Works by Ivan Franko for children. Ivan Franko - stories Eastern flavor and Ukrainian motifs

I was just listening to the radio. And I really liked the phrase: “ I’ll take a walk and I’ll fall on my beetles". My every morning begins with this ritual, because “Life from Life” - life is living, it is growth, development. How the Buryaks grow is more important than all the Abams and Ladens...

Well, then, after listening to the fairy tale, I remembered that I had read it and watched it in cartoons.

Even teachers of the Ukrainian language say about Ivan Franko that no one has read all of his “creations” in their entirety, and his language cannot quite be called Ukrainian. But everyone knows that Ivan Franko is a classic. This is already enough. I suggest reading (or watching) the fairy tale “The Hare and the Hedgehog”. For this alone it is quite possible to earn the title of a classic.

Zaєts and Їzhak

The hedgehog stood near the door of his hole, tucked his paws into his belt, pointed his nose into the warm wind, and hummed a verse of a song to himself - whether it’s bad or bad, who cares? As he knows, so he sleeps.

Muttered to himself quietly, and then thought:

“While my wife is there with the children and gives them fresh shirts, let me go out into the field, take a walk, and marvel at my beetroots, how well they have grown.”

The Buryaks were not far from his house. He took them as much as he needed to fight for his homeland, and told him in advance “my Buryaks.”

Well, okay. Carefully closing the doors behind him, he stitched into the field. It’s not far from here, and right here I’m talking about a Zayets. You can also take a walk and visit “your own cabbage”.

Having treated the Hare, the hedgehog greeted him a little. That Hare is a great panic and a very proud thing. You didn’t confirm his greetings, but just looked at someone very high and called out:

Wow, why are the axes dragging across the field so early?

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said.

Take a walk? - Zayets registered. - And I think that with your crooked legs it would be better to lie down than to climb for a walk.

This ridicule really angered the hedgehog, because his legs were crooked.

You, singingly, think, - like a hedgehog to the Hare, - what will you beat with your long paws?

“Azhezh,” said Zayets.

“We can try,” he said, “Anu, I’ll bet you that I won’t marry you.”

It’s a funny thing to say to people. Are you getting ahead of me with your crooked faces? - the Hare smiled.

Well, about me, let’s try it if you want.

Garazd! - says the Hare. - Give me your hand. And now let's run.

Well, well, why be in such a hurry,” said the hedgehog. “I need to go home first, eat three rubles, and after a few days I’ll be back at the same place.”

I didn’t mind the hare, because I wanted to crunch the fresh cabbage beforehand. And this time the hedgehog got home.

Come home as soon as possible and even before your wife:

Zhenko, get ready quickly and come with me to the field.

Why am I in the field? - the hedgehog feeds.

You know, I can run ahead with the Hare.

Have you lost your mind, man? - the hedgehog screamed. “Do you want to run ahead with the Hare?”

I really want it. And you must help me. Why is a little hedgehog so timid? She got together and went with the man.

And on the way, the hedgehog has to go to her:

Bachish otsyu dovgu niva? Our stages loom here. The hare runs along one furrow, and I run through another. From the grief, we begin to run away. Father, stand by yourself here, by the furrow, and if the Hare comes running here, then raise your head and shout: “And I’m already here!”

So, while praying, the stinks came to the washed-up field.

The hedgehog put his wife at this place, and he walked along the furrow at the other end.

Come, and Zayets is already there.

Well, what then, let's go? - feeds Zayets. - Well, one... two...

One stood in one furrow, the other in another.

The hare shouted “three” and destroyed himself like a cowlick.

And the hedgehog runs for maybe three miles, then hides by the furrow and turns back in its first place. And the Hare wanted to run. So when you reach the end of the field, the hedgehog’s wife will already shout at you from another angle:

And I’m already here!

The hare only saw his eyes: it didn’t occur to me that it was not the same hedgehog, because, you know, the hedgehog and the hedgehog are the same in appearance.

But what could have happened? - Hare shouted. “Let’s run again, back!”

And, without a moment's rest, he flew through the whirlwind of the field, laying his ear on his back. The hedgehog lost her peace of mind in her place. And if the hare reaches the other end of the field, then there will be a warning:

And I’m already here!

The hare got angry. What a miracle? Should the bandy-legged hedgehog get ahead of me? I, don’t mumble to yourself out of annoyance by shouting:

Anu, let's run again!

About me, Semyon,” he said, “I want to say it ten times, or even less.”

The Hare escapes, and from below I smell again:

I'm already here!

If you run again, you'll know the same. So you, poor girl, ran, ran as many as seventy and three times back, and every time the hedgehog was “already here.” Whether the Hare reaches one edge of the field or the other, everyone feels the same thing: “I’m already here.” And the seventy-fourth time the Hare didn’t make it. In the middle of the field, he fell to the ground and landed on the spot.

And the hedgehog honked at his wife, and both went home happily. And live, maybe, and still, if you haven’t died.

After that, the entire hare row swore to run ahead of the hedgehogs.

source: http://ukrlib.com/FrankoZviryHovorili.html

Cartoon Hare and Hedgehog
Year of release: 1963
The film belongs to the genre: cartoon
Director: Irina Gurvich
Actors who took part in the filming: N. Panasiev, G. Loiko, V. Dukler

Brief description: Based on the fairy tale by Ivan Franko. Included in the 3rd edition of the Best Cartoons of the Kyiv Film Studio.
The postman dog brought a telegram to the Hedgehog - the Hare, with whom the Hedgehog once sat at the same desk, is coming. Kosoy arrived in his own car with a medal on his chest and a cigarette in his mouth. The Hare became a champion and believed that he could do anything. When asked about his place of work, the Hare answered that he was a champion. The meeting of friends took place, but the Hedgehog was extremely surprised by the changes in his classmate. Then a competition was held with the arrogant bunny...

Ivan Franko. Someone else's biography.
17.12.07

Whoever tried to mold him into a hero and revolutionary. Socialists of all stripes affirmed and affirm Franco as the founder of Ukrainian socialism (social democrats - social democracies). Communists are the forerunners of Ukrainian communism. Nationalists are ardent nationalists and fighters for the national idea, and Russophiles are consistent supporters of the joint Ukrainian-Russian path. Polish nationalists, too, managed to find in Ivan Yakovlevich a painter of “the tragedies of the Polish and Little Russian peoples, finally humiliated by tsarist despotism. A writer whose works provide a convincing contrast to the life of the peoples of the former Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, in an inert and cruel empire, with the liberties of the glorious past described by the brilliant Sienkiewicz” (J. Kontowski “Polish Biography”). What about the Poles! Even the Nazis managed to borrow quotes from Franco and publish it in a collection calling on Ukrainians to fight Jews, Poles and Russians. In general, everyone found something they liked in Franco. As a result, most Ukrainians don’t really know anything about the real Ivan Franko. This is not surprising, because he lived not his own biography, but someone else’s biography. In the sense that it was not Franco himself who determined his fate, but completely different people and circumstances.

Paper revolutionary

Open any biography of this person. Just, I beg you, don’t look at the portrait, but just read what’s written there. Here’s one example: “An outstanding representative of Ukrainian literature of the 19th-20th centuries, writer, poet, fiction writer, scientist, publicist and activist in the revolutionary socialist movement in western Ukraine.” So you imagine a sort of cross between Dzerzhinsky and Lunacharsky, with a pencil in one hand and a revolver in the other. In fact, Ivan Yakovlevich Franko was a typical paper rebel and revolutionary. He rebelled only on paper and looked like a rebel only on it. By and large, the biography of Ivan Franko is a chain of misfortunes and accidents. However, judge for yourself.

Failure first. Childhood

Who knows what the fate of Franco, who was born at the turn of the century in 1856, would have been like if not for his childhood. He hardly knew his father; his mother also died early, but before that she managed to remarry. As a result, Franco grew up and was brought up in his stepfather’s family - actually a stranger to him. It is unlikely that they treated their adopted son badly, but the restless old Freud could have said a lot of interesting things about this. In addition, Franco clearly did not have a good relationship with his school teachers. This is clearly evident from his works and articles dedicated to the school. A normal child can (and does) find an outlet from school troubles in the family. But Franco chose his option - to become the best student. And he became one - first at school, then at the gymnasium. Moreover, by his own admission, he did this not out of love for learning as such, but simply trying to prove to everyone his superiority in at least something. It also had an effect that the health of the future writer was weak since childhood. Accordingly, he could not gain authority among his peers in the traditional fun and pranks of boys. I bet Franco would have maintained this lifestyle until the end of his days. But fate decreed differently.

Second failure. Herd feeling

In 1875, Franko entered Lviv University. For many, the university gives a chance to start life anew, and the rural youth Franco took full advantage of it. Having practically no friends at school and gymnasium, he joins the so-called “Academic Circle”. A little clarification is needed here. The fact is that in those good times, the Ukrainians of the Austro-Hungarian Empire were practically not interested in politics. Two movements in Ukraine could be considered at least somehow close to politics - Muscovophiles and Ukrainophiles. By and large, these were two large clubs of interest. Muscovophiles got together and talked abstrusely about pan-Slavic cultural unity (neither my God nor political!). Ukrainophiles considered Galicians to be a valuable “thing in themselves,” and all other Ukrainians as inferior “Little Russians.” The “academic circle” that Franco joined belonged to Muscovophiles. It is difficult to say why he entered there. Either from a herd feeling (“Everyone ran – and I ran”), or from an ambitious desire to publish. After all, the circle had its own magazine, “Friend,” where they took student works. True, I strongly advise against reading what Franco wrote for this publication. The members of the circle wrote in a monstrous “language” - a mixture of Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, German and Hungarian words. To be fair, it should be noted that it was at the university that Ivan Franko first tried himself as a translator - he tried to translate ancient Greek tragedies into Ukrainian. But in general, Muscovophiles were guided by the traditions of Russian literature of the late 18th and early 19th centuries - hopelessly outdated.

This is how the young writer would finish his studies at the university, publishing obscure imitations of Hoffmann and Zhukovsky once a month. But in the life scenario he got the “queen of spades”, played by Kyiv University professor Drahomanov. The aforementioned professor decided not to limit himself to Kyiv students and to participate in the education of Slavic brothers from Austria. To this end, he sent them several letters and helped them obtain samples of the “golden age” of Russian literature. And so it began.

Members of the circle became fascinated by the new style and social ideas, vying with each other to publish socially harsh works and articles in Friend. Franco, who edited the magazine, to his own advantage, as it later turned out, became especially fascinated by the highly social works of Saltykov-Shchedrin and Chernyshevsky. Imitating these authors, Franco himself published several social works in the magazine. Perhaps the members of the circle could have gotten away with this, but the older generation of Muscovophiles had their own special opinion on this matter. Of course, the attempt to reason with the unbridled youth by pressing with authority failed successfully. The youth, with their characteristic maximalism, sent the former “gurus” to hell. Those, of course, were offended and wrote a denunciation to the circle. Almost all members of the circle got away with it, but not Franco, who was openly set up. The fact is that it was Franco who edited the notorious magazine and was best suited for exemplary punishment. The denunciation accused him and the members of the circle of creating a secret socialist organization. The result was expulsion from the university in 1878 and 9 months in prison. Whatever Franco himself later wrote about this, the prison seriously affected not only his future work. First of all, it affected his health, both physical and mental.

Failure three. A reluctant hero

From prison, Ivan Franko emerged as an outcast for most of his former comrades and opponents. Ukrainophiles never particularly liked him, the older generation of Muscovophiles turned their backs on him, considering him a traitor, and the youth, frightened by the defeat of the Academic Circle, sat as quiet as water. Here Franco would calm down. You could try to recover at the university and forget about politics. Get serious about literature. In the end - to heal. Indeed, despite the time spent in prison, the official punishment was rather declarative. It is unlikely that he was seriously considered a malicious criminal. Franco himself admitted in one of his autobiographies that he was not expelled from the university, he was simply deprived of his scholarship. But either something broke in Franco, or we don’t know some facts of his biography, but from that moment he begins a life full of tossing and unintelligible actions. He tries to do everything at once - literature, journalism, ethnography, philology, correspondence studies. However, his works are not published in his homeland. Except, of course, for the magazine “Hromadsky Friend”, which he published together with his friend Mikhail Pavlik.

It is precisely to Pavlik that we owe the image of “Ivan Franko – hero and revolutionary.” By 1878, Pavlik himself had finally decided to become a professional revolutionary. At the same time, he actively pushed Franco, who was easily influenced by others, towards socialist ideas. Actually, the idea of ​​the magazine “Civil Friend” belonged to Pavlik. In addition to the magazine, Pavlik and Franko studied the works of the founders of Marxism. And not without benefit for yourself. From the works of Marx and Engels, they compiled brochures that were distributed among workers and the agitated intelligentsia. They don’t like to mention this, but the distribution of brochures and leaflets was usually accompanied by a request to “help a just cause.” Of course, financially. At the same time, it was Pavlik who managed the money. Franco worked practically for free, especially since the magazine, as they say, “didn’t take off.” It was obvious from the very beginning that it would be closed by the Imperial censors and that their authors and editors would be in serious trouble. And so it happened. Pavlik, as the main initiator of the publication, even had to escape arrest. He escaped by emigration. Having certain means, he settled in the Mecca of the then revolutionaries - Geneva. There, enjoying the beauty of Lake Geneva, he could do what he loved - argue with other socialists and publish articles in local publications.

