
The content of this book is similar to a "long-term bomb" will be every perceived on your way and ambiguously.

I get acquainted with the testimonies and evidence given in the book, it seems that Rubtsova, 35 years after his tragic death, turned out not only all his pockets, but also stared out of private museums and archives, all certificates from the detoxes, debt receipts, speaking accounts on savings book.
It was counted even the remaining cash at the bottom of 20 rubles.
Assemblies of evidence, among other things, thoroughly fought in the souls of people who knew the poet.
This book should be read and read, but only do not flip it for the sake of idle interest or desire to find any confirmation of your speculation. By reading this book with skills and mastocks in search of truth, Rubatov Nikolai Mikhailovich can still be burned.
Still, the scars were providers and knew everything in his lifestyle that would be in advance:

"... In my window penetrated rumors
On my clean room
They rush like flies -
I myself sometimes wear her! .. "
("Who offended?") N. Rubtsov.

I, as a fan of evidence, and not some dubious facts, gained patience and forces, so as not only to read the book Surov M.V., but did not be lazy to re-read the collections of "Memories of Rubtsov" 1983 of the publication and "Memories of Nikolai Rubtsov "Light in 1994.
Memories of those who have long been in the friends of the poet, and those imaginary "friends", which, as it were, because of the back of the poet himself, the unfortunate lighting of Rubtsov Granovskaya-Derbin, I read in parallel with the verses of Nikolai Rubatov and verses of Derbina in her collection " Buckthorn".
You know, such analytical readings gave rise to a split feeling that many, writing memories, do not negotiate something and, as it were, feel the truth about the poet and happily get their attitude towards him, hiding behind with epithelined epithets about Rubats.
It seems to me that some hide their partial free or involuntary moral guilt for the untimely death of the poet, which they themselves not only premonish, but also silently inactive in its possible prevention.
Viktor Korotaev wrote about this premonition: - "... And I even started poems about it. With his life ...
"Let's lose a person soon
In this world of wages jokingly.
The legislative century
Forever illegal child ... "Myself was frightened written:" What did I grow up ahead of time? "And - Dropped. Added soon. But after the death of Rubtsova ..."

True, a close friend of the poet, a journalist Ninel Starichkov, sending on the eve of 1971 by Nikolay Mikhailovich a greeting card, as a warning wrote: "Take care of the head, until it's late." But it was too late.
Scars by this time already completely "paid bills in this light"
"... I left the reason.
Watching others.
Himself would go
and rules
Yes, I have no road ... "

His "Koni Maddy" was already carried to the last shelter:
"... Sigina I, I'm a mushroom hurricane with a palm
And in the sleigh, the gallop will be entapted by snow in the morning ....
... and I did not have time to do I do not have time to do ...
... We have time to visit, God is not delays ... "
V.Vysotsky. "Horses picky"

"January Vologda. Rubtsova
Friends carry on the last path.
January Vologda, so young.
Not a burden of sorrows
The poet sails through the ancient city
To her harsh pier.
In snow, as in Savan, Russia -
Their smooth light from the edge in the edge ... "
(Light memory N.rubtsova. V.Ponarenko. 01/28/1971)
***
Chapter fourth.
Rubtsov Poet about Rubtsov Man.

"... when everything holy in the country was forgotten -
Came to the poetry of scars
As a gentle son, he spoke with Rus
Good responded to human evil ... "
Alexander Wheel.

"I started life in the slums of urban
And I did not hear good words.
When you caressed your children
I asked, I frozen.
You, see me, do not hitch
After all, I have nothing to blame for anything ...
... you knew my mother's masters,
And I did not know and only in a dream
In my dreams of children's, gold
Mother sometimes was me .... "
Dorival Caymmi Song from k / f "Generals of sand quarries"

Poems Rubtsova are so autobiographical that it is better not to say anyone about him.
It was in his poem "request" the Nobel winner in the field of literature Reddard Kipling, the author of the work of the Jungle Book, said:
"... and memory of me storing
One short moment
List about me
Only from my books ... "

In the preface to the manuscript of the collection of poems "Waves and Rocks" of Rubtsov in 1962, wrote: - "... poems are strong and durable when they go through personal, through private, but at the same time you need the scale and vital characteristics of moods, experiences, reflections ... "

At the same time, Nikolai Mikhailovich, as the author of this collection, July 11, 1962 wrote
What, "This collection included poems very different. Merry, sad, evil. With a direct expression and with formalistic, as they say, a bias. The latter - I do not consider experimental and I do not refuse them, for how I feel, they turned out - alive. ...

Something in the collection (for example, some poems from the cycle ("Ah, what am I doing?") Too subjective. This "something" is interesting only for me, as a memory that I had in life. These are poems Moment ...
... in life and poetry - I can't pass any false, if I feel ...
... "Waves and rocks" - the beginning. And, like any beginning, the poems of the collection do not need a serious evaluation. Good and that if someone remains about these verses, good memories. "
Within the framework of the Festival of Poetry and Music "Rubtsovskaya Autumn", to the 80th anniversary of the Birthday of the Poet of Nikolai Rubtsov in the Vologda Museum "Literature. Art. Age XX" was opened an exhibition-installation "Waves and Rocks". This exhibition-installation completed the anniversary project "Ax of life", telling about various topics of lyrics N. Rubtsov. Currently, for some reason, this exposition in the museum is removed, possibly due to the ambiguous estimates of "appraisers". I personally read that she speaks a lot about Rubtsov as a poet and man. The creators of the exhibition treated this work in philosophically wisely, without shook the soul.
At the same time, it is necessary to understand that we know the identity of the author exactly as much as he opens the door to his life.
As you know, times do not choose. This time chooses us.
Our generation, born in the pre-war and war years, is now called the "children of war".
True, with a difficult hand of pension legislation and especially poisonous "humorists" from the media, we stick to us another shortcut - "Generation of Logs".
Here, the time of adolescence and youth Nikolai Rubatov fell on the years of the post-war ruin, continuous off-road.
Only on the pale Light of the kerosene lamp, dimly luminous in the window, could be a belated traveler to see in a blizzard not greeted fire, dormant in the night of the Vologda Forestry.
In the life of Rubtsov, the sun was not always shone, he saw more often:

"... a lot of gray water,
Many gray sky
A bit of the land of the earth
And a little lights along the shore ... "
("On the Sukhon River")

Not everyone, not even everyone, in childhood it was warm, cozy, sunny and satisfying.
Many did not have fathers, not everyone had a mother and their home. Here and the scars in early childhood lost their parents, his father went to the front, mother died.

"... I'm vaguely remember
Morning funeral
And behind the window
Scarce nature.
Where only -
As from under the ground
Took in housing
And twilight and dampness ... "
("Childhood")

And immediately on the shoulders of a small one collapsed and
Other attacks.
The owner of the apartment lost its product cards, and Rubtsova immediately unreasonably accused of stealing.
About this Nikolay through the tears of resentment said:
"... a neighbor evil does not give a passage ....
Then childhood on the shore ...
And the belated in the field of light ... "

"... and there, in the wilderness,
Under the roof of orphanage
For us sounded
Somehow unfamiliar, we were insulted
The word "orphan ..."
("Childhood")
All over, the Destroyed War, the USSR, juts in shelters-orphanages and attendants tens of thousands of homeless sovereigns.
Among them was Kolya Rubtsov with the orphans of the nickname "Scarfik" and "Stallion", called so for his love for horses.
"Scarchik" his name was for the fact that from childhood and until the last days of life, he almost always wore a long scarf.
With adolescent years, without having his angle, the scars was doomed to wandering over the world.
He lived in barracks, "hostels", or in dwellings, where anyone temporarily shelter.
So in all my life and not used to the scars for comfort and home heat.
He felt extremely casually visited by comrades-poets and writers, especially in the apartments of those who had carpets on the walls and floors, and servants with a crystal.

"... I do not give for all the choirs
His low house with nettle at the end ... "
("Hello Russia")
He all the time sought somewhere to go, go, "... swim, swim, swim ...", but not to feel lonely and not notice.

He wrote in the children's course:

"... and I understood ...
That all in the light of horror and poison
You sometimes openly surround
When they see suddenly you are alone ... "
("Autumn Etude)
So in such conditions, the character, tempering and habits of the poet.
Feeling the great gifting of the mind, which overwhelmed with verses, was constantly directed to the future.
"... happens that a fermented boy
Behind the guest visit the following
The road is in a hurry too:
I will leave here too! ...
... when you grow up in the capital
Look at life abroad
Then you will evaluate Nikola,
Where did the elementary school cum ... "
(Home village")

Not only Rubats had such a mood.
In the 60s of the last century, I, and such as I, with terrible force, sought to break out of poverty, hopeless rustic existence, in the electric light, large cities.
And so.
Rubtsov: "... I'm all in fuel oil, all the challenge, but I work in trallfot ...".
So he is already in the factory rocker in the Nevsky shores:
"Beats in the furnace flame white
There is fire, do not burn ... "
("In the Kochegarka")
I am writing his lines, but I see not in them, and in the 1960-1962 years in the factory in Stalinabade-Dushanbe, the mechanic of the Kuznets in the Soviet Russia collective farm in the Vologda region.
Our years flew, we quickly adults, wished something, they wanted somewhere:
"... oh, I also wish for expanses of the universe!
Oh, I also want to heave the sky
But in the edge of an unfamiliar
There will be sadness unchangeable
By native in the meadow ... "
(Song")

To us, such a walkey in search of themselves, always in those years I wanted to "... somehow immediately live in the city and in the village ..." ("Rights")

In 1962, N.M. Rubtsov in the village of Nikola met with his old familiar at the orphanage Henrietta Mikhailovna Menshikova. How it often happens in life:
"...Nothing
I did not care!
Fascinated inadvertently!
Cayano
Not calay
Still desperately! .. "

"…When you
Under caress
As if the gunpowder flashed! .. ", they donated the rustic wedding.
"... temporarily, not temporary,
Do not hold back tears!
Upon you,
Pregnant
Osiennichek had ... "And in 1963, Rubatova was born daughter Lena.
Gorky becomes in the soul and insulting to anger for the poet with a clear light soul, for his only, albeit "unbelievable" in the registry office, his wife Henrietta and healthy her daughter Lena, when there are still evil languages \u200b\u200band blasphemes: Whether Whether Henrietta , Lie daughter Lena to his father Rubtsov ???

Yes, however, by that time he is already completely "... I forgot how the horse is harvested ...",
But, marrying so "inadvertently", the thought of rustic life after all the same slipped:

"... Eh, soaring
I am now a falc
And drove the hay
How much could
And then
I would have a plug
Piggyman
Fried
In the side. "
("I forgot how the horse is harnessed")

Yes, where, he was a horse to bargain, the inhabitants of Nikola did not perceive Rubatov as a peasant. At best, looked at him as a contemplate of nature, drowned in their thoughts.

Somehow in his letter Gleb Yakovlevich Gorbov scars wrote:
"... I sit now, having wrapped in a coat and hiding my legs into huge torn boots, in one of the oldest and most blackened huts of the village of Nikolsky. ... I already disappear here for a month ...
Here ... Almost the classical Russian people almost disappeared, to look at which and listen to which are some joy and calmness.
... Especially annoying the most sad in the world - a combination of ancient ignorance with modern godlessness, which has long been extended here ... "

Scarov residents of the village were not imposed in his friends, even sometimes struggled them. In a letter to Alexander Yashin, 19.Iun, 1965 he wrote:
"... in the village I, honestly, is already tired of a lot. Sometimes it just becomes sickly from monotonous women conversations that constantly spin around two to three household concepts or circumstances. It happens that neither say - they are all distorted in their mirror curve and will be separated throughout the people ... "
(Nikolai Rubtsov. Collection "Russian Okonok" 1994, p.387.)
At the same time, about this N. Rubtsov will write in their poem "Who offended?
"... and I remembered anxious ropot
Evening a few old women.
They are then on the paths
His unkind ear! ... "

The mother-in-law Rubsova diligently urged Henrietta in the fact that from Rubsov in the economy there will be no sense, in every way "sacing her husband."

