Вершы. Хата, родныя мясціны

 

Вершы. Хата, родныя мясціны

                              

                                                                                            Аляксей Якімовіч

Дадому

 

Крочу я дадому,

                                                                У войску адслужыўшы,

                                                                Бацькаўшчыне роднай

                                                                Доўг свой заплаціўшы.

 

                                                                Сарока на бярозцы,

                                                                Убачыўшы, стракоча.

                                                                Мабыць, па сакрэту

                                                                Штось сказаць мне хоча.

 

                                                                Крочу я дадому,

                                                                Як госць, пазіраю,

                                                                Часам, прыпыніўшыся,

                                                                Стаю, уздыхаю.

 

                                                                Мядзяныя сасонкі

                                                                Галінкамі махаюць,

                                                                Напэўна, у цянёчку

                                                                Прысесці запрашаюць.

 

                                                                Іду я па дарозе,

                                                                Плечы распрамляю,

                                                                Знаёмыя мясцінкі

                                                                Міжволі адзначаю.

 

                                                                Імклівая крынічка

                                                                Ціхенька спявае.

                                                                -- Падыдзі, салдацік, --

                                                                Кліча, падклікае.

 

                                                                П’ю ваду з крынічкі,

                                                                Вуснамі тулюся.

                                                                З плячэй скіну стому,

                                                                Сілы набяруся.

 

                                                                Неўзабаве з хаты

                                                                Выбежыць мой тата.

                                                                З радасцю сустрэне

                                                                Ён свайго салдата.

 

                                                                Наблізіцца матуля,

                                                                Скажа: “Сын! Сыночак!”

                                                                Радасць вытра слёзкі

                                                                З яе добрых вочак.

 

                                                                Іду я па дарозе.

                                                                Вядзе яна дамоў.

                                                                У вёсачцы сустрэну

                                                                Блізкіх і сяброў.

                                                                                   2022 год.

 

                                                                                  Аляксей Якімовіч

Добры дзень

                    

“Добры дзень” у хату

                                                       Нашу запрашаем,

                                                       Песні беларускія

                                                       Разам паспяваем.

 

                                                       Ля асінак тонкіх

                                                       Ой, цячэ крынічка,

                                                       Поіць беларусаў

                                                       Чыстаю вадзічкай.

 

                                                       Ля крынічкі звонкай

                                                       Салавей клякоча,

                                                       Хмара праплывае,

                                                       Бліскае, грукоча.

 

                                                       Слухае крыніца,

                                                       Слухаюць асінкі.

                                                       Цалуюць зямліцу

                                                       Цёплыя дажджынкі.

 

                                                       Паспявалі гэту.

                                                       Дык пачнём другую

                                                       Пра старонку слаўную,

                                                       Мілую такую.

 

                                                       Сёння ў вёсцы свята:

                                                       Ураджай сабралі,

                                                       Цёплаю парою

                                                       Дружна працавалі.

 

                                                       Іграе гармонік,

                                                       Скрыпка выцінае.

                                                       Павучок на павуцінцы

                                                       Ціха падлятае.

 

                                                       Восень залатая

                                                       Прыйшла, завітала.

                                                       Караваем свежым

                                                        Нас пачаставала.

 

                                                        -- Добры дзень, -- ад душы

                                                        Добрым людзям скажам.

                                                        Са сцяблінак залатых                       

                                                        Для іх снопік звяжам.

                                                                                         2022 год

 

                                                                                   Аляксей Якімовіч

Калыханка

 

                                                Спяць, заснулі луг і лес.

                                                Спіць у полі каласок.

                                                Разам з імі засынай,

                                                Даражэнькі мой сынок.

 

                                                Спяць і зайцы, і лісіцы,

                                                У нары спіць барсучок.

                                                 Разам з імі засынай,

                                                 Мая радасць, мой сынок.

 

                                                 Люлі-люлі-люлі…

                                                 Не гуляюць гулі.

                                                 Люлі-люлі-люлі…

                                                 Спаць пайшлі, заснулі.

                                                                         2022 год

 

                                                                                                Аляксей Якімовіч

Беларускі ручнічок

 

Рассцілаецца ля вёскі

                                                           Наш лужок зялёны.

                                                           Пазіраюць на яго,

                                                           Як на дзіва, клёны.

 

                                                           Тонкія сцяблінкі

                                                           Лашчыць вецярок.

                                                           Коціцца ад вёскі

                                                           Белы ручнічок.

 

                                                           Беларускі ручнічок –

                                                           Старжытны землячок.

