Prince Kurbsky fled from the tsar's wrath, Vaska Shibanov with him, strenuous. The prince was doroden, the exhausted horse fell - How to be in the middle of a foggy night? But keeping Shibanov’s slavish loyalty, he gives his horse to the governor: “Ride, prince, I’ll become an enemy, Maybe I won’t leave on foot!”
And the prince jumped. Under the Lithuanian tent Disgraced the voivode sits; The Lithuanians stand around in amazement, Crowding at the entrance without hats, Paying honor to every Russian knight, No wonder the Lithuanian people marvel, And their heads go around: “Prince Kurbsky has become our friend!”
But the prince is not pleased with the new honor, He is filled with bile and malice; Kurbsky is preparing for the tsar to reread the Souls of the offended sweetheart: “What I hide and carry in myself for a long time, I will write everything to the tsar at length, I will tell it straight, without bending, Thank you for all his caresses!”
And the boyar writes all night long, The pen breathes his vengeance; He reads, smiles, and reads again, And again he writes without rest, And with evil words he stings the king, And now, when the dawn was flooded, A message full of poison ripened to his delight.
But who will take the bold words of the prince to take John? Who does not love a head on his shoulders, Whose heart does not shrink in his chest? Involuntarily, doubts were found on the prince ... Suddenly Shibanov enters, covered in sweat and dust: “Prince, is my service not needed? Look, ours didn’t catch up with me!”
And in joy, the prince sends a slave, Hurries him impatiently: “You are healthy in body, and your soul is not weak, And here are the rubles as a reward!” Shibanov in response to the master: “Good! You need your silver here more, And I will hand over your letter to the royal hands for the torment!
Copper ringing rushes, buzzes over Moscow; The king in quiet clothes is ringing; Does he call back the former peace Or does he bury his conscience forever? But often and measuredly he beats the bell, And the people of Moscow listen to the ringing And pray, full of fear, That the day may pass without execution.
In response to the sovereign, the towers are buzzing, Vyazemsky the fierce calls with him, The pitch darkness calls the whole guard, And Vaska Dirty, and Malyuta, And right there, proud of his beauty, With a girlish smile, with a snake soul, The favorite calls Ioannov, Basmanov, rejected by God.
The king has finished; Leaning on a rod, he goes, And with him all the roundabout assembly. Suddenly a messenger rides, moves the people apart, He holds a message over his hat. And he hurriedly hid from his horse, Walking up to Tsar John And saying to him, without turning pale: "From Kurbsky, Prince Andrei!"
And the eyes of the king suddenly lit up: “To me? From a villain dashing? Read, clerks, read the Message aloud to me from word to word! Give me a letter here, impudent messenger! And in Shibanov's leg he plunges the sharp end of his Rod, Leaned on a crutch - and heeds:
“To the king, glorified of old from all, But I am drowning in abundant filth! Answer, madman, for what sake of sin did you beat the good and strong? Answer, is it not them, in the midst of a difficult war, Without counting, the strongholds of enemies are defeated? Are you not famous for their courage? And who is equal to them by fidelity?
Insane! Or do you imagine yourself more immortal than us, Deceived into unbelievable heresy? Take heed! The hour of retribution will come, foretold to us by Scripture, And I, like blood in incessant battles For you, like water, lees and lees, I will stand before the judge with you! So Kurbsky wrote to John.
Shibanov was silent. From the pierced leg Blood flowed like a scarlet current, And the king gazed at the calm eye of the servant with a searching eye. A row of guardsmen stood motionless; The master's mysterious look was gloomy, As if filled with sadness, And everyone was silent in anticipation.
And the tsar said thus: “Yes, your boyar is right, And there is no more joyful life for me! The blood of the good and strong mends with their feet, I am an unworthy and stinking dog! Messenger, you are not a slave, but a comrade and friend, And there are many, you know, faithful servants of Kurbsky, What gave you away for nothing! Go with Malyuta to the dungeon!
