There is an aul near Kazan, named Kyrlay.
Even chickens in that Kyrlay know how to sing ... Wonderful land!

Even though I'm not from there, but I kept love for him,
He worked on the ground - sowing, stinging and harrowing.

Is he reputed to be a big aul? No, on the contrary, it is small,
And the river, the pride of the people, is just a small spring.

This side of the forest is forever alive in the memory.
Grass spreads like a velvety blanket.

There the people never knew either cold or heat:
In its turn the wind will blow, in its turn and the rain
will go.

From raspberries, strawberries, everything in the forest is motley-motley,
You pick up a single bucket full of berries in an instant.

Often I would lie on the grass and gaze at the heavens.
The endless forests seemed to me a formidable army.

Like warriors, there were pines, lindens and oaks,
Under the pine - sorrel and mint, under the birch - mushrooms.

How many blue, yellow, red flowers are there
intertwined
And from them a fragrance poured in the sweet air.

Moths flew, flew and landed,
As if the petals entered into an argument and reconciled with them.

Bird chirping, sonorous babble resounded in silence
And filled my soul with piercing joy.

Here is music, and dances, and singers, and circus performers,
There are boulevards, theaters, wrestlers, and violinists!

This fragrant forest is wider than the sea, higher than the clouds,
Like the army of Genghis Khan, noisy and powerful.

And the glory of my grandfather's names rose before me,
And cruelty, and violence, and tribal strife.

2
I have depicted the summer forest, - I have not sung my verse yet
Our autumn, our winter and young beauties,

And the fun of our festivities, and the spring sabantuy ...
Oh my verse, remembering you don’t worry my soul!

But wait, I was daydreaming ... Here is the paper on the table ...
After all, I was going to tell you about the tricks of the shurale.

I’ll begin now, reader, don’t blame me:
I lose all reason, only I remember Kyrlay.

Of course, in this amazing forest
You will meet a wolf and a bear and an insidious fox.

Here hunters often happened to see squirrels,
Either a gray hare will rush, or a horned elk will flicker.
There are many secret paths and treasures, they say.
There are many terrible beasts and monsters here, they say.

Many fairy tales and beliefs walk in their native land
And about genies, and about peri, and about terrible shurales.

Is it true? Endless like the sky, the ancient forest,
And no less than in heaven, there may be miracles in the forest.

I will begin my short story about one of them,
And - this is my custom - I will sing in verses.

Somehow on a night when, shining, the moon glides in the clouds,
From the aul, a horseman went to the forest to get firewood.

I rode the cart quickly, immediately grabbed the ax,
Fat and fat, chopping trees, and around - a dense forest.
As is often the case in summer, the night was fresh and damp.
The silence grew as the birds slept.
The lumberjack is busy with work, know he knocks, knocks,
For a moment, the enchanted horseman was forgotten.
Chu! A terrible cry is heard in the distance.
And the ax stopped in the swinging hand.

And our agile woodcutter froze with amazement.
He looks - and does not believe his eyes. Who is this? Human?
Genie, outlaw or ghost, this gnarled freak?
How ugly he is, inevitably fear takes.
The nose is curved like a fish hook
Hands, legs - like boughs, will frighten the daredevil too.
Eyes flare viciously, burn in black hollows.
Even during the day, not that at night, this look will frighten.

He looks like a man, very thin and naked,
The narrow forehead is decorated with a horn the size of our finger.
He has half an arshin fingers on his hands crooked, -
Ten fingers ugly, sharp, long
and direct.

And looking into the ugly eyes that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked boldly: "What do you want from me?"

"Young horseman, do not be afraid, robbery does not attract me,
But although I am not a robber, I am not a righteous saint.

Why, when I saw you, I let out a cheerful cry?
Because I'm used to tickling people.

Every finger is designed to tickle more viciously
I kill a person, making them laugh.

Well, move your fingers, my brother,
Play tickle with me and cheer me up! "

“Okay, I'll play,” the woodcutter answered him.
Only on one condition ... Do you agree or not? "

“Speak, little man, please be brave,
I will accept all the conditions, but let's play quickly! "

“If so - listen to me, how you decide -
I do not care.
Do you see a thick, large and heavy log?
Spirit of the forest! Let's work together first
Together we will transfer the log to the cart with you.
Did you notice a big gap on the other end of the log?
Hold the log there stronger, all your strength is needed! .. "

The shurale looked askance at the indicated place.
And, the dzhigita did not cross, the shurale agreed.