 

                                                           З нітачак трывалых

                                                           Яго мама ткала,

                                                           Сеўшы ля акна,

                                                           Дбайна вышывала.

 

                                                           Беларускі ручнічок –

                                                           Мой шаноўны землячок.

 

                                                           Бачу тут рамонкі,

                                                           Бачу васілёчкі

                                                           І маміны шэрыя

                                                           Ласкавыя вочкі.

 

                                                           Беларускі ручнічок –

                                                           Мой прыгожы землячок.

 

                                                           Ручнічком бажніцу

                                                           З мамай атулялі.

                                                           Светлыя анёлы

                                                           Нам дапамагалі.

 

                                                           Беларускі ручнічок –

                                                           Самы знатны землячок.

 

                                                           Чую, як ля хаты

                                                            Музыка іграе:

                                                            Бубен гулка б’е,

                                                            Скрыпка выцінае.

 

                                                            Сёння там, дзе клёны,

                                                            Вялікае свята:

                                                             Карагоды водзяць

                                                             Хлопцы і дзяўчаты.

 

                                                             Вясну яны клічуць,

                                                             Як мага гукаюць.

                                                             А маміны рукі

                                                             Ручнік вышываюць.

 

                                                             Беларускі ручнічок –

                                                             Мой любімы землячок.

 

                                                             Вышывае ручнічок

                                                             І ціха спявае.

                                                             Песня беларуская

                                                             Душу разрывае.

 

                                                             Разрывае, каб адчула,

                                                             Каб змагла пазнаці,

                                                             Што Радзіму называюць

                                                             Даўнім словам маці.

 

                                                             На лужку зялёным

                                                             Зіхацяць расінкі.

                                                             Беларускі ручнічок

                                                             Ляжыць ля нізінкі.

 

                                                             Стаўшы на калені,

                                                             Палатно цалую.

                                                             Не губляйся, ручнічок.

                                                             Без цябе сумую.

                                                                                2023 год 

 

                                                                                             Алякей Якімовіч

Коні

Бягуць коні па дарозе,

                                                           Пыл клубамі ўецца.

                                                           Сіла наша забурліла.

                                                           Гэтак мне здаецца.

 

                                                           Сіла беларуса

                                                           З дужымі рукамі,

                                                           Што зямлю арала

                                                           Вострымі плугамі.

 

                                                           Коні за ракою

                                                           Стому пакідалі,

                                                           Травіцу зялёную

                                                           Усю ноч шчыпалі.

 

                                                           Травіца зялёная,

                                                           Як шчотка, густая

                                                           На лузе шырокім

                                                           Яшчэ падрастае.

                                        

                                                          Бягуць коні па дарозе.

                                                          Грывы, нібы крылы.

                                                          З імі мой буланы,

                                                          Самы лепшы, мілы.

 

                                                          Канюшынкаю карміў,

                                                          Да яго туліўся.

                                                          Ён разумнымі вачамі

                                                          Пазіраў, касіўся.

 

                                                         Нёс мяне ён спіне

                                                         Па сцежках-дарогах.

                                                         З ім вяртаўся я заўжды

                                                         Да свайго парога.

 

                                                        Сонца вочы слепіць.

                                                        Руку прыўзнімаю,

                                                        Як сяброў вас, коні,

                                                        Ля хаты вітаю.

 

                                                        Побач стаяць бацька,

                                                        Мама маладая.

                                                        Лета беларускае

                                                        Цяплом абнімае.

                                                                              2023 год. 

 

                                                                                                    Аляксей Якімовіч

Дахаты

 

                                              Сыплюцца сняжынкі,

                                              Кладуцца на дарогу.

                                              Іду, як у пустыні,

                                              Адольваю знямогу.

 

                                              У пустыні белай-белай,

                                               Зласлівай і чужой,

                                               Хаця нядаўна, улетку,

                                               Тут быў жаданы, свой.

 

                                              Зіма усё змяніла,

                                              Змяніў яе прыход.

                                              У музыцы зімовай

                                              Нямала жорсткіх нот.

 

                                              Мароз за твар бярэцца,

                                              Коле і кусае.

                                              Па самыя калені

                                              Сыпкі снег займае.

 

                                              Сляды мае ля лесу,

                                              Ступаю уздоўж рэчкі.

                                              Уваліўшыся у хату,

                                              Саджуся каля печкі.

 

                                              Гарачая печка

                                              Цяплом шчокі грэе.

                                              Вецер усхадзіўся.

                                              На дварэ завея.

 

                                              Радасць на душы.

                                              Душа расцвітае,

                                              Калі хата светлая,

                                              Як свайго, чакае.

             2024 год