Rus Articles Journal

Which of poets his colleague called tonkolitsy and sensitive deer ?

Today`s release Anthologies of domestic poetry it will be devoted to the poet who is fairly forgotten today, but wrote thin verses some of which are set to music and became national songs. Far it is not necessary to go, it is enough to remember its poem The Sun hid behind the mountain . People of the senior generation well remember these verses,

set to music by Matvei Blanter the Sun hid behind the mountain,

Grew dim river rifts,

A expensive steppe

Went from war home the Soviet soldiers.

From a heat, from evil heat

of the Soldier`s blouse on povygorala shoulders; the battle flag

From enemies soldiers covered

with heart.

They did not spare life,

Protecting the native land - the native land;

Overcame, won against

of All enemies fights for the Homeland sacred.

The sun hid behind the mountain,

Grew dim river rifts,

A expensive steppe

Went from war home the Soviet soldiers.
Me seemed to

that the song was written, at least, before war, but working on today`s article, I found out that date of its creation - 1947

But songs at Alexander Kovalenkov (namely so call our today`s hero) appeared also before war. In particular, that terrible 1941 the poem together with P. Choubin which became the header song in the movie " was written; Boxers .

At light stadiums,

Wide and green, the scope is open for

For our youth.

Always prepare for fight

by a racetrack.

Towards to a victory runs the boxer!


Training fighting,

Courage young,

Resourcefulness and courage goes always forward!

For sport and for fight

Is the rule such: courageous and skillful the victory waits for

of All!

Without knowing exhaustion,

we to approach Go,

With the opponent on a ring engaging. fight to that is not terrible


Who is young and brave, Who is able to be

self-controlled everywhere!

But let`s address Alexander Aleksandrovich`s biography, at last. He was born on March 15, 1911 in Novgorod, in a family which rightfully it is possible to call progressive. The father is Alexander Kovalenkov - was an engineer - the radio designer, mother - quite educated young woman. And both of his grandfathers were uncommon persons. The grandfather on the father is the honored teacher of city parish school No. 3 in the city of Novgorod, wrote and published the textbooks. For merits in the field of national education it was granted the nobility.

The grandfather on mother, by the name of Ripny, lived in the village of Peretenka of Okulovsky district and was the managing director in a manor of the valid councilor of state, one of leaders of Octobrists, the chairman of III and IV State Dumas, in 1917 - the chairman of Interim committee of the State Duma Mikhail Rodzyanko. So it turned out that practically since the childhood Sasha was brought up at the mother in the village of Peretenka. Especially as mother died when to the son seven years were executed only. As the aunt of future poet remembered then, everywhere in their house the inscription was scratched by Sasha`s hand: Be damned 1918, it carried away my mother .

But the grief becomes dull. Sasha went to school where was considered as one of the best pupils. Beauty of the Novgorod coppices where we with children gathered mushrooms, free will of the rivers and lakes where our birch bark floats grew white and juniper fishing-rods " were reflected in whirlpools; - Alexander Aleksandrovich so remembered later the small homeland.

In 1921 the father took away the son to Moscow where got over after death of the wife. Having left secondary school in Moscow, Alexander - younger tried to get technical education, worked as the probationer in one of radio laboratories of the Moscow airfield. But then chose other path - tried to compose film scripts, having entered the State institute of cinematography.

Its first poetic attempts were noticed and approved by the first proletarian writer Maxim Gorky. Kovalenkov also was on friendly terms with such uncommon persons as Mikhail Svetlov and Evgeny Petrov.

Its verses were very lyrical. It is enough to remember its address to the son Bullfinch .

Puffs, tanks, planes,

the bridges Broken in two,

Horse tails, bayonets of infantry,

of Explosions it is yellow - red bushes,

the Cannibal runs at full speed,

the Sniper from a fir-tree aims in it,

Army of strangers in a disorder,

the Sun sees our celebration...

Here that is drawn in a notebook

At the boy - my son.

I speak: - Drawing is made safely, Just paper to waste


Is over fight, battle died down,

You would represent a bullfinch.

Or, say, boat, fisher,

Different trees and flowers...

You never know good, such,

That saw and that was remembered by you!

But the artist obviously does not agree -

Looks sideways, heaves a deep sigh:

- That there to draw a starling or an ash-tree,

What a difference - a saber bare.

The boat, - says, - I will draw.

With a sail to float in strange lands.

With guns antiaircraft, such On which

Chapay would escape.

- I will go for a walk...

- Well, go... -

Nepered is known according to the program,

That the successor will be home

All in sand, with a lime under nails,

With a round medal tin.

Here usual conversation will go:

- Who fired an arrow in a window of the neighbor?

- Whom and than a lip of a rassechen?

- Why was war again?

Will wash up the boy, will put bed,

Will tell, smiling: - Here the trouble,

Every evening all same, is quieter than

With the girl where...

Also there will be a distant song an echo -

Do not touch Us breadth,

will also dream Where the Suvorov bullfinch sits on a roadside milestone

of Zoreva.

It is the poem it is written in the last premilitary year.

And war was farther. From its first day Alexander Kovalenkov repeatedly was at the front, was repeatedly wounded, became the disabled person. But even despite it, the poet did not become hardened, his verses continue to remain lyrical. It is necessary to remember its song Lullaby to which music was written by the same Matvei Blanter.

