1
The stray eagle a feather dropped.
Yegor-light-Yegorushka was born in the world.
With tight body, with light face,
Loud in shout, capacious in chest.
Will choke with embrace.
He sucks ten nurses.
Sings the mother on the cradle,
Sings the nurse on the cradle:
"Son, quietly, lie down,
The gray wolf is near, son!
The gray wolf will arrive,
Will seize Erka on the side!
So sleep, my-light-Yegor!
And from cradle echoes suckling:
"The gray wolf will arrive,
Will seize the nurse on the side!"
Sleep, my dear son!
On hind legs he would stand.
Sleep, son! -- Or else
Put heels into mouth of nurse.
And thank you for this:
Did not kick out all your teeth!
Go quiet, go low --
Three carriages has Yegor.
At first she was of willows:
Mother herself had woven.
Therefore our falcon
Had on the twig all wound.
Carved and painted --
Here is second pegtail.
For an hour he did not lie in it:
Once he broke it in smithereens!
In knot the necklace having tied,
To the forge the mother has gone:
"Add the tears for us.
Correct the cradle for us,
That our comely son did not
In a year splinter it!"
Fever went in the forge,
The young mother walks in pitch:
With the red forge --
Of the smith.
Weight: five and a half poods.
Into her the son she has put.
"Go above, go below!"
As if on eggshell he gnawed.
And he looks onto god's light
With a fiery eye.
2
The wind has made noise over willows --
The young one remembers the stray eagle.
Not just the eagle -- with gold feathers,
But, with whom -- from whom -- she is there...
To remember -- boils the chest!
The shame having forgotten --
Howl like wolf, but cannot: sleeps the son!
Not to shout -- ready to know.
To remember -- the chest boils!
Why does he now sleep and not snore?
Gallop from bench: The-son!
Sense to pitching: Why have you gone
Quiet? Blood from the face: carriage is empty!
Here and there:
Under pitching -- no,
Under bench -- no,
Gallop on stove -- no!
And in tub -- bottom
Has gone to torture with pole
As the dung with the pitchforks --
Like wolf carried away -- she shook!
Like Midnight One into the burrow
She raked, pressing upon the apron?
And on all yard with a howl:
"My first one! My last one!"
Crescent clear,
Frequent stars,
Scary-scary misfortune!
Kill me, wretched one,
Red dawn-dawn!
Oh the sign on the right shoulder
Dear one, cheeks-glow!
Under the light moon crescent
As is -- on simple grass --
I shook all the straw.
She pushed into the barn:
The cock shouted in hearts. The sheep's smell
Went into her nose -- with some blend.
She went up -- behind her the moon.
And he pokes her with his ring:
See! He caresses: And in middle of the barn -
Thus the smell hit in the nose!
Herself -- with Yegor in paws!
And little one into her stomach!
Thus he leaned -- and crackling goes!
As dashingly the lips she smacks,
A she-wolf Yegor sucks.
And in half-circle beside
There are six grey wolf cubs.
And she to him, here she to him.
She sucks -- and she, know, embraces!
There's not enough for her the four paws --
Aims with a tail, anathema!
Thus he will smack, and she with tail: Spender!
And into the nose with tongue -- at once!
The whole body -- with tongue -- across
Hundred times -- and more hundred times.
And with circle, glaring at mom:
A dozen red eyes.
And around -- among dead hens --
There's a dozen of sheep's skins.
Stunned, she would not walk:
Like barbells at the ankles:
And this one, know, sucks,
And that one, know, licks!
How will shudder -- and six
Noses above -- on sheep skins.
And six demons' choir
After the she-wolf growls.
"Yegorushka!" -- and across all
Demons -- direct on the son!
And here -- from mother -- in down:
To anathema: "Mom!"
And she to him! And she to him!
Neighbour, and you, know, hugs!
Look, say, dare, say, who is his mother!
And she pulled up the nose, anathema!
And we don't hear the broad --
Skies in all snout! --
She went out, quiet,
And closed the door.
Only from that hour
It's time for new days.
Asks for meat the small one,
Does not touch the breast.
Only moon the horns
Weaves through rye-sinner --
In the window each night
She-wolf comes after the child.
* * *
Grow up our wings-feathers!
Yegorushka has reached three years,
With black word criticizes ,
Not the child grows -- a bandit.
Cabbage is rotting in the garden,
The head is turned by the flowers.
Color not color and mushroom not mushroom --
To all the heads he knocked down!
Mother -- rich flatbread
To him -- in face spiteful.
Mother -- with puff upon the nose,
And he -- with the sorceress.
And why the snow is white,
And why hedgehog is prickled,
And for what reason
God made wolf without wings.
The crumb upon the desk --
Give to him the shchi!
The cat beloved --
And one ears without!
And with the height! With sigh!
And to side and above!
No demon, nor a cough:
Thus the hero grows!
To give him a whipping --
Boils the whole chest!
And near Yegor
The brother speaks:
By priest not baptized,
Not forgiven by Christ,
Honor-conscience -- like sieve,
As sown onto him.
Yegor has round cheeks,
And the wolf has ones sunk.
Both have swarthy conscience,
Insane in chest is the heart.
Yegor has red lips,
And the wolf -- blue.
Both are danger to sheep:
They're licked with one spit.
Yegor's head is in rings.
And the wolf's -- in tousles.
They are similar in brains:
Combed with the same hairbrush.
Yegor has torn pants,
And the wolf -- tattered.
Both called -- in forest -- guests:
On one milk -- drunken.