home Pregnancy and children Tatar fairy tale shurale. Tatar fairy tale Shurale 15 questions about Shurale in Tatar language

Tatar fairy tale shurale. Tatar fairy tale Shurale 15 questions about Shurale in Tatar language

1 vakiyga

1) event, phenomenon, incident; incident

"Shurale" ballet kuyu Tatar culture tarihynda zur vakyiga buldy - the production of the ballet "Shurale" in the history of Tatar culture was a great event

2) lit. action

2 shүrәle

3 shүrәle

4 shүrәle

noun myth. goblin, shurale

Books

Return of the Werewolves, Andrey Belyanin. They are back! They always return if at least someone in this world (present, past and even future) is in trouble. Will Alina allow the biorobot Steve to disappear long ago and hopelessly into her... Buy audiobook for 189 rubles
Magic Tatar fairy tales, Folk art. Fairy tales are the most widespread and beloved type of folk art of the thousand-year-old Tatar culture. Hero of the Tatar folk tales- brave, resourceful, hardworking...

I
There is an aul near Kazan called Kyrlay.
Even the chickens in that Kyrlay can sing... Wonderful land!
Even though I didn’t come from there, I kept my love for him,
He worked on the land - he sowed, reaped and harrowed.
Is he reputed to be a big village? No, on the contrary, it’s small
And the river, the pride of the people, is just a small spring.
This forest side is forever alive in memory.
The grass spreads out like a velvety blanket.
The people there never knew either cold or heat:
In its turn the wind will blow, and in its turn the rain will come.
From raspberries and strawberries everything in the forest is motley,
You pick up a bucket full of berries in an instant.
Often I lay on the grass and looked at the heavens.
The endless forests seemed like a formidable army to me.
Pines, lindens and oaks stood like warriors,
Under the pine tree there is sorrel and mint, under the birch tree there are mushrooms.
How many blue, yellow, red flowers are intertwined there,
And from them the fragrance flowed into the sweet air.
Moths flew away, arrived and landed,
It was as if the petals were arguing with them and making peace with them.
Bird chirping and ringing babble were heard in the silence
And they filled my soul with piercing joy.
There is music and dancing, and singers and circus performers,
There are boulevards and theaters, and 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.
II
I depicted the summer forest, but my verse has not yet sung
Our autumn, our winter, and young beauties,
And the joy of our celebrations, and the spring Sabantuy...
O my verse, don’t disturb my soul with memories!
But wait, I was daydreaming... There is paper on the table...
I was going to tell you about the tricks of the Shural.
I’ll start now, reader, don’t blame me:
I lose all reason as soon as I remember Kyrlay.
III
Of course, in this amazing forest
You will meet a wolf, and a bear, and a treacherous fox.
Here hunters often see squirrels,
Either a gray hare will rush by, or a horned elk will flash.
There are many secret paths and treasures here, they say.
There are many terrible animals and monsters here, they say.
There are many fairy tales and beliefs circulating in our native land
And about gins, and about peris, and about terrible shurals.
Is this true? The ancient forest is endless, like the sky,
And no less than in the sky, there may be miracles in the forest.
IV
I will begin my short story about one of them,
And - such is my custom - I will sing poetry.
One night, when the shining moon glides through the clouds,
A horseman went from the village to the forest to get firewood.
He arrived quickly on the cart, immediately took up the ax,
Here and there, trees are being cut down, and there is dense forest all around.
As often happens in summer, the night was fresh and humid.
Because the birds were sleeping, the silence grew.
The woodcutter is busy with work, you know he knocks and knocks.
For a moment the enchanted horseman forgot.
Chu! Some terrible scream is heard in the distance,
And the ax stopped in the swinging hand.
And our nimble woodcutter froze in amazement.
He looks and doesn’t believe his eyes. What is this? Human?
Genie, robber or ghost - this gnarled freak?
How ugly he is, it involuntarily takes over fear!
The nose is curved like fishing hook,
Arms and legs are like branches, they will intimidate even a daredevil.