Another thing is Franco, around whom a real detective revolves. Pavlik understood perfectly well that the emerging socialist movement needed a hero-martyr. A kind of living icon that can always be used in the fight against opponents and to agitate supporters. Of all Pavlik’s acquaintances, Franco was best suited for this role. Of course, against the backdrop of the “knights-martyrs of the revolution” in Russia, Franco “didn’t look right.” But competent “promotion” played its role. In fact, the method of creating a “martyr for an idea” was worked out on Franco. And even during his lifetime. Under Franco, a standard set of cliches was created - progressive views, the struggle for social justice, court and prison. Even Ivan Franko’s poor health was used to create and exploit the image of a fighter and revolutionary. Please note that in modern biographies of Franco, references to poor health, as a rule, follow the story of imprisonment. So that readers get the strong impression that his illnesses are a consequence of his imprisonment.

In general, in 1879 Franco was left without an emigrated partner and means of subsistence. Literature did not bring in money - after the story of the magazine’s closure, no one wanted to publish it. Franco did not have any education or crafts that could provide at least some profit. Doing odd jobs, he got to the point where he had no permanent place of residence. And, nevertheless, we must give him his due - he continued to write. And not only literary works, but also works on the theory of socialism, thus fulfilling the program laid down in it by Pavlik. Finally, despairing of finding a stable income in the city, Franco decides to go to villages with private lectures. I decided, so to speak, to combine “revolutionary activity” with the process of getting my daily bread. The appearance of the “revolutionary lecturer” by the rural police was perceived quite adequately - Franco was arrested for the second time. This time the imprisonment was limited to approximately three months.

Second chance

Probably, fate gives every person a second chance. She gave it to Franco too. Returning to Lviv in 1881, he, quite unexpectedly, received an offer to edit the newspaper of Lviv printers - “Praca”. The newspaper, although it was a recognized newspaper of Lvov workers, was published completely legally and was not particularly radical. In addition, Franko is published in the magazine “Svit”. After four years of ordeal and a miserable existence, punctuated by arrests, he finally has the opportunity to make money through journalism and literature, receiving a completely stable income. In the end, no one stopped Franco from pursuing his beloved philology and ethnography.

But this clearly did not fit into the image of a “fiery revolutionary.” Moreover, Mikhail Pavlik had by that time become a member of the “Polish-Ukrainian Socialist Committee.” To maintain his reputation, he urgently needed to present to his party comrades the fruits of the socialists’ work in Ukraine. Therefore, Franco took advantage of his second chance in a very original way - he turned the newspaper entrusted to him into a militant leaflet of the revolutionaries. In particular, it is in it that he publishes his “Eternal Revolutionary”. Moreover, using the resources of the newspaper, he publishes a brochure “About Labor. A book for workers,” which is already direct revolutionary agitation. The prospect of a third arrest seriously loomed before Franco. In addition, it was popularly hinted to him that the owners of the newspaper he edited saw its content completely differently. In general, Ivan Yakovlevich’s nerves could not stand it, and he quickly curtailed all his affairs in Lvov.

To the village, to my aunt, to the wilderness...

Of course, not to my aunt, but otherwise everything is correct. Deciding not to tempt fate, Franco left for the village of Naguevichi. There he spent two years studying literature in its purest form, writing occasional articles and... ordinary peasant labor. There was an obvious nervous breakdown and a desire to get away from both the police and fellow revolutionaries, who stubbornly pushed the weak and tired of living in fear Franco along the path of “an ardent fighter for the happiness of the common people.” This can be clearly seen at least from Franco’s works of that time. While living in the village, he wrote a series of literary articles, translated Goethe and Heine, and wrote perhaps his best work - the novel “Zakhar Berkut”. This historical novel, describing the events of the 13th century, was completely different from everything written by Franco both before and after. By the time he left for the village, Franco had developed a rather unique literary style that was difficult to understand and perceive. This was connected, on the one hand, with the desire to work in the style of realism, which at times reached naturalism, and on the other hand, with the eternal lack of time for literary finishing of works. The result is perceived by some as the most brilliant phenomenon in the history of Ukrainian literature, while by others it is not perceived at all. A number of Polish, Austrian and Russian writers of that time viewed Franco exclusively as a journalist and publicist, but not a writer. Some even openly called him a graphomaniac. Nevertheless, the writer Franco enjoyed a certain popularity, largely due to the fashion for “acute social themes.” “Zakhar Berkut” reconciled Franco with his critics and a wide range of readers, giving him a chance to become a truly popular writer, and not just “widely known in narrow circles.” Moreover, the quality of the novel was appreciated by the Zarya magazine, declaring it the winner of the magazine’s literary competition in 1883. In the same year, the magazine, which took very moderate national and bourgeois-democratic positions, offered Franco cooperation. By this time village life was over. Thanks to a wealthy landowner who invited Franco to conduct research on his genealogy. Not free of course. For this work I had to return to Lviv and delve into the archives.

...In fact, the method of creating a “martyr for an idea” was worked out on Franco. And even during his lifetime. A standard set of cliches was created for him - progressive views, the struggle for social justice, court and prison. Even Ivan Franko’s poor health was used to create and exploit the image of a fighter and revolutionary.

Return of the "revolutionary"

Working for Zarya, publishing a popular novel and publishing articles on scientific, social and economic topics, Franco did little to resemble a socialist revolutionary. Quite a respectable journalist, writer and publicist. True, without higher education, but this was a fixable matter. There would be money. And the money began to appear slowly. In addition to Zarya, Franco got a job at the Delo newspaper, which was similar in views to Zarya, where he quickly became a member of the editorial board. In addition, he actively wrote for Polish magazines and newspapers. Especially in “Lviv Courier”, where he became an almost constant author. However, the idyll ended rather quickly. His evil genius fell on Franco’s head - Mikhail Pavlik, who had returned from emigration a year before and surrendered to the authorities. After spending about a year in rural exile, Pavlik arrived in Lvov and immediately went to see his “comrade in the struggle.” It’s hard to say how happy Franco was to see him. However, at first, Franco exists as if separately from Pavlik. Franko took some part in his fate - he helped him return to the journalistic world of Lvov. Soon Pavlik worked in several publications in the city, one way or another connected with the legal superstructures of socialism. In 1885, Franco himself went to Kyiv to ask for money from the local “sponsors of the national movement.” No matter how much Ukrainian nationalists and socialists are portrayed as fiery revolutionaries, without money, a revolution, as you understand, turns out poorly. And the national revival is the same. Although if you look at it objectively, it didn’t work out very well with money. The reason for this was that most of the “revolutionaries” were accustomed to eating tasty food and sleeping softly. And they didn’t give anything for free. It is interesting that Franco went on such an important business trip on the instructions of the above-mentioned newspaper “Zarya”, of which by that time he had become the editor. How much Franco has changed can be judged by the fact that in Kyiv, he coped with the mission of raising funds more than successfully. While solving financial matters, he did not forget about personal ones - it was on this trip that he met Olga Khoruzhinskaya, his future wife. Franco met 1886 as the editor of a popular publication, an employee of a number of equally popular publications, a married man and, as they say, with a future. What else does a person need to be happy? Moreover, the restless Pavlik, by that time, had once again managed to “check in” and receive a short sentence for “revolutionary agitation” among the peasants. After that, he went to Krakow and left Franco alone for two years. True, Pavlik returned two years later. But this time I calmed down a little. To the surprise of many, instead of the usual circle of “agitation-prison-exile”, he moved towards rapprochement with the moderate majority among Ukrainian nationalists and socialists. It was in 1889 - the last calm year in Franco's life. And although by this time Franco’s affairs had deteriorated - he lost his editorial post due to internal editorial intrigues, he, while remaining an employee of the Lviv Courier, earning money as translations and publishing in several periodicals at once, lived quite well. In 1890, taking into account the unification of socialists and Ukrainian nationalists in Galicia, the imperial authorities entered into an agreement with their leaders, according to which the Ukrainian language was granted the broadest rights in education, culture, media and office work. In exchange, the authorities demanded loyalty to the unity of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Uniate Church and the existing economic system. And here Pavlik could not stand it - he broke with the nationalist majority and founded the Russian-Ukrainian Radical Party. Moreover, the party defended precisely those positions that the authorities, having made concessions, demanded to abandon. Pavlik urgently needed Franco in party work. First of all, in order to work on the party organ - the newspaper "People". The question arises - why did Franco agree? There were two reasons for this. Firstly, he was offended by the authorities. In 1889, Franko accompanied a group of Kyiv students on a trip to Galicia. The authorities saw the tourists as instigators of a riot with the aim of annexing Galicia to Russia and subjected Franko and Pavlik to preventive arrest until the circumstances were clarified. Secondly, Pavlik played on the writer’s ambition by offering him the post of co-leader of the party and editor of the newspaper. And Franco, as they say, fell for it.

Donkey and carrot

Remember the beautiful allegorical image of a donkey constantly running after a carrot hanging in front of its nose, which it is not destined to get. It was precisely this kind of donkey that Franco actually turned into in pursuit of the carrots hung by Pavlik. He worked for five years at Naroda, not only editing the newspaper, but also publishing a lot of articles in it. He spoke at rallies and prepared a brochure for publication. He practically abandoned his literary and scientific activities. And everything is free. The only consolation for him was the long-awaited completion of his university course and the defense of his doctoral dissertation. Obtaining a doctorate gave Franco the chance to get a professorship at Lviv University, and these were not empty dreams. His candidacy was not just nominated for the post of professor of the department of Russian literature - it was actively supported by the university professors and Franco already saw himself in the professorial mantle. But it was not there. No one has ever managed to chase two birds with one stone at the same time. Either you are a revolutionary and a fiery fighter, or you are a scientist and a writer - this is what the university board decided. And Franco’s candidacy was not approved. The formal reason was that Franco had a criminal record and three arrests. It was easy to understand the education officials. And so there are a lot of problems with maintaining order among students, and if you also let a person into a professorship who will “disturb students” for the revolution, instead of teaching them... In short, running after the party-revolutionary carrot once again deprived Franco of the opportunity to occupy a worthy position in society and doing what you love. As a result, Franco's family rapidly became poor, since a thin trickle of money came to him exclusively from paid publications in Polish, Russian and Viennese newspapers. Franco's health, which had improved, began to rapidly deteriorate. Publishers began to turn away from him again. The image of the “poor knight of the revolution”, so necessary for any self-respecting radical party, was again brought to life. The fact that his wife and children were suffering from hunger only added urgency to the situation.

By that time, the ideology of the RURP had changed greatly. Now they advocated the so-called “peasant socialism” - a utopian idea that was not popular, especially among the peasants themselves. The peasants, of course, were asleep and saw how to divide the landowners' lands. However, they had no desire to collect them for community use, dreaming of their own farms. It is not surprising that Franco and Pavlik failed in the parliamentary elections in 1897. RURP was rapidly turning into a dwarf rogue party. The death of the party's ideologist, Professor Drahomanov, in 1895 undermined its position in Russia, from where the flow of money ceased. The newspaper “Narod” closed. An attempt to publish the magazine “Civil Voice” quickly dried up due to lack of money. And finally, in 1898, Franco received a blow from which he never truly recovered. In one of the Viennese publications, on the 100th anniversary of Adam Mickiewicz, he published an article dedicated to the poet, which was reprinted by several Polish newspapers and magazines. What was Franko thinking when, instead of an anniversary eulogy, he wrote an article debunking the romantic aura around the Polish literary idol? Why did he need a detailed dissection of Mickiewicz’s life and work at that moment? Probably, Franco himself could not answer this question. A terrible scandal broke out. The Poles were offended in the best of feelings. Polish publications were closed to him. Poverty, a miserable apartment, the threat of starvation to the family - this is how Franco greeted the next year - the year of the anniversary of his literary activity.

From anniversary to grave

A repeated slide into poverty and the absence of any prospects drove Franco into severe depression. Realizing that a depressed comrade would not bring him any benefit, Mikhail Pavlik tried to get him out of this state. This was largely dictated by his organization of a wide celebration of his literary 25th anniversary. But this attempt led to nothing. Franco becomes irritable, quick-tempered, and finally loses any consistency in his actions. In his articles, he sarcastically criticizes bourgeois democracy, socialism, nationalism and the people in general. Pessimism becomes Franco's main literary trait. In 1899, he broke with Pavlik and, as if in defiance of him, founded the Ukrainian National Democratic Party, finally moving away from the ideas of socialism. True, he is practically not involved in the party - he doesn’t care if he lives. Franco, who has no sources of income, practically does not look for them, as if by inertia, publishing in several Russian newspapers. The income from this work is enough to not die of hunger and that’s all. What saved him was his invitation to the post of editor of the Literary-Scientific Bulletin, published by the society named after. Shevchenko in Lviv. Mikhail Grushevsky, who headed the society and managed to break through the “sponsors,” was in dire need of “icons” for his activities. Franco became the first of these “icons”. The second one was... Mikhail Pavlik, whom Grushevsky assigned to manage the Shevchenko members’ library. Two impoverished “fighters for the people’s happiness,” who had recently quarreled to pieces, no longer had the strength to seriously engage in politics. Despite their comparative youth, each of them had already sufficiently undermined their health and mental strength. Franco received another blow in 1906, when his candidacy for membership in the Russian Academy of Sciences was unsuccessful. He was nominated by Kharkov University, which recognized him that year as an honorary doctor of Russian literature. Offended by Franco's non-election on this occasion, he mustered several times

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1. Concepts and meanings of fairy tales I. Frank.