Long, straight fingers he put in the mouth of the log ...
Sages! Can you see the simple trick of the woodcutter?

The wedge, pre-plugged, knocks out with an ax,
Knocking out, performs a clever plan in secret.

Shurale does not move, does not move his hand,
He stands, not understanding the clever human invention.

So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle, disappeared into the darkness ...
Shurale's fingers pinched and remained in the gap.

Shurale saw deception, shurale yells, yells.
He calls his brothers for help, he calls the forest people.

With a repentant prayer, he says to the dzhigit:
“Have pity, have pity on me! Let me go, horseman!

Neither you, dzhigit, nor my son will I offend forever.
I will never touch your whole family, oh man!

I will not give offense to anyone! Do you want me to take an oath?
I will tell everyone: “I am a friend of the horseman. Let him walk
in the forest!"

My fingers hurt! Give me freedom! Let me live
on the ground!
What do you, horseman, for the profit from the torments of the shurale? "

The poor man cries, rushes about, whines, howls, not himself.
The woodcutter does not hear him, he is going home.

“Will the cry of a sufferer not soften this soul?
Who are you, who are you, heartless? What is your name, dzhigit?

Tomorrow, if I live to see our brothers,
To the question: "Who is your offender?" - whose name will I name? "

“So be it, I say, brother. Don't forget this name:
I was nicknamed "Vgoduminuvshim" ... And now -
it's time for me to go. "

Shurale screams and howls, wants to show strength,
He wants to escape from captivity, punish the woodcutter.

"I will die. Forest spirits, help me soon!
Has pinched Vgoduminuvom, the villain has ruined me! "

And in the morning shurales came running from all sides.
“What's the matter with you? Are you crazy? What are you, you fool, upset?

Take it easy! Shut up! We can't stand screaming.
Pinched in the past year, what are you in this
are you crying? "

- THE END -

Tatar folk tale with pictures. Illustrations: K. Kamaletdinov

→ Tatar fairy tale "Shurale"

There was a brave woodcutter in one aul.
One winter he went to the forest and began to chop wood. Suddenly appeared in front of him.
- What is your name, little man? - asks Shurale *.
- My name is Byltyr **, - the woodcutter answers.
- Come on, Bytyr, let's play, - says Shurale.
“I’m not up to the game now,” the woodcutter replies. - I won't play with you!
Shurale got angry and shouted:
- Ah well! Well, then I will not let you out of the forest alive!
The woodcutter sees - it's a bad thing.
“Okay,” he says. - I'll play with you, just first help me split the deck.
He hit the lumberjack with an ax on the deck once, struck twice and says:
“Stick your fingers in the slit so it won't pinch until I hit it a third time.
He thrust his fingers into the crack for Shurale, and the woodcutter pulled out an ax. Then the deck closed tightly and pinched Shurale's fingers. That was all the woodcutter needed. He collected his firewood and left as soon as possible for the aul. And let Shurale shout to the whole forest:
- Byltyr pinched my fingers! .. Byltyr pinched my fingers! ..
Other shurales came running to shout, asking:
- What's happened? Who pinched it?
- I pinched Byltyr! - answers Shurale.
“If so, we can’t help you with anything,” say the other shurales. - If it happened today, we would help you. Since that was last year, where can you find him now? You stupid! You should have shouted not now, but last year!
And the stupid Shurale could not really explain anything to them.
They say that Shurale put the deck on his back and still carries it on himself, while he shouts loudly:
- Byltyr pinched my fingers! .. 1. Gabdulla Tukai - Gabdulla Mukhamedgarifovich Tukai (April 14, 1886, the village of Kushlavich, Kazan district, Kazan province - April 2, 1913, Kazan). Tatar folk poet, literary critic, publicist, public figure and translator.
On April 20, 1912, Tukai arrived in St. Petersburg (stayed 13 days) to meet with Mullanur Vakhitov, later a prominent revolutionary. (see more about the trip to St. Petersburg: Chapter 5 from the book of IZ Nurullin's book "Tukai")
In life and work, Tukai acted as an exponent of the interests and aspirations of the masses, a herald of the friendship of peoples and a singer of freedom. Tukai was the initiator of a new realistic Tatar literature and literary criticism. The first poems of Tukay appeared in the 1904 handwritten journal Al-Ghasr al-Jadid (New Age). At the same time, he translates Krylov's fables into the Tatar language and offers them for publication. ()

