The hour has come to say goodbye to Nekrasov. The cycle ends with one of his late poems, "Elegy". It was not without reason that we chose this particular work. It paradoxically combines optimism, passion, and happiness from the struggle for a bright future and for the good of the people with bitterness and melancholy from the unresponsiveness and insensitivity of the people to appeals. But so that these painfully modern lines do not sound so tragic, we will add that the general mood of "Elegy" can be more accurately expressed in the following words: "Do what you must, and come what may!" To which we urge you. On this note, we would like to thank Nikolai Alekseevich for his wonderful poetry, and there are many more equally wonderful works ahead of us! ⁂ Let fickle fashion tell us that the theme is old "the suffering of the people" and that poetry should forget it. Do not believe it, young men! It does not age. Oh, if only the years could age it! Let God's world flourish!.. Alas! while the peoples Dragged in poverty, submitting to the whips, Like skinny herds on mown meadows, The Muse will mourn their fate, serve them, And in the world there is no stronger, more beautiful union!.. To remind the crowd that the people are in poverty, While it rejoices and sings, To arouse the attention of the powerful to the people - What could the lyre serve more worthily?.. I dedicated the lyre to my people. Perhaps I will die unknown to them, But I served them - and my heart is calm ... Let not every warrior harm the enemy, But let everyone go into battle! And fate will decide the battle ... I saw a red day: there is no slave in Russia! And I shed sweet tears in emotion ... "Enough of rejoicing in naive infatuation, - Whispered the Muse to me. — It is time to move forward: The people are liberated, but are the people happy?.." Whether I listen to the songs of the reapers over the golden harvest, Whether an old man slowly walks behind a plough, Whether a contented child runs across the meadow, playing and whistling, With his father's breakfast, Whether the sickles sparkle, whether the scythes jingle in unison — I seek an answer to the secret questions, Boiling in my mind: "In recent years have you become more bearable, peasant suffering? And has freedom, which has come to replace long slavery, finally brought a change In the people's fates? In the songs of village girls? Or is their discordant song just as mournful?.." Evening is already approaching. Excited by dreams, Through fields, through meadows, lined with haystacks, I wander thoughtfully in the cool twilight, And a song is composed in my mind by itself, A living embodiment of recent, secret thoughts: I call for a blessing on rural labors, I promise curses to the people's enemy, And I pray for power in the heavens to my friend, And my song is loud!.. The valleys and fields echo it, And the echo of distant mountains sends its responses, And the forest responded... Nature listens to me, But the one about whom I sing in the evening silence, To whom the poet's dreams are dedicated, Alas! he does not listen — and does not give an answer… ⁂ Our website: https://lenincrew.com ⁂ Lenin Crew on Telegram: https://t.me/lenin_crew ⁂ Lenin Crew on VK: https://vk.com/lenin_crew ⁂ You can help us: Subscribe to Boosty – https://boosty.to/lenincrew/donate One-time donation to ???? ЮMoney – https://yoomoney.ru/to/4100118571213181 Transfer to ???? Sberbank card 4276 4900 4508 7345 #poetry #culture #poetry