Rubtsov told his friends that the virtuoso ability to rumble every morning in Chulana, (as a result of which only cast iron with potatoes "in uniforms" appeared on the table from the pavement) to the "white casting".
Ended all the fact that Rubtsov knocked out the frame in a dyed house and went further to his fate.

Herrietta he sincerely regretted, but he also could not stay with her in Nikola.
Henrietta sincerely wanted family life, but the poems were bubotal in the head of Rubats and drove it from this house.
Parting with Getta, he dedicated her a farewell song, like an apology and deeply unfortunately:
"I will leave this village ...
... on this night of Berevian Zybki
You pay to betray my ...

Do you hear wind noise in the shed?
Do you hear my daughter laughs in a dream?
Maybe angels with her play
And under the sky are carried away with her ...

…Do not be sad! At the znobsya berth
A steamer in the spring is not waiting!
Better drink come on for a farewell

We are with you as different birds!
What do we wait for one shore?
Maybe I can return,
Maybe I can never ...

... but once I remember about Cranberry,
About love Your in the gray edge
And send you a wonderful doll,
As your last fairy tale.

To girl, shaking a doll,
Never sat alone.
- Mom, mommy! What a doll!
And flashes, and she cries ... "

("Farewell song" of scars.)

Returning from wanderings around the country to his family-wife and daughter in their village house and life, he immediately tried to become a husband and a caring father. His sincere attitude to rustic family life, although periodic races, heart tenderness and love for her daughter Lena he expressed in his poem "on firewood"
"... I am in verses Essayov
Workpiece ...

I will bring my daughter Lena
From forest gifts
Bear on the knee,
In addition to the war of firewood.

Past hedge rod
By different seats
That came the horse
In Siperovo, in the forest.

Load large sleigh
Yes, Mahnu Knutom
And just as soon as the bath,
With a broom, moreover! "
That's the same he was a low growth in a big Russian man, a huge soul and talent of scars. In it nest everything together and suddenly immediately.

So, will hurt, the victims of the Russophobians standing behind your back.
It was all in the lives of Rubatov in his life - a wife and daughter, poems and native land.

Wherever the scars, he always felt "... the most burning, the most mortal connection" with native land:

"... as a centripetal force
I wore life throughout the land! ..
... but my birthplace Earth
To me holds power
Memory returns like a bird
At that nest, in which it was born ... "
("Axis")

It was not easy for Sydote Rubtsov to become a poet and singer "quiet my homeland", various people came across his thorny path.
He sang about it with bitterness:

"... I have not stroking me a long time ago
Nobody on the head ...
... all stroke against wool
I can not do that!
Let me drunk
I am also a person! "
("Alcoholic Complaint")

But in the soul of Rubtsov firmly believed in his talent and felt that his word was correctly shameless, therefore, after discussing his verses with counterpart poets, he wrote to them with a smile:

"..." disfixed, turned ...
And left ...
In oak offense
Oh, you, they say,
The genius of sewing!
I know that
We decided about:
And talented
A- r ...
And Gorbovsky - anyway. "
(09/23/1961 "Together with Peru")

It does not surprise that no one is easily in Russia. No one becomes.
It strikes the other that none of the geniuses of poetry "quietly" is not dying; - Pushkin A.S., Lermontov M.Yu, Gumilev N., Yesenin S.A.
And Rubtsova N.M. There was no tragic bowl of this.
The poetic gift of Rubtsova was pushing and was painted with terrestrial love for people.
Poetry his illuminates us with an unsupported star of his fields and a Russian light, which in the road off-road everyone highlights the path.

"... so poetry, she
Rings - you won't stop her! ..
She is invisible and free
Glorify us or humilitate,
But still takes my own
And it depends on us
And we depend on it ... "
("Poems")
And he said: - "... Your fate is no less severe, here also carved fire from the word ..."

***
Chapter Fifth.
Nikolai Rubtsov - "Lonely Wandering Star"

"... as mysterious fogs over swamps.
Who wandered in these fogs, who suffered a lot ...
In this, all and salt! ... "
MA Bulgakov. "The Master and Margarita. "

"... I go, delirious fogs gray;
I do not know myself where and for what? ...
... I got born by mistake,
Not an idiot, not a reptile, not a man? ..
... pass through the storms, thunderstorms to be called
Among other fool and ... die? "
(Scars. 1955 "Oh, how many years I am having ...")

Almost until 1969, Rubtsov challenged around the country, lived at different angles: - in the dormitory of the literary institute with friendly fellow students, then at the Vologda poet Boris Chulkov, then in the apartment of his friend-poet Korotaeva Viktor, where she was stacked right on the floor, Mattress, pressed, as a Russian stove, to a hot heating battery.

"... From the blizzard came to me.
In warm he warmed a little bit,
Almost no swearing live
Songs of her
He played on a broken harmonica.
Buzzing and lined the county
But he got out of the corner.
And again cold blizzard
His threshold waited ... "
Viktor Korotaev "Memorial Nikolai Rubtsova."

Who in the world does not have little guarded, who in childhood juts in the village of rustic huts and lived the injignment, in search of his fate in the autumn fogs, in the February blizzards, was afraid in the night forest, the voice of Rubatov will always be in the soul of a guide star in life and Light in the night shine.

"... And there was a dark, without stars.
What the wilderness! I was alone.
One alive in the endless dead field!
Suddenly a quiet light - chopped, or what? -
Flashed in the desert as watchdog ... "
(N. Rubtsov. "Russian Ogonok")

From the read publications about Rubtsov, I know that after wandering over the light, Nikolai Mikhailovich was a frequent guest in the house of her good friend Ninel Starichkova. There for him at any time of the year, of the day and night, the door was always opened, behind which he was waiting for: shelter and tea in a personal glass; Overnight in warmth. Starichkova, as the guardian angel, defended him, deeply understood as a person with all the frills of fate and sincerely loved the spiritual qualities and the poetic gift of the poet nugget.

"... he walks through the streets of the power,
Breathe with us one time
Respects him of his statutes,
But living, however, in his ... "
Victor Korotaev "Memorial Nikolay Rubtsova"

Viktor Korotaev, a friend of the poet, in the 90s of the last century, published two collections: - "Memories of Nikolae Rubtsov" and "Russian Okonyuk" with verses, translations, memories and letters of Nikolai Rubtsov.
Victor Veniaminovich did everything possible to preserve the heritage of the poet and perpetuating memory of him.
In his compilation "Unity", Viktor Korotaev, feeling time, sought:
"... save, what else remains
Restore Show
Memory and spirit lives ... "
Somehow Rubtsov lived in the village of Timonich, in the house of the world famous writer Vasily Ivanovich Belov.
Belova's mother, Anfisa Ivanovna, he called Mom.
Obligating Rubtsov with great warmth, she compared him with a little sparrow.

Yes, and the poet sometimes sometimes identified about the same PTC:

"Slightly alive. Do not even twist.
Freezes a completely sparrow ....
... And he trembles over the grain is poor,
And flies to his attic.
And looked, does not become harmful
Because it's so hard for him ... "
(N. Rubtsov "Sparrow")

It was this that the inhabitants of the city saw him, when he, Long, in the old screw, washed by a long gray scarf, with his suitcase - "ballet" in his hands, and in the winter in old boots, moved in thought of Vologda streets.
The neighbors in the house were remembered by him the same when he returned from the grocery age, (which, through the road from his house), with an accident, in which his "scant food" was: Black bread, and the Can Cable Bank in Tomat.
Only sometimes, "when Rubats is in his pocket," the bottle of cheap wine, type, was chosen in his bel. "Golden autumn" "according to RUP two."
He did not stand out at all in the crowd of citizens.
Probably about Rubtsov, better, kinder and more objective than the Vologda Writer Vyacheslav Sergeevich Belkov, hardly anyone wrote.
In 1991, he published a "one hundred stories about Rubtsov", and in 1994, in the collection of "Memories of Nikolae Rubtsov" - "The lives of N. Rubtsova"

"... let me for a thousand lands
Life takes! Let me bother me
Throughout the Earth, hope and snowstorm, ...
("Over the Eternal Region" 1963)

In his letter, Stanislav Kunyev Rubtsov on November 18, 1964 wrote:
"... I again disappear in my dignity distant, in the village of Nikolsky ...
This is ... One of the most engable corners of the Vologda side ...
... I find here not privacy and peace, but a loneliness and such a feeling that someone interferes to me all the time, and I interfere with someone, as if I was to blame for someone ... "

"... Do I carry the courier
From all the glooms and offended
And in the mood of the nasty
Looking for a simple heartfelt life ... "
("Li me ..." October 1965)
He was looking for a shelter and his life on Earth, but he did not find and again sought.
"He walked against snow in the darkness,
Homeless, hungry, patient.
He after pounded into the barracks
In some village Forest.
He was not allowed ...
... - Tramp, probably, thief ... "

"Unknown" N. Rubtsov

And who of you at the large stations did not meet such "unknowns", homeless, hungry and disadvantaged.
Nevertheless, not all of them, thieves and scammers, there is probably the poets-tramps among them.
Let's look at the faces and the eyes of these "vocational homeless people", and suddenly, next to you sits at the station bench in the waiting room ... "Nikolai Rubtsov"?

In 1954, Rubtsov, he resulted in Moscow to the girlfriend Agafonov Tatiana, who left working on distribution to Azerbaijan, but feeling her cooling towards himself, with a heavy sense of refined, broke up with her and went to wander through the light to another southern side ... in Tashkent.
That's where in Tashkent at the station or in the square on the bench, and was noticed by a good Asian, who sheltered him in his globitate kibitake.
In Tashkent, scars, as a new north, could not find his place under the sun. With that, and returned scars from hot edges back not Solono Bread. However, this trip to Asia left a deep furrowed in the memory of Rubatov, plowing in his soul separation from Tatiana. It is no coincidence from Tashkent he brought a poem: "Yes, I die!"
"... a pathetic trace of my
Fallopant will be
Shoes of other vagrants.
And everything will remain
As it was,
On Earth, not for all native ...
There will be the same
Shine shine
On the left globe! "
(1954 Tashkent.)

Passing the service on the northern fleet, scars, through the night noise of waves about the board of the ship, recalled and separated from Tatiana, and the girl Thau, who promised to wait for him from a maritime campaign, and his memory returned him into his past wandering in life.
In August 1958, he in his poem "desire" recalls Tashkent:
"... life I wore me in north
And in the markets of sultry Chor-Su ... ".

Another poem of Rubatov "in the desert", written by him in 1967-1968,
"Hundreds of years,
Flying without missing.
Hundreds of years
Supernaturally angry
As conceived
Someone for revenge,
Hundreds of years
Over deserts heat!
Walked with curses
All caravans ...
Who loved you?
And who caressed you? ..., also flashed in it as a mirage of memory about Tashkent and, perhaps, about a random meeting in Vologda with Agafon-Creative Tatiana.

Wherever the scars would be, he always and everywhere there was a soul in his native land:

"... as a centripetal force,
I wore my life across the earth ... "
... but my birthplace Earth
I have to keep power, - ... "
... my life revolves invisibly
Like the earth around your axis! .. "
("Axis")

In the verses of Rubtsov, not about strangers, but about the verst roads passed by them in the country, and wrote their track in life:

"... the gloomy forest rummed and noisy,
And the road was noticed by snow!
I see: something black in Dali
Through the blizzard looming ... no, not trees!
The legs seemed to the place of interest!
The head flashed: "Wolves, wolves!" ...
"... I went, stumbling, and a blizzard,
I have a snowdrift under my feet, ... "
... after everything sat down. Raw ...
I came, exhausted, in the village ... "
("Memorial Case" 1962).

