Vanya (in the coachman's yarmyachka)
Daddy! who built this road?
Daddy (In a coat with a red lining)
Count Pyotr Andreevich Kleinmichel, darling!
(conversation in the carriage)
1
Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
Air tired strength invigorates;
Ice is not strong on the cold river
Like melting sugar lies;
Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not yet had time to fade,
Are yellow and fresh like a carpet.
Glorious autumn! Frosty nights
Clear, quiet days ...
There is no disgrace in nature! And kochi,
And moss swamps, and stumps -
All is well under the moonlight
I recognize my native Russia everywhere ...
I fly fast on cast-iron rails,
I think my thought ...
2
Good dad! Why in charm
Keep a smart Vanya?
Let me be with the moonlight
Show him the truth.
This work, Vanya, was terribly huge -
Not on the shoulder alone!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is his name.
He leads the armies; at sea by ships
Rules; drives people into the artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind
Stonecutters, weavers.
It was he who drove the masses of the people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle
Calling these barren wilds in life,
They found their coffin here.
Straight path: narrow embankments,
Posts, rails, bridges.
And on the sides, all the bones are Russian ...
How many there are! Vanya, do you know?
Chu, menacing exclamations were heard!
Stomp and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran over frosty glass ...
What is there? Dead crowd!
They overtake the cast-iron road,
They run by sides.
Do you hear the singing? ... "On this moonlit night,
Love us to see our work!
We struggled in the heat, in the cold,
With your back always bent
We lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
Freeze and wet, sick with scurvy.
We were robbed by literate foremen,
The bosses whipped, the need pressed ...
We have endured everything, God's warriors,
Peaceful children of labor!
Brothers! you are reaping our fruits!
We are destined to rot in the ground ...
Do you remember all of us, the poor
Or forgotten for a long time? ... "
Do not be terrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from mother Volga, from Oka,
From different ends of the great state -
It's all! your brothers are men!
It's a shame to be shy, to be covered with a glove,
You're not little! .. Russian hair,
You see, standing, emaciated with fever,
Tall, sick Belarusian:
Bloodless lips, drooping eyelids,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Forever knee-deep in water
The legs are swollen; tangled hair;
I will wash my chest, which is diligently on the spade
I spent the whole century day after day ...
You take a closer look at him, Vanya, carefully:
It was difficult for a man to get his bread!
Didn't straighten my hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically with a rusty shovel
Hollow ground hollows!
This noble work habit
It would not be bad for us to adopt ...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect the man.
Don't be shy about your dear homeland ...
Endured enough Russian people,
Carried out this railroad -
Will endure whatever the Lord sends!
Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will make a way for himself with his chest.
It's a pity - to live in this beautiful time
You won't have to - neither me, nor you.
3
The whistle is deafening this minute
Screamed - the crowd of the dead disappeared!
“I saw, father, I am an amazing dream, -
Vanya said, - five thousand men,
Russian tribes and breeds representatives
Suddenly they appeared - and he told me:
"Here they are - the builders of our road! .." "
The general burst out laughing!
“I was recently within the walls of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw Saint Stephen in Vienna,
What ... did the people create all this?
Excuse me for this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a little wild.
Or Apollo Belvedere for you
Worse than a stove pot?
Here are your people - these terms and baths,
A miracle of art - he took everything away! "
- "I'm not talking for you, but for Vanya ..."
But the general did not give an objection:
Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and Germanic
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! a wild bunch of drunks! ..
However, it's time to take care of Vanyusha;
You know, a spectacle of death, sorrow
It is a sin to resent a child's heart.
Would you show the child now
The bright side ...
4
- Glad to show!
Listen, my dear: fateful works
It's over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working people
Gathered in a close crowd at the office ...
They scratched their heads tightly:
Every contractor should stay,
Walking days have become a penny!
The foremen entered everything in the book -
Whether he took it to the bathhouse, whether the patient was lying.
“Maybe there is now a surplus here,
Come on! .. "- waved their hand ...
In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Thick, squishy, \u200b\u200bred as copper,
The contractor rides along the line on a holiday,
Goes to see his work.
Idle people make way decorously ...
Sweat wipes the merchant from the face
And he says, akimbo:
“Okay ... no matter ... well done! .. well done! ..
With God, now go home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to the workers
And - I give arrears ... "
Someone "hurray" shouted,
Louder, friendlier, longer ... Look:
The foremen rolled the barrel with the song ...
Here even the lazy one could not resist!
