Fairy Tale On The Fisherman And Small Fish A.S.Pushkin Poem by Yuri Starostin

A.S.Pushkin
Fairy tale on the fisherman and small fish
The old man was lives with own old woman
At the most dark blue sea;
They was lived in a shabby dugout
Exactly thirty years and three years.
The old man fished a seine,
The old woman spun the yarn.
Once he has thrown a seine in the sea-
the seine came with oned ooze
Another time he has thrown a seine -
the seine with a sea grass has come.
In the third time he has thrown a seine -
The seine with a oned small fish has come,
With not a simple small fish - but a golden.
As the goldfish will beg!
Says by the human voice:
'You release, older, me in the sea!
I will give a dear payoff for myself:
I will payoff than you will wish only '.

The old man was surprised, was frightened:
He do fished a thirty and three years
And did not hear, that a fish spoke.
He has released a small gold fish
And has told to it a tender word:
'God with you, a goldfish!
Yours payoff is not necessary to me;
Go itself in the dark blue sea,
Walk itself there on an open space'.
The old man to the old woman was turned back, Has told to her a great miracle:
' I have caught today a small fish,
The Goldfish, not simple;
The small fish spoke in our,
Asked at an home for the blue sea,
Paid off by the dear coast:
Paid off than I will wish only
I have not dared to take from it the repayment; So has released up it in the blue sea '.
The old woman scolds the old man:
' Durachina you, the ninny!
You could not to take the repayment from a small fish!
Though you would take from it a trough,
Ours it has absolutely broken up '.
So he has gone to the dark blue sea;
Sees - the sea was slightly played.
He began to click a goldfish.
The small fish has come to him and has asked;
' What it is necessary for you, olddy? '
With bow the old man answers its:
'Excuse, the sovereign small fish,
Does scoulds me my old woman,
Does not give to me to the old man to rest:
The new trough is necessary for her;
Ours it has absolutely broken up '.
The goldfish answers:
'Do not mourn, go to go with the god.
There will be to you a new trough '.
The old man to the old woman was turned back,
At the old woman a new trough
Still more the old woman quarrels:
' Durachina you, the ninny!
Has elicited, durachina, a trough!
In a trough it is a lot of interest?
Be turned back, durachina, you to a small fish; Bow to it, elicit a log hut '.
So he has gone to the blue sea
(the dark blue sea has grown dull) .
He began to click a goldfish.
The small fish has come to him, has asked: ' What it is necessary for you, olddy?
'The old man with bow answers It:
'Excuse, a sovereign small fish!
Still more the old woman quarrels,
Does not give to the old man to me to rest:
The log hut is asked by the quarrel woman '. The goldfish answers:
' Do not mourn, go to go with the god,
So and to be: the log hut to you will be '.
It has gone to the dugout,
And the dugout is not present and a trace; Before him a log hut with swetelka,
With the bleached brick pipe,
With the oak board collars.
The old woman sits under a window,
On what light costs, abuses the husband: ' Durachina you, the direct ninny!
Has elicited, the ninny, a log hut!
Be turned back, bow to a small fish:
I do not want to be the black peasant,
I want to be the column noblewoman '.
The old man to the blue sea has gone
(restlessly dark blue sea) .
He began to click a goldfish.
The small fish has come to him, has asked:
' That it is necessary for you, olddy? '
With bow the old man answers It:
'Excuse, a sovereign small fish!
More the old woman goes folly,
Does not give to the old man to me to rest:
She does not want to be the peasant
Wants to be the column noblewoman '.
The goldfish answers:
'Do not mourn, go to go with the god '.
The old man to the old woman was turned back, What he sees? A high tower.
Him old woman is on a porch
In dear sable soul-warmer,
On a poppy-head the brocade kichka is,
the pearles goes cargo a neck,
On the hands the gold rings are,
On the foots the red boots are.
Before her assiduous servants goes;
She beats them, for the chuprun drags.
The old man speaks to the old woman:
' Hi, the mistress-madam noblewoman!
Chay, now your dear is happy '.
The old woman has shouted at him,
On a stable to serve she has sent him.
So a week, another passes,
Still more the old woman goes folly;
Again to a small fish of the old man sends:
' Be turned back, bow to a small fish:
I do not want to be the column noblewoman. And I want to be the free tsaritsa '.
The old man was frightened, has begged:
' That you, the woman, have eaten a henbane too much?
Neither to step, nor to say you are not able.
You will make laugh the whole kingdom '.
The old woman has annoy more,
On a cheek she has struck the husband.
' As you dare, the muzhik to argue with me, With me, the column noblewoman?
Go to the sea, speak to you by the honour;
You will not go, will move necessarily '.
The old man has gone to the sea
(the blue sea has turned black) .
He began to click a goldfish.
The small fish has come to him, has asked:
'What it is necessary for you, the olddy? '
With bow the old man answers It:
'Excuse, a sovereign small fish!
Again my old woman revolts:
She does not want to be the noblewoman,
Wants to be the free tsaritsa '.
The goldfish answers:
'Do not mourn, go to go with the god!
Kind! There will be an old woman the tsaritsa! 'The old man to the old woman was turned back,
What? Before it imperial chambers,
In chambers sees the old woman,
She sits at a table the tsaritsa,
The boyars and noblemen serve her,
Pour to her the overseas wines;
She eat by the spice-cake printing;
Round her the terrible guards are,
Hold the hatchets on shoulders.
Soon has seen, old man was frightened!
In the feet he has bowed to the old woman,
Said: ' Hi, the terrible tsaritsa!
Well now your dear is happy? '
The old woman has not looked at him,
Only from the eyes to banish him she does ordered. The boyars and noblemen have run up,
The old man have jostled by the neck.
And in the doors the guard has run up,
Nearly has not chopped up by the axes,
And the people have laughed at it:
' Rightly to you, the old boor!
Henceforth to you, the boor, a science:
Do not sit down in the other sledge! '
So a week, another passes,
Still more the old woman does folly:
The courtiers for the husband sends.
Have found the old man, have led to her.
The old woman speaks to the old man:
'Be turned back, bow to a small fish.
I do not want to be the free tsaritsa,
I want to be the sea empress
To live me in the ocean-sea
To the gold small fish do served me
And would run errands for me'.
The old man has not dared to contradict,
Has not dared to say across a word.
So he go to the dark blue sea,
Sees, on the sea a black storm:
And angry waves were blew up,
And go, so we howl and howl.
He began to click a goldfish.
The small fish has come to it, has asked:
'What it is necessary for you, olddy? '
The old man with the bow answers its:
'Excuse, a sovereign small fish!
What to me to do with the damn woman?
She does not want to be the tsaritsa,
Wants to be the sea empress:
to live to her in the ocean-sea
That you just served her
And would run errands at her '.
Nothing the small fish has told,
Only a tail on water has splashed
And has left in the deep sea.
Long at the sea he waited for the answer,
Has not waited, to the old woman was turned back Look: again before him a dugout;
On a threshold him old woman sits,
And before her the broken trough is.