The contractor nodded and sat down on the bench, took a towel from his hat and wiped his face. The fool drank a glass of wine greedily, giggling happily and pretending to be worried, as drunkards used to do.

Good job, man. Good job. Nikolai Ivanchi said kindly, now it’s your turn to sing. Yashka should be careful not to be timid. Let’s see who wins and who wins. Let’s see if the contractor sings very well. Really good.
Great. Nikolai Ivanchi’s wife said this and looked at Yashka with a smile.
Great, repeated the farmer sitting next to me.
Ah, the loser Poleha Polesiya swamp in the south, that is, from the border of Rizdra County in Polhof County, the residents of the long forest zone are called Poleha. Their lifestyle, temperament and language have many characteristics. They are called losers because they are suspicious and unhappy. The idiot suddenly woke up and walked up to the farmer with a hole in his shoulder, lit his finger and jumped up and laughed trembling. Poleha Poleha screamed at almost every sentence when he spoke. Gabaji noted what are you doing here, loser? He laughed and cried.
The poor cultivator was very embarrassed and was ready to get up and walk away quickly. Suddenly, Mr. Savage’s bronze bell sounded.
What’s with this disgusting beast? He gnashed his teeth.
I’m nothing stupid, mumbling that I’m nothing, I’m casual.
Well, well, then don’t do it. Mr. Savage said, Yashka, sing.
Yashka held his throat with his hand.
Dude, how do you order that? Oh, I really don’t know how.
Oh, come on, don’t get stage fright. It’s so rude. Why do you have to sing whatever you want?
So Mr savage bowed his head and waited.
Yashka was silent for a while and looked around. Everyone kept their eyes on him, especially the face of the contractor. He couldn’t help showing a slight uneasiness in his smug expression after the constant letter was applauded. He leaned against the wall and tucked his hands under his thighs, but his legs were no longer wandering. When Yashka finally showed his face, his face was as white as a dead man. His eyes shone faintly through his eyelashes. He breathed a deep sigh of relief and began to sing. His voice was weak and uneven. It didn’t seem to be from his chest. It seems that it came from a far place and drifted into this room by accident. This trembling metallic sound is strange to all of us. Let’s look at me. Let’s look at your wife Nikolai Ivanchi. She actually stood up straight after the sound was started, followed by a firm and long sound, but obviously she still trembled. It was as if the string was suddenly struck by a finger, and then it trembled for a while and quickly dropped to the third sound, so the sad song gradually became passionate and magnificent, and one lane after another in the field became smooth.
To tell the truth, I seldom hear such a sound. It sounds like the tinkling of the jingle is very painful, but it is sincere and deep in love, youthful, energetic and sweet, and it is fascinating and sad. A sincere and warm Russian soul echoes and breathes in the song, holding your heart tightly and directly. The string songs of Russian people are getting louder and louder, and Yashka is obviously intoxicated. He is not timid anymore. He is finished. In happiness, his voice no longer trembles, but trembles gently, but it penetrates into the audience’s mind like an arrow, which trembles vaguely. This voice is getting more and more passionate, higher and louder.
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I remember one evening when the sea ebbed, the waves were rough in the distance. I saw that the flat beach had fallen a lot. Bai Ou did not move. The silk chest reflected the sunset glow. Occasionally, it slowly spread its long wings against the familiar sea and the red sunset. I listened to Yashka songs and thought of Bai Ou.
After singing, he forgot his opponent and us, but he was obviously inspired by our enthusiasm, just like swimming was pushed by waves. His spirit doubled. He sang more kindly than vastness, just like the familiar grass stretched out in front of you to the marginal distance. I felt that tears welled up in my heart, and suddenly I was shocked by a low and depressed cry. I looked back and saw that the shopkeeper’s wife was crying at the window. Yashka glanced at her in a hurry and sang louder and sweeter than before. Nikolai Ivanchi bowed his head and blinked. The fool opened his mouth and sat in a gray robe. The farmer shook his head while sobbing sadly in the corner. Even Mr. Savage’s tightly knit eyebrows flooded with tears. On that steel face, he slowly rolled the contractor’s fist and pressed it to the forehead.
I really don’t know how everyone was intoxicated if Yashka didn’t suddenly end up in a very high, especially shrill voice. No one shouted or moved. Everyone seemed to be waiting to see if he was still singing, but he opened his eyes wide and seemed surprised at our silence. After asking everyone once, he saw that he won.