When, in 1969, Rubtsov allocated an apartment, he had no chairs, no table, nor elementary accessories in order to record poems on paper.
He kept them in his head.
In his letter S.V. Vikulova, in November 1964, he wrote: - "... In general, I never use a pen and ink and have no them. Not even all the first fingerprinting on the typewriter - so I will die, probably with a whole collection of poems, "printed" or "recorded" only in my random head ... "

Some "Rankened-experts" Rubtsova, and in those 70s of the last century, and now, declare that if it were not for the tragedy of the January night, then the scars would not have lived a lot, because he was drunk often.
So!!!
And here let me, I will tell you in more detail ....
Yes! Scarpets drank "Wine", so he called all alcoholic beverages regardless of the fortress.
Pyle "Portwine", "Golden Autumn", and did not turn away from beer.
"... poet, like a wolf,
on an empty stomach
And motionless like
In the portrait
Everything is hard sits
On the stool
And everything is silent, not moving
No, ... "
(Rubtsov N. "Poet")

On this account, he wrote to his friend Kunyev Stanislav:
"... After several (successful or unsuccessful) written by me of poems, I need a discharge - drink and shake" ... "
(Nikolai Rubtsov. Collection "Russian Okonok. 1994 pp. 406.)
But, by the way, he drank these "balms for the soul" not alone, but with his own friends, poets to be with whom about the poetry "to win down".
Even when he studied at the institute, he was friends at Rubatov in the evenings gathered acquaintances, so that those listened to the songs performed by the Vologda guy under the rustic harmonica or guitar.
Naturally, at such evenings, he often gathered "on the light" "took the chest" along a glass, along a glass, and then Rubatsov later attracted to the reply.
"... among such an environment
Lives easier
In hmelu
And as a subject of imagination,
I love very ghosts ... "
(1962 Rubtsov)
Rubtsov on this occasion even had to write explanatory to the rector of the Literary Institute.
The rectorate even reached one such explanation of the poet:

"Perhaps I'm measuring for you to the coffin,
But I declare you, in the end:
I, Nikolai Mikhailovich Rubtsov,
The possibility of sober life denial. "

In those days, everyone drank, but did not sleep: - Komsomol residents, volunteers, party elite, and the workers with poets did not lag behind them.
And what, after the death of Rubtsov, the poets still stopped drinking and felt and, expressing only a "high syllable", in the society of the sinagers fit?
You might think that now on all Russia is great to drink and smoke threw?
Yes, it did not happen.
In the old years, even adults did not dare to rode our adults, women did not smoke at all, and the revealed rates, those that smoked, smoked with a loaf around the corner in the sleeve. And now? The laws of the sea, and in the world as in the sea, on all the commandments they spoiled.
Vologda poets, which I used to know and now I know, "a glass with wine" to keep did not extend and this poems are no worse from this.
The main thing in this matter is not to abuse the health. We know, checked on themselves.

Poetry Rubatov is a poetic mirror of moral purity and conscience of Russia.
"In this village, lights are not repaid,
You can't disguise me!
Light stars gently decorated
Quiet starry night.
(N. Rubtsov "Winter Song")

Today, it may be more than ever, we all need the beauty of the Rubtsovsky syllable, the depth of the original thought in his words.

"... Live soul let the reason serve!
In the shower fire - and the will, and love! -
And the pity who drives these passions ... "

(N. Rubtsov "Philosophical Poems")

Such poems of Nikolai Rubtsova can not drown out, they will sound forever in Russia.
"Russia, Rus - where I look ...

I love yours, Russia, old ... "
(N. Rubtsov "Vision on the Hill")
With all this, the life of Rubatsov was so much that it is almost always and everywhere, in the crowd of people, and even being a guest, was experiencing a state of loneliness.

"... listening ... sleeping the village of Stuzzko, ...
In the river, the water is purred.
Where leads me, I do not know, the flip, ...
... I myself is a small particle,
But what about large sadness!
So scary to be in the light of lonely ... "
(N. Rubtsov "Night of Cork")
(Probably everyone noted - Avto.G.)

But, having rushing around the country and returning to his relatives of his heart.

"... Opening! Deaf peace
Dusk soul doctor me
Only the pendulum of a quiet battle
Everything swings on the wall ... "
(N. Rubtsov "Overnight")

In the letter mentioned by Stanislav Kunyev, on November 18, 1964 wrote:
"... my nursing here seek some random joys ...
Well, for example, in a huge room, I drown in a cold evening a small stove, I sit near it and very satisfied with it, and forget everything ... "
(Nikolai Rubtsov. Collection "Russian Okonok. 1994 pp. 406.)

"... it is necessary
In my condition of the Spirit.
To the stove of cooled
Pickup Pennyev
Sweet in the hill
Standing loneliness time ... "
(N. Rubtsov "Autumn leaves")

Dear reader, right now, while I wrote these lines about "stagnation" by Nikolai Mikhailovich in a deaf, even then forgotten by God, a village, I was acute how never ever felt the living condition of the Spirit of Rubatov, sitting in the hollow near the fire in the stove.
This is because I am writing about this, too, at the time of a deaf premiece in a rustic house in the same small oven with fire and crackling coals. On me, the tag and old -est soft boots. Heat and cozy in the soul and therefore, probably, it is written so easily and spores, without losing the thread of the conversation with you about the poet of the Land of Russian.

Rubtsov although it was rare, but it was extremely necessary to escape from the state of loneliness to feel like:
"I am not alone in the whole universe.
With me book, and harmony,
And friend of poetry ample -
In the oven birch fire ... "
(N. Rubtsov "Zimovier on the farm")

Together with Nikolai Mikhailovich Rubtsov we lost the irrelevible reservoir of Russian poetry.

Will there be a similar Rubtsov in Russia soon?
It remains only to wait patiently.
Such talents of the poetic Russian word are always long-awaited.
"... Thank you, modest Russian light,
For the fact that you are in anticipation of anxious
Gorn for those who are in the road off-road
From all friends desperately distale, ... "
N. Rubtsov "Russian Ogonok"

***
Chapter Six.
Music Poet Rubtsova as the "Voice of Women farewell".

"... long soul wander tired
In the former love, in the past hop,
It's time to understand how long
What too ghosts love ... "

"In minutes of music sad"
Rubtsov.

In his life, the scars experienced a lot of injustice: in early childhood he accepted the first blow of fate - Lost Mother, family; In the youth, I knew the bitterness of the rejected first, and in mature years it became more common with a cool attitude towards the feelings. As the poet, I learned the poisonous and salty taste of envy of fellow in literature.
And, nevertheless, the time is ours and it was still good. There was also a cherry in bloom. "
Rubtsov tears flowers in the deaf meadows and gave a "bouquet" to the girl who loved. And only he, yes, which once gave these flowers field, know the secret meaning of that song.
However, many years later, many of those with whom the Rubtsov was a passion for a familiar or briefly communicated, today suddenly almost one voice say that it was the scars, driving a bike, presented a bouquet of field.
"Operate" girls - "... chamomile hid, tired buttercups
Cold water in the river Ryabit ... "
I believe that the light of the love of Poetry Rubatov could be viciously brighter and brighter, but the trouble, the music in the poetic fate of the poet was left behind deep painful scars in his human life.
Kohl with a diaper loved and, like a flower to the light, stretched to women.
A scarlet flower, which in secret from all he raised in a secluded corner on his mother's birthday, had to assign him to her coffin:
"... this flower is small
How I loved and hid!
Near him, - Here is Mama
There will be a gift Rada! ...
... I carried the coffin of mother
Scarlet flower. "
("Scarlet flower")

In friendship with the girls, scars was always sincere and did not seek to portray the game in love.
Stanislav Kunyayev, literary like-minded man and buddy Rubtsova wrote:
"... and women?
Yes none of them
I did not understand his soul, perhaps
And did not breathe his sullen verse
Hope for them
Although the smallest.
Probably because
What a female look
In the affairs of Utu.
And in the affairs of the device
Suddenly rested in this view
I have never worried about ... "
("Memory of the Poet")

Kunyayev S.Yu, of course, knew the inner world of Rubatov and therefore, deeply aware of what he says.
Unlike Yesenin, the Rubatsov relationship with women was not easy and almost always interrupted by his girlfriends. Most likely, these breaks of relations occurred not only because they did not see the prospects for family relations with Rubetov, but also in many ways because of its complex, and sometimes an unemployed, character.
With his first youth love, Tatyana Agafonovoy-Raisal Kolya met when he studied at the Totemsky Forestry Equipment.
They met dances, confessed in love, corresponded, swear, and then broke up, but the love of Tatiana, judging by the songs and poems of the poet, remained in the soul of Rubtsov.
In 1954, Tatiana Agafonova left for a job distribution to Azerbaijan.
Nikolay, Hoping Hope, also went with her the same train to Moscow, but, realizing the cooling of the relationship of Agongon to him, he, with a severe feeling of rejected, broke up with her and left to wander through the light in the other side ... in Tashkent.
In Tashkent, the scars did not find his place under the sun. For a short time, he lived in the "Bread City", where the night will find, at random acquaintances, in the park on benches or at the station. At the same time, the scars from warm edges ago not Solono Bread.
In his only poem written in Tashkent, he splashed his state of state and pain parting with the first love of youth.
To understand the poetic soul, Rubtsova must be won in poetic poems.
Then you will immediately feel that in our thoughts become lighter and kinder.
"Yes! I die!
And what such?
At least now from Nagan in the forehead! ...
... break me at least like!
Pathetic trail is mine
Fallopant will be
shoes of other vagrants.
And everything will remain
as it was-
On the ground,
Not for all native ... "
(Rubtsov N. "Yes, I will die!". Tashkent, 1954)

The first love of anyone does not pass without a trace and in life in the soul, constantly Vorosha in memory. Therefore, Agafonova Tatyana for Rubatova also appeared "the Museum of Sad and Sad Love". Maybe there was a complex relationship with Tatiana, it was forced to fill it about it.
In all his songs, in which Nikolai on Java wanders in a deaf meadow, or rolls on a bike, and then in the winter night, looking at the stars, returns to a marked meadow, where in the summer he is narrowing a bouquet of wildflowers, love is guessing Tatiana Agafonova, or maybe not to Tatiana, and Goethe to his wife? Only "cyclist" knows about it.

"In this village, the lights are not repaid.
You can't disguise me! ...
... a modest girl smiles
I myself smile and glad!
Difficult, difficult - everything is forgotten,
Bright stars burn!
Who told me that in the darkness of the reacted
Stall abandoned meadow?
Who told me that the hopes are lost?
Who invented it, a friend?
In this village lights are not repaid. "

Nikolai Mikhailovich dedicated Tatiana Agafonovoy - a residual a lot of poems, but they are all with a touch of bitterness and longing, and even insults.

"I will drive a long bike
In the deaf meadows stop him
Narva colors and give a bouquet
That girl I love ...

…I will tell her:
- with another alone
You forgot about our meetings ... "
("Bouquet")

The poem is in the collection of 2004 "the girl I love" dates back to 1962.
So look for an answer to the hidden question of Nikolai Mikhailovich, to whom he could have presented his song "Bouquet".

"... what will I respond to you to dece?
What are our meetings with a stack?
When you escaped to Azerbaijan ...
... Yes, I loved. Well. Well, let.
It's time to leave the past ... "
"Response to the letter"

"... We said goodbye, and let ...
... how much blizzard flew and thunderstorms!
How are you, honey, there, for birch? ... "
("Church Berez")
60 years later, after Tatyana Retaetov-Agafonov broke up with Rubtsov, she released a colorful decorated book of memories of Rubacing "how many years we swept ..."
Sad and bitter that we remember about poets without their lives, and sometimes, at sunset.
Such memories give birth to complex feelings in the shower. Are they something like late confession or ...?