Flashing angrily, the eyes burn in black hollows,
Even during the day, let alone at night, this look will frighten you.
He looks like a man, very thin and naked,
The narrow forehead is decorated with a horn the size of our finger.
His fingers are half arshin long and crooked, -
Ten fingers are ugly, sharp, long and straight.
V
And looking into the eyes of the freak that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked bravely: “What do you want from me?”
- Young horseman, don’t be afraid, robbery doesn’t attract me.
But although I am not a robber, I am not a righteous saint.
Why, when I saw you, did I let out a cheerful cry?
Because I'm used to killing people with tickles.
Each finger is adapted to tickle more viciously,
I kill a man by making him laugh.
Come on, move your fingers, my brother,
Play tickle with me and make me laugh!
“Okay, I’ll play,” the woodcutter answered him. —
Only on one condition... Do you agree or not?
- Speak up, little man, please be bolder,
I will accept all the conditions, but let me play quickly!
- If so, listen to me, I don’t care what you decide.
Do you see a thick, big and heavy log?
Forest spirit! Let's work together first,
Together you and I will carry the log onto the cart.
Did you notice a large gap at the other end of the log?
Hold the log there tightly, all your strength is needed!..
Shurale glanced sideways at the indicated place
And, not disagreeing with the horseman, the shurale agreed.
He put his long, straight fingers into the mouth of the log...
Sages! Do you see the simple trick of a woodcutter?
The wedge, previously plugged, is knocked out with an axe,
By knocking out, he carries out a clever plan in secret.
Shurale does not move, does not move his hand,
He stands there, not understanding the clever invention of people.
So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle and disappeared into the darkness...
The fingers of the shurale got pinched and remained in the gap.
Shurale saw the deception, Shurale screams and yells.
He calls his brothers for help, he calls the forest people.
With a repentant prayer he says to the horseman:
- Have pity, have pity on me! Let me go, horseman!
I will never offend you, horseman, or my son.
I will never touch your entire family, O man!
I won't offend 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!”
It hurts my fingers! Give me freedom! Let me live on earth!
What do you, horseman, profit from the torment of the shurale?
The poor fellow cries, rushes about, whines, howls, he’s not himself.
The woodcutter doesn’t hear him and is getting ready to go home.
“Won’t the cry of a sufferer soften this soul?”
Who are you, who are you, heartless? What's your name, horseman?
Tomorrow, if I live to see our brother,
To the question: “Who is your offender?” - whose name will I say?
“So be it, I’ll say, brother.” Don't forget this name:
I am nicknamed “The Thoughtful One”... And now it’s time for me to hit the road.
Shurale screams and howls, wants to show strength,
He wants to break out of captivity and punish the woodcutter.
- I will die! Forest spirits, help me quickly,
The villain pinched me, he destroyed me!
And the next morning the Shurales came running from all sides.
- What's wrong with you? Are you crazy? What are you upset about, fool?
Calm down! Shut up, we can't stand the screaming.
Pinched in the past year, why are you crying this year?
translation: S. Lipkin

There is an aul near Kazan called Kyrlay.
Even the chickens in that Kyrlay can sing... Wonderful land!

Even though I didn’t come from there, I kept my love for him,
He worked on the land - he sowed, reaped and harrowed.

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

This forest side is forever alive in memory.
The grass spreads out like a velvety blanket.

The people there never knew either cold or heat:
In its turn the wind will blow, in its turn the rain will blow
will do.

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

Often I lay on the grass and looked at the heavens.
The endless forests seemed like a formidable army to me.

Pines, lindens and oaks stood like warriors,
Under the pine tree there is sorrel and mint, under the birch tree there are mushrooms.

How many blue, yellow, red flowers are there?
intertwined
And from them the fragrance flowed into the sweet air.