The sun hid behind the distant mountain,

Falls night over you.

Falls and speaks:

Why this boy does not sleep?

Your father far, in that region, Where not mothers, and bullets sing


Where our earth and day

Blazes at night deadly fire.


Sleep, my good, my nice,

Sleep, my darling, amusing.

to Bai - Bai, the song I sing,

You at us most important.

Soon day that approaches at last,

I with a victory will return the father,

I it will shake finger at you:

Why this boy does not sleep?

Behind a window around silence.

Dozed off in the sky the moon.

Sleeps a bed, both a little table, and a chair,

Here and the boy obedient fell asleep.

Far in the distance, behind line of the earth,

day will begin new Soon.

Well, hurry up to sleep,

tomorrow to get up early

Early in the morning and healthy.
Alexander Aleksandrovich taught

1944 to

After war at Literary institute of a basis of versification. When Stalin died, in the first night in Moscow several thousands of people were arrested. Among them there was a teacher of Litinstitut poet Alexander Kovalenkov, always expressly elegant on those frenchevo - to gimnasterochny times. It had an easy insanity of a literary gourmet - it seemed to it that all verses of young poets are written davny - long ago to us.

Immediately after Kovalenkov`s arrest along literary corridors rumors that he was an agent of foreign intelligence services spread. In connection with this version the remark of the poet Sergey Smirnov at litinstitutsky meeting quite ambiguously sounded: And here our recent colleague Alexander Kovalenkov appeared on that side of barricades .

But in a month Kovalenkov returned

Here one more lyric of Alexander Aleksandrovich.

In youthful, solar air

to the Best feelings there were no hindrances.

Ya took for granted that in the world

You are the kinder, more beautiful, best of all.

The lyrics, to sanctity vozvysyas,

bathed Us in light and heat.

Everything blossomed. And even our proximity

to us seemed to the best on the earth.

The freshness which turned into a flame,

of the Rainbow is hotter than thunder-storms night...

You never know was between us,

As well as at others.

But not here

That love originated that is stronger than sorrows,

that did not execute, and forgave,

without being afraid of mistakes and passions.

Not in flowers, and in grazes and scars

From separations, deception and offenses

From maternal tenderness, it is stubborn

to us she tells all truth.

And from clouds the snowball flies prickly,

Thawing on wrinkles expensive.

I I call best

of Tu again that it is so usual for others.

B 50 - e years Kovalenkov was fond space a subject and the unknown flying objects. As one of poets remembered: In the evening of life he came to a conclusion that ants flied to us from other planet that they are true carriers of reason and knowledge; he and about it wrote the book. Party ideologists were unpleasantly surprised with political apathy of views of the famous writer: in the territory of the USSR even heavenly it had to be clear to birds that the only carrier of reason and world progress is the Soviet person and any not an ant. And detailed explanations of Kovalenkov were perceived by listeners mistrustfully, and even cautiously. Discussion dragged on, each of two parties held the ground; the compromise, really, here was impossible .

But about verses about the star sky bewitch

It is mysterious flickering in eyepieces,

Floats through darkness of space depths

the Orange neighbor of the globe,

of Imaginations and utopias lord -


Is reduced by Millionoverstny distance

, is turned into a children`s ball,

Floats, flickers the dying-away shine

Sunset, to us unknown times.

Who breathes the atmosphere of rarefied

I, maybe, watches which century

our planet green,

Where Martians was thought up by the person!

Iron mushrooms of crimson darkness

Wells them created three-legged giants of a terrifying story,

to people to frighten, Frightening by

too courageous minds.

No, not then the dream strove for light

I Tsiolkovsky`s heart attracted, That the messenger of war to send to

the rocket,

There where life of rescue waited!

Not to guess and appoint term,

But it will come, it is day and hour,

When we meet those who from far away,

without losing Hopes, believed in us.

Front wounds affected the health of the poet. He died, having lived only 60 years, in 1971. His publisher V. Turkin devoted to Alexander Aleksandrovich Kovalenkov surprising verses:

Kovalenkov departed on the ground,

Otgorel lonely

fire did not remain about it movies,

of Memoirs do not write about it.

of People of a disinterested debt, -

I is not known by me as for whom, - its Ironical voice will be

For me memorable long to


It carried in itself(himself) secret - offense,

But with is emphasized with proud destiny

to Nobody this secret gave out,

A carried by to a grave with itself

Here he knocks at the door.

Here it enters.

Is careful. It is sluggish - it is silent.

To naivety all is excellent

In detailed gestures.

Is spoiled by attention not too

I in life to an eccentricity is strict, - the Disabled person - the pension book

It from war unsolved preserved


without having a reputation for the rich man, it it is stubborn -

Itself passed fronts and fights -

All Sent to Vietnam, Vietnam, Vietnam

the fees.

Me, the publisher, quietly reminded,

advance payment not zhdya, nothing:

Do not forget about my one-volume edition

That`s all its will.

It to the futures left to generations

Not beep by a steamship Tonkolitsy and sensitive deer,

in a smoke,

Only not sensitive to itself.

Is guilty on the mourning tapes

Unforgettable we write about it


Otgorel lonely fire Departed on the ground.

God grant that and someone so remembered us