about how and why to watch soviet cinema now, famous, beloved, half-forgotten, perhaps completely unknown, how to discover new meanings in it and get even more pleasure. all episodes of the lenshtein's witness podcast can be found on the channel one website. hello, i'm still dmitry bak, i still host a literary podcast with a very catchy name, let them not talk, let them read. today's issue is very special, because this year we are celebrating the anniversary of the wonderful poet rasul gamzatov. it’s hard to say, he’s a russian, avar, dagestan, soviet poet, he’s a poet of the planet, i’m into it. i am convinced that this is why we

decided to talk about rasul gamzatov in the anniversary year, that is why among our guests there are wonderful, important people, first of all, of course, this is the daughter of rasul gamzatov, salekhat rasulovna gamzatova, director of the dagestan museum of fine arts named after patimat saidovna gamzatova, hello , salikha trasulovna, good afternoon, we also have an actor visiting us today.

so he saw, he somehow passed, and he didn’t care i really liked it, and then schoolchildren came and read his poems, and i saw that he was very touched, and i was somehow surprised and asked him, dad, why did you not particularly like it when the films were shown? , when they read, you were so touched, he said, why show me, let them read, so this is almost, almost a quote, we will consider it our podcast. wonderful artists, creators, experience, because you grew up in a family and i would like to first hear your story about your grandfather, about hamzade tsadas. hamza tsadasa, absolutely legendary dagestan.

yes, little dad always went to meet him, and one winter, somehow, grandpa was late and dad was sitting waiting for him and he was even frozen, and so to speak, my future other grandfather, my mother’s father, he went and saw this frozen child, took him and brought him home, maybe maybe this is where it all started, probably some kind of connection, he’s very good to himself.

as if seeing life not from the inside out, this is how it can be, that’s why he followed this highlander’s code so very much, it’s very this is also an important story, now it’s the turn to talk about the museum that you head, this is the dagestan museum of fine

arts named after patimat saidovna gamzatova, well, here we see rasul gamzatovich, and we also have a photo of your gamzatov spouses. moms and dads, this is a wonderful photo, these are funny, i even remember how it was taken at our house, well, our very famous photographer, kamil chutuev, came, and he took some photographs, then he asked my dad to burka, then he said, i don't i remember even this kamil chutuev or dad said, let’s get out of here, she was in the kitchen, let’s go and take off the burlap, she also laughed like that.

you don’t even immediately notice, but it’s very harmonious, but most importantly, it’s clear that these people are happy, because patimat saidovna, of course, is the muse of rasul gamzatovich, not only the wife, but also the muse, the inspiration of his poems, and the museum was created by her, yes, this is her brainchild, this is an interesting story, it means that we had a local history museum, in the fifty-eighth year they adopted a resolution to create an art museum, because by then.

prosalova, this hour has come, and today we are listening to poems performed by anatoly wonderfully, we mentioned that we will listen to a poem that is dedicated to the mother, it is called mother, because mother for rasul gamzatov and in general for people from the caucasus is something absolutely sacred. so, anatoly prosalov reads his mother’s poem. “mountain boy, i had a reputation for being unbearable , unhearing among my family, and with

stubbornness to adults i rejected all your instructions, but as the years went by, i, who was involved in them, did not obey fate, but now i often slave like a little one in front of you, here we are alone in the house today, i don’t hide the pain in my heart, i lay my hands on yours. my gray head, i’m sad, mom, sad, mom, i’m a prisoner of stupid vanity, and you felt so little attention from me in life, i’m spinning on a noisy carousel, rushing somewhere, but suddenly my heart shrinks again, have i really begun to forget my mom? , and you, with love, not with reproach, sparkling in the sky

, flies on its final flight, your boy is in the palm of your hand, laying his gray head, it would probably be appropriate to ask you, well, how did it happen that you began to professionally read the poems of rasul gamzatov, what happened to you, how... domestic, it is very close to our family, so the song of the cranes,

it has been heard since childhood, and always when you hear it , tears well up, well, you know the song, but even as a child you don’t understand who the author is, you don’t show interest in it, and already interest in rasul gamzatov and the realization that the song was written based on the poems of rasul gamzatov, i learned this in high school, how. ..

he boasted and said that rasul gamzatov, our famous poet, avarsky, and lenin avenue were renamed in his honor, which is absolutely fair, and wow, how interesting, at the end of the guest performance, the administration of makhachkala presented us, all the participants, the theater actors with a gift, it was a collection of poems.