2. High artistic rendition of Cossacks I. Frank.

3. Who is “Mikita the Fox” and what kind of stars are they from?

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In all his critical ways, Franco emphasized that the supreme value of artistic creations is determined by their high ideological and artistic level. So, children’s literature itself is rooted in realism, nationality, and deep ideological values. Zokrem, in the “First Word” before the publication of the “Friendly Library” (as was seen mainly for the young people) Franko wrote that this series of books includes “apparently real straight”, “views of new poetry from social natural, scientific and political lining ", as well as popular scientific practices. This literature may contain a mixture of cutting-edge interpretations and imperious views on speech and reality, broad views on life, and not a “slick horizon.”

Well, the people who are ready for children’s literature are the same as before literature for adults.

Ale Franco has always emphasized the great importance of specific rice and meats in children's literature. Vaughn is supposed to be as intelligible, funny, and cheerful as possible. The works of children's literature are entirely legitimate and contain conjecture, speculation, and fantasy. Of no importance in children's literature is the power of emotional influx on the reader, the ability to evoke aesthetic experiences, to create a sense of satisfaction, to evoke tension, and exhilaration.

1. ByThe story and meaning of I. Frank's Cossacks

The critical statements of Ivan Frank had a great impact on the literary life of Ukraine, including the development of children's literature. No less important and powerful is practice in the field of creativity for children. Writing was especially well developed in children's literature over a period of ten years - from 1890 to 1900.

Most of the works written by Frank for children become fairy tales. The writer often borrowed stories from them, taken from folk art from different parts of the world. Franka especially appreciated in the Cossacks their moral directness, ideological change, and resonance with the problems and right-wing issues that lived in the marriage. Vikoristan Frank's plots acquired a deeply relevant meaning, were characterized by a vibrant national flavor, and acquired a variety of spiritual directness.

Franco wrote a number of works for preschool children. They indicate deep knowledge of the psychology of children, their manifestations and interests. They have a lot of humor, a joyful feeling, and warmth. The plot of the fairy tale “Ripka” by Franko was expanded by giving more dynamic, active characters names (grandfather Andrushka, grandmother Marushka, bear Siromanka, etc.). A number of things were created in the story butov's details , an image is given of the process of practice, a number of instructions for practice have been learned (motika, rakes, etc.). The tale has a rhythmic everyday routine, it is filled with humor, warm equal characteristics. The axis of the characters: “It’s quiet, you don’t even know, de stati. - It's time to rip our turnip! It's loud in the city - goop, goop! Having caught the turnip by the green forelock: pulling with your hands, locking yourself with your legs, gaining strength for your ears, sniffling like a farrier's fur, - suffering, sweating all day, and the turnip sit near the ground like a stump.”

Kazka shows the great power of mutual encouragement and collective zusil. Frank's "Kitsya" verse has achieved significant success among the little ones. Kitya was crying in the kitchen, because the cook himself had licked the sour cream, and he was blaming the blame on Kitya because he also wanted to beat her: The innocent kitty asked her not to beat her, she tenderly, with a singing slyness, promised to catch the bunny, the birds, the fish. Frank's fairy tales "The Fox Companion", "The Witch" and others are characterized by high artistic mastery.

A significant phenomenon in Ukrainian children’s literature was the publication of Frank’s collection of Cossacks “Whenever the animals spoke” (first edition - 1899p., another edition - 1903p.). Before the collection, Franco added an editorial, in which he wrote: “Some of the tales that are collected in the book are old folk goodness... Eagerly choosing for our children a book of the most beautiful tales from different times and peoples, I started in front of my head on these, where to be identified about the animals themselves. The stench is most evocative of children aged 6 to 12 years old, and makes them laugh and think, awakens their curiosity and respect for the phenomena of nature.”

Franko emphasizes that, having seen this book, he “has a more pedagogical focus.” About the nature of this mark, the writer said that children “will bear the first burden!” mіtsnі basis of pardon to honesty, truthfulness. and justice, and there must be love for nature and a desire to marvel closely at its creations.”

The fairy tales in Franco's collection are based on a number of stories from Afanasyev's collection of Russian folk fairy tales, German fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm, a number of Serbian, Greek and Indian fairy tales, as well as one Persian fairy tale "Yak sv" “Irish people dealt with people” (Franco recommended this fairy tale for older children , indicating that it will be “not just a ceremonial, but a life-long lecture, giving Kazk clothes a lot of facts from the history and culture of people and nature”).

Casual techniques, elements of fantasy and guesswork in this collection do not appeal to real-life people, but in reality they work. Work directly against various moral vices, against negative human behavior.

The tale “The Hare and the Hedgehog” depicts two completely different characters: the modest and reasonable hedgehog and the boastful and self-destructive Hare. This Hare proudly marvels at the hedgehog, does not show his good hospitality, stares at his crooked legs.

Well, you know the best way to read someone’s praise. The tale ends with a moral: “And for you, dear ones, this is a science: never make a poor man laugh, if you would like to have a simple, non-speaking life.”

The artistic mastery of the Cossack is revealed in the clever and expressive designation of the character’s character, and in its rich palette of techniques and features of depiction. The hare asks the hedgehog: “Why are you dragging yourself into the field so early?” All this “dragging” reveals to us his desire to show his bestiality. There is a simple principle, which is often seen in folklore works, in the details of the landscape, irony (“my beetroot” for the hedgehog, “my own cabbage” for the Hare). Vikorist's writer has an internal monologue, which engulfs the understanding of character, folk sayings (“About me, Semyon...”). There will be a dialogue soon.

In the story “The King and the Witch” it is shown that the Witch, self-respecting herself, is even powerful and incompetent, portraying and belittling the children of the little bird the King. However, the King, having collected the birds and comas, ensuring unity and good military tactics, overcomes the huts, forcing the Bear to fight in front of those over whom he cares.

The Kazka is focused on the essence of goodness, it brands those who, being intoxicated with their strength, adapts and portrays others, regardless of jealousy and sensitivity. All the kazkas of the collection “Whenever the animals spoke” in an allegorical form show the vices of class consolidation with its visa, karism, evil power. In the kazkas honor and friendship, mutual support in defense are glorified and crooked and weak. It is characteristic that I can show the Cossacks those who are in a fair situation, which confirms the people's reconciliations.

2. Highartistic rhyme of Cossacks by I. Frank

Kazka “Farbovaniy Lis” is one of the best from the collection. In her testimony, the cunning and obscene Fox, who said that “there is nothing too difficult for him.” One time, while hovering in front of the dogs, he jumped up from the boy with the farb. The fox is changing his outer appearance in order to gain royal power. And having become a king, he preserves the original royal order: “That justice was such as it is usually among animals: whoever is strong is the weakest, and whoever is weak never won. The animals lived under the new king in the same way as without him: those who are evil or know them, they are, and those who are not evil are hungry. Whoever was killed by the archers will perish, and whoever escapes, to God that lives.” The evil creatures got rid of this mischief and coolness. And we didn’t spend anything.

The Kazka evoked an aura of power from the monarchs, showing them as khizhaks and evildoers, keen on the grief of others.

In the story “The good old days are forgotten,” lack of love and brutality are condemned. The tale “The Fox and the Crane” is directed against cunning, egoism and innocence. Friendship can only be based on generosity and kindness.

The high artistic renown of Frank's cassocks lies in the masterful selection of allegories that reflect the popular understanding of the supply of animals (the greediness of the wolf, the fox's cunning, the witch's ineptitude, the donkey's stubbornness, etc.). Transferred to people, these jabs completely characterize representatives of various social prosperities among the noble and privileged groups of the class consortium. Franco masterfully reveals the characters in his works, either through his words, his creations are expressed by laconicism, respect and to psychological and everyday details.

Franco is unique in his use of complex metaphors in fairy tales, which are inaccessible to children of the younger age. Vin lives \ What is important are the hymns and the expressions, which figuratively reveal the psychological state of the characters: “Our Mikita curled up, like a fly in the dill”, “The lion stood up, bumped his head against the wall”, “Leo Pishov, sniffed and picked up his tail , nemovbi hto villav na new barrel of winter and winter water"

In Kazakh tales there are a lot of cheerful, comical scenes and situations, comparable to broad and good-natured laughter, almost like humor. The positive heroes of the Cossacks, who eat rice and eat berries, can also be funny because of their vadas, sometimes with their naivety, sometimes with their incompetent tricks that help them achieve victory.

A special place among I. Frank’s works is occupied by the great fairy tale “Fox Mikita”, intended for children of middle and high school.

In the story “The Fox Mikita” by Franko, he expands on the plot of folklore and literature of various peoples, but gives a new sounding ideological directness, as well as Ukrainian national color. Kaza has the Galician activity of the end of the 19th century, the bourgeois order of the Austro-Ugric Empire. In whose kingdom the Lion, Vovk, and the Witch feel comfortable. Among them, the cunning and wicked Fox Mikita has become good, who in the distance is victorious about the weaknesses of others and will always get away with it, despite the possibility of significant benefits.

The plot of the tale unfolds dynamically, there are a lot of poignant and tense episodes that evoke the most maniacal senses - from cheerful laughter to anger.

The national coloring of the Cossack is revealed, visibly, in the selection of Ukrainian names of creatures (the witch Burmilo, the wolf Nesity, the cat Murlika, etc.), a wide range of pictures of everyday nature and a keen understanding of everyday vocabulary (zhupan, sap "yantsi, vіyt toscho).

The great tales of Frank “Abu Kasim’s Capts” and “Koval Bassim” loom large among children, especially in the middle and older centuries.

Tsar's censorship overshadowed the wide spread of I. Frank's Cossacks in Russia, and it was important for children not to know them. At the forefront of the previously seen collection “Whenever the animals spoke” (1903), Franco wrote: “This little book... was submitted by our Kiev countrymen before Russian censorship... And what can you say - the censorship blocked it all, from the beginning to the end! These beastly stories are somehow dangerous...”

Krim is a fairy tale, Franco wrote a great number of stories for children. I will round up the middle group of them to establish evidence with elements of an autobiographical nature.

3. Who is “Mikita the Fox” and what kind of stars are they from?

The whole tale is complete, as you, dear brothers, have already read in song, over which some may have just laughed, and some may have thought more deeply, fading, that we, among the baptized people, have more than one thing going on about it. here the Kastya has been told, - this is not my idea, but I have my own story and that’s enough to finish the story. Even if the little book on the right is over and done with - the story of the book, which you will read and forget - but, prote, I think that I would like to tell you this story briefly - maybe there will be someone among you who will enjoy it. Well, those who don’t have time for relish should, of course, feel free not to read it.

But it’s not just for ordinary people that I write these lines. It turns out that our scribes also don’t know very well who “Mikita the Fox” is and where he comes from. Bachite, that's it. The whole fairy tale was first written in the children's chapel “Dzvinok”, and then re-handled with a book. On the title I wrote it the same way as now, that I “transformed it from the German”, and not expressly wrote it from any book. Why? Let's talk about it now. But our scribes know, obviously, one German book about Fox Mikita - that perfected story that really competes with the works of the greatest German writer Johann Goethe and is called “Reineke Fuchs”. Our writers think, perhaps, that Goethe himself thought of this story from his own head, and for this reason, having gone wild about the appearance of my “Fox Mikita,” they wrote en masse that my “Fox Mikita” is an adaptation from Goethe. What came out of this was an unacceptable speech for me: but I took my tale from Goethe’s story and, with the help of concealing the name of the truthful ruler, only wrote in the title “from German”, in order to stir up the quiet ones. It's really a big deal!

What else do you need to do, you need to find out in writing and non-written what and from whom I took and at what point I am writing.

I read in this book about the benefits of the Fox, the Cart, the Bear, the Hare, the Cat, the Trench and other animals. You, singing, tried to think to yourself: “Oh, the same or even similar things are recognized by our simple, unliterate people during a merry time!” And in truth, stories and tales about various animals and their benefits are found among all peoples in the world, especially among those who call them wild. And everywhere in these experiences, animals speak like people, act like people, know more or less things like people. How about you? It’s easy to understand when we wonder how our children, when they grow up, turn into animals: dogs, cats, chickens, geese, etc. Who doesn’t know how to talk to them, melt away, cook, change their minds, get angry and love? Obviously, we respect them as equals to ourselves, as reasonable as they stink. Children do not sense the separation between humans (i.e. themselves) and animals, and more than once they respect animals for being reasonable and cunning in their own way. When your children start talking about their toys, they will talk about a dog, a cat or another animal as if they were talking about their friend. “We and Lisk were robbed by those and those”, “Tattoo, why does that gander in front of me want to sit on me like that!”, “Tell that to that cat, so as not to flinch!” i t. i.