The people unharnessed their horses - and the merchant
With a cry of "hurray" rushed along the road ...
Seems hard to see the picture
Draw, General? ..
In this poem main character tells about the hard work of the workers who built the railway (Chapter II):
"This work habit is noble
It would not be bad for us to adopt ...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect the man.Don't be shy for your dear homeland ...
Endured enough Russian people,
Carried out this railroad -
Will endure whatever the Lord sends!Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will make a way for himself with his chest.
It's a pity - to live in this beautiful time
I won't have to - neither me nor you."
Examples of
"The sun went down, it began to get dark. On the line of the railway, lights, green, red, lit up here and there ... Varya stopped and, looking at these lights, began to read:
Straight path: narrow embankments,
Posts, rails, bridges,
And on the sides, all the bones are Russian ...
How many of them! ..We struggled in the heat, in the cold,
With your back always bent ...She read in a magnificent chest voice, with feeling, a lively blush lit up on her face, and tears appeared in her eyes. This was the former Varya, Varya, a student, and listening to her, Podgorin thought about the past and recalled that he himself, when he was a student, knew many good poems by heart and loved to read them.
Didn't straighten my hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent ...- Eh, I forgot.
But Podgorin suddenly remembered - somehow accidentally survived in his memory from his students - and read quietly, in an undertone:
Endured enough Russian people,
He carried this railroad too, -
Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will make his way with his chest ...
It's a pity ...- It's a pity, - Varya interrupted him, remembering, - it's a pity, neither me nor you will have to live in this wonderful time!
And she laughed and slapped his hand on the shoulder. "
« Railway"Nikolay Nekrasov
V a n I (in a coachman's jacket).
Daddy! who built this road?
Pa pasha (in a coat with a red lining),
Count Pyotr Andreevich Kleinmichel, darling!
Conversation in the carriageGlorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired strength;
Ice is not strong on the cold river
Like melting sugar lies;Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not yet had time to fade,
Are yellow and fresh like a carpet.Glorious autumn! Frosty nights
Clear, quiet days ...
There is no disgrace in nature! And kochi,
And moss swamps, and stumps -All is well under the moonlight
I recognize my native Russia everywhere ...
I fly fast on cast-iron rails,
I think my thought ...Good dad! Why in charm
Keep a smart Vanya?
Let me be with the moonlight
Show him the truth.This work, Vanya, was terribly huge
Not on the shoulder alone!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is his name.He leads the armies; at sea by ships
Rules; drives people into the artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind
Stonecutters, weavers.It was he who drove the masses of the people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle
Calling these barren wilds to life,
They found their coffin here.Straight path: narrow embankments,
Posts, rails, bridges.
And on the sides, all the bones are Russian ...
How many there are! Vanya, do you know?Chu! formidable exclamations were heard!
Stomp and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran over frosty glass ...
What is there? Dead crowd!They overtake the cast-iron road,
They run by sides.
Do you hear the singing? .. “On this moonlit night
Love us to see our work!We struggled in the heat, in the cold,
With your back always bent
We lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
Frozen and wet, sick with scurvy.We were robbed by literate foremen,
The bosses whipped, the need pressed ...
We have endured everything, God's warriors,
Peaceful children of labor!Brothers! You are reaping our fruits!
We are destined to rot in the ground ...
Do you remember all of us, the poor
Or forgotten for a long time? .. "Do not be terrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from mother Volga, from Oka,
From different ends of the great state -
These are all your brothers - men!It's a shame to be shy, to be covered with a glove,
You’re not small! .. Rus hair,
You see, standing, emaciated with fever,
Tall sick Belarusian:Bloodless lips, drooping eyelids,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Forever knee-deep in water
The legs are swollen; tangled hair;I will wash my chest, which is diligently on the spade
I spent the whole century day after day ...
You take a closer look at him, Vanya, carefully:
It was difficult for a man to get his bread!Didn't straighten my hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically with a rusty shovel
Hollow ground hollows!This noble work habit
It would not be bad for us to adopt ...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect the man.Don't be shy about your dear homeland ...
Endured enough Russian people,
He took out this railroad too -
Will endure whatever the Lord sends!Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will make a way for himself with his chest.
It's a pity - to live in this beautiful time
You won't have to - neither me, nor you.The whistle is deafening this minute
Screamed - the crowd of the dead disappeared!
“I saw, father, I am an amazing dream, -
Vanya said, - five thousand men,Russian tribes and breeds representatives
Suddenly they appeared - and he told me:
"Here they are - the builders of our road! .."