The executioners torture and torment the messenger, They come to replace each other. "Comrades Kurbsky you catch, Open their dog treason!" And the king asks: “Well, what about the messenger? Did he call the thief friends at last? - "King, his word is all one: He praises his master!"
The day fades, the night time comes, The gates hide at the dungeon, The masters on the shoulder enter again, The work began again. “Well, what, did the messenger name the villains?” - “King, the end is near for him, But his word is all one, He praises his master:
“O prince, you, who could betray me For a sweet moment of reproach, O prince, I pray that God forgive you Your betrayal before the fatherland! Hear me, O God, in my dying hour, My tongue goes numb, and my eyes fade away, But in my heart there is love and forgiveness - Have mercy on my sins!
Hear me, O God, in my dying hour, Forgive my master! My tongue goes numb, and my eyes fade away, But my word is all one: For the terrible, God, tsar, I pray, For our holy, great Russia - And I firmly await the desired death!
~ Vasily Shibanov Vasily Shibanov
Prince Kurbsky fled from the royal wrath,
With him Vaska Shibanov, stirrup.
The prince was stout, the exhausted horse fell -
How to be foggy in the middle of the night?
But keeping Shibanov's slavish loyalty,
He gives his horse to the governor:
"Ride, prince, I'll become an enemy,
Perhaps I won’t leave on foot!”
And the prince jumped. Under the Lithuanian tent
The disgraced governor sits;
Lithuanians stand around in amazement,
Without hats they crowd at the entrance,
He pays honor to every Russian knight,
No wonder the Lithuanian people marvel,
And their heads go around:
“Prince Kurbsky has become our friend!”
But the prince is not pleased with the new honor,
He is filled with bile and malice;
Kurbsky is preparing to count the tsar
Souls of the offended sweetheart:
“What do I hide and wear in myself for a long time,
Then I will write everything to the king at length,
I'll tell you straight, without bending,
Thank you for all his kindness!"
And the boyar writes all night long,
The pen of his revenge breathes;
Read, smile, and read again,
And again without rest he writes,
And with evil words he stings the king,
And now, when the dawn broke,
Ripe to his delight
A message full of poison.
But who are the prince's daring words
Will you take John?
Who does not like a head on their shoulders,
Whose heart does not shrink in the chest?
Involuntarily, doubts were found on the prince ...
Suddenly Shibanov enters, covered in sweat and dust:
“Prince, is my service not needed?
Look, ours didn’t catch up with me!”
And in joy the prince sends a slave,
Hurrying him impatiently:
“You are healthy in body, and your soul is not weak,
And here are the rubles in the award!
Shibanov in response to the master: “Good!
You need your silver here
And I will pass on for the torment
Your letter is in the royal hands!
Copper ringing rushes, buzzes over Moscow;
The king in quiet clothes is ringing;
Does he call back the former peace
Or does conscience bury forever?
But often and measuredly he beats the bell,
And the people of Moscow listen to the ringing
And prays, full of fear,
So that the day passes without execution.
In response to the ruler, the towers are buzzing,
Calls with him and Vyazemsky fierce,
The pitch darkness calls the whole oprichnina,
And Vaska Dirty, and Malyuta,
And then, proud of their beauty,
With a girlish smile, with a snake soul,
The beloved is calling John,
Rejected by God Basmanov.
The king has finished; leaning on a rod, he goes,
And with him all the roundabout assembly.
Suddenly a messenger rides, pushes the people apart,
Above the cap holds a message.
And he hid from his horse hastily down,
On foot approaches Tsar John
And she says to him without turning pale:
"From Kurbsky, Prince Andrei!"
And the eyes of the king suddenly lit up:
"To me? From a villain dashing?
Read, clerks, read aloud to me
Message from word to word!
Give me a letter here, impudent messenger!
And in Shibanov's leg a sharp end
He sticks his rod,
Leaned on a crutch - and listens:
“To the king, glorified of old from all,
But I am drowning in abundant filth!
Respond, insane, what for the sake of sin
Did you beat the good and strong?
Answer, not by them, in the midst of a difficult war,
Without counting strongholds of enemies slain?