If, before thousands and thousands of years, all people in their wealth and their intelligence were similar to our children. With the rise of savagery, people engaged in shooting, fishing, and, obviously, throughout their entire life they did most of the work with animals. In these hours, you need to pluck the first cobs from these tales and learn about the benefits of animals among themselves and with people. Pevna rich, that from these very long-ago hours, the first clues and quiet confirmations resemble those that were added in our story about Fox Mikita.

We don’t say this out of the blue, but we have ancient evidence that this really happened. Two, three or more thousand years before the birth of Christ, the old Babylonians already had accounts of animals, even similar to our tales. These stories were written down on clay tablets while the clay was wet, and then they were scorched, and so the stench was smelled right up to our own hours. There are only a few drawings that are known to be so old, and from them we can figure out that the drawings that were confirmed were so secretive that, having looked at the drawing, one knew what it meant. We also know that in Egypt 1000-1500 years before Christ; In addition to the written evidence, we can also draw pictures of which cases can be recognized that the stench can be heard from tales and fairy tales, where the main characters were animals. The most famous of these drawings is the war between the cats and the donkey that plays the lyre. Even more beautiful and ancient tales are also found in the Jewish Bible.

From Babylon, Egypt, the Jews and the Phoenicians, information about the size and benefits of animals spread from India to the Greeks.

Earth, my all-fertile mother,

Strength, what is living in your depths,

I sprinkle so that we can stand stronger in battle,

Give it to me!

Give me the warmth that expands my breasts,

Cleans sensitively and renews blood,

What is it up to people to wake up the limitless

Pure love!

Give it to the fire to fill it with words,

Give the power to shake the souls with thunder,

Serve truth, burn untruth

Give me passion forever!

Give strength to your hands, puta lamati,

Clarity to thoughts - putting lies in the heart,

Let me pratsyuvat, pratsyuvat, pratsyuvat,

Get ready!

1880 R.

Grow up, vine, greyhound,

Zelena Dibrovo!

The dead one comes to life

Nature anew.

It lives, it grows

Winter fetters,

Updated as soon as possible

And fresh hopes.

Green, near field,

Ukrainian field!

Go ahead, head up,

Reach happily!

And for all the best

You wept forever,

To serve the world well

It has become your fruit!

MALIY MIRON

Maliy Miron is a marvelous child. Father is reassured by him and says that he is a miraculously intelligent child, and Father, of course, is a third-party judge. And Miron’s father is a man already in his years, a child who has just come to his senses, and, it means, like a child there, everything is gold, and reasonable, and rich. The neighbors quietly whispered to themselves that Myron “isn’t like people”: he waves his arms, talks to himself, takes a twig, swishes in the wind, or sinks the heads from the alarms and flippers of the zill. It's not brave and clumsy, and if sometimes you get out of something, then speak in such a way that the elders sense it, then only squeeze their shoulders.

Vasil, - say little Miron to little Vasil, - do you have the documents to save?

I? Can I sweep up the docks? P"yat, sіm, parkanatsya.

Parkanat! Ha ha ha! How much should I park?

Well, how long does it take? I don't know!

But not a lot. If you don’t sit down, let us save you!

Vasil sits down, and Myron begins to shout, hitting the ground after each one: one, two, three, whatever...

Vasil hears, hears, and then gets up and runs away. Myron and without noticing: sit, huffing and hooting on and on. The most reliable old Rowan cackles, coughs and groans, - Myron doesn’t feel it, it’s all his own. The old man clattered near him, hearing, hearing... Myron had already reached the point of becoming a chotirist.

And you, nevittsivskaya child, e! - the old man said in his slightly nasal voice. - Why are you timid?

Maliy Miron went wild and turned his eyes towards old Rowan.

That little earth is holy, yes? Don’t you know that this little earth is our mother? Give that bunch of flowers here!

Myron gave, without understanding, what the old man wanted. The rowan tree has pulled out a bunch of leaves from the crop. Miron did not cry a little, not so much behind the butch, as after the old one, interrupting the yoma of the rakhunok.

- Go home and say “Our Father”, e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-h-h-h-h-h-hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh of such beats! - the old man said with a stern look and pouted from afar. Myron looked at him for a long time, still unable to understand why the old man was rotten and what he wanted.

Maliy Miron loves to run himself through the green, flowery meadows, surrounded by broad-leaved burdock and fragrant romaine, loves to revel in the sweet smell of dewy stables and be smothered in sticky burdock buds, which he forces on himself from head to toe. And another river, through which from the city you need to go to the shepherd, a small, soupy Pidgirskaya river with deep, rushing and undulating banks, with a clay bottom, with babbling fords, the bottom of which is covered with broken tiles, overgrown with soft green algae , dovgim, mov green seam skein, - this river is either a true delight, or a strong source for Myron. There he will love to sit for whole years, huddled in a tall green brush or between the thick, pawed leaves of the overbank pad. pouring water, flashing under pressure they weaved the grass, in the cows, that every hour they climbed from their stoves or escaped from the deep reaches, they fell along the days, snooping after the watery husk, then they knew how to growl their stupid, woolly muzzle all the way above the water, to grab it again and again and tuck the chimborshe into your crook , the non-Movbi zakshtuvali not know any flavor. And at this hour the sun is frying from the gloomy, dark-blue sky, the warmth of Mironov’s shoulders and the whole body, but not baking him behind a wide leaf. Anything. The little ones are running around very quickly, the children are catching up, and the thought begins to crumble:

“From Sonichko - why is it so small, but Tatunyo said that it is big? It’s funny how there’s only such a small hole cut in the sky that you can only see so much!”

And immediately a thought began to swirl in his head:

“Bah, what about that? Go, the hole there is small; come in, then there’s a hole there. Is it possible to walk across the sky with the sun at the same time?”

I can’t fit it in my head, and I promise myself that as soon as I get home, the tattoo will immediately be nourished, as if a hole has been cut in the sky in the sun?

Mirone! Mirone! - a cry from a little distance. That's mother's cry. Myron, sensing and huddled, ran from the bank over the ford, or crossed the river, but immediately stumbled. Having crossed the river many times already, it was nothing, but now a new appearance came into my eyes. We stood right in front of the sun and looked into the water, having at once replaced the tiled bottom, stones and other green patches of seaweed - one bottomless deep blue. kicking. here in such depths? And did it start at once? Standing up and starting to look at the depths with respect. Everything is the same. It’s there. However, - only when you take care you can see the familiar stones and the slightly unusual rippling of water for the ford I. Turning his face to the other b_k, behind the sun: the depth of the sliver, the slab of tiles, like a river. It opened up and calmed, and stirred him. He began to turn on all sides, trying and being relieved by the wondrous phenomenon. And I completely forgot about my mother’s click!

And little Myron stood like that for a long time, now groaning, now twirling over the ford, but still couldn’t bear to climb into the water. Everything seemed to me that the axis-axis of the middle of the tiled stone ford the earth would leap, and in the winter the bottomless cloudy depths under the river, between the high banks, and fly to that depths far, far away, still in it, our little coward, thrown into the dark, dark place . And who knows how for a long time he stood over the ford, as if Martin was not the most reliable vessel, and with a fork and a rake he quaffed until the hay:

Why are you standing here? He's calling your mother there. Why don't you go home?

But I want to go, but I’m afraid.

Oh, hell! - And showing the bottomless blue in the water.

Martin didn't understand:

Well, what is there to be afraid of? Aje tiles.

Tiles? - Myron said incredulously. - And from such depths!

Glibin? “Hey, don’t go too deep,” Martin said, and as he was walking, he crossed the bridge, barely drenching them. That crossing of Martin dared both Myron, and he crossed the water and ran from the mountain to his home.

What a fool he is! It's been five years, and she's still afraid of the ford, - having tried the water and drank until bedtime.

And if in the summer all the elders from the house go to the field, Myron himself is deprived, if not in the house. In the house you are afraid. Afraid of “children in the corners,” i.e. shadows, afraid of the purple mosquito, black inside the garden, afraid of the rough wooden stick driven into the end, which is in the fall to pass the dirt from the skips that shine in the winter. Myron is deprived of the outside. There you can both walk, tear the zillion and pluck on biters, there will be huts with cods and patches, in ancient times, and so on, lying on the sleep, and basking in the sun, and hearing the color of sparrows on the apples, and looking at the blue sky. after the sound of mutes, the gloom comes - I'm thinking about it.

“Why is it that this man can see everything? And heaven, and earth, and dad and mom? - this is how food is supplied to you, never again. - What do you smell? He nods and smokes... What is it that I smell?”

It seems to me that all those people are talking with their mouths: both seeing and hearing. His mouth opens: yes, you can see everything, almost everything...

“Or maybe not! Maybe ochima?”

I close my eyes. Oh, I can’t see anything. He understands: it’s visible a little. I close my eyes and I can’t see it, just barely.

“Hey, that’s all right!” You can see Ochima, but what about a little?” The sign is cleared and his mouth shuts - almost! Far away - everything is a little bit. Just now the thought came to me - roll your fingers up. Noise-noise-noise. So what? There's barely any noise, but there's hardly a croaking of chickens or a croaking of a canine. He raises his fingers - there’s a little clucking, but there’s no noise. Another time - the same.

“What is this? - Miron fades to himself. - Yep, I already know! I can smell kudkudakannya with my woofs, and I can smell noise with my fingers! Aka, aka.”

He tries it again and again - that’s it, that’s it! And when the women came at midday, they would jump and run to their father:

Tattoo, tattoo! I know now!

So what is it, my child?

I know what a man can see. A smile crossed Dad’s face.

And with my ears I can hear the clucking noise, and with my fingers I can hear noise.

So, as soon as you can’t roll it with your fingers, it’s almost like the trigger is clucking, and when you roll it up, there’s just a little noise.

Father started to register, and mother, posing sharply at Myron, said, waving her spoon at him:

- Go, you bastard, go! Such a great boy that he would have even gotten married, and still talk like that! Why can’t you guess in advance what you’re going to say, and yet you still blurt out that we’re on a spade?

Why can’t you smell it at once? As soon as you don’t shut it up, you hear a clucking noise, but when you close it, you hear noise? - having asked maliya. - Demand it yourself! - And it’s right to stop by plugging your ears with your fingers.

Mother cooed just now, but she didn’t know the answer for that food.

And Mironov’s greatest misfortune came from these mysteries! Don’t think about it, that’s it. What happened, it happened, say, everything is not as it should be, all mothers or someone else seems to be:

Why don’t you, in the fog of the last century, think ahead of what you are saying, and you are talking like that fisherman is talking!

And now poor Myron has not suffered enough to come to terms, and then say something reasonable - no, it’s impossible, that’s it. Poor Myron has come to such an end that he cannot think!

From now on, the whole homeland sits in front of the hut at the dinner of the great master. Mati serves cabbage. The cabbage is good, with lard, and covered in grains. All the same moves. Maliy Miron, having bitten once twice, and then marveled at how quiet it had become in the hut, did not say a word to anyone. It seems to me that now I have no choice but to say something. What's wrong with this? You need to be kind in advance, otherwise everyone will laugh and your mother will make a mess. What can I say here? And little Myron begins to think. The spoon, as I carried it from my mouth to the bowl, became covered in the wind right away from my hand. The eyes gazed motionlessly into the empty expanse, and then fleetingly stared at the image of the Mother of God hanging on the wall; Only your lips are crumbling, you can almost whisper. The servants cheered, looked at each other, shook hands at one another, and the servant girl whispered to old Ivan:

Anu, now I’m trying to shoot the fool.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Myron began to eat, “why is the holy mother wondering and wondering and not eating cabbage?..

Poor Myron, although he was suffering so much, could not come up with anything stupid, perhaps because he was forced to think “like people.”

Laughter, roaring, initial retaliation to the mother out of the “eighteenth fog” - poor Myron burst into tears.

So what if I can’t think like people do! - he said, wiping away the tears.

What will happen next? What color of rose comes from that navel? This preaching is not hard. Quite often, such amazing appearances appear in our villages. Everything about them is a little different from that of people: their behavior, their appearance, their hair, their words, their appearance And if such a child has to live under the crowded darkness of the countryside, without broad knowledge, without clear knowledge, if the quiet relatives begin to instill in her everything in such a way, “as is usual with people,” then I will be able to press down the ridges until they are pressed firmly ; all the unlived and inviting imaginativeness of the child will be occupied and tied up, and from the small Myron a captive ruler will emerge, or, even worse, the liveliness and vivacity of his character will not be able to develop. If you do good, you will become a bully, a sorcerer who is believed by a powerful ghost and will mist people from a wide heart.