2. The poem "Shurale" - a poem by the Tatar poet Gabdulla Tukay. Written in 1907 based on Tatar folklore. The ballet "Shurale" was created based on the plot of the poem. In 1987, Soyuzmultfilm filmed the animated film Shurale.
The prototype of Shurale existed not only in Tatar mythology. Various peoples of Siberia and Eastern Europe (as well as the Chinese, Koreans, Persians, Arabs and others) had a belief in the so-called "halves". They were called differently, but their essence remained almost the same.
They are one-eyed, one-armed creatures that have been attributed to various supernatural properties. According to Yakut and Chuvash beliefs, halves can change the size of their bodies. Almost all peoples believe that they are terribly funny - they laugh until their last breath, and they also like to make others laugh, they often tickle cattle and people to death. The "laughing" voices of some birds (of the order of owls) were attributed to the halves. The Udmurts call the eagle owl by the word "shurali" or "urali". And the Mari call the hooting nocturnal bird "shur-locho", which means "half-dwarf". An evil forest spirit, having only half a soul, could infiltrate people. In the Old Chuvash language, the word "surale" was formed - a person who was possessed by "sura" (devil-half). In the northern dialects of the Chuvash language and in the Mari, the sound "s" sometimes turns into "sh" - this explains the appearance of "shurele".
The image of Shurale was very widespread in Tatar and Bashkir mythology. The stories about Shural had many variations. At the end of the 19th century, they were recorded by researchers. The book of the Hungarian scientist Gabor Balint "Study of the language of the Kazan Tatars" published in 1875 in Budapest, the work of the famous Tatar educator Kayum Nasyri "Beliefs and rituals of the Kazan Tatars" published in 1880, as well as the collection of Taip Yakhin's fairy tales "Defgylkesel min essabi should be mentioned. ve sabiyat "1900 edition. One of these options (where the resourcefulness and courage of the Tatar people are most clearly shown) formed the basis of the famous work of Gabdulla Tukay. With the light hand of the poet, Shurale stepped out of the realm of superstition into the world of Tatar literature and art. In a note to the poem G. Tukai wrote: "I wrote this fairy tale" Shurale "using the example of the poets A. Pushkin and M. Lermontov, who processed the plots of folk tales told by folk storytellers in the villages."
The fairy tale poem by Gabdulla Tukay was a huge success. It was consonant with its time and reflected educational trends in literature: it glorified the victory of the human mind, knowledge, skill over the mysterious and blind forces of nature. It also reflected the growth of national self-awareness: for the first time in the center of a literary poetic work was not a common Turkic or Islamic plot, but a Tatar fairy tale that existed among the common people. The language of the poem was notable for its richness, expressiveness and accessibility. But this is not the only secret of her popularity.
The poet put his personal feelings, memories, experiences into the story, making it surprisingly lyrical. It is no coincidence that the action develops in Kyrlay - the village in which Tukai spent his happiest childhood years and, by his own admission, "began to remember himself." A huge, wonderful world full of secrets and mysteries appears before the reader in a pure and direct perception of a little boy. The poet, with great tenderness and love, glorified the beauty of his native nature, and folk customs, and the agility, strength, and cheerfulness of the villagers. These feelings were shared by his readers, who perceived the tale "Shurale" as a deeply national work, truly vividly and fully expressing the very soul of the Tatar people. It was in this poem that the evil spirits from the dense forest for the first time received not only a negative, but also a positive assessment: Shurale became, as it were, an integral part of his native land, its virgin flowering nature, inexhaustible folk fantasy. It is not surprising that this vivid, memorable image then inspired writers, artists, composers to create significant and original works of art for many years.

But wait, I was daydreaming ... Here is the paper on the table ...

After all, I was going to tell you about the tricks of the shurale.
G. Tukay "Shurale"

In Kazan, near the theater. Kamala cultural composition "Riddles of Shurale".
Shurale is a well-known character in Tatar and Bashkir fairy tales. Something like a goblin who tickles his long fingers to death lonely travelers in the forest.

How would it be now you said "cults th " Tatar poet Gabdulla Tukay wrote the poem "Shurale" based on the folks fairy tales. I remember her very well from childhood.

The young woodcutter met a cunning shurale in the forest.
He looks - and does not believe his eyes. Who is this? Human?
Genie, outlaw or ghost, this gnarled freak?

Shurale - classic "trickster" - a deity, a demon, a man or an anthropomorphic animal committing "hooliganism" or, in any case, not obeying the general rules of behavior. As a rule, it is the antipode of the hero, the antihero.

He looks like a man, very thin and naked,

The narrow forehead is decorated with a horn the size of our finger.