i remind you that i am dmitry bak, and here now is a literary podcast, let them not talk, let them read. please tell me, what about your dad’s travels around dagestan, around the country, around the soviet union, then around the world? were called in the family, he brought gifts, told something, where he had been, with whom loved to meet because he grew famous, he didn’t tell the children like that, well, my mother didn’t tell me either when they met with adults, but i remember that almost all of my childhood we waited like this that my parents

went somewhere, came, came back and were bored, and i remember. even this story, my sister told me that she has a classmate, one of them was so sad, she said something, my mother left for 3 days, so i’m crying, and i’m thinking to my dad, why is she crying, what’s going on? she, and with you you are often an ass and nothing is fine, yes, i even remember once my mother came back and said, so i’m telling you, they scolded me at school that you are mine, my diary is not signed, she signed it for me 2 months in advance, another month...

let's now, according to tradition, move on to the author's section, in this section we either read something from the classics of the 19th century, or comment on some classic poems, or show books, this section is called an old book, well, about gamzatov as - it’s not very correct to talk about old books, these are living books that with us, but still they were published a long time ago, so i have three collections in my hands: rasul gamzatova, just from my bookshelf, as always happens, not from the museum, museum items are in storage, and these are just my own books, literally a few words about them, here is one of them - this is a book that was published by the soviet russia publishing house, and a star speaks like a star, and for anyone who knows

poetry, it is clear that 64 is the year of the sixties, this is the year of popularity.

gamzatov has his own view, his own attitude, this is still a flight into space, the name, then very fashionable, this is a space theme, and it has high stars, but these are people, people, high stars, i wish i could only fly to you, it’s great that you mentioned this, i was born in the sixty-first year, so in in my generation, everyone was yuri, that is, there were a lot of yuri, because gagarin is an absolutely cult figure, and of course this headline.

it was translated by marina anatolyevna akhmedova, also a very good poet, she worked for many years in the writers' union, now heads our dagestan writers' union, now avrutin recently translated my father’s poem, that is, it continues, that is, it’s not just that they translated, we are talking about the translation that continues.

towards the red sunrise, the red sunset following, in the edge of steep and proud peaks, where hearts have a special fervor, i drank the stars from mountain rivers, from the springs of icy saws, from the blue heavenly bowl, in green thickets and meadows, i greedily drank the sweetest air , infused with clouds, i drank snowflakes, where the paths intertwined over the steepness, i remember thai... snowflakes sipped by me along the way, i am in spring i drank when the axes in the mountains baked there, where the north is strong in degrees, i drank the frost, as

they drink vodka, when i drank thunderstorms, it happened, whose glory is dear to the lands, as if the upper edge of the glass sparkled with a rainbow arc, again the rosehip blossomed prickly, oozing hops from dark rocks, i climbed the steep slope, intoxicated smells, i inhaled, i reveled in the beauty of the earth, blessed its destiny, fell in love more than once, was killed, drank songs as i sang songs, the nature of the human soul is complex, i drank with friends at the same time, at the same time joy, a buza of honey, in a time of grief - bitter wine, and if you drank with your heart, you didn’t drink for the sake of fun and pleasure, i saw kheroshima, i heard laughter at the festival and, blowing sharply as if on beer to blow away the empty foam, i drank the essence of life, it is not false, it is truthful, the essence of life,

i love and rejoice and suffer, and i drink my day every day to the bottom, i feel thirsty again, life alone is to blame for this, let me leave the world one day, i have not quenched my thirst in it, but for people... to thirst for this thirst while the earth turns is wonderful, thank you very much, in my opinion, it is very consistent with nature these strict ones, yes, this is a translation by yakov kozlovsky, this is kozlovsky, of course, kozlovsky, one of the best translators, think about the poem, really, it’s about a lot of things, but they are named here, and the photograph is very... consistent with all this, because this man is flying, in fact, and the collections that are called to the stars are mentioned stars, of course, what does he see in the mountains in the caucasus, like an unclean sky and

stars, so this is peace, transparent air, such farsightedness, at the same time hospitality, family, kindness, that’s what’s important, yes, you know, that’s just what i like dad likes exactly this in his poetry, that’s even here...

