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Äðóæåñêîå îáùåíèå Ãîâîðèì îáî âñåì íà ñâåòå! |
Ïîíðàâèëàñü òåìà? Ïîääåðæèòå åå â ñîöèàëüíûõ ñåòÿõ! |
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LinkBack | Îïöèè òåìû | Îïöèè ïðîñìîòðà |
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Ãîñòü
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![]() À â Áðèòàíèè ñåãîäíÿ îòìå÷àþò äåíü êðàñíîãî ìàêà, êîòîðûé ñèìâîëèçèðóåò ïàìÿòü ïîãèáøèõ ñîëäàò.
Êðàñíûé ìàê êàê ñèìâîë ïàìÿòè Âîåííûé âðà÷ êàíàäåö Äæîí ÌàêÊðåé (John McCrae), âîåâàâøèé â Áåëüãèè â Ïåðâóþ ìèðîâóþ âîéíó, íàïèñàë ñèìâîëè÷íîå ñòèõîòâîðåíèå Íà ïîëÿõ Ôëàíäðèè (ñì. íèæå â îðèãèíàëå). Ñòèõîòâîðåíèå íà÷èíàåòñÿ ñëîâàìè: "Íà ïîëÿõ Ôëàíäðèè êîëûøóòñÿ ìàêè ñðåäè êðåñòîâ, ñòîÿùèõ ðÿä çà ðÿäîì…". Ñòèõîòâîðåíèå áûëî ïðèñëàíî â àíãëèéñêèé æóðíàë Punch â 1915 ãîäó, à â 1918 ïîëêîâíèê ÌàêÊðåé ïîãèá. Ñ÷èòàåòñÿ, ÷òî ñåìåíà ìàêà ëþáÿò, êîãäà çåìëþ "áåñïîêîÿò": îíè ìîãóò ãîäàìè ïðîëåæàòü â ïî÷âå è íà÷íóò ïðîðàñòàòü òîëüêî ïîñëå òîãî, êàê ïî÷âó ïåðåêîïàëè.  Ïåðâóþ ìèðîâóþ âîéíó âî Ôëàíäðèè øëè êðîâîïðîëèòíûå ñðàæåíèÿ, ïîñëå êîòîðûõ íåìíîãèì, îñòàâøèìñÿ â æèâûõ, ïðèõîäèëîñü õîðîíèòü ïîãèáøèõ òîâàðèùåé ïðÿìî íà ïîëå áîÿ. Ãîâîðÿò, òàêîãî êîëè÷åñòâà ìàêîâ â òåõ ìåñòàõ íå âèäåëè íèêîãäà íè äî, íè ïîñëå òîãî ñòðàøíîãî âðåìåíè. ![]() ![]() Ôîòî ñëåâà: ©CountrysideLiving.net In Flanders Fields by John McCrae, May 1915 In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. Âçÿòî òóò |
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