Are you not famous for their courage?
And who is equal to them by fidelity?
Insane! Or think more immortal than us,
Deceived into unbelievable heresy?
Take heed! The hour of retribution will come
Foretold to us by Scripture,
And az, like blood in incessant battles
For you, like water, leah and leah,
I will stand before the judge with you!”
So Kurbsky wrote to John.
Shibanov was silent. From a pierced leg
Scarlet blood flowed like a current,
And the king on the calm eye of the servant
He looked with a searching eye.
A row of guardsmen stood motionless;
The lord's mysterious look was gloomy,
As if filled with sadness
And everyone was silent in anticipation.
And the king said so: “Yes, your boyar is right,
And there is no more joyful life for me!
Correcting the blood of the good and strong with their feet,
I am a dog unworthy and stinking!
Messenger, you are not a slave, but a comrade and friend,
And there are many, to know, faithful servants of Kurbsky,
What gave you away for nothing!
Go with Malyuta to the dungeon!
The executioners torture and torment the messenger,
They replace each other.
“Comrades Kurbsky you catch,
Reveal their dog treason!”
And the king asks: “Well, what about the messenger?
Did he call the thief friends at last?
“King, his word is all one:
He praises his master!”
The day is fading, the night is coming,
The gates are hidden at the dungeon,
The masters enter again on the shoulder,
Work began again.
“Well, what, did the messenger name the villains?”
“King, the end is near for him,
But his word is all the same,
He praises his master:
"Oh prince, you who could betray me
For a sweet moment of reproach,
O prince, I pray that God forgive you
I will betray yours before the fatherland!
But in the heart of love and forgiveness -
Have mercy on my sins!
Hear me, O God, in my dying hour,
Forgive my master!
My tongue is numb, and my gaze is fading,
But my word is all the same:
For the formidable, God, king, I pray,
For our holy, great Russia -
And I firmly await the death I desire!”
Thus died Shibanov, the stirrup.
Year of creation:
1840s
Published in the publication:
A.K. Tolstoy. complete collection poems in 2 volumes.
Poet's Library. Big series.
Leningrad: Soviet Writer, 1984.
After fleeing to Lithuania in 1564, Prince Kurbsky sent his servant Vasily Shibanov with a letter to the Tsar. In this written message, known in history as "the first message from Prince Kurbsky to Ivan the Terrible," he accused the tsar of tyranny and unjustified cruelty towards his people and serving nobility.
Shibanov found Ivan the Terrible in Mozhaisk. Angered by the letter, Grozny ordered Shibanov to be tortured. It can be assumed that it was in Mozhaisk, in the royal palace, that Shibanov was martyred. Mozhaytsy know where this palace was located, therefore, passing by this place, let them remember with a kind word the courageous princely serf Shibanov.
After this execution, the tsar began to compose a response message to Kurbsky, in which he rather inconsistently, but with fanatical persistence, proved his exclusive right to life and death of his subjects. "He is free to execute them, he is free to eat and have mercy" - this is how the tsar understood his autocratic power, not accountable to either the court of the people or the court of time. He hypocritically argued that he would be responsible for the streams of blood that he shed in his state, not before people, but only before God.
Upon his return to Moscow, Ivan the Terrible in January 1565 established the oprichnina and unleashed even more bloody terror on the Russian people, which lasted almost twenty years. The tsar began the "bust of little people", or rather the total destruction of the Russian nobility, from the Mozhaisk district. Apparently, he was very angry with this city, in which for the first time he had to endure humiliation from his "slave", who dared to openly accuse him of cruelty towards his own people.
Unfortunately, no information has been preserved about Vasily Shibanov. Only Ivan the Terrible, in his response to Kurbsky, mentions him, setting Kurbsky as an example of the courage of his servant, who was not afraid of royal wrath and worthily accepted martyrdom.
Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy described Shibanov most vividly in the poem "Vasily Shibanov". Therefore, we place this talented work on our website, paying tribute to the selfless devotion and courage of a simple Russian person. It should be noted that Tolstoy, having brilliantly captured the spirit of that era and almost verbatim conveying the text of Kurbsky's message in verse, nevertheless made two inaccuracies:
at the time the tsar received a letter from Kurbsky, the oprichnina did not yet exist;
Shibanov's execution did not take place in Moscow, but in Mozhaisk.
Vasily Shibanov submitted a letter from his master Andrei Kurbsky to Tsar John IV. 1564. Engraving by B. Chorikov. 19th century
(rokbox title=|Shibanov| thumb=|images/4-1.jpg| size=|fullscreen|)images/4-1.jpg(/rokbox)
Ivan Vasilyevich the Terrible listens to Kurbsky's letter delivered by Vasily Shibanov. Engraving.
Alexey Tolstoy
VASILY SHIBANOV
Prince Kurbsky fled from the royal wrath,
With him Vaska Shibanov, stirrup.
Doroden was the prince, the exhausted horse fell -
How to be foggy in the middle of the night?
But keeping Shibanov's slavish loyalty,
He gives his horse to the governor:
"Ride, prince, I'll become an enemy,
Perhaps I won’t leave on foot!”
And the prince jumped.
Under the Lithuanian tent
The disgraced governor sits;
Lithuanians stand around in amazement,
Without hats they crowd at the entrance,
He pays honor to every Russian knight,
No wonder the Lithuanian people marvel,
And their heads go around:
“Prince Kurbsky has become our friend!”
But the prince is not pleased with the new honor,
He is filled with bile and malice;
Kurbsky is preparing to count the tsar
Souls of the offended sweetheart:
“What do I hide and wear in myself for a long time,
Then I will write everything to the king at length,
I'll tell you straight, without bending,
Thank you for all his kindness!"
And the boyar writes all night long,
The pen of his revenge breathes;
Read, smile, and read again,
And again without rest he writes,
And with evil words he stings the king,
And now, when the dawn broke,
Ripe to his delight
A message full of poison.
But who are the prince's daring words
Will you take John?
Who does not like a head on their shoulders,
Whose heart does not shrink in the chest?
Involuntarily, doubts were found on the prince ...
Suddenly Shibanov enters, covered in sweat and dust:
“Prince, is my service not needed?
Look, ours didn’t catch up with me!”
And in joy the prince sends a slave,
Hurrying him impatiently:
“You are healthy in body, and your soul is not weak,
And here are the rubles in the award!
Shibanov in response to Mr.
"Good! You need your silver here
And I will pass on for the torment
Your letter is in the royal hands!
Copper ringing rushes, buzzes over Moscow;
The king in quiet clothes is ringing;
Does he call back the former peace
Or does conscience bury forever?
But often and measuredly he beats the bell,
And the people of Moscow listen to the ringing
And prays, full of fear,
So that the day passes without execution.
In response to the ruler, the towers are buzzing,
Calls with him and Vyazemsky fierce,
The pitch darkness calls the whole oprichnina,
And Vaska Dirty, and Malyuta,
And then, proud of their beauty,
With a girlish smile, with a snake soul,
The beloved is calling John,
Rejected by God Basmanov.
The king has finished; leaning on a rod, he goes,
And with him all the roundabout assembly.
Suddenly a messenger rides, pushes the people apart,
Above the cap holds a message.
And he hid from his horse hastily down,
On foot approaches Tsar John
And she says to him without turning pale:
"From Kurbsky, Prince Andrei!"
And the eyes of the king suddenly lit up:
"To me? From a villain dashing?
Read, clerks, read aloud to me
Message from word to word!
Give me a letter here, impudent messenger!
And in Shibanov's leg a sharp end
He sticks his rod,
Leaned on a crutch - and listens:
“To the king, glorified of old from all,
But I am drowning in abundant filth!
Respond, insane, what for the sake of sin
Did you beat the good and strong?
Answer, not by them, in the midst of a difficult war,
Without counting strongholds of enemies slain?
Are you not famous for their courage?
And who is equal to them by fidelity?
Insane! Or think more immortal than us,
Deceived into unbelievable heresy?