Mr. Yashka Savage gave a cry, put one hand on his shoulder and stopped talking.
We all stood like contractors, slowly got up and walked over to Yashka. You were you. You won, and he finally said it, and then he rushed from the house.
His quick action seems to have cracked the magic. As soon as everyone started talking, the idiot started to mutter, his arms were swinging like windmill wings, and he limped to Yashka to kiss him. Nikolai Ivanchi owed up and solemnly announced that he had another bottle of beer. Mr. Savage smiled so sweetly. I never expected to see such a smile on his face. The farmer wore a gray robe, his sleeves wiped his eyes, his cheeks, his nose and beard, and he repeatedly said hello, good, I swear, good.
Yashika won for himself like a child, and his face changed completely, especially his eyes kept shining with happiness. Several people pulled him to the counter, and he called the farmer who had been crying in the gray robe, and told the shopkeeper to go to the contractor, but he didn’t find anyone, so he drank. You have to sing for us. You have to sing for us until late. The fool raised his hand and shouted repeatedly.
I took another look at Yashika and left. I don’t want to stay here. I’m afraid it will damage my feelings, but it’s still uncomfortably hot. The hot air seems to form a thick layer over the earth. It seems that many small sparks are swaying in the dark blue sky, and there is silence everywhere. However, in this deep silence, there is a sense of being restrained.
I came to a hay shed and lay down on the grass that had just been cut but almost dried. I couldn’t sleep for a long time. My ears were ringing with Yashika’s dumping song for a long time, and finally the heat and fatigue prevailed. I fell asleep and slept like a log.
When I woke up, it was dark around me, and the scattered grass around me smelled strong and moist. Through the thin strips of wood on the roof of the broken shed, I could see the pale stars shining faintly.
I’m coming. The sunset glow has long since disappeared. The faint whiteness of the horizon is the afterglow of the sunset glow. You can still feel the coming heat through the chill at night. It’s still hot and stuffy in your chest. I hope the cool wind blows. There is no wind and no clouds. Wan Liqing is extremely pure and dark. There are countless stars flickering quietly, but the lights in the village are flickering faintly. The lights are coming from the hotel not far away. It’s noisy and noisy. I seem to hear the sound of Yashka. There are bursts of laughter from time to time.
So I went to the window and put my face against the glass. I saw that it was very unpleasant, although the lively scenes were drunk. Since Yashka was drunk, Yashka sat on the bench with his chest bare and his voice hoarse, singing a dance music and lazily plucking the strings of the lyre. His wet hair hung down on his horribly pale face.
In the middle of the room, the out-of-control fool took off his clothes and danced with the farmer in the gray robe. The farmer also struggled to stomp and drag his soft feet through the messy smile and occasionally raised his hand as if to say that it was okay. No matter how much he raised his eyebrows, his heavy eyelids refused to lift them. He was covered with his eyes that were almost invisible but sweet, and he was in the cute state of being drunk. At this time, no matter how many passers-by looked at his face, he would say that it was enough. I’m fed up with this guy. He blushed like a shrimp, blinked his eyes and opened his nostrils. In the corner, Nikolai Ivanchi smiled strangely. After all, he had seen the world. The owner of the hotel still kept calm. There were many new people in the room, but I didn’t see Mr. Savage in the room.
I turned around and walked briskly at the foot of Kolotov Village on the hill, which was vast and flat. Immersed in the vast night fog, it was even more vast and even wider, as if it were connected with the dark sky. I strode along the road next to the gully, and suddenly a boy sounded crisp and clear in a place far away. Antrope Ka Antrope Ka Ah, he shouted in a tenacious and tearful desperate voice and played the last sound very long.
He stopped for a short time and cried again. His voice was still, like sleeping, like waking up. His name was Antrope card. It was called 30 times less before he suddenly answered vaguely from the other side of the flat land as if from another world.
What is everything?
The boy’s horse barked with joy and anger.
Come here, you fucking thing.
What are you doing? That sound took a long time to answer
Because dad is going to hit you at the first sound, he quickly cried
The second sound didn’t respond to the boy again, so he called Antrope Card again. When it was dark, I could still hear his increasingly sparse and faint cry when I walked by the forest around my village four miles away from Kolotov Village.