At the same time, I ask you to pay attention to which depth of experiencing the poet filled with these two phrases, between which there were not few difficult years of life of the poet:
"Yes! I die!
And what is this? ... "...
and
"... Yes, I loved. Well. Well, let…."

In his memoirs, Tatyana Rtyteova writes: "... it seems, until midnight, we sang under the harmonica (Rubatov - Avto.G.) Our favorite songs.
I did not talk to him, I was afraid that he would go with me to Baku ...
Kohl nervous, angry.
And I have not yet understood that I deceive myself, playing in love.
Apparently it was another hobby ... "
But Kolya Rubtsov thought about it completely differently:

"... I did not play love with you
We did not know such art
Just we have a firewood
Kissed from a strange feeling .... "
"... Nikolai felt it and in the morning in Moscow told me that ... he rides in Tashkent. ... so past me, not a man's heart, and a man's love was held ... Apparently fate ...
So we broke up in Moscow with our youth ... "(from the collection" Memories of Nikolae Rubtsov "Vologda. 1994. p. 71.)
I feel that there is some kind of inactive about these words about the truth of her gap with Rubtsov. "... Well, what. Well, let ..." This is her right to keep his mystery.
Women are always unsolved riddles.

"In moments of music sad
I imagine a yellow fled
And voice farewell voice
And the noise of gusty birches ... "
(In minutes of music sad ")
In the abstract of the Vologda Museum "Literature, Art. Century XX "is argued that Tia Smirnova, the Poet Museum is considered right. According to which right it is not known. However, not only Taya, but other women in the life of Rubatov, although briefly, but were his muses. In any case, he devoted to many of his poetic lines.
I believe that the same, "playing love" with Rubtsov, could be Tia Smirnov.
Somewhere at the end of 1954 or in 1955, Rubtsov found her brother Albert in the village of Nutnino near Leningrad and moved to live to him.
There he became friends with Tay Smirnova.
In the fall of 1955, Nikolai called for a service at the Northern Fleet, which he served until the fall of 1959.
During the service, he corresponded with Tay, counting on her retaliatory feelings for him.
It turned out, in vain expecting.
She did not wait for him, and the scars acquired another deep scar on the heart from frustration in the sincerity of female words and promises.
Yes, of course, he and Tae also devoted several poems filled with irony, disappointment and offend:
"... Favorite almost killed
Oh, Mom Native Earth!
Sobbing, my chest beat my chest,
Like the sea about the board of the ship ...
And somewhere at the end of separation
She forgot about everything ... "
("Tale of First Love")

"... Cold was
She has a palm,
But Szhigal Dotla
I feel fire. "

("Eight-grade")

"... Your caresses and views
I do not need abrupt words! ..
Looks rather?
All clear.
Three years old to you
Letters wrote in vain! .. "
("After separation" TS 1957)

"... Probably proud that the poet?
Naive. She was not imagined
What is for me for happiness
We just have to have
What made me stuff ... "
("Thaw".

Woman for a man is his wings in life.
Any of us, men, painted even with a kiss from an unclear feeling or burning in the flame of passion, in the name of a woman can make expires and make great creations.
Any of us, be something a blacksmith or poet, a pahacar or general, with broken wings from dislike and treason, in blind jealousy and wild rage, can easily fall into the abyss of drunk madness or in the agony of life.

At all times, women are always better than men know that they are most important and who needs them for life: a spouse, lover, a cohabitant or a degree.

Only by throwing the first fleeting look at the man, she immediately "scans" it better than any computer, while take into account everything: mind, ability, personal qualities, physical opportunities and will determine the degree of its suitability in their lives.
Among other things, the woman will immediately appreciate its strength, and the ability to manage and manipulate the man, which turned out to be in its networks.

It is us, men, only it seems that we choose a woman, everything happens in life otherwise. These are us "warmly taking under Mikitka", they throw a leash and lead as chicks, and then, according to the pericing of the need, if the bull begins to accelerate, send for a sacrifice to the altar of other love.
Also evaluated Rubatov and his girlfriends, with whom the fate was reduced.

Everyone saw his giftedness and talent, but immediately determined his household invisibility to family life, and most importantly, they saw that the poet, in which his pocket would not knock - "not to hear and not ring", and when he is famous, and himself God was unknown.

Tom and parted with him without special seals and worries. So they ... "Not fate" was, but just like this ... "Game in love"
He was in Mount and despair only and could say:

"... I have not stroking me a long time ago
Nobody on the head ...
... all stroke against wool
I can not do that!
Let me drunk
I am also a person! "
("Alcoholic Complaint")

In 1962, N.M. Rubtsov in the village of Nikola met with his old familiar at the orphanage Henrietta Mikhailovna Menshikova. So it happens in life often that "... nothing
I did not care!
Fascinated inadvertently! ... "

Sleep rustic wedding.
"...When you
Under caress
Like gunpowder flashed! ..

Temporarily,
Not temporary
Do not hold back tears!
Upon you,
Pregnant
Owned asienic ... "

In April 1963, Gethea gave birth to Rubtsov's daughter Elena.
However, they didn't succeed in family life, although scars and heta were sincerely and with warmth in the soul spoiled each other, just as they called this feeling in Russia, they regret.
Henrietta for Nikolai Mikhailovich is his sick family muse in his short life. He dedicated to her and her daughter Lena somewhat very warm and heart poems, parting with Getta, he sang her farewell song:

"… Do not be sad…
A steamer in the spring is not waiting!
Better drink, come on for a farewell
For brief tenderness in the chest.
We are with you like different birds
Well, we wait for one shore ... "
("Farewell song")

***
Head seventh.
Random meeting Rubtsova.
Who could assume that the Random Meeting of Rubtsova on May 2, 1963 in the hostel of the Literary Institute in Moscow with Granovskaya-Derbina will not only have its continuation in a few years, but also will be fatal for both.
I do not know whether the derbina was written by the time of their meeting, the poem "Jealousy", allegedly dedicated to her friend Alexander Govorov, in which she wrote about himself:
"... someday in the heat of Azart
I call I am a witch from the pipe
and confuse all cards
Your brilliant fate. "

But I do not know the other, whether it was in 1963 by Rubats, his poem "Circling Lee", in which there are such lines:

"... when scotching everywhere,
Death breaks my fate
Then I will be a handful of ash
But my spirit ... crashes into the pipe. "

It is not true that in these verses of Derbina and Rubtsov burned to some kind of mystical meaning.
At the age of Jesus Christ, in May-June 1969, Rubtsov N.M. I received a one-room apartment No. 66, in the house number 3 on Alexander Yashina Street. It would seem, finally he gained conditions for creativity. But not everything is so simple to poets.
In the distance from the city of Vologda Voronezh, Granovskaya Lyudmila saw the Star of Fields, the author of which turned out to be her random Moscow friend Nikolai Rubtsov.

Could Granovskaya in that moment, taking this collection into his hands, to think that she would turn his fate cool and abrupt the thread of Rubatov's life.
On June 23, 1969, the confusion of Rubtsov's thoughts about his wife, about her daughter, how he further to arrange his life and their life, unexpectedly and unceremoniously cut the call to the apartment of the poet.

Rubtsov opened the door ... and she entered with the intention to express his delight to the poet. I have not yet had time to fly from his lips "Hello", and they are among the manuscripts scattered on the floor, stunned by the meeting, with a furious excitement began to "confuse the decks" of cards of their destinies.

The scars, of course, was always waiting for his muse, but Muse could not find his shelter. After all, the address of Rubats has been "not a house and not a street", but the entire Soviet Union.

In many verses, Rubtsova, I met his disagreement with myself and a closer look in the depths of his awareness of life and soul, and ... anxious, "idle", waiting for something and someone.
Maybe I am mistaken, but it seemed to me that, on this fracture of the life fate of Rubatov, the famous poem of Alexander Bloka "Preciousness ..." from the cycle "Poems about the beautiful lady" very corresponded to the state of Nikolai Mikhailovich:

"I think you. Years pass by -
Everything in the guise of one anticipation of you.
The entire horizon in the fire - and clear unbearably,
And I'm silently waiting, - longing and loving.
The whole horizon in the fire, and closely the appearance,
But scary to me: change the appearance of you,
And the bold will excite suspicion
Changes at the end of the usual features ... "

Rubtsov was always needed by the like-mindedness and inspirational, who knows his creative thought, able to appreciate and exalt the poet talent.

So he "waited"!

She, a fire-red beautiful beauty with "oblique," entered his apartment and immediately filled his rest of his life, "... crazy, broke his heart ..., Peace took ...".

Grannskaya-Derbin as a hurricane broke into the loneliness of Rubtsov.

Its irrepressive energy of some "pagan" poetic
Draha, Derbina, as the "Witch" ran and defeated him, tried to take possession of them.
Until Rubtsov lived in its inner poetic charter of the soul and heart, with their own nestov and not sugar character.
So they met with the Granovskaya Derbina, not a lot and a flame, but both fire and a flaper, and burned in this fire both poetic souls.
By the time of their meeting in Vologda in 1969, the Grannian-Derbus had already broken up with her husband Granovsky, gave birth to a daughter, released her first collection of poems "Siverko" and prepared the following.
She has already seen himself as a rising star in the 14th anniversary of Russia's poetic sky.

Rubtsov, believing themselves to the famous, famous and long-awaited poet of Russia, "opened its crazy arms" before Derbina and Ryano rushed to review her creativity.
He was flattered to be a teacher of poets.
Reviewing the collection "Crushshk, Rubtsov wrote: -" The fact that the verses of Lyudmila derbina talented, hardly who can cause doubt ... "
In the letter L. Derbina dated July 21, 1970, Rubtsov wrote to her: - "By the way, let's try to print your poems in some Moscow magazine. Is it time? .. In addition, Luda, do not think that in Vologda you will be bad ... "
It did not know the scars then that the dererina will be very bad in half a year not only in Vologda, but in general, in this light on the entire remaining life.

***
Head of the eighth.
Poets from the past Rubric signs sent.

"I live near the empty temple,
On the stubble coast, ...
There for the river, dump logs,
Lifting crane, mountain sand
And hurriedly - no hour yet! -
Women's Women with Most
Your lingerie ...
... you can see a poplar everywhere,
And there, lighting, in the fog sink
Head of the silent Kremlin ... "
(Rubtsov N. "Vologda Landscape" 1969)

This was so seen our city Nikolai Rubtsov in 1969.
This place that he described in the poem "Vologda Landscape", actually almost did not change, except that the mountain of the sand was torn-rammed, and the logs were sold over the years.
And the rest, everything is still.

If you go through the street Alexandra Yashina from home number 3, in which Nikolai Rubtsov lived until the last minute, towards the River Vologda, then through the quarter we will go to the Soviet prospectus.
Turning to the left, it is only worth passing by the house of Peter's first, as we will see a monument to the poet Nikolai Rubtsov.
It is located stone in his gray stone coat, with a long stone scarf on her neck, with his little stone suitcase in his hands and it seems that says quietly:

"... In addition to the wisdom of ancient sayings
About the complex sense of life on earth
I am not afraid of autumn permanent!
I loved the rainy noise of evening,
Lights in the river and Vologda in the Mol ...
(N. Rubtsov "Evening poems")

At the same time, his eyes slid along the quiet flow of the Vologda River and rests on the Vologda Pier.
With this pier, repeatedly scars leaving for steamboats, heat shots to the city of Totma and returned back to Vologda.