Take heed! The hour of retribution will come
Foretold to us by Scripture,
And az, like blood in incessant battles
For you, like water, leah and leah,
I will stand before the judge with you!”
So Kurbsky wrote to John.
Shibanov was silent. From a pierced leg
Scarlet blood flowed like a current,
And the king on the calm eye of the servant
He looked with a searching eye.
A row of guardsmen stood motionless;
The lord's mysterious look was gloomy,
As if filled with sadness
And everyone was silent in anticipation.
And the king said so: “Yes, your boyar is right,
And there is no more joyful life for me!
Correcting the blood of the good and strong with their feet,
I am a dog unworthy and stinking!
Messenger, you are not a slave, but a comrade and friend,
And there are many, to know, faithful servants of Kurbsky,
What gave you away for nothing!
Go with Malyuta to the dungeon!
The executioners torture and torment the messenger,
They replace each other.
“Comrades Kurbsky you catch,
Reveal their dog treason!”
And the king asks: “Well, what about the messenger?
Did he call the thief friends at last?
“King, his word is all one:
He praises his master!”
The day is fading, the night is coming,
The gates are hidden at the dungeon,
The masters enter again on the shoulder,
Work began again.
“Well, what, did the messenger name the villains?”
“King, the end is near for him,
But his word is all the same,
He praises his master:
"Oh prince, you who could betray me
For a sweet moment of reproach,
O prince, I pray that God forgive you
I will betray yours before the fatherland!
But in the heart of love and forgiveness -
Have mercy on my sins!
Hear me, O God, in my dying hour,
Forgive my master!
My tongue is numb, and my gaze is fading,
But my word is all the same:
For the formidable, God, king, I pray,
For our holy, great Russia -
And I firmly await the death I desire!”
Thus died Shibanov, the stirrup.
1840s A.K. Tolstoy. Complete collection of poems in 2 volumes. Poet's Library. Big series. Leningrad: Soviet Writer, 1984.
Prince Kurbsky fled from the royal wrath,
With him Vaska Shibanov, stirrup.
Doroden was the prince, the exhausted horse fell -
How to be foggy in the middle of the night?
But keeping Shibanov's slavish loyalty,
He gives his horse to the governor:
"Ride, prince, I'll become an enemy,
Perhaps I won’t leave on foot!”
And the prince jumped. Under the Lithuanian tent
The disgraced governor sits;
Lithuanians stand around in amazement,
Without hats they crowd at the entrance,
He pays honor to every Russian knight,
No wonder the Lithuanian people marvel,
And their heads go around:
“Prince Kurbsky has become our friend!”
But the prince is not pleased with the new honor,
He is filled with bile and malice;
Kurbsky is preparing to count the tsar
Souls of the offended sweetheart:
“What do I hide and wear in myself for a long time,
Then I will write everything to the king at length,
I'll tell you straight, without bending,
Thank you for all his kindness!"
And the boyar writes all night long,
The pen of his revenge breathes;
Read, smile, and read again,
And again without rest he writes,
And with evil words he stings the king,
And now, when the dawn broke,
Ripe to his delight
A message full of poison.
But who are the prince's daring words
Will you take John?
Who does not like a head on their shoulders,
Whose heart does not shrink in the chest?
Involuntarily, doubts were found on the prince ...
Suddenly Shibanov enters, covered in sweat and dust:
“Prince, is my service not needed?
Look, ours didn’t catch up with me!”
And in joy the prince sends a slave,
Hurrying him impatiently:
“You are healthy in body, and your soul is not weak,
And here are the rubles in the award!
Shibanov in response to the master: “Good!
You need your silver here
And I will pass on for the torment
Your letter is in the royal hands!
Copper ringing rushes, buzzes over Moscow;
The king in quiet clothes is ringing;
Does he call back the former peace
Or does conscience bury forever?
But often and measuredly he beats the bell,
And the people of Moscow listen to the ringing
And prays, full of fear,
So that the day passes without execution.