well, it seems like everyone was taught, if it’s not murder, it means kidnapping or a staged kidnapping, assault group, readiness number one, that is, it’s not safe to be here with you, it’s not safe to be with me at all, no, i won’t take you like this , go back and get treatment, otherwise, maybe explain to me what’s going on, don’t worry, this is a formality as part of the investigation, no genetic fingerprints of the killer were found, the victim was also pregnant, you mean? bloodhound, new series from may 13 on the first. you're carrying too much weight responsibility for others. did my shoulders tell you that? the body can say a lot about a person. our pathologist thinks so. i remind you that i am dmitry bak, and here now let them not talk about the literary podcast, let them read it. gamzatov was a friend

of his readers. gamzatov was there. naturally, he was a wonderful father, husband, son, and so on, but he had seen so many people. let's look now, just at these faces, here muslim magamaev, tikhan krennikov, oscar feltsman, yes, well, very recognizable people, that is, representatives of different types of art, wonderful photography, let's look at photographs with other authors, this is konstantin simonov. the already mentioned konstantin mikhailovich simonov and chingist tarikulovich aitmatov, here it is already international, yes, this is fidel castro, this is fidel castro, and this is a photograph in havana, look at the conversation, it is not yet known who has more advice on how to proceed, look, i read this in my memoirs one person who

was talking to dad just during these years, dad was with... he saw this, asked, what is he saying, he says, he ’s joking about your figure, he says, tell me that before the revolution we were also slim, great, great, well, fedel castro and rasul gamzatov, who listens to whom, not even right away you say, well, there were other meetings, this is archbishop makarius, the first head of the president of the republic of cyprus, and a very famous figure, and... finally indira gandhi, yes, here we also have a wonderful photograph where rasul gamzatovich talks with his fellow countrymen , well, with ordinary people, apparently, yes, and it is clear that these elders are

wonderful people, not young anymore, are very attentive to rasul gomzatov, it is clear why lenin street was changed if you look at this photo, because he was not a stranger, yes, because. if in the world a thousand men are ready to equip matchmakers for you, know that in this thousand men i am also, rasul gamzatov, if

you have long captivated 100 men, whose blood rushes with a roar, it is no wonder to see among them, a proud man called rasul, if 10 true husbands are in love with you. without hiding the fire, among them rejoicing and mourning, i too, rasul gamzatov, if only one is crazy about you, not inclined to promises, know that this is from the cloudy peaks, a mountaineer called rasul, if no one is in love with you, and the gloomy sunsets become sad, means on a basalt plateau.

asked: “faina, do you think i’m a poet?” he said: “well, what are you, you are a great poet, that is, you understand, here he is, the higher he went, maybe the more a person comprehends, the more he understands, but as if this is the scope of this, but this is how he since yes, yes, responsibility, that’s what he’s talking about

i thought he had such a poem for his mother, he addresses his mother, he writes, he was delirious, i am in glory, now i need the night to be like a burka." and you are just the light, that’s what, and he, i remember, he even once, he said , as moikov said, except for a freshly washed shirt, i don’t need anything else, yes, freshly washed, except for a freshly washed shirt, i’ll tell you in all honesty, i don’t need anything, well, honestly, here they are mom and i had such an interesting union, he was a creative person, at the same time, somehow he was published a lot, and mom there was just such a more organized budelovaya here... the house where we live in makhachka or dacha, it was all built by my mother, he never seemed to do housework at all , so he didn’t delve into it, and he really was a person who could communicate at a very

high level, he was very friendly towards people, when after his mother’s death he was in the hospital, i came to visit him and he said laughing like that , i said today.

this photo is very good, i would like to end our conversation with it today, despite the fact that a person has traveled all over the world, reached the heights of fame, but still he truly feels at home, here in his homeland, in dagestan, on horseback, and this is a parting photograph that says that poetry rasula gamzatova is alive, she will live, i thank you from the bottom of my heart, saleka. for this most interesting conversation, thank you very much, all

the best, i’m sure that we will see each other again, well, anatoly, i also thank you from the bottom of my heart, because you read gamzatov’s poems very well, well, you, our dear interlocutors, i remind you that you can watch all episodes of the podcast, let them not talk, let them read, on the website of the first channel 1tv.ru. hello, this is a podcast letter, my guest today is the director of the moscow circus on tsvetnoy boulevard, maxim yuryevich nikolin, the son of a brilliant man, yuri nikulin, your dad was not just a brilliant man.