The general burst out laughing!“I was recently within the walls of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw Saint Stephen in Vienna,
What ... did the people create all this?Excuse me for this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a little wild.
Or Apollo Belvedere for you
Worse than a stove pot?Here are your people - these terms and baths,
A miracle of art - he took everything away! "-
"I'm not talking for you, but for Vanya ..."
But the general did not give an objection:"Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! a wild bunch of drunks! ..
However, it's time to take care of Vanyusha;You know, a spectacle of death, sorrow
It is a sin to resent a child's heart.
Would you show the child now
The bright side ... "Glad to show!
Listen, my dear: fateful works
It's over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working peopleGathered in a close crowd at the office ...
They scratched their heads tightly:
Every contractor should stay,
Walking days have become a penny!The foremen entered everything in the book -
Did he take to the bathhouse, did the patient lie:
“Maybe there is now a surplus here,
Why, come on! .. ”They waved their hand ...In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Thick, squishy, \u200b\u200bred as copper,
The contractor rides along the line on a holiday,
Goes to see his work.Idle people make way decorously ...
Sweat wipes the merchant from the face
And he says, akimbo:
“Okay ... no matter ... well done! .. well done! ..With God, now go home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to the workers
And - I give arrears! .. "Someone shouted "hurray". Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer ... Look:
The foremen rolled the barrel with the song ...
Here even the lazy one could not resist!The people unharnessed their horses - and the merchant
Shouting "Hurray!" rushed along the road ...
Seems hard to see the picture
Draw, General? ..
Analysis of Nekrasov's poem "Railroad"
The poet Nikolai Nekrasov is one of the founders of the so-called civic movement in Russian literature. His works are devoid of any embellishments and are characterized by extraordinary realism, which sometimes brings a smile, but in most cases is an excellent reason for rethinking the reality around us.
Such profound works include the poem "Railroad", written in 1864, a few months after the abolition of serfdom. In it, the author tries to show the other side of the medal of the construction of an overpass between Moscow and St. Petersburg, which for many workers has become a huge mass grave.
The poem has four parts. The first of them is romantic and peaceful. In it, Nekrasov talks about his railway journey, not forgetting to pay tribute to the beauty of Russian nature and the delightful landscapes that open outside the window of a train sailing through meadows, fields and forests. Admiring the opening picture, the author becomes an unwitting witness to the conversation between the father-general and his teenage son, who is interested in who built the railway. It should be noted that this topic in the second half of the 19th century was particularly relevant and burning, since the railway communication opened up truly unlimited opportunities for travel. While it took about a week to get from Moscow to St. Petersburg by postal carriage, train travel reduced the travel time to one day.
However, few people thought about the price that had to be paid for Russia to finally transform from a backward agrarian country into a developed European power. The symbol of the transformation in this case was the railway, which was designed to emphasize the new status of the Russian Empire. It was built by former serfs, who, having received the long-awaited freedom, simply did not know how to dispose of this priceless gift. They were driven to the construction site of the century not so much by curiosity and a desire to fully taste the delights of a free life, as a banal hunger, which Nekrasov calls in his poem nothing else but a "king" who rules the world. As a result, several thousand people died on the construction of the railway, and the poet considered it necessary to tell about this not only to his young companion, but also to his readers.
Subsequent parts of the poem "Railroad" are devoted to the dispute between the author and the general, who tries to assure the poet that the Russian peasant, stupidly and powerless, is not able to build anything more worthwhile than a wooden rural hut, wretched and warped. In the opinion of Nekrasov's opponent, only educated and noble people have the right to consider themselves geniuses of progress, they own great discoveries in the field of science, culture and art. At the same time, the general insists that the bleak picture painted by the poet harms the immature youthful mind of his son. And Nekrasov takes the liberty of showing the situation from the other side, telling about how the construction work was completed, and at the holiday on this occasion, the workers received a barrel of wine from the master's shoulder of the meadowsweet and - writing off the debts that they accumulated during the construction of the railway. Simply put, the poet directly pointed out the fact that yesterday's slaves were again deceived, and the results of their labor were appropriated by those who are the master of life and can afford to dispose of the lives of others at their own discretion.
"Railway"
Vanya (in a coachman's jacket).
Daddy! who built this road?
Daddy (in a coat with a red lining)
Count Pyotr Andreevich Kleinmichel, darling!