In response to the ruler, the towers are buzzing,
Calls with him and Vyazemsky fierce,
The pitch darkness calls the whole oprichnina,
And Vaska Dirty, and Malyuta,
And then, proud of their beauty,
With a girlish smile, with a snake soul,
The beloved is calling John,
Rejected by God Basmanov.
The king has finished; leaning on a rod, he goes,
And with him all the roundabout assembly.
Suddenly a messenger rides, pushes the people apart,
Above the cap holds a message.
And he hid from his horse hastily down,
On foot approaches Tsar John
And she says to him without turning pale:
"From Kurbsky, Prince Andrei!"
And the eyes of the king suddenly lit up:
"To me? From a villain dashing?
Read, clerks, read aloud to me
Message from word to word!
Give me a letter here, impudent messenger!
And in Shibanov's leg a sharp end
He sticks his rod,
Leaned on a crutch - and listens:
“To the king, glorified of old from all,
But I am drowning in abundant filth!
Respond, insane, what for the sake of sin
Did you beat the good and strong?
Answer, not by them, in the midst of a difficult war,
Without counting strongholds of enemies slain?
Are you not famous for their courage?
And who is equal to them by fidelity?
Insane! Or think more immortal than us,
Deceived into unbelievable heresy?
Take heed! The hour of retribution will come
Foretold to us by Scripture,
And az, like blood in incessant battles
For you, like water, leah and leah,
I will stand before the judge with you!”
So Kurbsky wrote to John.
Shibanov was silent. From a pierced leg
Scarlet blood flowed like a current,
And the king on the calm eye of the servant
He looked with a searching eye.
A row of guardsmen stood motionless;
The lord's mysterious look was gloomy,
As if filled with sadness
And everyone was silent in anticipation.
And the king said so: “Yes, your boyar is right,
And there is no more joyful life for me!
Correcting the blood of the good and strong with their feet,
I am a dog unworthy and stinking!
Messenger, you are not a slave, but a comrade and friend,
And there are many, to know, faithful servants of Kurbsky,
What gave you away for nothing!
Go with Malyuta to the dungeon!
The executioners torture and torment the messenger,
They replace each other.
“Comrades Kurbsky you catch,
Reveal their dog treason!”
And the king asks: “Well, what about the messenger?
Did he call the thief friends at last?
- “King, his word is all one:
He praises his master!”
The day is fading, the night is coming,
The gates are hidden at the dungeon,
The masters enter again on the shoulder,
Work began again.
“Well, what, did the messenger name the villains?”
“King, the end is near for him,
But his word is all the same,
He praises his master:
"Oh prince, you who could betray me
For a sweet moment of reproach,
O prince, I pray that God forgive you
I will betray yours before the fatherland!
Hear me, O God, in my dying hour,
But in the heart of love and forgiveness -
Have mercy on my sins!
Hear me, O God, in my dying hour,
Forgive my master!
My tongue is numb, and my gaze is fading,
But my word is all the same:
For the formidable, God, king, I pray,
For our holy, great Russia -
And I firmly await the death I desire!”
Thus died Shibanov, the stirrup.