a soldier’s head, a lot, you know, maybe i ’ll read it out, let me read it out, it’s impossible to forget the first person killed in front of me, we were sitting in a firing position and could barely make it out of our bowlers, suddenly a shell exploded next to our gun, the loader's head was cut off by a shrapnel, a man is sitting with a spoon in his hands, steam is coming from the pot, and the upper part of the head is cut off like razors, clean, death in war, it would seem, should not be shocking, but every time it it was shocking, i saw fields on which dead people lay in rows, as they went on the attack, a machine gun mowed them all down. i saw bodies

torn apart by shells and bombs, but the most offensive thing was the absurd death that was killed by a stray bullet accidentally hit by a shrapnel. it’s impossible to survive this, we did, come on, war, any war cripples everyone. we dealt with the topic of war on the radio, when i worked, we made a program for the fortieth anniversary of the victory, building a chronicle, the history of the war , day by day, with a summary of all the information bureaus about those events. i showed everyone the letters, they contained drawings of his

son, my guy draws well, he said, rejoicing, he’s in the third grade, his wife writes that she misses him, at that time he passed by the platoon commander, he pulled out the clip from his pistol and threw it to my fellow countryman, asked, please clean it, soldier, knowing that the pistol had no ammo, he put the muzzle to his temple, slyly winked at us with the words, oh, i’m tired of living, squeezed the trigger, apparently decided to make a joke, then a shot was heard, the guy fell dead to the ground, lying in his temple he has a red hole, a smoking cigarette in his teeth, a terrible death, an absurd, stupid fate, yes, fate, well, i guess i’m... not a small photographer, it’s closer to me to think that it’s not only there who decides everything for us , we also stand for something on this earth, and our lives also depend on our actions, so so i started talking about how war kills souls and hardens them, but there are people, obviously, with souls so pure that even in

large numbers it doesn’t bother them, like your dad, really, like my dad, like me i remember uncle tolya papanov, who was also a front-line soldier. he also fought seriously, and many others, whom she didn’t break, probably changed, probably left some imprints on them, made them different, but it didn’t break, didn’t harden, so this hatred for everything didn’t take root. every time when my comrades died before my eyes, i always told myself, after all, it could have been me, about the death of the gun commander volodya andreev, what a magnificent guy he was, he sang wonderful songs, wrote good poems and how absurdly he died, we didn’t sleep for two days, fought back during the day from the squadrons that bombed our troops and changed positions at night. during one move, volodya sat on a cannon, fell asleep and fell from the cannon in his sleep. no one noticed this, the cannon ran over volodya. he only managed to say before his death. tell mom? this is absurd. well, that's absurd, because

chronic fatigue, and he wanted to sleep, he didn’t think about it, everyone else wanted to tell him, but you know, he froze. in the dugout, but he seemed to talk about it with humor, they woke him up, they couldn’t wake him up, the kambat says: take nikulin out, they grabbed him by the arms and legs and threw him out of the dugout, but he probably didn’t wake up , i didn’t wake up, there was a direct hit in the ground where they pulled me out, what fate, what fate, the second was also an accident, they are in the cracks of these individual shelters in the ground, the attack was also artillery, he says, that’s it time i want to smoke,

there it was driven right into my head, he says, during the war they were boys, well, war is war, boys have a boy’s life, and he says, we were walking through the forest, father volodin says, suddenly we see some like a barn, a warehouse, we say, we go in, and there are boots, not tarpaulin, but officer boots, leather of all sizes, which were lying right from boot to boot, all numbered, volodya’s father said, you can’t take it, it doesn’t belong to us, it’s someone else’s, and his friend says, i’ll go home, he walked away, well, there’s 100 meters there, and this warehouse exploded with the boy, horror, you know, how to talk about the war, tell something,

detail something, well, in principle, a lot has been written, a lot is in the public domain, i just can’t accept people today who... it’s like glossing over all this , like, well, it was and was, you don’t need to think about it, you have to, because what to be proud of, like lack of courage, like dishonesty, what are you talking about this, how not to be proud of the fact that people gave their lives for only their homeland, in difficult years, in short hours and minutes of rest i often a sense of humor helped, i remember this episode: all night we walked to the neighboring part, where we had to dig a trench, it was dark and raining , rockets flared from time to time, we arrived at the place exhausted and hungry... the major approached our group and asked: they took the tool, he had in view of the shovel, they took the pickaxe, i cheerfully answered for everyone and pulled out a wooden spoon from the top of my boot, everyone wanted it, the major too, our spirits rose, well, this...