Ivan Pushchin

Summer, Ivan Kupala holiday.

Ivan and his friends were walking along the river in the evening. Ivan was the quietest of all, and while his friends were animatedly talking, he only smiled quietly, listening to their gomand, but then they were interrupted by laughter and the melody of festivities.

The young men were surprised, looking towards the warm light of the fire, and naturally Pushkin smiled and quickly went there, Ivan sighed, realizing that this could end in something bad.

The village boys received the young noblemen with mistrust, but nevertheless warmly, and tried not to engage in conversation with them.

By the river, the girls giggled as they collected water lilies and blades of grass.

Ivan quietly watched everything with genuine interest; he'd heard about such festivities from the servants, or rather, overheard them. Sasha, however, tried to experience the festivities not from the outside, but to actually participate, trying to dance with the girls. Some were happy to do so, but the village boys looked on with disapproval.

And then Ivan saw you reluctantly weaving a wreath, and he quietly slipped towards you. Smiling tenderly and politely, he whispered

Hello, why are you so dissatisfied with the holiday? Such a beautiful evening, and yet you're sitting there sad and so reluctantly weaving a wreath.