If such a child were to waste such a child on his beloved and, in fact, not even a godly child, who would be willing and able to reach out to the rest, so that his child could open his eyes to the world, then - what then? Do you think that a child’s share will become a steal, just as people naturally understand that I’m stealing a share? Kobi is not like that. At school, the child will be overwhelmed by the wonder of science, will be absorbed by it, like a sick person in the fresh winds, and will end with the fact that he will learn the truths of science and it is fun to translate them into life. And little Myron will become an ardent preacher of these truths, bearing them among the dark and oppressive, under various rural fears... Well, his fate is unenviable! To visit the prison walls, and all sorts of holes of torment and violence of people against people, and to end with this, because poverty here has perished, I will lower myself to the point of giving in, because from the prison walls I brought the germs of a fatal illness that will lead to an hour married to the grave , because, having lost faith in the holy, lofty truth, it’s time to fill the worm with bitterness right up to the golden color. Poor little Myron!..

(LITNYA KAZOCHKA)

Ganju, Ganju! Stay at home for me, heavens, because I’m going to the forest on my lips!

Take me with you, mommy! - say little Ganja, breaking her thin lips. - I’m the most scared in the house!

Go, go! Such an old girl has grown up and on a clear day it’s scary in the house! You'll want to give in, but you'll be afraid in the house! Be ashamed! And how will I take you to the forest? How can you walk through the forest?

Oh, I can do it, mom, I can do it, don’t be afraid,” says Gandzia, amused.

No, no, stay in the house! There, near the forest, Mavka, you know, with green braids! They stink of taking little girls.

Oh, I'm not afraid of motherfuckers, mom! I dreamed about one of my own - they were so fond of us! And she’s still laughing at me, really, mother, I’m laughing so loudly! - as if: “Ganju, kuk-ku!” And I say: “I’m here!” And there you go: “Go, Ganju, to the forest, we have such goydanki there, wow!” ooh!” Take me, mamun-tsu, take it, maybe it’s okay for you! I really wanted to get along with her!..

Go, go, you fool! You say the same thing! If you sit in the house, I’ll lock the doors, no one will come in here. I’ll be back soon, don’t fight!

Mother left. She rolled up the key at the door and stuffed the wooden key into it. Gandzia began to cry in the hut.

Why didn’t my mother want to take me? I bula bi bachila mavka! And there, by the fox, it’s so green, quiet, green, warm!.. Oh, that mother! Here I should lock myself up in the house... and they themselves went into the forest, themselves...

The hut where Gandzina Mati lived stood on the very edge of the village. On three sides, not too far away, one could see a dense, dark, ever-troubling forest, making noise every now and then and starting a kind of secret song. It’s a wonderful song. These notes pinch my heart, our recent wound has been healed; Others tear their thoughts with them into the dark, odorous anonymity, into such a boundless, impenetrable expanse; Others destroy the deepest and strongest strings in the human soul, awaken a happy life, energy, a desire for tireless activity, a bright future, and still others evoke the unexpected, a deep tug in the heart. Ganja was born amidst the hubbub of that song; As soon as she could faintly, she felt the most of her, and it is not surprising that that song enchanted all her nervousness. In dreams and in reality, she listened to her on winter evenings, when the storm roared and the forest was driven down, like thousands of wounded in battle; I admired it in the spring, when the warm wind, ice-coldly, blew away the leaves, leaves, and the gulls were filled with fresh juices; I listened to her on a sultry summer afternoon, when the wind was not too sensitive, and along the tops of the forest trees some dark whisper was walking, our song or our sleepy murmur of those dozing off in the dormouse of the trees. and wandered through the forest at night, found in the voices of her little friends, but for her such important and great joys and patience. That is why it is not surprising that that forest song enchanted all the nervous, tendentious essence of Gandzina. In dreams and in reality, everything is the same one at the Duma - The forest and its hiding places. What was the shortest, most desirable thing that Vaughn discovered in her short life (she was only five years old), all of them were inseparably connected with the forest. Oh, how glad she was to hear such richness Cossack about forest spirits, about those scary, like-minded creations of people’s fantasies, and especially about the faces with white, like birch bark, and long green braids! She couldn’t understand why other children were afraid of monkeys. And the stinks are so garni, so good for good children, it’s so joyful to hang out with them in the middle of the forest greens, play around on long, thin birch branches (ah, Gandzia loved to walk so much!) and laugh so merrily, sleep so wonderfully! Their voices, our family bells, rang more than once in Ganza’s dreams, and she was so happy, hearing them from afar... But she had never had a smear in her eyes. What a pity that mom didn’t want to take her to the forest with her today. Today I would have sung my head, oh, singly! It was not without reason that she had been dreaming about monkeys for many nights, sleeping, laughing so loudly, walking on their little nails and everyone calling to them in the forest...

Ganju, coo-coo! Ganju, coo-coo! - called the stinkers, touching them with their little white hands. - Follow us to the forest! It's so warm, so fun, so loving! Oh, what mows we have! - And so will you! Oh, what kind of fools we have! - You’ll be like that! Ooh! wow! Walk, walk!..

Ganja began to cry. Vona looked around the house. How needy, wretched, dejected it is here! It’s scary to stand in baby’s coats! She came up with an order that they used to hush her when she was crying:

Lize Kusika

Because of the susika

Zubi got her teeth into gear.

My eyes have closed,

She clasped her hands,

Legs stabbed!

There is a sharp knife in her heart,

She has an oak colise on her shoulders!

Vaughn froze and looked anxiously at the bed, in the streams of clogged black rough wood, strangely carbing. This way, there was a “bite”. Vaughn, lying in bed, more than once admired him for a long time and everyone felt the dark fear; all the terrible stories that the woman told her, she spoke with this hook. And now she began to marvel at the piece, and the more she had marveled at it, the more it seemed to her that this piece was alive, that she was so old, dirty, wrinkled, a woman with a majestic bag, in yak took - small children. Vaughn’s axle is getting tired, dull with its wooden legs, climb, climb, it’s closer to Gandzia! What? she timidly looked at the piece: she is not collapsing, she is black, hunchbacked, scary, as if she was moving forward. Outside, oh, outside it’s so clear, so warm! From outside you can see the forest, - oh, there, singing, the monkeys are walking around, checking on her ! .. Ni, there is no time to have time for the tie hut, that is a terrible kusiko, Vyon Vilisa Krizo Vikno Nadvir I defeat the lice, Zaki Ternee Mom, be wound up with macaques. But yak is not returned? No, mom won’t come soon, even if there’s an ax here in the trench, tell mom how you’ll go from the forest to the mushrooms.

Ganja left home. A light summer breeze enveloped her in warmth, revealing her short, white, washed-out hair, bringing vibrant color to her pale face; Only the eyes burned like a fiery fire, as if ahead. I ran through the fence to the fox. I felt so light and strong in the midst of that warmth, in that fresh wind, inspired by the smell of the fields in bloom. Lisa was a little bit sick; Gandzia wouldn’t have been able to open it, but where would their small, weak hands get to such a burden! There, my little bear, crawled through a narrow opening, through which any cat could easily pass, and with a smile of joy on his lips, shaking his whole body, he landed on the wagon, opposite the field. The wind blew more sharply on her face. Ganja was only in one shirt, long to the tassels and cut with a red edge. In the first room, she felt the cold. Ale no, that’s how it seemed to her, even if it’s so cold here!..

Across the field stretches a tiny stitch to the forest. Ganja knows this stitch well, it’s the best way to run, you can clearly see the forest from it! Axis, great, gloomy, goofy! Gandzia’s spirit is filled with joy that one more time to run, and you’ll be in the forest, all by yourself!

Let’s run, just because we can’t run as fast as we used to. It’s important to hit the colossus when it runs along the stems with its hand. How can we love this life now, those sweet flowers and doll flowers that sparkle, our blue and horny eyes in the middle of a forest of golden stems!..

Mavko! Mavko! - shout Ganja with joy, running a stitch. - I’m going now, I’m running, like hell! We'll make some money.

The eternal song of the forest is louder and more vivid. Ganja catches it with its ear and reveles in it. In the midst of the noise and hubbub of the leaves, you can clearly hear the silent, sharp splashing of fish in the clear crystal water: all the laughter and joyful cries of the fish. Vaughn smells the stench, like the stench is calling to itself:

Ganju, coo-coo! Ganju, coo-coo!

Alas, the stink is close! The axis is behind the trench, after all! Love the little girls, stink, sing, come here for me! So they weren’t afraid! If people had caught them, they would have taken them away from the bag, and also!.. Let those nasty bits go into the bag! Ale no, she didn’t give a damn, she stinks so good, such garni!..

Mavko! Mavko! - shout Ganja shosili. - I’m already here, I’ll get it right away, just grab a little something!

Ah, the axis is already a forest! How quiet, majestic, dejected! Birch trees bask in the sun and shine from afar with their white bark. Their long branches, our green braids, hung long and swayed with the wind. The axis is here and there will be monkeys soon. Ha, singly, they boasted before Gandze, and if they shouted at them, the stinks would disappear at once, and they would laugh loudly in their coats...

Mavko! Mavko! I'm already here, here, here! Go, let's have some fun!

Guy! He laughed alone, but he was far away! Ah, friend, third! Adzhe Gandzia knew that the stench would not linger for long in the village. Oh, what a wonderfully tinkling laughter! How I love to call out the stench of Ganju to myself! It’s dark here, but there it’s so clear, there’s a lot of smell, so rich and fragrant!.. There the goydanki are so light. Oh, Ganja will run after them, even if he’s not too far away!

It's already evening. Gandzina’s mother returned home with her lips long ago and walked around the village all day, feeding on Gandzina. I don’t care about anyone. The poor mother was getting closer to the night, so she ran anxiously from house to house, but there was no trace of Gandzi.

Well, you see, my misfortune! I was born so weak and insignificant, and now it’s already been a month, and now, as soon as I can say anything, the sky is in a fever! The big women talked to her about all the mavoks, and then again and again about them, and in her dreams she kept talking about them! Scarana is my time! And now it’s done, then God knows. That one didn’t sound at all to run far, I still don’t let the saw in...

Ale Gandzi, if it didn’t happen, it didn’t happen. In the evening, my mother, crying, begged a number of people to go into the forest and play jokes. After all, nothing had passed, they couldn’t find out anything. Another day has passed. There was no Gandzi. How the poor mother fought and where she ran that day cannot be said. Already on the third day, while chopping wood in the forest, people killed a little girl under a birch tree. She lay there, hugging the birch tree with her fierce arms. Her open eyes no longer sparkled, only a rich smile had formed on her lips; it was clear that Gandzia had just stopped playing around with Mavka.

I ask you not to think in any way that I am revealing a vision, or that what is written on the title of this agenda is some kind of metaphor. No, it’s true about the sheep, and it’s not a whole fish, but a gorse, so, apparently, there are three main losses. And then, whoever says that the fourth quarter is king, then I’m also not going to sue him before he leaves. Well, I know well that I didn’t spoil the widowhood’s many goals. Now I could, as the rulers say, “confirm the oath of the head,” or, as our Yasenichians say, “I will swear by what the world stands on.” The fourth king, no more, was the long-time hero of this agenda. Although it mattered how many years ago we played with him the last time, still - how can I learn from him, because with his darkened nose how could he bother me? And besides, for a whole day and a half I was lying in my school bag under books, the wealth of the darkness is overwhelming! If you don’t mind, then if he is no less than sixteen years old, there will be enough time for him to forget about some great friend. And I haven’t forgotten about this, about the fourth round of the old olive cutter, framed in dark cordwood, hexagonal and polished pressed, with a silver embossed inscription “Mittel” on the blunt end; from the other end of the temperament, it is not necessary to sharply, but not to be blunt, - just as much as is needed for a rural schoolboy.

In this form, lying in one winter wound in the snow on the floor of the Yasenitsa school, the very stitches that the schoolchildren had trodden on the wound. Behold, a miraculous wound. The frost squeezed our stories; small handkerchiefs flew in the snow in the wind, completely transparent, only visible diamond sparkles, if the sleepy perimeter broke in them. The tin was not stuck in the frozen sparkling snow, but lay completely on top. Its yellow polish was polished until the sun was shining, and the silver letters “Mittel” were visible from afar. freaking schoolboy, running to school, ruining his He lay there like that, stretching out his black pointed nose to the walls of the school, silently trying to show every passerby what his place was, asking with his shabby look, if anyone should be blamed for that, even if it was a hot, or even cold, post. ate and bring it there until schools, the lads spread out widely throughout the village, waiting for Mr. Professor.

Now tell me honestly, what would you have done if you had the opportunity to work with such a “Mittela”, and then in such a position, which is not entirely suitable for his “rank”? I think that 90% of you, who do not suspect him of being a hero or a story, or just a news item from a newspaper or a meager announcement, would have raised him and simply hid him to the point of pudding. The other 10%, frankly, wouldn’t mind anything.