Moths flew away, arrived and landed,
It was as if the petals were arguing with them and making peace with them.

Bird chirping and ringing babble were heard in the silence
And they filled my soul with piercing joy.

There is music, and dancing, and singers, and circus performers,
There are boulevards, and theaters, and 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 depicted the summer forest, but my verse has not yet sung
Our autumn, our winter and young beauties,

And the joy of our celebrations, and the spring Sabantuy...
O my verse, don’t disturb my soul with memories!

But wait, I was daydreaming... There's paper on the table...
I was going to tell you about the tricks of the Shural.

I’ll start now, reader, don’t blame me:
I lose all reason as soon as I remember Kyrlay.

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

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

There are many fairy tales and beliefs circulating in our native land
And about genies, and about peris, and about terrible shurals.

Is this true? The ancient forest is endless, like the sky,
And no less than in the sky, there may be miracles in the forest.

I will begin my short story about one of them,
And - such is my custom - I will sing poetry.

One night, when the moon glides shining through the clouds,
A horseman went from the village to the forest to get firewood.

He arrived quickly on the cart, immediately took up the ax,
Here and there, trees are being cut down, and all around is a dense forest.
As often happens in summer, the night was fresh and humid.
Because the birds were sleeping, the silence grew.
The woodcutter is busy with work, you know he’s knocking, knocking,
For a moment the enchanted horseman forgot.
Chu! Some kind of terrible scream is heard in the distance.
And the ax stopped in the swinging hand.

And our nimble woodcutter froze in amazement.
He looks and doesn’t believe his eyes. Who is this? Human?
A genie, a robber or a ghost, this crooked freak?
How ugly he is, involuntarily takes over fear.
The nose is curved like a fishhook,
Arms and legs are like branches, they will intimidate even a daredevil.
The eyes flash angrily, burning in the black hollows.
Even during the day, let alone at night, this look will frighten you.

He looks like a man, very thin and naked,
The narrow forehead is decorated with a horn the size of our finger.
His fingers are half arshin long and crooked, -
Ten fingers ugly, sharp, long
and straight.

And looking into the eyes of the freak that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked bravely: “What do you want from me?”

“Young horseman, don’t be afraid, robbery doesn’t attract me,
But although I am not a robber, I am not a righteous saint.

Why, when I saw you, did I let out a cheerful cry?
Because I'm used to killing people with tickles.

Each finger is adapted to tickle more viciously,
I kill a man by making him laugh.

Come on, move your fingers, my brother,
Play tickle with me and make me laugh!”

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

“Speak up, little man, please be bolder,
I will accept all the conditions, but let’s play quickly!”

“If so, listen to me, how do you decide -
I don't care.
Do you see a thick, big and heavy log?
Forest spirit! Let's work together first,
Together you and I will carry the log onto the cart.
Did you notice a large gap at the other end of the log?
Hold the log there tightly, all your strength is needed!..”

The shurale glanced sideways at the indicated place.
And, not disagreeing with the horseman, the shurale agreed.

He put his long, straight fingers into the mouth of the log...
Sages! Do you see the simple trick of a woodcutter?

The wedge, previously plugged, is knocked out with an axe,
By knocking out, he carries out a clever plan in secret.

Shurale does not move, does not move his hand,
He stands there, not understanding the clever invention of people.

So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle and disappeared into the darkness...
The fingers of the shurale got pinched and remained in the gap.

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

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

I will never offend you, horseman, or my son.
I will never touch your entire family, O man!

I won't offend 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 woods!"

It hurts my fingers! Give me freedom! Let me live
on the ground!
What do you want, horseman, for profit from the torment of the shurale?”

The poor fellow cries, rushes about, whines, howls, he’s not himself.
The woodcutter doesn’t hear him and is getting ready to go home.

“Won’t the cry of a sufferer soften this soul?
Who are you, who are you, heartless? What's your name, horseman?

Tomorrow, if I live to see our brother,
To the question: “Who is your offender?” - whose name will I say?