That is July 23, 1969, immediately after the meeting of the granovskaya derbina, they from this pier left the ship to Totma.
Iniquitably with a pier, swaying on the river zybi, attached an old deckarker.
In it, as before, until recently there was a "worker-peasant" restaurant "Float", in which Rubatching was brought together with friends. There, with poets more than once, they satisfied peculiar poetic gatherings.

"... in that restaurant Milisto and cozy
It swings on the waves a little bit ...

... Along the pavements, the leaves are rushing, -
See the window - and the wind is heard moan,
And waves are heard sad noise and rustling,
And, like living, in our conversations
Yesenin, Pushkin, Lermontov, Viyon .... "
(N. Rubtsov "Evening poems")

Our Russian geniuses of poetry were far from "white and fluffy", but they all came the world with the talented people of their time.
They lived in different conditions, had a different social status and level of education, not everyone lived in material supply.
However, with all the time, their destinies were largely similar.
All of them united, not showed or "by decree from above," and sincere love of the Motherland, to Russia, Racely and Impaired in its purity and holiness.

There were many poets in life and poetry for Rubats; - Yesenin, Pushkin, Lermontov, Viyon, Fet, Tyutchev, and many others.

"... all earthly shrines and bonds
Like a nervous system included
In the willingness of the Yesenian muse!
This is a muse not last day.
I love it, richer and crying.
It means a lot for me,
If I myself have anything to know something ... "
(N. Rubtsov.)
That's how the scars estimated Yesenin and himself next to him ...
Both of them wanted to be famous and dreamed to put monuments on their native land.
Nikolay Rubtsov was confident that he was "... there will be a monument on the village", and Yesenin generally stated:
"…I will
Famous and rich
And there will be a monument
Stand in Ryazan me ... "
(S. A. Yesenin, My Way)

Yesenin was bought in female love, he fell in love many times, fought and parted with his "muses."
He fell sweetly and drank bitterly to the "Bowlings", and then, for a couple with Isador Duncan, they jointly, where they only tentged a drunken courage and double-edged jealousy, spoke noble crystal and Venetian mirrors in restaurants and hotels in Europe and America.
Yesenin and Duncan in his quarrels and bloody fights were very close to dramatic junction, but the fate of the fate of them from this and pulled the tragic final of their lives for a while.

Esenin said everything.
Empress Mary Fedorovna herself, listening to the poems of Yesenin, told him that he was a real Russian poet.
For some time, he was even clouded by the leaders of young Soviet power; - Trotsky and Lunacharsky.
He from the blessing of Trotsky "patronized" Blumkin from the CC, however, from time to time more than once threatening Yesenin revolver. What the authorities ended to the poet know.

Rubtsova, unlike Yesenin, everything was exactly the opposite.
Orphan from childhood, dressed poorly, he fed a poorly, often junteled as a tramp, where the night cares.
At the same time, the talented was he from birth.
Poetry bulled in it constantly as the flame in the Marten furnace.
Scars from youth sought to find his true love, but did not find it.
All "Music" Rubatov turned out to be arrogant.

And Derbus, who herself came to him, turned out to be a fatal woman in his life.
She herself said about this all: - ".... He came out of affectionate wife, nor the priestess of the muses, that she craves loudly glory ..."
Rubtsova for "innocent transgrees" expelled from the institute and only because of the intercession of his fellow students and those who saw in him the talented poet of Russia, after some place they restored.
The authorities for the fate of Rubatov during his life remained indifferent-indifferent.
The scars are no coincidence in the poem "Evening Poems" mentioned the French poet Francois Wiyon.
Once, at the home library of the poet Boris Chulkov, the book of poems of Francois Viyon, he imbued not only by the work of this French poet of the 20th century, but also found a lot in his life with the life of Viyon, the poet tramp, the same lonely and homeless wandering.
Jean Rishpen in his "Ballada about Viyon" wrote:
"The king of the poets of the holotan
Meter Francois Viyon
You started dumps drunk ...
Be immortal to the shame of enemies
Your neurotic creations.
King of poets - Bosyakov
Plut, pimp, tramp, genius! "

Scars, of course, could not know these poems of Viyon

«.. Christmas, deaf sometimes
Cereal ice winter
When to hear only the wolf
And in the house to the heat back we
Hurry up to the onset of darkness,
I thought to get rid of
From love shackles, prison,
Where my soul is being lost

"Smile and glitter
She introduced me to deception, ..
Though. As I understood only now,
From indifferent il with evil
Did not longer and could not
Help me in the sorrows of my
And I should have been warm
Search in the arms of others. "
(Francois Wiyon. Works. 1998. Series "The World of Poetry". Translation Yu.B Korneev.)

It seems that during a joint stay with Derbin Rubtsov could not help but remember these signs of fate, which he filed Wijon from his past.
Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev in 1851 wrote a poem about himself and his secret love E. Denysheva "Oh, as murdering we love."

"... do you remember whether at the first meeting,
At the first meeting of the fatal,
Her magic eyes and speech,
And laughing infant and alive?
And what now? And where is all this?
And was the durable dream?
Alas like North Summer
He was a fleeting guest he ...

Your love for her was
And undeserved shame
She lay down on her life! ...

And on Earth she was wildly
Charm left ...

Crowd, smelting, in the dirt of the vtoptal
The fact that in the soul it bloomed.
Oh, how kill we love!
As in the bright blindness of passions
We are only stronger
That the heart is our mile. "

After almost 120 years after writing this verse, scars, of course, read it in Tyomik Tyutchev, who always had with him.
What could then think scars, I did not know.

{!LANG-fd20f7fe8d81a478a872d6ebf6324844!}
{!LANG-7aef75658ae472850277acb2e661f69f!}
{!LANG-c73abb2cd4b7b48518c614608d9934e3!}
{!LANG-3fbaf23810841f98b0a96aded8ac7c98!}
{!LANG-ddd70b5d96578722923575c9cabdb6a5!}
{!LANG-c218e6d0a397b04d859406a06e1b3a19!}
{!LANG-17227c50deeaafa7822f97714bb459f6!}
{!LANG-652246b7bc24396e4979738e40ce3a38!}
{!LANG-afa9a08f88fa61faa5e899e8febb36e3!}
{!LANG-c26d37e82414f63b3c7e5f20f6d710e1!}
{!LANG-0ba3e9d2aef1d020892277ac2a0e383d!}

{!LANG-9b7e345fb455482ba7e97d1b5a9f22ae!}
{!LANG-c5a40cd54d993014f2accd7683e9ceb3!}
{!LANG-457c62e0ab587f80e10453fbb4dc988d!}
{!LANG-ba36f8c0b10f1e2c59b6d61d8e59dabf!}

{!LANG-49c94cf61e747bc3aaa1991242ce303e!}

{!LANG-8e3c4fb5d473313b61833c173f851425!}

{!LANG-6c4891f809c5098ba07a447cf0d4341b!}
{!LANG-f0b7fbc0b085c5d8f9aaa2a9ab3b69ce!}

{!LANG-18d36eaaa3f92d5ce0bebd4282840af1!}
{!LANG-b3f5dcb160fe0a6c6b16d3de5dd13c27!}

{!LANG-923bcb78bd86276800ea28c59eddc5b0!}
{!LANG-45840a491b7cb4f22131bcde0427a60f!}
{!LANG-9ef31637986d83bff0a6546c8196cfc4!}
{!LANG-240d5aa4e2cc366bc1f1185ba8ebe5e2!}
{!LANG-0e3b57d2bcbd5ece57fe487435f4e593!}

{!LANG-795a3963be78a02cd34208cbb3416d27!}
{!LANG-8a20f61ad76552959774b56941198fd4!}

***
{!LANG-933b4b7691642effc2bf312015919362!}
{!LANG-b4b3e6c599197de0ae7db6b5797a7d09!}
{!LANG-7e0d49476d31d1b5c85c67b0a38ded39!}

{!LANG-845eec2b843bae59b08f0e889f1bee6c!}

{!LANG-4d27a2b255ab598f4bd617e1361aa2c2!}
{!LANG-0151cf1c645d9caba8d4e282c800a838!}
{!LANG-65946d0a46040c2936a524a66d278e28!}

{!LANG-44e3c34cd6d2d3228c718c2f9ff4b7c4!}

{!LANG-7c5aa2f7aa49bbe9d4d57b2614661349!}
{!LANG-fd9a80b924680f549509dba524d034f6!}

{!LANG-82ee38c76280cf7ac8f5d4858d6cb043!}
{!LANG-eac00f1c4d9e871a0c16b35727d8b4d9!}
{!LANG-d48f20a6eea7a2e578750212223d6f50!}
{!LANG-d883a40f3b2f76ef4c0e1ef7acf0d87e!}

{!LANG-f16a29e99856a1ce4e03548dd71d4f3b!}
{!LANG-4691ed1005ba68d829c12c1bf88ed41f!}
{!LANG-8e2caaf2a31fc560954d92d70ef9d4ec!}
{!LANG-1533f1cb88489d6fbdb7be872e9fe281!}

{!LANG-aed57b533422e08e0ff11041e5d7d756!}
{!LANG-0994c5e2fe056823bbf0e56eb8e43f99!}
{!LANG-e7b210aaaa50c4e9378b469b4740afd6!}
{!LANG-c2ec79925c400c7ac77ede10b9a3769b!}

Grannskaya-Derbin as a hurricane broke into the loneliness of Rubtsov.

{!LANG-f6d2be6dc839970511e4559af1d034e3!}
{!LANG-41c0d1ec3776c01b5c3bc8412cef3642!}
{!LANG-13bac7f66f2aeab01b28c898810b9c67!}
{!LANG-78bb354c3c13eada93f9734839ca80b3!}
{!LANG-9912c219f691b3ceee8ecf8e7cbb9463!}
{!LANG-fd770ee554d73312ac50c455f54c5d7d!}

{!LANG-b03c432c9162700f01ccf1970ba4730f!}
{!LANG-4336ad5f2ab3855e31b7784ea5a5d52f!}
{!LANG-d67e8e59d3359deff7deea8f9ee0049a!}
{!LANG-8336288add622d0ed1c03555690992d9!}
{!LANG-ebcf6205c2f9b83f336a5f90d74d97c4!}

{!LANG-3eb566cc386c80409406f917a1bf6b5e!}
{!LANG-e116935ecac3b51dae8f8a5e401c221d!}
{!LANG-8e6008324d59b5ba9d26e38c2f558f0c!}
{!LANG-69ccc214902658c8dc202f9fd36fcb85!}

{!LANG-9dec4c7d2d4a55e1279bfb09abc8215a!}
{!LANG-76fd3595ae958c1c86718f33eae4b4d7!}
{!LANG-873ca7a33eb18cded60688b1e6beb63b!}
{!LANG-e960382416b787abacabd9fb49db69a5!}
{!LANG-0e9ec0efd2e3d69be7d67b3e3aecffe5!}
{!LANG-f76d1778deed90f6151fe04e8e30d1ed!}

{!LANG-a1fd52a4c32525c6c332cd67200135c0!}
{!LANG-c689158c6cca7274aa4712839062a91b!}

{!LANG-4855b082a02e6964b08f262f35b8f0cd!}
{!LANG-a656d2a522391d90be314358b2dc6def!}
{!LANG-482ceafaf6a9da59f3459ffe1dbbe961!}
{!LANG-e86083e35164335dd6877c121973f079!}
{!LANG-a122754547d94ce32d56f7ec7f0aaed0!}

{!LANG-050d847da05cbe12fbc6331ede402013!}
{!LANG-d263096150b10a494857e71b330f9c7c!}
{!LANG-6d93d585dba2b59a978d33bce86b0933!}