I, frankly, have been lying down until 90%, p. I know, not suspecting anything evil in the sheep, smiling for something else, not looming anywhere with the body of the cauldron, having put it in the skinned school bag in which my books were. Although this was not entirely trivial, I was very pleased with my discovery. I am a poor village lad and have never been a sheep in my life, but I had to write everything with that damned goose pen, which dripped, gurgled and fluttered so terribly under the pressure of my hand. And now at once - I know the sheep! What a garnish! True, I glanced at him only briefly, while still lying in the snow, because, having buried him in my hand, I quickly rushed him to the bag, silently afraid that the sun, which shone so clearly, would not steal him from my hands. And another cool thing during this whole operation was that it didn’t go over my head, even though the schoolboy could have ruined him, you feel, but it didn’t go over my head. De, de, de! Who is our schoolboy here to destroy the sheep! Then the God-known unknown gentleman came to the professor, - well, singly, then in some marvelous way he ruined that sheep. Or maybe it’s a buffalo, to whom Professor Torik sold a cow; It’s possible that this sheep was lying here for a second time and didn’t see anyone, poor thing. Or maybe it fell from the sky at night along with the snow? Even the grandmother said that more than once toads would fall from the sky; Why don’t the olives fall a little? So I faded, walking through the door to school. Well, isn’t it right for a six-year-old lad to fade like that? But by the way, no! I was already worthy of that sheep. aw yogo galleys here and there, trying to guess his rudeness, to see him before his eyes - in a word, my fantasy, my motil around the coin, the bouncer around the olive was spinning spontaneously. stay until the student i Which means I will have to give him back to the rulers.

There were already more schoolchildren in the class. The guys were sitting in the benches and listening to their assigned lecture, huffing and frighteningly looking at the door, lest the professor come. Others, the brave ones, walked around the classroom, fought, worked between the benches, smeared the various wonders on the table and washed them with a very wet cloth, which served as a substitute for a sponge. I didn’t feed anyone after the sheep. It made me very happy, and I saw, silently, stealthily, hanging out at a friend’s shop and sitting in my original place. As I was picking up the book I’ll need for the next year, I felt the rattle of sheep against my skin and was completely confused - I don’t know whether it was out of joy or some kind of vague anxiety.

Axis and professor arrived, science began. Nothing! The axis and the year have passed, Professor Viyshov, the cry and the hubbub have begun in a long time ago, not a word has been said about anyone. I sit, look around and tremble, our villain over the stolen goods, afraid that the axis will find something and thirst for me.

Alas, the olive does not thirst for anyone. Schoolchildren go and get started, leave and go to school as usual.

Stepan Leskov, my good friend, is approaching me:

Oh, you see, you don’t interfere with any of the rackets; then you'll have a blast! And if the professor tells me to beat you, well, damn it, oh my God!

What a beater that Stepan is! He knows that cocks are my weak side, and he loves to masturbate with me more than once. But I know it’s good that it’s still hot to speak; Moreover, I’m not afraid of the professor, because I’ve learned how to write numbers up to 100. Oh, how I got used to it! And who yesterday spent the whole day writing numbers with their fingers on the windows of windows covered with thick dew?

Well, well, don’t bother with my jokes,” I told Stepanov. - Respect only if you don’t expose yourself to the skin!

Wonderful, big, wonderful! I would like to tell Stepanov so fervently, with a smile, affectionately, - but I would like to tell Stepanov so angry, grimly, in such a depressed voice that I feel disgusted myself! Bah, I feel like my whole face is filled with blood. Stepan, standing in front of me, whimpers, not seeming to do anything else, marveling at my miraculous look, and then apparently embarrassed by the fact that he impressed me with his fervor. yes loving me, that kind, quiet, helpful and kind lad! Why did I hate him so grimly? Why did I embarrass him? Well, speaking to me with fervor, I have no reason to be angry with him!

Such thoughts were pouring over my head when Stepan Pishov and Movchki sat at his shop. It's a small, fair-haired lad of eight years. My father, the poor villager, the former son of my brother, with whom I live, and both of us, boys, were friends with each other over and over again. Stepanov, it seems, was a rich man a long time ago, but a great fire and all other misfortunes destroyed his reign. He was a tall, strong man with a downcast face, who slumped to the ground at times, and spoke in a rough, harsh voice. I was fleetingly afraid of him and his respectful, cruel man. But little Stepan was completely taken with his mother, a quiet, sweet woman with a sweet face, a good-natured face and clear gray eyes. That’s why more than once, standing behind the raft on the shepherd’s farm, I waited until old Leskov left the hut, or else butted on the hill to Stepan, and joined him. True, we have boiled over more than once, like children do, but never for long. I, hot to the point of welding, or even to the beat, was always the first to re-skin, and Stepan, all the same, smiling so lovingly, mutely wanted to say: “And you see, I’ve known for a long time that you can’t stand it without me!”

Now, why am I angry with Stepan now? But I feel good that I’m not angry with anyone at all! However, his pitiful, dull look pains me somehow, turning around my child’s chest. I was ashamed of something, I didn’t know what, and I forgot about the sheep. As soon as the enemy had reached and passed by, and in front of me I was holding the bag in front of me, in which my nerves were mute and felt that there was a small ovine in the distance, then again my fantasy returned back to that subject, and for praising Stepan and that dubious look, I forgot completely.

The professor is new, the scientific year has begun and has passed; about the sheep, no one has ever spoken from the mouth.

Third Godina Mali Buti Rakhunki. This lofty and terrible science was pursued in such a way that the professor called one to the table, telling him to write down the numbers there, and all the other boys tried to write the same numbers on their papers. The professor walked around the bells every now and then, popping in here and there before sewing, to write everything and write like that, as if to get enough.

Before the year of rage, I sensed in the rest of the shop, where Stepan was sitting, what a gamir, what an alarming, lost nutrition and species, but behind the hidden gamor, I could not rozіbrat, and so on. But still, it struck me, as if the fool had wrapped himself in me. I thought to myself: “Now I won’t catch a sheep, I’ll write, as always, with a pen, even if I’m tired.”

Visnovki

Folk tales are, in the opinion of Ivan Frank, an irreplaceable value for educated children, from the development of aesthetic perceptions and love to native language: “From these simple rural tales, like friendship, fine and little roots, to root love in our soul, to the last word, yo beauty, simplicity and charming sweetness. You will forget thousands of speeches in life, but you will not forget these stories, even if your mother or grandmother told you stories until death.” I. Franko gave great significance to the pedagogical teaching of children's reading. The reader needs to ensure a system that would convey awareness of the greatest works, awareness of their ideological richness and artistic power. An example of such a thoughtful teacher is the image of the teacher Mikhonsky from the famous “Boris Grab”, who knows well the individual skills of students and loves literature. We recommend that you read the best books in order, knowing what you have read, and avoid vibrating in the academic world. “Vlasna thought! The spiritual work is powerful - the axis in which the purpose of the gymnasium is powerful!” - say Mikhonsky.

The mastery of Ivan Frank is as rich in plan as his talent and activity.

As a renowned master of the word, Franco created an original, individual style of lyricism - a different illumination of thoughts and the feeling of his party.

As a renowned master of the word, he has richly developed the flow of enormous intellectual poetry, becoming one of the most prominent poet-mysteries in Ukraine.

As a renowned master, he innovated the imagery and technique of poetry; We must hang the development of the Ukrainian literary word on the main road like a dorogovkaz. Moreover, his mastery is evident not only as the internal quality of his works, but also as a cultural tradition that has already been alive for several generations of Ukrainian poets.

List of Wikilists

1. Basho I.I. Artistic prose of Ivan Frank. - K.: Nauk, Dumka, 1965. - 131 p.

2. Biloshtan Y. Dramaturgy of Ivan Frank. - K.: Kind of thin. let., 1956. - 253 p.

3. Zhuk N.I. Prose of Ivan Frank. - K.: Vishcha School, 1977. - 173 p.

4. Kaspruk A.A. Philosophical poems of Ivan Frank. - K.: Nauk, Dumka, 1965. - 189 p.

5. Kirilyuk E.P. Eternal revolutionary. - K.: Dnipro, 1966. - 422 p.

6. Parkhomenko M. Dramaturgy of Ivan Frank. - View of Lviv University, 1956. - 128 p.

7. Pokhodzilo M.I. Ivan Franko at school. - K.: Glad. school, 1970. - 231 p.

8. Stepanishin B.I. Vaccination of Ivan Frank's creativity at school. - K.: Glad. school, 1966. - 224 p.

9. Frankova Krinitsya: Vivcheniya creativity I.Ya.Franka at school: Handbook for the teacher / Ed. L.M. Kilichenko. - K.: Glad. school, 1991. - 288 p.

10. Literary dictionary-dovidnik / R.T.Grom"yak, Yu.I.Kovaliv and in. - K.: VTs "Academy", 1997. - 752 p.

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Fox the Confessor and other poems of 1892-1895, not included in the collections.

Original poems in Ukrainian:

KING GOD

And Pharaoh said to the evil spirit:
“Be my adviser and help me in business,
People please me until the end of time
Considered him to be God."

The evil spirit replied: “The time has not come.
From now on you must. Create with your answer
More evil in my service. Well, good...
Forget it".

Pharaoh worked honestly. Like a beast
He tormented people until the earth groaned
And suddenly the evil spirit said: “Now
The time has come."

“But why now?” - “Don’t try in vain,
You will not keep your people in fear for long,
Now let's put a king in their heads
Considered to be God.

In a yoke they do not see the dawn on a clear day
And they won't be able to stand you anymore
If you don't teach them to trust their king,
How they believe in God."

FOX CONFESSOR

LYRENSKAYA SONG TO THE MOTIF OF “ORPHAN”

The rivers rang, the mountains rustled:
Is this talk true or rumor?
It’s early on Sunday, it’s just cleared up,
Oh, our little fox wanted to eat.
Mountains, valleys and ravines left,
There was nothing edible for the poor fellow.
And the Fox went further along the valley,
She went out to the oak tree over the blue water.
Looks, and on the oak tree, it’s safe in the cold
The cockerel took cover, his wings red.
The little fox looked and swallowed her saliva,
Joyfully she waved her handkerchief at Cockerel.

“Hello, our Cockerel, you songbird!”
The cockerel answered her: “Good afternoon, Fox!”
“How do you live without grieving?” - The fox asked him, -
“Get down a little lower so you can hear!”

“I live normally and hear everything clearly,
I hear everything and you whisper quietly in vain,
Little fox-sister, where have you been?
What new things did you learn in the world while wandering?”

“I’m coming, I’m returning from Zarvanitsa,
There she bowed on the porch of the chapel,
I prayed there for you and was baptized,
Saint Gargara has not yet appeared:
“Fox-niece, light and joy,
Tell Cockerel, I need to confess,
Hurry to convey these words to him,
All that’s left is to crow a little in the world.”
So I was in a hurry for three nights, three days,
To see the living, keeping hope.
So I was in a hurry, I didn’t know peace,
May I find you alive and healthy.
So that you confess and receive communion,
He rose again after death and said goodbye to the world.”

,

There is God in my heart, I keep the law,
I don't drink, I don't steal, I don't hit, I don't bite,
And not a soul of chickens, like a robber, a murderer, -
What is my fault? Tell me, Fox."

“I’m wrong, Cockerel, you’re to blame for a lot of things,
There are no pure people on earth before God.
And remember, unfortunate one, this is good for something:
You can only get married once,
And you, like a Turk, like a Basurman,
You take them ten at a time in your crazy dance...
You have ten of them, you have twenty of them!..
Where will you hide from heavenly punishment?

“Little fox-sister, I hear again
Your angelic voice, damn it,
I see that I am sinful, and my sin is great,
You must go to confession with the bishop.”

“Why, son, everyone is equal before God,
Don’t wait too long for forgiveness of sins!
I have a ticket from the lord,
I can forgive even the greatest sin.”

How the truthful word touched my heart.
Let me live, don't be so cruel
So that I can drive the burden of vice out of my heart.
I haven’t fasted for seven years, I haven’t prayed for seven years,
Give me at least three days to free myself!”

“I’m sorry, Cockerel, that you lived so nicely,
I haven’t thought about dying recently.
You ask to repent for three days and don’t know
Where will you be tomorrow, you understand.
Come down to earth, repent heartily,
And I will blame you here flawlessly.”

“Little fox-sister, I hear again
Your angelic voice, damn it.
It is the will of the Lord for life and confession,
Yes, I’m just afraid of betrayal today.
Your voice is like sour cream
You look like an angel, just a cunning face.
It's even painful to look at the sharp teeth,
I see - I am afraid of death involuntarily.
And it seems to me that you want it badly
Not holiness of spirit, but fresh meat.”

“A useless rooster, a sinful bird,
Now don’t hope that your sin will be forgiven!
You should pray for your sin, sobbing,
And you argue with me, judging me.
I fast, I pray, heaven is my reward,
And I don’t need your meat for nothing.
I fasted for seven years and didn’t eat meat!
May God grant me to wait until the hour of death,
If I don’t eat it, then I’ll eat bad meat.
You are blind in sin and judge viciously,
Get off the oak tree quickly and repent urgently!
Repent immediately if it’s so difficult,
For the soul of a goat you will simply die godlessly!”