He has half an arshin fingers on his hands crooked, -

Ten fingers ugly, sharp, long

and direct.

The young man is not afraid, but he also does not climb on the rampage.

And looking into the ugly eyes that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked boldly, "What do you want from me?"

I want to play a game with you (c)

Every finger is designed to tickle more viciously
I kill a person, making them laugh.
Well, move your fingers, my brother,
Play tickle with me and cheer me up!

The key point for understanding the Tatar mentality.

Dzhigit does not enter into an open struggle with an opponent superior to him.
What might have been done by a hero from Russian fairy tales. He takes savvy.

"Okay, I'll play," the woodcutter answered him, Only under one condition ...

Spirit of the forest! Let's work together first

Together we will transfer the log to the cart with you.

Did you notice a big gap on the other end of the log?

Hold the log there stronger, all your strength is needed! ..

Fight fire with fire.

The shurale looked askance at the indicated place.

And, the dzhigita did not cross, the shurale agreed.

Long, straight fingers put them in the jaws of the logs ...

Sages! Can you see the simple trick of the woodcutter?

The wedge, pre-plugged, knocks out with an ax,

Knocking out, performs a clever plan in secret. -

Shurale does not move, does not move his hand,

He stands, not understanding the clever human invention.

Checkmate, shurale!

So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle, disappeared into the darkness ...
Shurale's fingers pinched and remained in the gap.
Shurale saw deception, shurale yells, yells.
He calls his brothers for help, he calls the forest people.
With a repentant prayer, he says to the dzhigit:,
"Have pity, have pity on me! Let me go, horseman!

Ivan the Terrible, in the 16th century defeated the Kazan Khanate, which became part of Russia.
Since then, the Tatars have not undertaken active uprisings. However, they realized that their goals and well-being can be achieved in other, less radical, but more effective ways.
Tatarstan President Mintemir Shaimiev, like the leaders of many regions, once managed to take as much suverinet as he could. However, Tatarstan, unlike other regions, then did not lose the republican property, but increased it.
All major assets - oil, petrochemistry, energy, belong to their owners within the republic, and not to "Muscovites"
In addition, they learned how to work with large federal projects, which are the locomotives of the economy. Having worked out the technology for the reconstruction of dilapidated housing, the Millennium of Kazan, then the Universiade, then they can no longer stop and make Innopolis.This is one of the regions where e-government really works.

Why beg the federals for money, if you can think of a way that Moscow itself will ask you to take it, and even put it as an example for others? :)

The Tatar horseman, pretending to be a simpleton, did not argue and fight, but pinched Shurale's fingers.

The sculptural composition "Riddles of Shurale" was donated by MegaFon to the city of Kazan in August 2011

