Текст песни Модель Для Сборки - Михаил Кликин - Мужик

- Anna ! Come here ! Anna ! - Screamed the old Agatha in curtained window yellowed tulle with cracked frames. No one responded . She tapped dry rattling cam in glass and , clinging to face him , looked into the hut. But really could not see anything there and screamed again : - Are you sleeping or what? Go out for a minute! Anna ! Hey !
      It was early August morning . Puffy pink sun rose over the distant reluctantly forest. Crept along the ground cloth gray mist clung to the bushes , behind fences , flowed into the hollows , tress under lazy gusts just waking up the morning breeze . Was clear silence. Just thought someone else somewhere in the distance during the cuckoo , but four village rooster arranged usual morning roll call . Not mooing cows, goats bleated not , not yapping dogs - the village was dying was living the last few years , gradually came to an end with age .
      Once upon a time , there were nearly forty yards, was a church , in the thirtieth year of the Bolsheviks destroyed . In his time in the village and was a two-storey stone - Six-Year School , built by Soviet power, and its medical center, and mail, and the calf shed and aviary ... Now everything is overgrown with nettles and willow tea Chikanov and quinoa . Even the dirt road that cut through the village along before , was now useless and gradually disappeared under the broad leaves mugs . Orphaned abandoned house with broken windows and doors buried in the ground slowly rot. Broke down under its own weight rafters failed roof collapsed empty courtyards . Only log cabins , head overgrown wild grass, still standing , without surrendering to the inexorable time ... And it seemed strange in this forgotten corner still live four houses , four cottages . Incredibly, the lost village still somehow lived four old women ...
      Agafya was chilly , and she smelled tightly in tattered jerkin and corrected gray shawl thrown over the shoulders .
      - She is dead you're there, perhaps, forgive me, Lord ? - She murmured again and knocked on the low window .
      Curtain jerked away , and seemed to lean in the old woman's face , pitted with deep wrinkles and gray hair disheveled framed .
      - What drums? - Came the muffled through the glass .
      - Man , what have you got?
      - No it. In any forest left before dawn . - Anna banged open flaky frame. - And nearly did he do?
      - At the well gate broke. Would make necessary. Handle snapped. I almost did not zashibla . And a bucket , it is now can not get .
      - No it. In the forest is gone, - repeated Anna and invited : - Can zaglyanesh , neighbor ?
      - Go really ought to be ... And how will you ask him .
      - Okay .
      They were silent for a bit. Agatha was in no hurry to leave, she sat down on the ledge , thrusting his cold hands in his pockets. Anna half leaned out the window , the wind went through her ​​gray beard , weaving hair weightless threads August web.
      - Again, a piece of iron to its left? - Agatha asked .
      - Yeah . In the woods.
      - And why are they to him?
      - The machine is it.
      - And you, you know?
      - I know . He said .
      - So he's dumb .
      - Dumb , dumb ... - Anna mimicked , but explain nothing became .
      They fell silent again , basking in the cool of the morning sun .
      - Strange you have it still .
      Anna said nothing.
      - And I would porch should forge - Agatha remembered . - And what exactly is already rotted . With water afraid to walk, God forbid, break a leg , so the rest of your life and will lie too ... Tell him about the porch, okay?
      - Okay ...
      - What would we do without him ? What to eat , and all man. Benefits which bring . Matrona , won shingled roof blocked . Vegetable garden digging ... - Agatha long sigh , paused and repeated : - And what would we do without him ?
      - He will leave soon - said Anna .
      - How to go away? - Agripina alarmed .
      - And that's it . Make your car and leave.
      - How so? And we ?
      - Lived as before ...
      - Burn it over