The Cockerel sat down, his heart began to beat,
It’s both sickening and scary that this happened...
The fox looks like an angel,
And the face is terrible, painfully cunning face!
And I would be glad to become sinless before God,
And the fear that the Fox has so many teeth.
But still, responsibility and fear won,
I extinguished my anxiety and my mind into darkness,
From branch to branch, from twig to twig
The Cockerel descended to the ground to the Fox.
He descended to the ground easily and quickly
And he humbly whispers a prayer to the little fox.

The little fox was waiting for the Cockerel and jumped up
And she grabbed the poor prisoner in the teeth.
The Fox jumped up like a bird of prey,
And he holds you so tightly that you can’t free yourself.

And the Fox exclaimed angrily in rage:
“I’m holding you tight, you stupid bird!
I will be your sensitive confessor:
Death in my teeth will be brazen and terrible.”

“Have mercy, Chanterelle, for God’s sake,
I don’t have that much meat in me!” -
The Cockerel squealed: “Why are you strangling me?
You will break your seven-year fast in vain!”

“I never feel sorry for your brother,
The bony bird is to blame for everything!
I'm guaranteed a lean rooster for dinner,
Do you remember the chicken coop on that memorable evening?
Do you remember that winter? Answer me, I can't hear you
When did I chew through the roof of the chicken coop?
I gnawed through the roof from hunger, angry,
I found you there among your women.

You slept like a sultan between soft pillows,
In the warmth of twenty of your sinful girlfriends
And suddenly I felt so sorry for you,
Why can’t you see the world in sin!..
I decided to strangle the two carefully,
Then you could save your soul:
This is your death, red, sinful bird, -
Now you will believe and pray to God!

So righteously I thought and prayed,
So that the will of the Lord will be accomplished quickly.
I crawled up to you, and was the first to deftly
I wanted to grab Klavka by the head,
Yes, but this brainless fool
Slept with my head under my wing until dawn,
I was in such a hurry that I made an annoying mistake,
I grabbed the wing instead of the neck greedily.

And she started squealing madly
And fight in the teeth, as if a hut is collapsing,
Behind her are the rest, that there were chickens,
They started screaming as if they were tearing them out of their skins,
You should calm them down carefully,
And you give me spurs, is that really possible?
He almost brutally knocked out my eye with his beak,
I wanted to leave the abode of vice,

Leave your wretched den forever
And shake off the ashes of your life on the threshold,
Yes, that’s bad luck, it’s firmly in my teeth
The wing of this vicious quonka is stuck,
With all her strength she jerked from her spot
And I rolled down to the floor from my perch.
The dinner was not sweet, it hurt,
Whenever I remember that evening, I cry involuntarily.

Oh, I fell, I don’t know how I got up,
And how I didn’t break anything.
Until I realized that all the bones were intact,
An old woman with a shovel came to visit us.
An old woman with a shovel, an old man with an ax -
The whole yard wanted to destroy me.
And so they beat me, killed me,
If it weren't for the loophole, I would hardly have been saved,
I would have to rot under your fence
And it would be stupid to give up your life so quickly.
Now you will answer, executioner and murderer,
And what is destined, let it happen today.”

This is how the Fox told Cockerel everything
And she held her victim tightly in her claws.
He hung his head and realized that it was true,
Not an angel The fox is a fiend of hell.
The Cockerel is hanging, realizing that it is late
To be tormented and torn, menacingly in your teeth
The fox is strangling him, going to eat him,
And he tremblingly asks her to listen:

“Listen, Foxy, the last word,
Then I won't bother you again.
That I am extremely sinful and I lived in shame,
I agree with you and your verdict,
And in sensitive teeth I am ready without fear
Finish your journey, dear friend.
It's not a pity that I will close my eyes forever,
I’m sorry that today, it’s offensive, I won’t hide it,
Today, I'll tell you a secret,
The Lord sent a carriage for me,
I'm waiting for the carriage to appear soon,
I should become a church choir singer
The Bishop appointed me to sing at the cathedral,
Sing solo for him and with the monks in the choir.

My lord highly appreciates my gift
He noted and promised me a fee,
And they immediately promised to send the Morocco workers,
And a red zhupan so that everyone respects
From now on I had to become nobler
And live in luxury near the Church of the Lord.
I could help you soon too
Get a job as a housekeeper in our yard.
How would you walk, madam?
Holding the keys of all doors in your power.
Then I would have the whole yard under me
All the chickens and geese, and there are quite a few of them,
I also received a salary for it,
Even you have never dreamed of living like this.”

The fox listened, her mouth opened,
She never even dreamed of that paradise for the Fox,
When he finished his last word,
Lisa jumped up crazy from this,
She waved her hands and shouted: “God,
I’m sure we’ll be eating there already, it looks like!”
But Cockerel thought differently to himself,
Suddenly he jumped, not believing his luck,
On a branch high above your head
And he said, laughing, behind the oak leaves:
“You eat as much as you want, but look inadvertently
So that small bones do not come out sideways,
And so that you don’t choke from greed
During prayer in Holy Zarvanitsa,
In the name of love and from the feat of faith,
Carrying bags of wheat without measure,
Don't give yourself wounds with your greedy hand,
Otherwise I’ll have to return with a stick,
And don’t rush to break your fast for God’s sake,
We still need to endure hunger for a little while.”

This is how the Cockerel laughed at the Fox,
He walked away from death and remained healthy.
The fox howled and licked its lips,
Annoyingly, she snapped back at him,
Without selfish gain and without interest
She disappeared into the roots of the eternal forest.

Written in Vienna in January, February 1893.

translation May-June 2013

1 Zarvanitsa is a monastery and village in Terebovlya district, Ternopil region.
One of the main spiritual centers of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church
2 Morocco boots - morocco boots. Saffiano - Thin and soft goat or sheep leather,
specially crafted and painted in bright colors.
3 Zhupan - originally a Polish noble costume, here - rich outerwear, caftan

BEAR

The bear is a cruel beast and a thief.
He comes to the village at night from the mountains:
He will kill an ox and eat a goat -
The bestial nature of evil.

And poor smart Sen Gandyuk
I could only afford onions.
He didn't keep a gun in the house -
The bear was dragging his sheep.

The beast steals his sheep,
How to put an end to this?
Sen Gandyuk came up with a trick:
He placed snares around.

An old way of coping
With the beast, the power to curb:
Put snares on the way
So much so that you can’t pass by.

You need to take a rope with a noose,
Tie to a big stone,
So the man decided wisely
Take over power and evil.

Night has come and in the moonlight
The bear found a blood trail
That last night of dark deeds
When he picked up a sheep and ate it.

But what is it, how can this be?
The bear could not understand
It's like someone took him
And he held it there quietly.

Then he would understand everything,
But he didn't like to talk,
He rushed forward: What kind of demon?
And he himself fell into the trap’s loop.

Yes, he managed to tighten it like that
Noose around my neck, can't breathe
Why not breathe, not breathe
And something needs to be done.

Then the bear began to understand,
Why die for such a short time,
The bear is not a fool either,
To give your life like this.

He quickly began to understand
What doesn't let him breathe?
What's at the end of that rope
It's just a simple stone.

The stone was too small for the bear
And he took him on his shoulders,
And the beast shouted: Now from the mountain
You'll go to hell.

And angry at the stone
I went to the edge of the abyss.
Over the abyss he shouted to the mountains
And the stone goes down to the tram-crackers.

Threw it and it’s clear why
Fell, tied to him,
And he flew down
Angry behind the stone out of frustration.

He fell from a cliff into the darkness,
Crashed to death on a rock
And Sen woke up at dawn,
I went to the cliff on the mountain

And I saw how through a snare,
Didn't escape his hand
The tyrant of his village and mountains -
Bear, cruel beast and thief.

And after these glorious deeds,
How the mind overcame the force,
Everyone came out to watch
How the bear finally died.

1894
13.06.2013

FOX ADVENTURE

I went out to complain to my husband
From the chicken coop wife:
“The fox killed the chicken,
The fox’s grip is visible here!”

The husband turned out to be smart
And he said: “Give it here,
We're on the hook for this one
We catch the animal without difficulty.”

Under the fence at the gate
The hole was found
A man set up a snare there,
A chicken lay down nearby.

Along the path Lis Nikita
I walked without knowing troubles,
He sees a chicken and needs to
Get yourself some lunch.

Without much thought he
Step into the hole, tail of dust,
At the same moment she squeezed her neck
The noose has a death grip.

He's back, it got worse
The frightened one looks
Waving his healthy butt,
An angry man runs towards him.

Fox without much thought
Walk through that hole under the fence,
And the man shouts: “Gotcha!”
This time it’s a chicken thief!”

A man climbed onto a short
Its own fence and looks down,
It hits again and misses again,
Slipping away into the foxes hole.

And the man fell to the ground,
Looks through the hole under the fence:
“I hit him with a butt, let’s check,
How sharp is my ax!”

It is clear that the man intends
Carry out your sentence
What about foxes? At least
The thief is still alive.

A man stood up, pulled open the gate,
The sly fox left again
You can't deal with him alone,
He began to call his wife for help.

And the wife grabbed a pitchfork
And let's run to him
Well now you definitely
Sly fox, you can't help it!

Husband is ready to kill outside
With a quick swing of the axe,
And the wife comes quickly
To the poor victim from the yard.

The husband shouts: “Spank me quickly,
Hit him, he’s in the yard!”
She didn't have time to hit
The fox disappeared into the hole again.

There he jumped out at his husband,
He hit as deftly as he could,
The fox dodged and immediately
There was a rope under the ax.

The beast realized that he was free
And they won’t be able to catch up with him,
He grabbed the chicken and went into the field,
To the forest, to the sweet threshold.

The man realized that it was stupid
He looks like a fool
I realized it was too late,
And the wife said this:

"Never would you rope
I didn’t cut it with a butt,”
He spat out of anger and that’s all,
And in response he was rude to her.

1894
25.06.2013

THREE FATES

From the secret abyss, from nothingness
The soul strives for the earth and sadly,
Fire within yourself, like a melting spark,
From the very beginning he dreams of burning brightly.

And, like a star, she is playing,
Strives for eternity, burning.
But on the way the flight is interrupted
Three Fate-goddesses come out,
On her way in the blue sky
Give your gift as a souvenir.

And the first one said: “Be happy,
I give you a living talent,
Penetrating, inquisitive with intelligence,
Always be a bright head."

“My gift,” the second said, “
Feel all the feelings to the fullest."
Gave her a cup of love:
“Drink, soul, to the dregs.

Let your life be a winged fantasy,
Let freedom burn in your heart
Holy fire and slavery is to blame
He will not bow his head to anyone.”

But the third is an evil old woman,
Laughing in response to those words,
And right over the soul into the ear
This is what she whines to, like an owl:

“Ah-ah, the sisters are generous
To a naive soul from a casket
Mittens full of gifts
On the road to pour endlessly.

Did you want to make Goethe, Dante, Shelley?
Your affection makes me laugh,
Did you want to make him without me?
But no. We have enough heroes too.

Wait, I'll give her a gift
Such that your hands are taken away,
So that the service devoted to you
It was more terrible than any torment.

Walk, soul, your path in the darkness,
Covered with thorns, not rosemary!
What will you be on earth?
Be a Rusin, a peasant son!

Your talent will tear you apart
Among people, intentions and destinies,
In the flow of life there is a desire to live!
But let there be ugliness,
Like a sentence to crush, ruining,
There is a swamp in the human anthill.

You can’t develop talent and, like a taboo,
You will leave everything and not move forward,
Talent idle, silent as in a coffin,
Your mediocre family will soon be strangled.

Although your mind will be torn
To the light of good from lies and evil,
But he won't be able to get there
To the river that I could bear
To your land, where you could
Forget need and the salt of the roads,
Grow freely like a bird
Free yourself from all chains.

All this is not yours, son!
The lot of people like you is on the trail
To go to a stranger, not sparing your legs,
And don’t count on personal victory.

Your love has a beautiful garden
Strangers will come to trample
Don't expect rewards for your work
You will never have them.
Love will wither, envy will grow
The poison will spill in the soul.

Nobody really needs you here,
Go wander into eternal mistakes, -
No one will pull you out of the puddle,
God's grace is with you."

Written May 27, 1895 p.
First published in the complete collected works in 50 volumes in 1975.
Translation 04.12.2013

Literary tales. I. Franco "Farming Fox"

Literary tales

There are a few fairy tales, considered folk tales, that have their own author, so they are called author’s or literary. Among the authors of the Cossacks - knowledge of the words: I. Franko, Lesya Ukrainka, V. Symonenko, N. Zabila, V. Ne-stayko, O. Ivanenko, Y. Yarmish.

From foreign literature, including tales by T. K. Andersen, C. Perrault, the Brothers Grimm, O. Pushkin and many others.