“So be it, I’ll say, brother. Don't forget this name:
I am nicknamed “The Thoughtful One”... And now -
It's time for me to go."

Shurale screams and howls, wants to show strength,
He wants to break out of captivity and punish the woodcutter.

"I will die. Forest spirits, help me quickly!
The villain pinched me, he destroyed me!”

And the next morning the Shurales came running from all sides.
“What's wrong with you? Are you crazy? What are you upset about, fool?

Calm down! Shut up! We can't stand the screaming.
Pinched in the past year, what are you doing this year?
are you crying?

Tatar folk tale with pictures. Illustrations: K Kamaletdinov

There is an aul near Kazan called Kyrlay.
Even the chickens in that Kyrlay can sing... Wonderful land!

Even though I didn’t come from there, I kept my love for him,
He worked on the land - he sowed, reaped and harrowed.

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

This forest side is forever alive in my memory.
The grass spreads out like a velvety blanket.

The people there never knew either cold or heat:
In its turn the wind will blow, and in its turn the rain will come.
From raspberries and strawberries everything in the forest is motley,
You can pick a bucket full of berries in a single moment!

Often I lay on the grass and looked at the heavens.
The endless forests seemed like a formidable army to me.

Pines, lindens and oaks stood like warriors,
Under the pine tree there is sorrel and mint, under the birch tree there are mushrooms.

How many blue, yellow, red flowers are intertwined there,
And from them the fragrance flowed into the sweet air.

Moths flew away, arrived and landed,
It was as if the petals were arguing with them and making peace with them.

Bird chirping, ringing babble were heard in the silence,
And they filled my soul with piercing joy.

There is music, and dancing, and singers, and circus performers,
There are boulevards, and theaters, and wrestlers, and violinists!..

I depicted the summer forest, but my verse has not yet sung
Our autumn, our winter, and young beauties,

And the joy of our celebrations, and the spring Saban-Tui...
O my verse, don’t disturb my soul with memories!

But wait, I was daydreaming... there's paper on the table...
I was going to tell you about the tricks of the Shural!

I’ll start now, reader, don’t blame me:
I lose all reason, as soon as I remember Kyrlay!

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

Here hunters often see squirrels,
Either a gray hare will rush by, or a horned elk will flash.

There are many secret paths and treasures here, they say
There are many terrible beasts and monsters here, they say,

There are many fairy tales and beliefs circulating in our native land
And about gins, and about peris, and about terrible shurals.

Is this true? The ancient forest is endless, like the sky,
And no less than in heaven, perhaps in the forest of miracles.

I will begin my short story about one of them,
And - such is my custom - I will sing poetry.

One night, when the moon glides shining through the clouds,
A horseman went from the village to the forest to get firewood.

He arrived quickly on the cart, immediately took up the ax,
Here and there, trees are being cut down, and all around is a dense forest.

As often happens in summer, the night was fresh and humid;
Because the birds were sleeping, the silence grew.

The woodcutter is busy with work, you know, he knocks, knocks,
The enchanted horseman forgot for a moment!

Chu! Some terrible scream is heard in the distance,
And the ax stopped in the swinging hand.

And our nimble woodcutter froze in amazement.
He looks and doesn’t believe his eyes. Who is this person?

The genie, the robber or the ghost of this crooked freak?
How ugly he is, it involuntarily takes over fear!

The nose is curved like a fishhook,
Arms and legs are like twigs, they will intimidate even a daredevil!

The eyes flash angrily, burning in the black hollows.
Even during the day, let alone at night, this look will frighten you!

He looks like a man, very thin and naked,
The narrow forehead is decorated with a horn the size of our finger.

The fingers on his hands are half arshin long,
Ten fingers, ugly, sharp, long and straight!

And, looking into the eyes of the freak that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked bravely: “What do you want from me?”

“Young horseman, don’t be afraid, robbery doesn’t attract me,
But although I am not a robber, I am not a righteous saint.

