translated him, she is also a very good poet, she worked for many years in the writers' union, and now heads our dagestanreason from russian to russian, which is very sad, you know, on the one hand it’s sad, on the other hand, this is glory, this is a people’s poet, yes, anatoly, you promised us poems, please read those same ones while it ’s spinning , while the earth was spinning, i drank the sun, like people drink water , walking across the highlands of years, towards the red sunrise, sunset... in the land of steep and proud peaks, where hearts have a special ardor, 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, air i drank the sweetest, infused on the clouds, i drank snowflakes, where the paths intertwined over the steepness, i remember the snowflakes melted along the way , sipped by me, i drank the spring, 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 to the lands is dear, as if th

now he heads our dagestan writers union.e talking about translations , some people continue to transport dad themselves and very unsuccessfully and for some reason from russian to russian, which is very sad. yes, well, you know, on the one hand. it's sad on the other hand. this is slava, the people's poet. yes, anatoly, you promised us the elements. well forgive me, please, those same ones while the earth is spinning. i i drank the sun like people drank water, walking across the highlands of the years towards the red sunrise, following the red sunset in the land of steep and proud peaks, where hearts have a special ardor, i drank the stars from the speech of the mountains from the cold springs, drank from the blue heavenly bowl in green thickets and meadows . i drank air greedily. the sweetest infused with clouds. i drank snowflakes where the paths intertwined over the steepness and i remember the snowflakes that i sipped melted along the way. i drank a lot. when the ashes bake in the mountains, here and there, where the nor

translated it, she is also a very good poet , she worked for many years in the writers' union, and now heads our dagestane, sunset... in the land of steep and proud peaks, where hearts have a special ardor, i drank the stars from mountain rivers, from the springs of icy saws, from blue heavenly cup in green thickets and meadows, i greedily, i drank the sweetest air , infused with the clouds, i drank snowflakes, where the paths intertwined over the steepness, i remember snowflakes melted on the way i sipped, i drank spring, when axes in the mountains baked there , where strong in degrees north, i drank frost, like they drink vodka when i drank thunderstorms, it happened, whose glory to the lands is dear, as if the top edge of a glass, a rainbow arc sparkled, again the prickly rosehip blossomed, hops oozed from the dark rocks, i climbed the steep, i inhaled the intoxicating smells, i inhaled the earthly beauty i got drunk, blessed the bit, fell in love more than once, fell in love and drank songs, as i sang songs, the human soul, nature is complex, i drank with friends at the same time in the hour of joy,

national poet of dagestan rasul gamzatov, even if you don’t have a single book of his poems on your shelf, you definitely read or heard, and maybe even sang. this is the balcony of the writers' union the chairmen were half a century old rasul gamzatov in general , buinaksky street is such a cultural promenade , there was a legendary glass, where writers gathered on the corner here there was a cafe, which was called revenge, where just poets gathered. and after that the lines were born. they are still singing. and from that height, sighing with all my heart, i answered to dagestan , i have seen many lands, but you are still the most beloved in the world, the world famous rasul gamzatov called himself the poet of one village. and this is outsa. yes, in the khunzakh region of dagestan, in a small room, he was born and raised, outstandingly similar to rasul gamzatov, here you have a family of seven people, two parents and five children. he writes that he called the world of his poetry tatarstan and tsadaya - this means fire and this the fire burns gradually with light. when we found out that rasul would arrive tomorrow, we are all aul children and boys. so they got together and went t

dagestan poet in his homeland, the author of the water commemorative events take place, including the international festival of white cranes, founded by gamzatov himself. members of the russian union, writersgathered there and prepared lectures, seminars, literary evenings and poetry readings for visitors. there is a legend of the domestic nuclear industry, lvud dmitrievich ryabin , highly qualified specialists, the head of the soviet years, he headed the department that was engaged in the development of civil and military nuclear technologies, the whole name is associated with the flourishing of the nuclear industry in the eighties and despite his venerable age, lev dmitrievich today, a key figure in many projects, talked to our correspondent alexey kvashenkin with a unique person. in 1992, at a closed meeting, the fate of the future of the nuclear industry was decided and some citizens began within our majority. i would say board members for something to share. branches on the dessert part nuclear weapons state committee on nuclear weapons - this is separate, the rest should be redone commercial structure. at the meeting, the former minister of medium engineering of the ussr called the n