The poem is written in the first person. Student at Moscow University Sashka Polezhaev, buddy, goes to St. Petersburg to his uncle. Remember how at the beginning of the novel "Eugene Onegin" by Pushkin the hero also goes to his uncle? It seems like that.
He was born in a small village near Saransk. His first home teacher was a footman from his father’s yard. The child early learned to swear in Russian and French, to play the balalaika. When he was ten years old, his father sent him to study in Moscow. First a boarding house, then a university. Oh, this university! We lagged behind Europe: decent people get education there, and we are full of fools and cattle. Stupid, wild homeland, when will you wake up and overthrow your executioners?
But where is the hero now? Here he is, having fun with the beauties in the tavern. Noise, singing, screaming, decanters and glasses rattle, vodka, wine and beer flow like water. This is how Moscow students spend their time. Well, what are they capable of? No, Sasha knows how to speak French and German, and even composes poems in Russian. I am not inclined to mathematics, but I am ready to fight on swords with a dashing hussar. Desperate atheist, hates priests and does not believe in Jesus Christ. Reckless drunkard and tireless womanizer. We used to go with our whole company to the girls in one cheerful house in Maryina Grove, we bully passers-by, molest pretty girls, everyone shies away from us ... No, let's go to Sretenka! Hey, cabman! And here is the familiar stash. We broke the constipation at the gate, go cursing. “I’m Tanya, and you’re Anyuta!” - says Sashka. We’ll dance, gallop with the girls. And here we are fornication.
I remember there was a fight in such a brothel. The police intervened, there were more than us. Prior to this, Sashka hadn’t shared one girl with someone, he was jealous of her, beat her hard, and now he was seized, his hands tied. Calls for help, panting: “Here! I won’t kill everyone here! ” Helped one of ours, the healthiest: scattered all the police. We will celebrate our victory - get drunk and sing a dashing song. Fly, sadness and sorrow ... there and there! Dance girls and praise Sasha! And I, ending the first chapter, I will say about him: well done!
Sasha had to go to St. Petersburg to a rich uncle: he had no money left, he needed support. He drank the last glass of vodka at the outpost, entering the northern capital. Night, Neva. Monument to Peter I. Sad without Moscow friends and girls! Don’t be sad, Sasha, it’s a shame to lose heart so everything will work out.
At first, the uncle was angry, shouted at his nephew, but then he relented, picked up, gave money: he was deeply touched by Sasha’s “sincere” remorse. And he is glad: he began to revel again. He drinks vodka and goes to the girls. But not only that: and the theater attends! Moreover, there he does not look like a dirty student-student, as in Moscow, but a metropolitan dandy, bored and disappointed like the aforementioned Eugene Onegin. He has an excellent relationship with his uncle: Sasha managed to pretend to be a well-disposed and religious person who is interested in all kinds of high matters, art and so on. She used to have fun with beauties for her pleasure, and when she arrived home, she would tell her uncle that he was in the Hermitage. Here is a scammer! Hey Sasha! Probably forgot old friends? He became such an aristocrat ... You are not going back to Moscow? You’ll come back, you won’t go anywhere ...
And what? I am walking somehow through the Kremlin Garden, looking around, looking at the crowd, especially the ladies, and - oh, who am I seeing! But this is Sasha! Are you, dear friend? We hugged, cried with great joy, and, of course, went to the tavern. And there are all of ours! Sasha with money, treats. He said that his uncle sent him to the university for another year. Great, old life again. It is amusing to recall how one of ours got drunk, puke himself and climbed to hug Sasha - his fashionable St. Petersburg costume was stained; something pleased my friend! And he himself got drunk on the insole that day. And here is the familiar girl, tenderness begins ...
It was remembered that we celebrated our happy meeting in the tavern until late at night, and the Kremlin Garden was illuminated by multi-colored lights.
Friends, here I have told you something about my Sasha. Maybe he will be showered with evil curses, and at the same time me, who praised his disgrace. But I despise the ill-wishers, and if I learn anything about Sasha, I will certainly tell you.