Why, when I saw you, did I let out a cheerful cry? —
Because I’m used to killing people with tickles!

Each finger is adapted to tickle more viciously,
I kill a man by making him laugh!

Come on, move your fingers, my brother,
Play tickle with me and make me laugh!”

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

“Speak up, little man, please be bolder,
I will accept all the conditions, but let’s play quickly!”

“If so, listen to me, whatever you decide, I don’t care.
Do you see a thick, big and heavy log?

Forest spirit. Forest sheep. Let's work together.
Together you and I will carry the log onto the cart.

You will notice a large gap at the other end of the log,
Hold the log there tightly, all your strength is needed!”

The shurale glanced sideways at the indicated place,
And, not disagreeing with the horseman, the shurale agreed.

He put his long, straight fingers into the mouth of the log.
Sages! Do you see the simple trick of a woodcutter?

The wedge, previously plugged, is knocked out with an axe,
By knocking out, he carries out a clever plan in secret.

Shurale does not move, does not move his hand,
He stands there, not understanding the clever invention of people.

So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle and disappeared into the darkness...
The fingers of the shurale got pinched and remained in the gap!

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

With a repentant prayer he says to the horseman:
“Have mercy, have mercy on me, let me go, horseman!

I will never offend you, horseman, or my son,
I will never touch your entire family, O man!

I won’t offend anyone, do you want me to take an oath?
I will tell everyone: “I am a horseman’s friend, let him walk in the forest!”

It hurts my fingers! Give me freedom, let me live on earth,
What do you want, horseman, for profit from the torment of the shurale?”

The poor fellow cries, rushes about, whines, howls, he’s not himself,
The woodcutter doesn’t hear him and is getting ready to go home.

“Won’t the cry of a sufferer soften this soul?
Who are you, who are you, heartless? What's your name, horseman?

Tomorrow, if I live to see our brother,
To the question: “Who is your offender?” - whose name will I say?
“So be it, I’ll say, brother, don’t forget this name:
I’m nicknamed “The Inspired One”... And now it’s time for me to hit the road.”

Shurale screams and howls, wants to show strength,
He wants to break out of captivity and punish the woodcutter.

"I will die! Forest spirits, help me quickly,
The villain pinched me, he destroyed me!”

And the next morning the Shurales came running from all sides.
“What's wrong with you? Are you crazy? What are you upset about, fool?

Calm down, shut up, we can't stand the screaming.
Pinched in the past year, why are you crying this year?”

Gabdulla Tukay. "Shurale" in Tatar language

Nәk Kazan artynda bardyr ber avyl -
“Kyrlay” dilar;
Yyrlaganda koy өchen, “tavyklary җyrlay”, dilәr.
Gәrchә anda tugmasam yes, min beraz torgan let's go;
Җirne әz-mәz tyrmalap, chәchkәn we go, urgan we go.
Ul avylnyn, һich onytmyym, һәryagy urman ide,
Ul bolyn, yashel үlәnnәr hәtfәdәn yurgan ide.
Zurmy, disәң, zur үgelder, bu avyl bik kechkenә;
Khalkynyn echkәn suy bik kechkenә - inesh kenә.
Anda bik salkyn vә bik essay tugel, urta khava;
hil dә vaktynda isep, yangyr da vaktynda yava.

Urmanynda kyp-kyzyl kura җilәk tә җir җilәk;
Kuz achyp yomganchy, һichshiksez, җyyarsyn ber chilәk.
Bik hozur! Rәt-rәt tora, gaskar kebi, chyrshy, narat;
Tөplәrendә yatkam bar, hәl җyep, kүkkә karap.
Yukә, kaennar tobenda kuzgalaklar, gөmbәlәr
Berlә bergә үsә ally-gөlle gөllәr, gonҗәlәr.
Ak, kyzyl, al, sap-sary, zәңgәr, yasheldan chәchkәlәr;
һәр tarafka tәmle islәr chәchkәli bu chәchkәlәr.
Үpkәlilәr chәchkәlәrne torle tөsle kүbalәk-
lәr kilep, kitkәn bulyp, tagyn da shunda chүgәlәp.
Bervakyt chut-chut itep sairy Khodainyn koshlary;
Kitә kannarny kisep, yaryp sadai khushlar.