There is an aul near Kazan, named Kyrlay.
Even chickens in that Kyrlay know how to sing ... Wonderful land!
Even though I'm not from there, but I kept love for him,
He worked on the ground - sowing, stinging and harrowing.
Is he reputed to be a big aul? No, on the contrary, it is small,
And the river, the pride of the people, is just a small spring.
This side of the forest is forever alive in the memory.
Grass spreads like a velvety blanket.
There the people never knew either cold or heat:
In its turn the wind will blow, in its turn it will rain.
From raspberries, strawberries, everything in the forest is motley-motley,
You pick up a single bucket full of berries in an instant,
Often I would lie on the grass and gaze at the heavens.
The endless forests seemed to me a formidable army,
Like warriors, there were pines, lindens and oaks,
Under the pine - sorrel and mint, under the birch - mushrooms.
How many blue, yellow, red flowers are intertwined there,
And from them a fragrance poured in the sweet air,
Moths flew, flew and landed,
As if the petals entered into an argument and reconciled with them.
Bird chirping, sonorous babble resounded in silence
And filled my soul with piercing joy.
Here is music, and dances, and singers, and circus performers,
There are boulevards, theaters, wrestlers, and violinists!
This fragrant forest is wider than the sea, higher than the clouds,
Like the army of Genghis Khan, noisy and powerful.
And the glory of my grandfather's names rose before me,
And cruelty, and violence, and tribal strife.
I have depicted the summer forest, - I have not sung my verse yet
Our autumn, our winter and young beauties,
And the fun of our festivities, and the spring sabantuy ...
Oh my verse, remembering you don’t worry my soul!
But wait, I was daydreaming ... Here is the paper on the table ...
After all, I was going to tell you about the tricks of the shurale.
I’ll begin now, reader, don’t blame me:
I lose all reason, only I remember Kyrlay.
Of course, in this amazing forest
You will meet a wolf and a bear and an insidious fox.
Here hunters often happened to see squirrels,
Either a gray hare will rush, or a horned elk will flicker.
There are many secret paths and treasures, they say.
There are many terrible beasts and monsters here, they say.
Many fairy tales and beliefs walk in their native land
And about genies, and about peri, and about terrible shurales.
Is it true? Endless like the sky, the ancient forest,
And no less than in heaven, there may be miracles in the forest.
I will begin my short story about one of them,
And - this is my custom - I will sing in verses.
Somehow on a night when, shining, the moon glides in the clouds,
From the aul, a horseman went to the forest to get firewood.
I rode the cart quickly, immediately grabbed the ax,
Fat and fat, chopping trees, and around - a dense forest.
As is often the case in summer, the night was fresh, wet,
The silence grew as the birds slept.
The lumberjack is busy with work, know he knocks, knocks,
For a moment, the enchanted horseman was forgotten.
Chu! A terrible cry is heard in the distance.
And the ax stopped in the swinging hand.
And our agile woodcutter froze with amazement.
He looks - and does not believe his eyes. Who is this? Human?
Genie, outlaw or ghost, this gnarled freak?
How ugly he is, inevitably fear takes.
Ios is curved like a fish hook
Hands, legs - like boughs, will frighten the daredevil too.
Eyes flare viciously, burn in black hollows.
Even during the day, not that at night, this look will frighten.
He looks like a man, very thin and naked,
The narrow forehead is decorated with a horn the size of our finger.
He has half an arshin fingers on his hands crooked, -
Ten fingers ugly, sharp, long and straight.
And looking into the ugly eyes that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked boldly, "What do you want from me?"
"Young horseman, do not be afraid, robbery does not attract me,
But although I am not a robber, I am not a righteous saint.
Why, when I saw you, I let out a cheerful cry?
Because I'm used to tickling people.
Every finger is designed to tickle more viciously
I kill a person, making them laugh.
Well, move your fingers, my brother,
Play tickle with me and cheer me up! "
"Okay, I'll play, - the woodcutter answered him -
Only on one condition ... Do you agree or not? "
"Speak, little man, please be brave,
I will accept all the conditions, but let's play quickly! "
"If so - listen to me, how to solve -
I do not care. Do you see a thick, large and heavy log?
Spirit of the forest! Let's work together first
Together we will transfer the log to the cart with you.
Did you notice a big gap on the other end of the log?
Hold the log there stronger, all your strength is needed! .. "
The shurale looked askance at the indicated place.
And, the dzhigita did not cross, the shurale agreed.
Long, straight fingers put them in the jaws of the logs ...
Sages! Can you see the simple trick of the woodcutter?
The wedge, pre-plugged, knocks out with an ax,
Knocking out, performs a clever plan in secret. -
Shurale does not move, does not move his hand,
He stands, not understanding the clever human invention.
So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle, disappeared into the darkness ...
Shurale's fingers pinched and remained in the gap.
Shurale saw deception, shurale yells, yells.
He calls his brothers for help, he calls the forest people.
With a repentant prayer, he says to the dzhigit:
"Have pity, have pity on me! Let me go, horseman!
Neither you, dzhigit, nor my son will I offend forever.
I will never touch your whole family, oh man!
I will not give offense to anyone! Do you want me to take an oath?
I will say to everyone: "I am a friend of the horseman. Let him walk in the forest!"
My fingers hurt! Give me freedom! Let me live
on the ground! What do you, horseman, for the profit from the torments of the shurale? "
The poor man cries, rushes about, whines, howls, not himself.
The woodcutter does not hear him, he is going home.
"Will not the cry of the sufferer soften this soul?
Who are you, who are you, heartless? What is your name, dzhigit?
Tomorrow, if I live to see our brothers,
To the question: "Who is your offender?" - whose name will I name? "
"So be it, I say, brother. Do not forget this name:
I was nicknamed "Vgoduminuvshim" ... and now - it's time for me to go. "
Shurale screams and howls, wants to show strength,
He wants to escape from captivity, punish the woodcutter.
"I will die. Forest spirits, help me quickly!
Has pinched me in the past year, the villain has ruined me! "
And in the morning shurales came running from all sides.
"What's the matter with you? Are you crazy? What are you, you fool, upset?"
Take it easy! Shut up! We can't stand screaming.
Pinched in the past year, why are you roaring this year? "