{!LANG-bee5d355a481ceda8fe7fe7a77fae381!}
{!LANG-d43960cb260ce810dfde1487712f8721!}
{!LANG-a88a7ee408298b2b829ffd52a623b45d!}
{!LANG-94331ad02d8035f343322eec0ddbb420!}
{!LANG-3b1a0d0f22696eab360527fea7f5ef4d!}
{!LANG-54ef132b866e8bb369101f14a1c7b64b!}

{!LANG-7cf7674dfa438734af289a954f37e049!}

{!LANG-fc0fcbd0b604d6efc8068fd6bee9079c!}
{!LANG-7c6be035108100829c4a41c3b827760e!}
{!LANG-8842c96308981ca8c4c3bfe2db9ca858!}

{!LANG-98f30a07cd60fa144b15a334498d5090!}
{!LANG-e75c17f1d305959f9b29f5e79f099722!}

{!LANG-0a16252477433127a77ac9820b731658!}

{!LANG-7a5ee2d6f8c64ff52fc8086d07961f6b!}
{!LANG-0ccf69f927cd1ae05ed070a9b4b570cc!}
{!LANG-584f1f28de52231e5ff4b4ecabaa7512!}
{!LANG-41a8f6eab80dd933c9e5046c22b68bcd!}

{!LANG-584de6f663f297be87df8994904c21b7!}
{!LANG-7a019db32caf8660092298e7b7d0a74c!}
{!LANG-90bcaec9578693579e587634dc269b87!}
{!LANG-f94d93f6f7393791d519ececc0856135!}
{!LANG-4c6fba628b9642a1e5e5e35995a39cc8!}

{!LANG-1e1282bd30ca39e4c310c0b887637755!}
{!LANG-8389729dc0b1484854d3906bf867274c!}
{!LANG-24952695a427481b76939367d201f68b!}
{!LANG-7478e77f8c4fe00f87dea6660390f5b8!}

{!LANG-1d6237cd14949c5dc0ad7070bc6cf0fe!}
{!LANG-d7cd6fff717a1647ca065f819e5ca3ff!}
{!LANG-893383324e53bf2863e81e0fc24f20f2!}
{!LANG-60477629439460d470d4b7992edf7bb4!}
{!LANG-2d30b59e4eab8922bb31b641a92351af!}

{!LANG-745810d2405e4a8d4d2c4c9b08138d2c!}
{!LANG-b15ebd1d03140dde2e03807ecd4e090f!}
{!LANG-df015587b4f7e57eaf3655bd8a672cff!}

{!LANG-a8594c0b14b7f2c3bace1bffcd7baf80!}
{!LANG-6fe7472f79e1376c119f97d360005371!}
{!LANG-f3f079c006d99fb72b8cac8b6f163ca6!}
{!LANG-2bb9094b07dfe575fff767d589d91127!}
{!LANG-0b677b079f67103c6cab0f6cea156222!}
{!LANG-e918a867b502fceef441cf3b6a210fb3!}
{!LANG-52af5464da79a0e9f84e5939f27e4740!}
{!LANG-17290dcbbf4fc60b0e1791455c2609a1!}

{!LANG-760a093f1717e8e1b59bd80333df4b2f!}
{!LANG-b59520a4b21f4ef5d3ffb79efb4d0f24!}
{!LANG-564892b42b1ffac20c5c455fab9e0e2a!}
{!LANG-6f6cd83f31a6d5a4cf0966da66b13952!}
{!LANG-eaa1cc333d667a9c0291adffc3d234c7!}

{!LANG-f5eb9f2332389672c597975682788df3!}

{!LANG-e6172b7563975900c5394aedd2428254!}

{!LANG-0c43029957b682ba2f7b6f6783eecc11!}
{!LANG-d5ad8dea1bd38f775b0ba8a74117ce1b!}
{!LANG-41d49ec4f9e718c3be7b30fed9117e21!}
{!LANG-10e84ec0851211a0518039f082fe0c76!}
{!LANG-79212809ca80cba457290fe174dafb08!}
{!LANG-dd9895a4e3859f5d18c04400bb8a3539!}

{!LANG-27aed7c13b71989854902be661e96fda!}

{!LANG-2cf9cbdbd4c0aeb94262a5a79369e4a4!}

{!LANG-aa3581f262fb52e9e83ffe829073109c!}
{!LANG-422ca3b5aa385ce34e0d64e71e1ab481!}
{!LANG-4e67282953855c13c778c145b6169fb4!}
{!LANG-9b98aae39390fdbdda1cb339fc50011c!}
{!LANG-0ae5046fc7d8b05e9c8c368d2a9901aa!}
{!LANG-4471636f878009596a6d110777b2f1cd!}
{!LANG-7a75da28f05516294083ff4280f0e4a2!}
{!LANG-38b788142ca523fabf1bc85fba2878ba!}
{!LANG-8c01ab70ab25b8832b3aae4173c4a90d!}

{!LANG-183e95237c543d69d868efdef857b35a!}
{!LANG-32e25b6e9bf2a6bf793066e0923eec8d!}
{!LANG-9a0d77450b079920073b68154ac35b91!}
{!LANG-2746fecaeb99c6146c29b4880bc4aefe!}
{!LANG-b450092e947dc80557eed63167181659!}

{!LANG-a49aec2880ac45b1a06bd0deb61f3f99!}
{!LANG-e9707495ce9894875b1fc4f95ab06415!}
{!LANG-9cc4647426b24d805949b384c4d0f347!}
{!LANG-d0a5679788adb2043155e8a29a152395!}
{!LANG-49b6da3620ee84549ffa53492dc628f6!}

{!LANG-46e888bf6ace35145860b8f01eccbc4a!}

{!LANG-dc08404c368dc94d7c784a0f0b86c524!}

{!LANG-18bc682fed921515243daafb3831f15f!}
{!LANG-989113a7a6b8dbc1d6b52c3818f0e342!}
{!LANG-2e15059dfcbbc1dd55e126a990299661!}
{!LANG-5315b6b6b1e8e563cc06685b4ef1ccd6!}
{!LANG-9430e876be4c230015a9d544ed7237e7!}
{!LANG-8d631ed8ccaf37fe46463ffef8abe368!}
{!LANG-9331d0635117aa6a9cc5f795b708d1a1!}
{!LANG-8938cb95a2a68fa3d3d588504b252c3e!}
{!LANG-f96405df44bf7b16e1872d42ff10078a!}

{!LANG-b841b4106314539426428e98ff866011!}

{!LANG-9fcbcc9c1a9826e34bffe2bdda7ff1be!}
{!LANG-f29c942d4ef1e5a907bec00c9fed00be!}
{!LANG-a80c67f821e292dc7d78e37c11bc7ac0!}
{!LANG-d17416e478db537954fa3a7e1853a025!}
{!LANG-92e35bce6ff2dc2d83e2323aa4b050a8!}

{!LANG-5b5ec55149231a20a842e11b782e9aa0!}

{!LANG-3e44ec3a014371f12e5b2c680d6ad40b!}
{!LANG-3f14295e3223c902e0b06c5df0cff43c!}
{!LANG-a00f88aaa7c60a38aa2efa49c62117d3!}

{!LANG-e486d1b1cdfa814656fe20994d4e2b6d!}
{!LANG-86956a57ca6741d02490b209651e8373!}
{!LANG-0ca934fb08d5d0b3f34a15cddde9faec!}
{!LANG-e0a16e8baed2e95da877633bc1fc932b!}
{!LANG-d6cd169a9e40878a3702d84f9f4670d5!}

{!LANG-cc9eea43238c1f2c74a7aa77d5fb6649!}

{!LANG-91db7b92f35340fc7ac5b19a2194174f!}

{!LANG-ee7c0277feb79ecd23a826d24d9e09aa!}

{!LANG-554d6c009697eec95499cb54782f7035!}
{!LANG-324370069628740821c69f5a3bb4da0d!}

{!LANG-74901a130263c34a759a9ac1417b7465!}
{!LANG-6efdd6f000e70eeec3678d02bb81b06e!}
{!LANG-6b887b98a37cd11df43364a238f83511!}

{!LANG-c3bae64551d66e1d3f9f8bc6b254b7da!}

{!LANG-ce5d11426fee2d0f4b199fc1777b3f84!}
{!LANG-0b0d036df84a0b6a86170685a0c22594!}

{!LANG-a289d630dfcf748f156706700b7f53aa!}
{!LANG-91342acc44c75df7c0ac42ec047937ee!}
{!LANG-19f76ced8a5a33e924124fc703842ecc!}
{!LANG-c28cc5e4d120a158a20ba0684c8d06f2!}
{!LANG-3c92b73bf8bf17209c89dc5beea3ba7a!}
{!LANG-a97d8fb790c437025ea76fd043413f19!}
{!LANG-71cfbe0f4729e33185d2737cd623f556!}

{!LANG-4188c05ef1e6f281d25c53406f22e781!}

{!LANG-9306c06e4d59a7f773804657ed9374b1!}

{!LANG-5b0eaef1769225f7960e15d55bd7aad5!}
{!LANG-8baec98bd776559bf64b844ac5aa5ab1!}

{!LANG-dc149a6cebf4f93dc93156debd00d0c4!}
{!LANG-8ebac43098313683faa6d44e81bd7be7!}
{!LANG-95d1419c82d06fbf2b2d3907cfb20a94!}
{!LANG-817457b0d0213a793e19f3a94b82c242!}
{!LANG-284838bd5f4d0a98e67ef3963583eaad!}
{!LANG-0137e96e3ab4c2164de71774f070d672!}
{!LANG-1ad048cf97eba866f5443d3df65fa5ec!}
{!LANG-3b43dd50b9f825ed739582fcccbe997d!}
{!LANG-23c41d2d5fb35f57ebef46d2db047b9f!}
{!LANG-7a9374fe31b34df1d1a91357a183f68c!}

{!LANG-9470519be1e3b22badb82aa9b0d20faa!}

{!LANG-eaa90af9b9e33cec9f12848f13b1a214!}
{!LANG-eaf07eb87d4a8b40f6c4c1cbc5c40cec!}
{!LANG-b6a08f9743bfb0d07f070d4c2f146b4a!}
{!LANG-8d3be0806ffd6d78f5c534f06e12dbc7!}
{!LANG-6afc69fe98c4e01340c74da4946a5d8f!}
{!LANG-4406457e52af5c2ded91cba2eee6cff7!}
{!LANG-dedbdd3e2ee70c97604dec2e8f6469dc!}

{!LANG-fcf38432b4a5075c47647f542e880149!}

{!LANG-30b2fb605007256486e94eec866c881b!}
{!LANG-094bf219166eb5e819e9345acfc9b33b!}
{!LANG-85ac655498f1d33b2524f8cd54ff1a40!}

{!LANG-892ddbaf037ea697b379c058c91b9be0!}
{!LANG-1b054a0bff08dd0d34e40e4fa2771890!}
{!LANG-e1eb4d76df413a7a1659e89b7c63f2ba!}
{!LANG-61e09aeffeb3da5a432a231ec8b387c8!}
{!LANG-31cf9c6fec011bd3a302d0e172591165!}
{!LANG-fa8c70daa05a08094dee1c4f8025d060!}
{!LANG-9b3d2c92d79333add14c0b22d37040d9!}
{!LANG-dc7ecfc7ee688889803d30721e3d95a6!}

{!LANG-060a14a8713dc227421b34cd1ae7436b!}
{!LANG-8ef3988942a38751debaffd3b9b945f8!}
{!LANG-8d0af15261442807ccce166bf972a26c!}

{!LANG-1a55e961c7545d9e4e60739486c832b1!}

{!LANG-c088754331574db53146816fcf7eb7b6!}
{!LANG-ff5d6c193a4459cc5dd7bd93faefbf98!}

{!LANG-b942759e5da9fb33034311c5bca075e0!}
{!LANG-bb9685a88c3bff9de7c6069e38ff0c54!}