Monda boulevard, һәm dance club, circus and shul;
Monda orchestra, theater da shul, concert da shul.
Zur bu urman: chitlәre kurenmider, dingez kebi,
Biniһaya, bihisaptyr, gaskәri Chyngyz kebi.
Kylt itep iskә tөshәder namnary, dәүlәtlәre
Kart babaylarnyң, mony kүrsәң, boten Saulәtlәre.
Achyla aldynda tarikhtan theater pәrdase:
Ah! disen, without nickname bolay son? without dә Haknyң bandәse.

Җәй Җөн яздим Beraz; yazmyym ale kysh, kozleren,
Alsou yozle, kara kashly, kara kuzle kyzlaryn.
Bu avylnyn min җyen, maydan, sabany tuylaryn
Yazmyymyn kurkyp, eraklarga kitәr deep uylarym...
Tukta, min yuldin adashkanmyn ikәn bit, kүr әle,
Әllә nik istәn dә chykkan, sүz bashym bit “Shүrәle”.
Az gyna sabrit әle, әy kariem! khazer yazam;
Uylasam aulimny, gaklymnan da min khazer yazam.

Bilgele, bu cap-kara urmanda һәr ertkych ta bar,
Yuk tugel ayu, bure; tolke - җiһan kortkych ta bar.
һәm dә bar monda kuyan, әrlan, tien, yomran, poshi,
Ochrata auchy bulyp urmanda kүp yөrgan keshe.
Bik kuye bulganga, monda җen-parilәr bar, dilәr,
Tөrle albasty, ubyrlar, shүrәlelәr bar, dilәr,
һich gaҗәp yuk, bulsa bulyr,— bik kalyn, bik kүp bit st;
Kүktә ni bulmas disen,— ochsyz-kyryysyz kүk bit st!

Shul turydan az gyna - bish-alty sүz soylim ale,
Gadәtemchә az gyna җyrlyim әle, kөilim әle.
Bik matur ber aily kichtә bu avylnyn ber Җeget
Kitkan urmanga utynga, yalgyzy ber at җigep.
Tiz baryp җitkәn Җeget, eshkә totyngan bargach uk,
Kisә bashlagan utynny balta berlan “knock” ta “knock”!
Җәйге төннгаәтеньчә, Җөн beraz salkyn ikәn;
Barcha kosh-kort yoklagan bulganga, urman tyn ikan.

Shundy tyn, yakhshy khavada bezneң utynchy isә,
Alny-artny, unny-sulny belmicha, utyn kisy.
Baltasy kulda, geget eshtan beraz tuktap tora;
Tukta, chu! Yamsez tavyshly әllә nәrsә kychkyra.
Siskәnep, bezneң Җeget katyp kala ayagүrә,
Anlamastan, karshysynda әllә nindi “yat” kүrә.

Narsә bu? Kachkynmy, җenme? Yә өrәkme, nәrsә bu?
Cat ocharlyk, bik kileshsez, әllә nindi nәrsә bu!
Boryns kәp-kәkre - bөgelgәnder tәmam karmak kebi;
Toz tugel kullar, yaklar yes - botak-tarmak kebi.
Yaltyry, yalt-yolt kilader echkә batkan kүzlәre,
The cat is ochar, kursәң әgәr, tonlә үgel - kөndezlәre.
Yap-yalangach, nәp-nәzek, lakin keshe tosle үze;
Urta barmak buylygy bar manlaenda mogeze.
Kakre tugelder monyn barmaklary - bik toz tozen,
Tik kileshsez - һәrbere dә yarty arshynnan ozyn.