Prince Kurbsky fled from the tsar's wrath, Vaska Shibanov with him, strenuous. The prince was stout, the exhausted horse fell - How to be in the middle of a foggy night? But keeping Shibanov’s slavish loyalty, he gives his horse to the governor: “Ride, prince, I’ll become an enemy, Maybe I won’t leave on foot!” And the prince jumped. Under the Lithuanian tent Disgraced the voivode sits; The Lithuanians stand around in amazement, Crowding at the entrance without hats, Paying honor to every Russian knight, No wonder the Lithuanian people marvel, And their heads go around: “Prince Kurbsky has become our friend!” But the prince is not pleased with the new honor, He is filled with bile and malice; Kurbsky is preparing for the tsar to reread the Souls of the offended sweetheart: “What I hide and carry in myself for a long time, I will write everything to the tsar at length, I will tell it straight, without bending, Thank you for all his caresses!” And the boyar writes all night long, The pen breathes his vengeance; He reads, smiles, and reads again, And again he writes without rest, And with evil words he stings the king, And now, when the dawn was flooded, A message full of poison ripened to his delight. But who will take the bold words of the prince to take John? Who does not love a head on his shoulders, Whose heart does not shrink in his chest? Involuntarily, doubts were found on the prince ... Suddenly Shibanov enters, covered in sweat and dust: “Prince, is my service not needed? Look, ours didn’t catch up with me!” And in joy, the prince sends a slave, Hurries him impatiently: “You are healthy in body, and your soul is not weak, And here are the rubles as a reward!” Shibanov in response to the master: “Good! You need your silver here more, And I will hand over your letter to the royal hands for the torment! Copper ringing rushes, buzzes over Moscow; The king in quiet clothes is ringing; Does he call back the former peace Or does he bury his conscience forever? But often and measuredly he beats the bell, And the people of Moscow listen to the ringing And pray, full of fear, That the day may pass without execution. In response to the sovereign, the towers are buzzing, Vyazemsky the fierce calls with him, The pitch darkness calls the whole guard, And Vaska Dirty, and Malyuta, And right there, proud of his beauty, With a girlish smile, with a snake soul, The favorite calls Ioannov, Basmanov, rejected by God. The king has finished; Leaning on a rod, he goes, And with him all the roundabout assembly. Suddenly a messenger rides, moves the people apart, He holds a message over his hat. And he hurriedly hid from his horse, Walking up to Tsar John And saying to him, without turning pale: "From Kurbsky, Prince Andrei!" And the eyes of the king suddenly lit up: “To me? From a villain dashing? Read, clerks, read the Message aloud to me from word to word! Give me a letter here, impudent messenger! And in Shibanov's leg he thrusts the sharp end of his Rod, Leaned on a crutch - and heeds: “To the Tsar, glorified of old from all, But I am drowning in abundant filth! Answer, madman, for what sake of sin did you beat the good and strong? Answer, is it not them, in the midst of a difficult war, Without counting, the strongholds of enemies are defeated? Are you not famous for their courage? And who is equal to them by fidelity? Insane! Or do you imagine yourself more immortal than us, Deceived into unbelievable heresy? Take heed! The hour of retribution will come, foretold to us by Scripture, And I, like blood in incessant battles For you, like water, lees and lees, I will stand before the judge with you! So Kurbsky wrote to John. Shibanov was silent. From the pierced leg Blood flowed like a scarlet current, And the king gazed at the calm eye of the servant with a searching eye. A row of guardsmen stood motionless; The master's mysterious look was gloomy, As if filled with sadness, And everyone was silent in anticipation. And the tsar said thus: “Yes, your boyar is right, And there is no more joyful life for me! The blood of the good and strong mends with their feet, I am an unworthy and stinking dog! Messenger, you are not a slave, but a comrade and friend, And there are many, you know, faithful servants of Kurbsky, What gave you away for nothing! Go with Malyuta to the dungeon! The executioners torture and torment the messenger, They come to replace each other. "Comrades Kurbsky you catch, Open their dog treason!" And the king asks: “Well, what about the messenger? Did he call the thief friends at last? “King, his word is all one: He praises his master!” The day fades, the night time comes, The gates hide at the dungeon, The masters on the shoulder enter again, The work began again. “Well, what, did the messenger name the villains?” “King, the end is near for him, But his word is all one, He glorifies his master:“ O prince, you, who could betray me For a sweet moment of reproach, O prince, I pray that God forgive you Your betrayal before the fatherland ! Hear me, O God, in my dying hour, My tongue goes numb, and my eyes fade away, But in my heart there is love and forgiveness - Have mercy on my sins! Hear me, O God, in my dying hour, Forgive my master! My tongue goes numb, and my eyes fade away, But my word is all one: For the terrible, God, tsar, I pray, For our holy, great Russia - And I firmly await the death I desire! 1840s
A.K. Tolstoy. Complete collection of poems in 2 volumes.
Poet's Library. Big series.
Leningrad: Soviet Writer, 1984.