{!LANG-d5d2beb781652da73126097901d345eb!}
{!LANG-d262686fdc2841d79b6817afcb3d91c3!}
{!LANG-9715d3841d65dabf52436e53d971808f!}
{!LANG-1716beb54075e67f0b08ba6094925bf7!}

{!LANG-db9061a65e859491c460f5dd4f0d30a3!}
{!LANG-2dd3a9026ede276e44bc875c4ae4b9c4!}
{!LANG-f55f21d641b0375a850a900ad9f1d664!}

{!LANG-4d0a97c0f573bc91d987f2bbc1cd6524!}
{!LANG-f1867de18adf413e448582f7704a0030!}
{!LANG-a87c0739018c18c51803c9fae014c41e!}
{!LANG-a5a129ef26adea511e1f458a11b32bd4!}
{!LANG-6f3a365cd2861409c5628f7b15c31c24!}

{!LANG-8ace7edca0ef258471097d2fbdaafa5b!}
{!LANG-1dfa421a112140abfc4b4414887b4877!}
{!LANG-3d1945906a1f02a6dc0bde398b1e19d9!}
{!LANG-788f177a19db73f44046d8711829bfc6!}
{!LANG-51a77938ebe1a136bffc41b6226ba14e!}
{!LANG-0e8a9fa485853e1308e9bb8f3f3b5de0!}

{!LANG-8f738423f0fd26469823c376bae5035b!}

{!LANG-cfee125524d817f2ae802d84fb5aa4f8!}
{!LANG-f720042f56754031cc405c538bd82adf!}
{!LANG-9d0006db5819abdb93958434b4454f23!}
{!LANG-6211cc66a1ba0a31fccc5cbe3e5431c8!}
{!LANG-ed15f59372e683525efaa615e655f681!}
{!LANG-ab3765abb5dab608eb55c1a382725735!}
{!LANG-dc8b0fc17dec91307b47215c52fb5443!}
{!LANG-3f468db7453a11d7ec54d9ff111f1d36!}
{!LANG-a9e3e0c9dfd228dd0a8527bdbe546a12!}

{!LANG-c5f81b924df857928ea818e7c3575277!}

{!LANG-235cf57e76634a62af488f41bd6c6346!}
{!LANG-018304d0dccbc175ca14c8877596771a!}
{!LANG-8b75da457cda09ac16af71e0c71cb333!}
{!LANG-e919231400669dc2ae818ac9f2bf9de3!}
{!LANG-f5b1e14fbaa9b29c1098af39eda147d8!}

{!LANG-6605abebc1d6f8e7e3f974e20cf3c733!}
{!LANG-d1f2e479bd7f44add0afdf4935020ac8!}
{!LANG-4d8347964bc273f309c6d3c3b4a22552!}

{!LANG-a77854ddf772e16354a6497702de3837!}
{!LANG-32b57da91a9a9a34aa2695c43fb1a7b2!}
{!LANG-183ca35fedcc77e23d1973a0013da70c!}
{!LANG-c44ad948275a0df9d07a4d76c6124efd!}
{!LANG-6f2848aa96b2dd08cd46a40d9b6d1c3e!}
{!LANG-0202c8b117e90163d51a0edf1c2c0752!}

{!LANG-788d3979a49e387be6130943fd9b1d2b!}
{!LANG-4917fbf1d3e418ff121694383329a4d0!}
{!LANG-0f7143933d9da8437f20a2c966732c18!}

{!LANG-a9f6edc83db599036a1c9434b3b4ef23!}
{!LANG-50c2a7ab60223e12b39f3df5e50912e0!}
{!LANG-f0676b609bc484bbd8d4031acf6a15a8!}
{!LANG-ab1b94f4c63ff988855b5d024823c6e5!}

{!LANG-c07bb5c5feb51712dce45e219e557aba!}

{!LANG-26a83230fc511f6f3073d40c0d111c16!}
{!LANG-99b55a2c100841a37465f822c159fe32!}
{!LANG-ef0c1111dad9b4a265baace234fe9532!}
{!LANG-3ddf021f39f96cead303770ed471d673!}
{!LANG-2fa7cc45d4e2f2ba9cecdfc380794e62!}
{!LANG-cb16f486ccc921f24286ec19e32c8f4c!}
{!LANG-862b909c4c419b3a5010111c85f685f3!}
{!LANG-f12aac0541e12a58f1ed8e94e1f19e94!}

{!LANG-4c4886eadabbe9fe2d17f2f10a789ad6!}

{!LANG-03a620618695518a9793f091635ad5c6!}

{!LANG-3cc1770591894948d757d09f1dba88cf!}
{!LANG-5fed43f2d4548c6dfc565c5fc7de82b0!}

{!LANG-6046adb0d9a10ffd7f6180b525d7edcc!}
{!LANG-931a91f4761514901e5f2d97329d8cfe!}
{!LANG-d4c2c800af55a6d9901c961dcc1c6670!}
{!LANG-7e108be6200e680d69ff35fda566f704!}

{!LANG-2d7fc35211168a9def80b684baf3d866!}

{!LANG-1740a0b6f0faf8d6fd59819137590059!}

{!LANG-ebbded3fbad3c1473d0d1a5a8fcbd4e2!}

{!LANG-6738c6d8532f243b96ccbeb3ea8dc155!}
{!LANG-3df6c8780b4b7a6dc7b411617aba6335!}
{!LANG-4c4bd6a00afcea0d838ebb11ab7a21fa!}
{!LANG-3fa803465593101a711e869fbe5bb54b!}
{!LANG-1b21abc9c2a31b5c7725986c9e74f971!}
{!LANG-ac49c1d790d1996e8648d47f219454ef!}

***
{!LANG-633e261bb0223bbe4ccad686f2073390!}
{!LANG-41bbd782813729840bda674e8ec36964!}

{!LANG-6203b55d2198bb6757f9764c9df9552c!}
{!LANG-8c5d5bfcb7f5f2f207aaf5211eac8650!}
{!LANG-f8a979fd5488ce566e15e5fd29e92400!}
{!LANG-28a0e7d15554588cc274acdc62c3d2ed!}

{!LANG-164dd855ef9202a139cf894ea1660ddc!}
{!LANG-356e78710e1237600ae99fc5986af242!}
{!LANG-92cced82e19fcd3c419889c22b4dde98!}

{!LANG-2d4b392a1ca99249ba0b7556bd510d06!}
{!LANG-00d82a35638591250a1d1d70ea079449!}

{!LANG-c0c228bc5a544cf8617472b6e0f8c4cd!}

{!LANG-3d4d1433d0751e1e7880cece18fa3885!}
{!LANG-07b693e25e8945b57084a25c7ab2f999!}

{!LANG-84550c33dcd45aebdde10ccd3afcb365!}
{!LANG-3ea083fc40b31a463609dbca5600329f!}
{!LANG-e001c2b43f57a75b8638f0fb349c6717!}

{!LANG-7851cfc35693258d847b15c223c435ee!}
{!LANG-2d6d0d924cb809cafd24e9ec009a2267!}

{!LANG-1d37d54b3e79df3d2a255534544b0288!}
{!LANG-ea3761ff3b9c49cf9eab38a92244ccd8!}

{!LANG-708716c31d62be506f7fcabe4c35c11e!}
{!LANG-09702be5bbb38ba910ce0b8980e25f2e!}
{!LANG-830c1e8b86cca3a6b71c0ab09066e3c4!}

{!LANG-eac65381af3d16c143a8433000c03edb!}
{!LANG-1e159557387319373104fb17a8eebef0!}
{!LANG-882b5c4a797f7c4660522ed55f657e8c!}

{!LANG-91ac15365fd2fef6c14d20820deccbff!}

{!LANG-66860ef82fe363842369edfb45896209!}
{!LANG-819dba0569809243ccd919e67552e1f8!}

{!LANG-03bb95a67292bb47c82fe239ae0fe8c0!}
{!LANG-ca9982d31cc12d0386412622941ea619!}

{!LANG-8e371e3a46196591365bb819658d5464!}
{!LANG-06131a0d73f8fec4e424e1a52580b2d0!}
{!LANG-27213276602b5d9c673ecc5b26cbeb17!}
{!LANG-cc40dc6d8ab751eda5eba474d67ba6ef!}

{!LANG-5ad952f641123c239834745808932dd1!}
{!LANG-e2c47e34a630c7239bd0147d85ac9a5f!}

{!LANG-0b3f0ca328913997e38d1794dda8d693!}
{!LANG-86abaff37a36ebbf0f675bfe40c2c751!}
{!LANG-997a1efe000e8802d5dec40894a333a9!}
{!LANG-5a9a89a899786e7bf88510217a10df50!}

{!LANG-5cc07604cd023900950a5f7ab6dd6243!}
{!LANG-95e3cb02ec25926694d732a22919264b!}

{!LANG-e2d434c5c2c5b043b589f5fbf549d9e9!}

{!LANG-e78897cb6587ac1da838f7ab43c8644e!}

{!LANG-7888900e3ce33292a4a4d5df4230c384!}

{!LANG-41bedcdb160b3c3ed52accf65797d3ab!}

{!LANG-fca87fbd1d19d61fddd9aa6a0e7da6e6!}

{!LANG-b30d7ac27c88a8cd405884a0360e11a4!}
{!LANG-11ab50826346aa3c8a61b9d62fca1983!}

{!LANG-5fd16301aec812d26fe7c251b5207169!}

{!LANG-601903ca0aef9338a1d1ed08c918eb74!}

{!LANG-57de559bfe3f1bb2b3c27c04ceb442ae!}
{!LANG-2b28d294e22fee61c3baf3aacc523b75!}

{!LANG-cf81a6cfd739b9193b36b952946604ed!}

{!LANG-b8d773bc2325de03f115915071d3b84a!}

{!LANG-8db09465bcb70fc5a0dcc70622287ace!}

{!LANG-7130fe37fd966c46569e05b1c241597b!}

{!LANG-0064416a8f6116b66f25364c7363adb0!}
{!LANG-9ed0cdd97b535abe44378206874fbbb6!}
{!LANG-ccea25eeb2e1b080c333777403874839!}
{!LANG-f816d1624d14abb2a9d0abdded363c91!}
{!LANG-935c47ba2d0e0f53c6c72482069742c3!}
{!LANG-270054a3f35e8cfac8c3953f0f8690cd!}
{!LANG-e78fc57edddc76ae3d8c601efa4d1f78!}
{!LANG-79d4811032577cea3ac1192de71baa8c!}
{!LANG-c2dbbe02e27ac39b102a19574f5d9321!}
{!LANG-6d31ea128e2ff0d72a4b1e832070c1cd!}
{!LANG-a14df71a97c8472573d4211b36464d0e!}
{!LANG-453ff218ce25598f17b33f6f305ebe3b!}

{!LANG-8c93784bc26d31e81b2f92ec5419b801!}

{!LANG-4ad6186c02fe4df615f0f0eb8fd65e15!}

{!LANG-3cae87ad32d88af70c1ec62c00e80be5!}
{!LANG-6ce2ccfb12cf6606c6b721fb353a7ec1!}
{!LANG-9fc628656968c745d1038a3bdc62ce51!}
{!LANG-46f218298f825d91b5e65f2d5f7bb472!}

{!LANG-509a857ca8221992663a5454e273c0e7!}
{!LANG-605f34e42f4248ef07fdf35573106470!}
{!LANG-f8797b178d9c4ba078012769541fbe5a!}
{!LANG-439fb924501048d75eabab72dcd3ca07!}

{!LANG-0fcff97c6556e3019cdf995203b90e28!}
{!LANG-e15c95a1d867b3784439086ab05e4eec!}
{!LANG-6303862f68e5c70bad4953642f723d93!}
{!LANG-d14a0ebb2346bfb97983dd76f614c2ec!}