Conversation in the carriage
Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired strength;
Ice is not strong on the cold river
Like melting sugar lies;
Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not yet had time to fade,
Are yellow and fresh like a carpet.
Glorious autumn! Frosty nights
Clear, quiet days ...
There is no disgrace in nature! And kochi,
And moss swamps, and stumps -
All is well under the moonlight
Everywhere I recognize my native Russia ...
I fly fast on cast-iron rails,
I think my thought ...
Good dad! Why in charm
Keep a smart Vanya?
Let me be with the moonlight
Show him the truth.
This work, Vanya, was terribly huge
Not on the shoulder alone!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is his name.
He leads the armies; at sea by ships
Rules; drives people into the artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind
Stonecutters, weavers.
It was he who drove the masses of the people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle
Calling these barren wilds to life,
They found their coffin here.
Straight path: narrow embankments,
Posts, rails, bridges.
And on the sides, all the bones are Russian ...
How many there are! Vanya, do you know?
Chu! formidable exclamations were heard!
Stomp and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran across frosty glass ...
What is there? Dead crowd!
They overtake the cast-iron road,
They run by sides.
Do you hear the singing? .. "On this moonlit night
Love us to see our work!
We struggled in the heat, in the cold,
With your back always bent
We lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
Frozen and wet, sick with scurvy.
We were robbed by literate foremen,
The bosses whipped, the need pressed ...
We have endured everything, God's warriors,
Peaceful children of labor!
Brothers! You are reaping our fruits!
We are destined to rot in the ground ...
Do you remember all of us, the poor
Or forgotten for a long time? .. "
Do not be terrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from mother Volga, from Oka,
From different ends of the great state -
These are all your brothers - men!
It's a shame to be shy, to be covered with a glove,
You’re not small! .. Rus hair,
You see, standing, emaciated with fever,
Tall sick Belarusian:
Bloodless lips, drooping eyelids,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Forever knee-deep in water
The legs are swollen; tangled hair;
I will wash my chest, which is diligently on the spade
I spent the whole century day after day ...
You take a closer look at him, Vanya, carefully:
It was difficult for a man to get his bread!
Didn't straighten my hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically with a rusty shovel
Hollow ground hollows!
This noble work habit
It would not be bad for us to adopt ...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect the man.
Don't be shy for your dear homeland ...
Endured enough Russian people,
He took out this railroad too -
Will endure whatever the Lord sends!
Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will make a way for himself with his chest.
It's a pity - to live in this beautiful time
You won't have to - neither me, nor you.
The whistle is deafening this minute
Screamed - the crowd of the dead disappeared!
"I saw, dad, I am an amazing dream, -
Vanya said, - five thousand men,
Russian tribes and breeds representatives
Suddenly they appeared - and he told me:
"Here they are - builders of our road! .."
The general burst out laughing!
"I was recently within the walls of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw Saint Stephen in Vienna,
What ... did the people create all this?
Excuse me for this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a little wild.
Or Apollo Belvedere for you
Worse than a stove pot?
Here are your people - these terms and baths,
A miracle of art - he pulled everything apart! "-
"I'm not talking for you, but for Vanya ..."
But the general did not give an objection:
"Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! a wild bunch of drunks! ..
However, it's time to take care of Vanyusha;
You know, a spectacle of death, sorrow
It is a sin to resent a child's heart.
Would you show the child now
The bright side ... "
Glad to show!
Listen, my dear: fateful works
It's over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working people
Gathered in a close crowd at the office ...
They scratched their heads tightly:
Every contractor should stay,
Walking days have become a penny!
The foremen entered everything in the book -
Did he take to the bathhouse, did the patient lie:
"Maybe there is now a surplus here,
Why, come on! .. "They waved their hand ...
In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Thick, squishy, \u200b\u200bred as copper,
The contractor rides along the line on a holiday,
Goes to see his work.
Idle people make way decorously ...
Sweat wipes the merchant from the face
And he says, akimbo:
"Okay ... not a thing ... well done! .. well done! ..
With God, now go home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to the workers
And - I give arrears! .. "
Someone yelled "hurray". Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer ... Look:
The foremen rolled the barrel with the song ...
Here even the lazy one could not resist!
The people unharnessed their horses - and the merchant
Shouting "Hurray!" rushed along the road ...
Seems hard to see the picture
Draw, General? ..
RAILWAY
V a n I (in a coachman's jacket).
Daddy! who built this road?