Bik ozak trader karashyp, kuzne kuzgә nyk terap,
Endәshә batyr utynchy: "Sina minnәn ni kirәk?"
- Ber dә shiklanmә, eget, sin, min karak-ugry tugel;
Yul da kismimen, shulai da min biguk tugry tugel.
Gadәthem: yalgyz keshelәrne kytyklap үterәm;
Min әle kүrgәch blue, shatlanganymnan үkerәm.
Tik kytyklarga yaralgandyr minem barmaklarym,
Bulgalydyr kөlderep adәm үtergәn chaklyrym.
Kil ale sin dә beraz barmaklarynny selket, and
Yash go! Kilche ikәү uynyk beraz keti-keti.
- Yakhshy, yakhshy, suz dә yuktyr, min karyshmy uynymyn,
Tik blue shartymga kunmassen, diep min uylyymyn.

Narsә shartyn, soylә, and bichara adәmchek kenәm!
Tik tiz үk uynyykchy, zinһar, nәrsә kushsan da kүnәm.
- Soyloem shartymny sina, yakhshy tynlap tor: әнә
Shunda bar ich bik ozyn һәm bik yuan ber үrәnә.
Min dә kөch-yardәm bierermen, әydә, ipәsh, kuzgalyk.
Shul agachny bergә-bergә ushbu arbaga salyk.
Buranen ber ochynda bar әchelgan yarygy,
Shul girennan nyk kyna sin tot, and urman sarygy!

Bu kinashkә shүrәle dә kүnde, kilmichә kire,
Kitte kushkan җirgә, atlap adymyn ire-ire;
Kuydy iltep auzin әchkәn burәnәgә barmagyn. -
Kariem, kurdenme inde yash egetne karmagyn?
Sukkalyidyr balta berlan kystyrylgan chөigә bu,
Khaylasene әkren-әkren kiterәder koygә bu.

Shurale tykkan kulyn - selkenmider, kuzgalmyydyr;
Belmi insan khaylesen - һich baltaga kүz salmyydyr.
Sukkaly trader, ahyrda choy chygyp, bushap kitep,
Shuralenen barmagy kaldy - kysyldy shap itep.
Sizde eshne Shүrәle dә: kychkyra and bakira,
Syzlana һәm yardәmenә shүrәlelәr chakyra.

Khazer inde Shүrәle bezneң Җegetkә yalyna,
Tәүbә itә eshlәrennәn, izgelekkә salyn:
— Sin beraz kyzgan mine, kotkarchy, and adәmgenәm;
Mondin ary үzenә, ugilyңa, nasleңgә timәm.
Bashkalardan yes tidermәm, st minem dusty, diep,
Anar urmanda yorergә min үzem kushtym, diep.
Bik avyrta kullarym, dustym, җibәr, zinһar, җibәr;
Shuralene rәnҗetүdәn nәrsә bar sina, no bar?
Tibrәnә dә yolkyna, bichara gakilynnan shasha;
Shul arada yash Җeget өygә kitәrgә matasha.
At bashynnan totkan st, bu Shүrәlene belmi dә;
Monyn foryadlaryn street asla kolakka elmi dә.

— And Җеget, һich yuk ikәnder mәrkhәmәt hissen sinen;
Әitche, zingar, mәrkhәmәtsez! By whom? Ismena by whom?
Irtәgә kilganche dustlar, tәndә җanym torsa gәr,
Shul falen atly keshe kysty diermen sorasalar.
— Әytsәm әtim, sin belep kal:
chyn atym “Byltyr” minem.
Bu geget abzan bulyr bu, bik belep tor sin, enem!
Shurale foryad itader; audan ychkynmak bula,
һәm dә ychkyngach, Җegetkә ber-ber esh kylmak bula.

