Everybody knows the famous Ukrainian proverb “Bread is everything to the head”. It contains the age-old wisdom of the Ukrainian people, who throughout the development paid much attention to bread. If there is bread, there will be peace, there will be a happy healthy life for the people of our country.
Since ancient times, in the lives of Ukrainians, the upbringing of a careful attitude to bread was, and still is, the first place from the early childhood. Ukraine has always been and is a breadbasket, bread-bearing country, because it has rich black earth soils.
Bread. Here it is – fresh, soft, fragrant – lies on the embroidered towel. From it there is a smell of a gold field, a hot sun, the song of a lark is heard.
Harvest. They prepared for them winter, spring, and their beginning became a holiday. The peasants dressed in white festive shirts and drove out for the night in the field to start the harvest with the first ray of the sun. It was a holiday of the first sheaf.
I remember the “Generous Evening” by Mikhail Stelmakh. Little Misha goes with his father for the night, because tomorrow is harvest. He can not sleep for a long time on a cart. The boy seems that he will not be awakened. And when he began to reap, then his hands did not obey, and the mowing was not right there, and his back was not heard, it hurt so much because he did not go so far as to “dad sometimes did not think about something.”
Bread. How hard it is to get it! Let’s recall the unforgettable T. Shevchenko:
And I stand, having stolen, I think, I think.
As it is hard then pressing people get it.
Before her eyes appears Malanka Wolik, poor in her way of life and so rich in love for the land. I see how she goes to the field, where a golden field ripples along which a breeze runs through the waves. The woman leans to the ground, kneels, turns the spikelets and listens as the grain falls, as “the field weeps with golden tears.” Malanka is bowing to bread, because he is a saint. Saints and people who extract it.
The insult of bread we will worship,
To the haggardly shining earth.
These words belong to Boris Oleynik, whose poem “In Defense” is taught in school. And is it possible to forget the tender work of D. Pavlik “When we walked together with you.” – a hymn to daily bread, where two lovers walk “along a narrow path along the field”. The guy is amazed at how the girl mercilessly tramples on “spikelets of wheat that are nailed down to the ground.” He remembers his bitter childhood when he collected spikelets in the section of a children’s shirt, “the mother recalls, as she taught to appreciate bread that fell to the floor, for” that’s a colossi “, then vigilant work, then a young wedding bride.
And how many wonderful words about bread the people preserve in their treasury – oral folk art! “Bread is everything to the head”, “Bread is the people’s good”, “The price of bread is life”.
How does the bread smell? Do you know how the bread smells?
By the breathing of mowers, by the fire of hot days,
Labor and creativity, human hot sweat,
It smells sweet, honey smells honeycomb. –
He asks and affirms Love Zabashta in his poem “How the bread smells”.
Nobody will forget the Holodomor in Ukraine. Therefore let him, bread, our conscience, always be on the table; on the embroidered towel, and our first prayer is to praise the bread. Let the bread harden, for, as the people say, when the bread is hard, the soul and conscience stale. So it will be all your life: the bread on the table.