{!LANG-a26e968f59316622e45c96f3412587a9!}
{!LANG-52b459c4d8a1fc3c58743b00cba4fb37!}
{!LANG-613291a389d6d2a4428ab9512c49eab8!}
{!LANG-dca084b0a5e7908c58fca2344d762985!}

{!LANG-4df873109a8f8ec7eeccf3a94f7db24e!}
{!LANG-cebd2b25d3be7f2a5c660c02fd7736ad!}
{!LANG-68170f4f2032007cf1dad1b0093a3958!}
{!LANG-6480c306757536ce84ed7d49bc886d55!}

{!LANG-14622897afc9d261ad1192b0e15b3b9a!}
{!LANG-fd08ad92262c5babd87b12a80002ad56!}
{!LANG-2f6f11d301af4704e61e2a67359eab16!}
{!LANG-5488b0ad10b34aed40bc0dc2902e1d0b!}

{!LANG-e529832fc16c09fea5075d563bb8bc4e!}
{!LANG-b42a03e7fce052479eeb962860b9bceb!}
{!LANG-385b753e95862b80af56f1fefa47d0b4!}
{!LANG-ad55b196f899d2fcc9d6cc89ccd463ff!}

{!LANG-911dd77da99f924b3e2e68d8e1e97c1a!}
{!LANG-af9b6459d23fb10d7fd22d3121ba1256!}
{!LANG-963cb76a1ad8cf817ddaf14cc9d82e1c!}
{!LANG-4b46da7c6ccc30e8327e9714a6dbac81!}

{!LANG-34f8c2e386ffef1fe5c0311ab48e9803!}

{!LANG-c88ec6786b454c7c11dc3c265cd6319e!}

{!LANG-beca577187f2ced8820ac176f72a57ba!}
{!LANG-cce8f2f8abecbdc6ed755cfa28f358da!}
{!LANG-4e86287ca94aafbd43b5388a907ccea0!}
{!LANG-ac780d3086ee92ddc89b369204994f15!}

{!LANG-90d78017a38d35cfac6baecacc2552df!}
{!LANG-8948bee85f60ec0623afc6351dc1ae2e!}
{!LANG-e201a274faec431d448b1d03603fcf95!}
{!LANG-468618d3ab308493d6c60a6cc28a5a25!}

{!LANG-e1b3ce1abd224abdcf7fe4305dba93af!}
{!LANG-0fcb4337cd1bf1b6bda9d7075189f3ab!}
{!LANG-d00f4aaee2fb83da2f14e7b153e95fe2!}
{!LANG-49984c82194270f70611e301a2e5e2c6!}

{!LANG-57784ad1d0635745fc920b8f822b9af3!}
{!LANG-b5363f8e3dbb999b41d276a359ee2474!}
{!LANG-4e86287ca94aafbd43b5388a907ccea0!}
{!LANG-f5885f5168aa882e19aa9ae5c0ff7d85!}

{!LANG-aaf31b82583a57901f870c47c26cc473!}
{!LANG-7da115d1ae3296122456b9d4758ad395!}
{!LANG-cd02909fbce31e466b0ff63b5c4b519b!}
{!LANG-53482d5f39036dbec26ad965db27576e!}

***
{!LANG-4e592924e5a6763dfdc9303b45116803!}

{!LANG-9cbd0a9f2674305014bf850b7df595d9!}
{!LANG-be586cdca75e24dae1585ba0d3b951b7!}
{!LANG-e2e3c7e3abeed90cf76dd75d9f0d3dd6!}
{!LANG-7409c8442bac0405532b04f9db9f52ed!}
{!LANG-bb3a9d502b5c5a5a844bf0b95851eb0c!}
{!LANG-de79f31c21baeda696f8656f8248ec58!}
{!LANG-78b09d6c6dcf60a0190622ea14ca34c7!}
{!LANG-6a93ccf1ce1177e67584476ea42b3d5a!}
{!LANG-3b19f251913696c2b556323eb274deb5!}
{!LANG-7f1073d6ea0b42738400ce827c80a3e5!}
{!LANG-f6321a056a6e0fe8979b1328a4bc23f0!}
{!LANG-2a5dcca0490fd8ef025b6c95ed69a574!}
{!LANG-4f166e54da12148f2cc8c00c0a704a39!}
{!LANG-476442581a71fe8cd5da39e04244e1e2!}
{!LANG-bc099458f988e4c29e4094df42a27f76!}
{!LANG-e10a808efae2f3376b87a51d35c8314b!}

{!LANG-703082bcdaff228de0b02b3364ef9c88!}

{!LANG-27780ce76dc900f2d8e2357cea309187!}
{!LANG-499c97cae066faeb4734395362d77410!}
{!LANG-570c2c392ccf34fe518c60e6174a9d4e!}
{!LANG-2fe7ce738d280a6d75f0ac3d0ef6c04a!}

{!LANG-926aec079420ac490e9d56e06eaa6916!}
{!LANG-4befbe307c4585a7308a8628acdbe979!}
{!LANG-a2ea2d7ffa26deb71e3cfec0d74dc251!}
{!LANG-8699c83229e080e9d71e95b3befd075a!}

{!LANG-6b454ab70b4b532c0d8a32354322958a!}
{!LANG-e3dabbdb16f9a37d9503a9f6d28e00f0!}
{!LANG-470a848f70e58df4f227e616ebcb61e0!}
{!LANG-ff7f60e6c68ffc39b829823061c1cffa!}

{!LANG-211532ccc47cc87f46356ed776c285d3!}
{!LANG-6646be83f58b2abdb5536de1f8cdb341!}
{!LANG-d33e5a71e147b19b819582ee56e64ce9!}
{!LANG-2afb3c7fb2fcf8917c5865512696f3c6!}
***

{!LANG-06d52bbb54f572bb00680a5279980b03!}

{!LANG-9fee032281f1d5702ad53b17efb0b4f9!}
{!LANG-b2006cb7a5348918199a7f5f7b5116e5!}
{!LANG-505223710af85fcac64f2cb505dffdc7!}
{!LANG-0d37596dac5eec34591b2d911ff99671!}

{!LANG-6ebd89fa385d91b99fa1c97d97f6209d!}
{!LANG-672c3ad36426d5fd10be0976e92b8877!}
{!LANG-82f6939837b913e4e0bbc77c32b8b96c!}
{!LANG-68e570422c25f78bc82a7adadcfe8329!}

{!LANG-8d768a0a463865d3892e490eb8699e5b!}
{!LANG-2272301235f670ea2b5d4dec4597bf00!}
{!LANG-21804f54adafa017e828ab97a9b031ab!}
{!LANG-3e5c545f95e93d3bf86d8e114764e0b4!}

{!LANG-db3c38d1a83734575019347d6bd95801!}
{!LANG-481070f284fc48fca6d87a895f397924!}
{!LANG-960ff140f31b70261abfc2ce218e26c1!}
{!LANG-cb4a7b53246267713110652e92db446d!}

{!LANG-a49769788a70f4f71fc2772a15d28bb9!}

{!LANG-d81e40a2dc9851197afd537b424e1dd8!}

{!LANG-a448d2173054a1315ccd48fa2d88f4f4!}

{!LANG-aed90ff02f757c0764f99cf7a4362194!}

{!LANG-9430d0c31f5facf97a4d8908d275073c!}

{!LANG-6810af726590e354cc5f745744dc4897!}

{!LANG-cb5057e476a57e5ecd407a4991b175a9!}

{!LANG-af13b6c516710ad635fc911c0ce5a5ca!}

{!LANG-44ba5d0d6be92d1078fda33de9fa5afa!}

{!LANG-3049bc42bfbc2cfa1e0d2e79b8782dde!}

{!LANG-ff81fe307d02bac582e5a19834db51eb!}
{!LANG-eb5801609dfdd9bdb792b7b28ecb01dc!}
{!LANG-ed37b2d1a6e124ef17256b00885c6f22!}
{!LANG-772f0e80df9a49a8ccd68428b8c2c098!}
{!LANG-e53b12a2ffe6d516c9eacc01e948d13b!}
One alive in the endless dead field!
{!LANG-a813e39b74c50cccf77a9caa9671b8e2!}
{!LANG-3710fb5c0468dc3128f84a01cee5313c!}

{!LANG-0758c0acd99ff396de97c5926cab1d12!}
{!LANG-468c979a285e2fb56c338b8dfdcbeb99!}
{!LANG-b8d76d0f17204aa4fb1fc9f62c31b7e6!}
{!LANG-d3e295d44ea15884f4fbaec09e1ced49!}
{!LANG-6414095c17aad5aaced8217133bffe9a!}
{!LANG-77725354bcf53673db2b842f60e60b7f!}
{!LANG-ce74c3ae8f74370a9a15339478e2ca3c!}
{!LANG-a61ca4157e052ab12f780ba02034b8a4!}

{!LANG-d63bc11caed3c7a89762f3a305068df4!}
{!LANG-ab7500dd8d297b9aa8db2550f002801c!}
{!LANG-f95dfd1aebad844a406b63f559f22f60!}
{!LANG-27fd318fbd0d66a17b8c43e8b2d1a952!}
{!LANG-ce4bc72392a7aab1c98b6df6ef3b1c43!}
{!LANG-7c3aa14164ecf18dc8928ba49660f1c2!}
{!LANG-22cb6e9e3d4470b5ac732686732f6d24!}
{!LANG-ee2da59ff1ab441ea894b13d0e54e0ab!}
{!LANG-f31988355801c22999fecab3b045f638!}
{!LANG-d86c9a3675e1aa94212be6cc09db514e!}
{!LANG-4f47e19eaa316a4895812c6a10de429a!}
{!LANG-dfe62c2077140845208888ed32f4e3dc!}
{!LANG-f290229e2d17dd2de2eb023ea0b21ce2!}
{!LANG-3f78f4cf6e6efd9396e836c2c94a540f!}
{!LANG-366d0f031610b917ecb1726310dc6d22!}
{!LANG-be6ff985333ec19a19afe21bddc3f65f!}
{!LANG-bfafbcb5809a8f915cb030cb2cad5de4!}
{!LANG-1684ce38b7f9104a866f71d31e01de14!}
{!LANG-77ccf6c303dd1250d0b8979c715eeaae!}
{!LANG-bdd46ab8f87c8cd06dd7397db153fc80!}
{!LANG-7da4c9bfe0c3b80326bf3e615e9fff99!}
{!LANG-2ef87d1a2bc485854f4e44686a706d0c!}
{!LANG-8586aafca9f42a861915937f1c787d6b!}
{!LANG-bb9d12ad80a84db830787dfc569d3968!}
{!LANG-fab146a3c7da9a5c2f57fc1fc53a4c2e!}
{!LANG-4a2aea37620d7fb3cf3480d33c955f4e!}

{!LANG-33ccd8e5fc00137606296295c26bf1ef!}
For the fact that you are in anticipation of anxious
Gorn for those who are in the road off-road
{!LANG-7ca23af15e00f7790487e0296cca43e1!}
{!LANG-483019b4c96861ab0a093f1bdac20ded!}
{!LANG-726bed81a1cca512ab1f8c542ec6667b!}
{!LANG-81ba61db133752a3d6d94921a40a6524!}
{!LANG-ae6237ac4bd94550a616d58bd38c401d!}

{!LANG-d9edd34e1b7c7f28d16beceed099f888!}

{!LANG-6150b09dd803ced8eb648b11a2219b31!}

{!LANG-aab1e7b035f780bf157d13f3a98c091c!}

{!LANG-0570a6c30f021bd4490951b2967db733!}

{!LANG-0e81e8121aab5976d1010f425193b499!}

{!LANG-7d993d27572511dd34afacc2cfd60231!}