Kychkyra: kysty, harap itte yavyz "Byltyr" mine,
Aһ, үләм bit, bu baladәn kem kilep yolkyr mine?
Irtagesen shүrәlelәr bu fakyirne tirgilәr:
- Sin yulәrsen, sin kotyrgan, sin tilergansen, dilar.
Әытәләр: "kychkyrma sin, tiz yakhshylyk berlan tyel!
And yular! Kyskanga byltyr, kychkyralarmy byel!”

1. Gabdulla Tukay - Gabdulla Mukhamedgarifovich Tukai (April 14, 1886, Kushlavych village, Kazan district, Kazan province - April 2, 1913, Kazan). Tatar national poet, literary critic, publicist, public figure and translator.
On April 20, 1912, Tukay 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 “Tukai” by I.Z. Nurullin)
In his life and work, Tukay acted as a spokesman for the interests and aspirations of the masses, a herald of the friendship of peoples and a singer of freedom. Tukay was the founder of new realistic Tatar literature and literary criticism. Tukay's first poems appeared in the handwritten journal Al-Ghasr al-Jadid (" New Age") for 1904. At the same time he translates to Tatar language Krylov's fables and offers them for publication. ()

2. Poem "Shurale" - 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 produced the animated film Shurale.
The prototype of Shurale existed not only in Tatar mythology. U different nations Siberia and of Eastern Europe(as well as the Chinese, Koreans, Persians, Arabs and others) there was a belief in the so-called “half people”. They were called differently, but their essence remained almost the same.
These are one-eyed, one-armed creatures to which various supernatural properties were attributed. According to Yakut and Chuvash beliefs, half people can change the size of their body. Almost all peoples believe that they are terribly funny - they laugh until their last breath, and also love to make others laugh, often tickling livestock and people to death. The “laughing” voices of some birds (of the order Owls) were attributed to the halves. The Udmurts use the word "shurali" or "urali" for the eagle owl. And the Mari call the buzzing night bird “shur-locho”, which means “half-dwarf”. An evil forest spirit, having only half a soul, could inhabit people. In the Old Chuvash language, the word “surale” was formed - a person who was possessed by “sura” (half-devil). In northern dialects Chuvash language and in 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. Stories about Shural had many variations. Also in late XIX centuries they have been recorded by researchers. One should name 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 fairy tales by Taip Yakhin “Defgylkesel min essabi” ve sabiyat" 1900 edition. One of these options (where the resourcefulness and courage of the Tatar people is most clearly shown) formed the basis for the famous work of Gabdulla Tukay. WITH light hand poet Shurale stepped out of the realm of superstition into the world of Tatar literature and art. In a note to the poem, G. Tukay wrote: “I wrote this fairy tale “Shurale”, using the example of the poets A. Pushkin and M. Lermontov, who worked on the plots of folk tales told by folk storytellers in villages.”
The fairy-tale poem of Gabdulla Tukay was a huge success. It was in tune with its time and reflected educational trends in literature: it glorified the victory of the human mind, knowledge, and dexterity over the mysterious and blind forces of nature. It also reflected the growth of national self-awareness: for the first time, the center of a literary poetic work was not a common Turkic or Islamic plot, but rather a Tatar fairy tale that existed among the common people. The language of the poem was distinguished by 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.” Huge, amazing world, full of secrets and riddles, appears before the reader in the pure and direct perception of a little boy. The poet, with great tenderness and love, sang both the beauty of his native nature and folk customs, and the dexterity, strength, cheerfulness of the villagers. These feelings were shared by his readers, who perceived the fairy 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 first received not only negative, but also positive assessment: Shurale has become, as it were, an integral part native land, its virgin blooming nature, inexhaustible folk imagination. It is not surprising that this bright, memorable image then inspired writers, artists, and composers for many years to create significant and original works of art.

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Tatar fairy tale shurale. Tatar fairy tale Shurale 15 questions about Shurale in Tatar language

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Gabdulla Tukay. "Shurale" in Tatar language