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understand you!
Are you a cart horse
or what?
You look so puny,
but you carry on for two men.
- What? Is it bad?
- That's it.
That's the end.
I'm staying here.
No!
You can't be a deserter
from the Revolution.
Get up.
Get up!
I'm not going any further!
We'll die anyway!
Get up!
Give me a break...
I can't stand it any more!
Get up!
The Aral Sea,
guys!
The Aral Sea!
Hello.
Where are you going?
We're the Reds.
We're going to Kazalinsk.
Take us in, good man.
Give us some food.
The Soviet power
will thank you for us.
Are you a Red?
A Bolshevik?
Did you come from the center?
No, we're not from the center.
We're making our way
from Guriev.
- From Guriev?
- Yes.
- You've gone through Kara Kum?
- Yes.
- Without camels?
- Yes, without camels.
It's impossible!
Aksakal!
Go inside.
Have a nap,
eat some pilaf.
Has she lassoed him?
Tie up your lover boy tight.
Like a dog on a chain!
- Is this yours?
- Yes, mine.
What's your name?
Don't you understand?
I am Maryutka,
and you?
I am Altynai.
Altynai, give me
a piece of paper.
I need to write something.
- Paper?
- Yes.
- It's pretty.
- Yes, pretty.
Isn't she charming?
Pretty?
Altynai, stay away from him.
He's a prisoner.
Leave her alone.
I know myself what to do.
Go away.
What do you want?
She likes my shoulder strap.
Then give it to her.
Take it and get out.
Go away!
Boy, how happy she is.
She looks like a young woman,
but really she is a child.
What is it you're writing?
What do you care?
Perhaps you want
to write a letter?
- Dictate it and I will write.
- Smart boy!
I'll untie your hands
and you will escape?
You're barking up the wrong tree,
my dear.
I don't need your help.
It's not a letter I'm writing,
it's verses.
Verses?
You're writing verses?
You think I'm too stupid for that?
I'm not stupider
than you are.
I don't think
you're stupid.
But is it the right time
for writing verses?
It's just the time!
But they don't work out
all right.
Read it to me.
I understand about verses.
No, you won't understand.
You're of lordly blood,
you like verses about flowers...
And I'm writing about the revolution.
Perhaps they're alien to me,
but I can understand them.
Well, what the heck!
Listen!
- You won't laugh at me?
- No.
Listen, then.
When the Cossacks were attacking,
Hangmen, hirelings of the czar,
We just met them with fire cracking,
We, Red fighters, brave we are!
There were lots of those Cossacks -
We were forced to beat a retreat.
Yevsyukov, our leader heroic,
Ordered us to break through their
breed!
Our machinegun fired bullets,
We were bound to die anyway.
Down went all our unit,
Twenty to the steppe made way!
Can't make it up any further.
I can't, for the life of me!
I don't know
where to put the camels in.
Yes...
It's very good.
So much expressivity.
Much of what?
A lot of feeling, understand?
One can see it's written
from the heart.
Yes, they're heartfelt.
I write from my heart.
But they won't print them,
they say they're
not finished.
But how to finish them?
You're an intelligent man.
Maybe you know that?
It's not a simple thing to explain.
Writing verses is an art.
And every art
requires knowledge.
If an engineer doesn't know the rules
of constructing a bridge,
he will either never build it,
or build a bad bridge.
A bridge that cannot be used.
For a bridge
you need arithmetic,
but my verses
come from my heart.
- But you've got no skill.
- No, I haven't.
You need to study.
I'm afraid I do.
But never mind.
First we'll crush
the counterrevolution,
and then I'll go to school
to learn how to write verses.
Are there such schools?
I think there are.
Listen, Cadet,
do your hands hurt?
Not very much.
They just feel numb.
Look...
Swear you won't run away,
then I'll untie you.
Where can I run away?
To the sands?
- To be eaten by jackals?
- Come on, swear. Repeat after me.
I swear by the poor
proletariat
fighting for its
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