Pa pasha (in a coat with a red lining),
Count Pyotr Andreevich Kleinmichel, darling!
Conversation in the carriage
Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces,
Ice is not strong on the cold river
Like melting sugar lies
Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not yet had time to fade,
Are yellow and fresh like a carpet.
Glorious autumn! Frosty nights
Clear, quiet days ...
There is no disgrace in nature! And kochi,
And moss swamps, and stumps -
All is well under the moonlight
Everywhere I recognize my native Russia ...
I fly fast on cast-iron rails,
I think my thought ...
Good dad! Why in charm
Keep a smart Vanya?
Let me be with the moonlight
Show him the truth.
This work, Vanya, was terribly huge
Not on the shoulder alone!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is his name.
He leads armies, ships at sea
He rules, he drives people to the artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind
Stonecutters, weavers.
It was he who drove the masses of the people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle
Calling these barren wilds to life,
They found their coffin here.
Straight path: narrow embankments,
Posts, rails, bridges.
And on the sides, all the bones are Russian ...
How many there are! Vanya, do you know?
Chu! formidable exclamations were heard!
Stomp and gnashing of teeth
A shadow ran across frosty glass ...
What is there? Dead crowd!
They overtake the cast-iron road,
They run by sides.
Do you hear the singing? .. “On this moonlit night
Love us to see our work!
We struggled in the heat, in the cold,
With your back always bent
We lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
Frozen and wet, sick with scurvy.
We were robbed by literate foremen,
The bosses whipped, the need pressed ...
We have endured everything, God's warriors,
Peaceful children of labor!
Brothers! You are reaping our fruits!
We are destined to rot in the ground ...
Do you remember all of us, the poor
Or forgotten for a long time? .. "
Do not be terrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from mother Volga, from Oka,
From different ends of the great state -
These are all your brothers - men!
It's a shame to be shy, to be covered with a glove,
You’re not small! .. Rus hair,
You see, standing, emaciated with fever,
Tall sick Belarusian:
Bloodless lips, drooping eyelids,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Forever knee-deep in water
My legs are swollen, my hair is messy
I will wash my chest, which is diligently on the spade
I spent the whole century day after day ...
You take a closer look at him, Vanya, carefully:
It was difficult for a man to get his bread!
Didn't straighten my hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically with a rusty shovel
Hollow ground hollows!
This noble work habit
It would not be bad for us to adopt ...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect the man.
Don't be shy for your dear homeland ...
Endured enough Russian people,
He took out this railroad too -
Will endure whatever the Lord sends!
Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will make a way for himself with his chest.
It's a pity - to live in this beautiful time
You won't have to - neither me, nor you.
The whistle is deafening this minute
Screamed - the crowd of the dead disappeared!
“I saw, father, I am an amazing dream, -
Vanya said, - five thousand men,
Russian tribes and breeds representatives
Suddenly they appeared - and he told me:
"Here they are - builders of our road! .."
The general burst out laughing!
“I was recently within the walls of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw Saint Stephen in Vienna,
What ... did the people create all this?
Excuse me for this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a little wild.
Or Apollo Belvedere for you
Worse than a stove pot?
Here are your people - these terms and baths,
A miracle of art - he pulled everything apart! "-
"I'm not talking for you, but for Vanya ..."
But the general did not give an objection:
"Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! a wild bunch of drunks! ..
However, it's time to do Vanyusha,
You know, a spectacle of death, sorrow
It is a sin to resent a child's heart.
Would you show the child now
The bright side ... "
Glad to show!
Listen, my dear: fateful works
It's over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground, the sick
Hidden in dugouts, working people
Gathered in a close crowd at the office ...
They scratched their heads tightly:
Every contractor should stay,
Walking days have become a penny!
The foremen entered everything in the book -
Did he take to the bathhouse, did the patient lie:
“Maybe there is now a surplus here,
Why, come on! .. ”They waved their hand ...
In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Thick, squishy, \u200b\u200bred as copper,
The contractor rides along the line on a holiday,
Goes to see his work.
Idle people make way decorously ...
Sweat wipes the merchant from the face
And he says, akimbo:
“Okay ... no matter ... well done! .. well done! ..
With God, now go home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to the workers
And - I give arrears! .. "
Someone shouted "hurray". Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer ... Look:
The foremen rolled the barrel with the song ...
Here even the lazy one could not resist!
The people unharnessed their horses - and the merchant
Shouting "Hurray!" rushed along the road ...
Seems hard to see the picture
Draw, General? ..