The main inspiration for writers was folk creativity, so literary tales of greatness show the very signs that they are folk. However, the literary tale has its own peculiarities. Just as the folk Kazka is in its literary form, the literary form is in written form. The folk Kazka can have a number of options. The text of a literary tale is constant, immutable. In contrast to the folk kazka, the literary kazka can be either prose or verbose. At the beginning of the school, you have already read the fairy tales written by N. Zabili about the wolf and the kittens, “Endless Cots” by Mariyka Pidgiryanka, the story about the sea by V. Skomarovsky, as well as Russian poets - O. Pushkin and P. Ersh ova.

The folk and literary Kazka is a school of folk morality. Wisdom and strength begin with the simplest: the ability to mislead elders, help your neighbor and protect the weak

Kazki, created by writers, are called literary

• 1. What kind of fairy tales are called literary? Point your butt.
• 2. What literary stories by foreign authors have you read?
• 3. Name the main and important signs of literary and folk tales.
• 4. How do you need to read a story so that it can be heard well?

The famous Ukrainian writer Ivan Yakovich Franko wrote a number of beautiful fairy tales for children.

Ivan Franko was born on September 27, 1856 in the village of Naguyevichi, Drohobitsky district in Lviv region in the homeland of the village farrier. Maliy Ivasya (Yasyo - that was the name of her mother’s son) loved to mingle at her father’s forge, where villagers gathered to drink, feel a sense of newness, rejoice, retell the stories, often fantastic stories. Over the years, the writer has said more than once that this distillation of Father’s forge, the strength of such a distillation, has taken hold of his soul on the long journey of life, and has not gone out for a long time. Having loved hearing his mother’s tales, the wondrous, enchanting world of such filled the lad.

Six-year-old Ivas was sent to primary school, where he began to study Ukrainian, Polish and German languages. The boy learns easily, and the fragments from nature become healthy. Already in ten days I learned to read the Ukrainian language, and after ten hours I learned the memory of the mayor of Shevchenko. “...Having spoken to the reader for a whole year, I immediately dictated the history lecture to my comrades word for word,” the writer said.

His life was not bleak, even though he lost eleven years without his father, and sixteen years without his mother. Grin took on the troubles of this morning

Gavrilik is a kind and reasonable person. Having reported to all ears, the talented lad became a blessed person.

I see the light of Ivan Franko without getting it right away. He initially began at the Faculty of Philosophy of Lviv University, but later he became involved in political activity. The young man was arrested several times, and then expelled from the university. Ivan never left his mind, and a dozen hours later he graduated from Chernivtsi University and took the degree of Doctor of Philosophy from Vidnya.

Comrades from the student rocks remembered the mighty writer as a skinny, short young man with an untamed curly hair, which seemed to sparkle with hot hair. Wars of camaraderie. And every now and then it seemed that everyone had rushed to where , having quickly read, written, and quickly brought everything to completion.

Ivan Frank's contributions to Ukrainian literature remain unappreciated. For children, the writer wrote a number of fairy tales, which were collected and seen, for example, from the 19th century under the title “As long as the animals spoke.” According to I. Frank, the fairy tales “make children laugh and think, awaken I'm so proud and respectful nature." Before the collection "When More Animals Spoke," the Kazka "Farming Fox" passed away.

Ivan Franko wrote a lot of poetic, prose, dramatic works, literary studies, which are collected in 50 volumes. However, his least favorite hero was the boy Myron - a character from “At the Forge”, “Maly Myron”, “Olivets”, “Under the Fence”, perhaps similar to the little Yas from the Carpathian Naguyevichs.

Franco was completely modest, loving clothes in strict colors, and even always wore an embroidered shirt. Wanting to buy a bike, but never having bought it. Often manipulating pies, being an inveterate fisherman and mushroom picker.

Ivan Franko died on May 28, 1916. The writer is rightfully respected for carrying on the tradition of Taras Shevchenko. This is what D. Pavlichko means: “Shevchenko created the people, and Franco conquered the Ukrainian nation.” And, without a doubt, continues to grow popular today, even as his creations reach large circulations, songs based on his vertices become popular songs, and films based on the motives of his creations praise both children and children. grown up.

Kazki I. Frank: The fox and the crayfish, The hare and the hedgehog, The elder wolf, The hare and the witch, The fox and the crane, The little fox, The war between the dog and the wolf, Three cunning furs.

Artistic transformation of the light plot: poem I. Frank "fox mikita"

Ivan Franko wrote leather and created for CHILDREN. Among them sits the fairy tale poem “Mikita the Fox” - one of His epic creations, which has seen five previous appearances. His work has experienced unprecedented popularity.

Let's talk about this and the circulations in which "Fox Mikita" was published. In the lead up to the third edition of I.Franco's poem, it is clear that in one edition, carried out by 3000 prime ministers, it took several years. And why is there only one in Anya? The Galician-Russian book is still not short of such happiness among readers."

Until this date Add that they burned Not a single book in Ukraine in that year was published with such a great profit, and so Shvidko NOT Rozkhid. Zhoden from the works of the Ukrainian pre-historic classics for the life of the author not MAV Such a Happy Life, such a wide number of readers, Yak Frankiv "Fox Mikita".

Vinyatkovo The popularity of the song was soon noticed and signified by literary criticism. Also A.Yu. Krimsky wrote in the Review on one of his works from the hoarding: “It’s the very fact that in the span of three years there happened to be another book - this, one might say, is unheard of in our country!” ї fact and without It seems to me that the public has long ago given Frankov’s writing its philandering assessment.”

This thought sounded even more interesting from the speaker on the Third edition of “Mikiti the Fox”, the author of which, undoubtedly, was V. Gnatyuk: “If it is important that only the School readers in us reach the third edition, then we have a lot of books, 1000 prime ministers and not at all evil, lie in stores for 10-15 years, when they sell out, it is understandable how popular “Fox Mikita” has become among our youth, if in a short period of time there were two of their sights and demands for work. thi Third ".

The reason for the vinyatkova’s popularity is probably due to its great ideological and artistic prowess. TOTAL POSSIBILITY, Which is the greatest, the popularity of the work has become the very essence of the work, which prompted the writers for more than twenty years to repeatedly turn to the new, immediately introducing into the text the meaning of Change, often principles but by character.

On the other hand, put together by I. Frank on the lines of further research and further ideological and artistic thoroughness, the position of the singer could also be taken by some of the critics who understood the literally author’s marking on the title of the book “Without German adaptation of Ivan Franko", worked in "Lisa Mikity" NOT original tvir, and only the processing and translation of the food by J.-V. Goethe "Reinecke Fuchs".

folding and chatting in the hour of history to the text of I. Frank's poem "The Fox Mikita" requires a detailed and comprehensive interpretation, which will make it possible to correctly develop a number of important historical-literary and textual studies related to the IM creation.

Apart from the tests that were tested directly, they were of a temporary nature, they did not look at all the previous meals they had seen, without revealing the nutritional choice to the main text, which in this case becomes more difficult.

Consistently composed texts of all previous generations sing “Fox Mikita”, N. Goncharuk, drawing attention to the changes that are introduced into the skin of them from the beginning, based on their character and on the basis of this Explain the direct impact of the text, as far as EVERYTHING is concerned The amendments were made to refine the artistic creation. At the same time, the analysis of the texts of the past will give the opportunity to develop and nourish the choice of the main text of the poem, which is even more important for assessing the work itself.

The relevance of this thesis is, after all, due to the inexhaustibility of the artistic and literary decline of Ivan Frank, as for the last year of the future, it gives new possibilities for interpreting the artistic text and his analysis. And by this fact, this poem is one of the epic works of I. Frank, which has seen five previous generations (1891, 1896, 1902, 1909, 1914), which is a witness to the unprecedented y Popularity of creativity. And now the food is fast: what’s the secret? Such popularity do we have in the author’s own time and in today’s time? Research on the poetics of the work Help the News on Tse Popitannaya, to establish a dialogue with the text from the world culture, Adjei the plot about the cunning Fox mandrew the European dekilka table It (600 rocks) and transferred by I.Frank to Ukrainian cultural soil is awakening with a new sound. It should be remembered that in Ukrainian Francognism there is a fundamental problem with the text of the poem “Fox Mikita” by I. Frank, which requires a detailed and comprehensive interpretation, making it possible to develop a nutritional choice for the main text of the poem.

Also, the topic we have selected for follow-up is relevance.

My focus on the poetic “Mikiti the Fox” is motivated by the need to understand what was already created in the light cultural context before the creation appeared, what the author from the light banner of Vikoristan or having guessed and for what purpose is VIN Tse zrob, What is its function in This icon represents another artistic trope. SKINNY figure.

The meta-works are based on the current historical analysis of the texts of the previous texts of the poem “Mikita the Fox”, with the revealed copyright edits for the achievement of artistic diversity and semantic accuracy of the text.

The subject of the work is the poetics of Ivan Frank's poem "Mikita the Fox" from the interpretation of textual variants of previous works.

The problem of the poetics of “The Fox Mikiti” by Ivan Frank is realized in the context of Ukrainian and secular French studies. Vivcheniya poetics "Mikiti the Fox" Pochaiv in the hour the creative work itself appeared. These are reviews and reviews of all five previous works written by Agatangel Krimsky, Volodymyr Gnatyuk, T. Frank, who account for everything, the popularity of the work and the work of the trial is significant. The level of originality of the food is combined with the essential European ones; processing of international plot. Before this was revealed, Ivan Franko himself also faced problems, which is an example of the author’s self-interpretation. VIN supported, who wrote "Mikita the Fox", taking only the head frame of the Dutch poem of Willem, the same one, which is in the German Book about Reinecke in Goethe's translation, and filling that frame completely freely It's okay. Ivan Franko Bazhan does not translate, but reworks the old story about the fox, making it a national good, giving it our national likeness.

In the middle of the last traces there are the works of O.R. Bagan, M.L. Goncharuk, M.F. Gunyak, who continue to work with the previous ones.

However, the significance of this topic is not due to the number of contributions, since the problem of poetics is also relevant in today's Francognism, due to the dialogue of the creation: with the world and national culture, with the author, the reader than from different eras.

Spring has arrived and it's beautiful,

Multi-colored, warm, clear,

Mov devchina u vinku;

The meadows and forests came to life,

Plenty of gamora, rozmovi

І song in the tea garden.

Lion, who is king over the beasts,

Write the leaves with signets,

Sends out to the whole world:

“The hour has come for great gatherings!

Let's go to the royal courts

Shvidko is a whole bunch of beasts."

The axis goes stinking yurbs,

Mov na vydpust s korogvami -

Everything that wails, barks, croaks;

Only one language and not a feeling,

You know, he spends the night in his castle -

Fox Mikita, haidamaka.

Oh, it’s not for nothing that it’s good!

You know, the dull one is calling names:

"You're a crooked beast, people"

Tim is in his capital for an hour

The king sows entrusts the queen,

To bring justice to the beasts.

IVAN FRANKO

A grave historical catastrophe befell the Ukrainian people about six hundred years ago. Foreign conquerors tore Western Ukraine away from Eastern Ukraine. State borders lay between two parts of a single people, and the further time went, the higher the border walls became. The history of eastern Ukrainians and the history of western Ukrainians took different paths.

In the middle of the 17th century, Eastern Ukraine, relying on the help of the Russian people, freed itself from Polish oppression. In 1654 it joined the Russian state.

Western Ukraine remained under German and Polish rule for hundreds of years. Since 1772, under the name of Eastern Galicia, it was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

Western Ukrainians passionately hated their oppressors and never ceased to believe that a happy hour would come when all Ukrainians would once again unite into one family. Despite severe persecution, they firmly held on to their native language. From generation to generation they passed on their songs, thoughts, and stories about the heroic struggle as national shrines.

Western Ukraine has produced remarkable writers and public figures from among its people. The most prominent of them is Ivan Yakovlevich Franko. His literary fame is great in Western Ukraine. But she also went far beyond the borders of his homeland. From the very first years of his literary activity, Franko became a favorite writer of the entire Ukrainian people. The Russian reader soon recognized and appreciated him. His talented works are remarkable. His personality is no less remarkable.

Ivan Franko was born in 1856 into the family of a village blacksmith. He recognized the need early. The backward Ukrainian village in Galicia was poor, the peasants were in bondage to the Polish landowner. The boy, who early showed the makings of outstanding talent, managed to avoid a common fate. He suffered a lot of grief, but, as they said in those days, he “made it into the people,” received an education, and became a student. Still, he did not break away from the working people, from the peasantry, as happened sometimes with Ukrainians who received higher education. Franco remained with his people. He loved his native village and was faithful to it. As the son of a blacksmith, he highly valued the skill of a worker and artisan.

Young Franco had a poetic soul. He knew and loved Ukrainian songs and Ukrainian fairy tales. Until the last years of his life, he collected monuments of Ukrainian folk literature, folklore, studied these monuments, and wrote about them. In this area, no artificial state borders could stop him. The Ukrainian people were a single people for him, Kyiv was his hometown. Kotlyarevsky and Shevchenko were for Franko the great national writers of the Ukrainian people, he loved them dearly, and learned the literary Ukrainian language from them.

As a passionate and convinced Ukrainian patriot, Franco strove to unite the torn parts of his homeland. He knew and loved her heroic story.

Ukrainians were prevented from reunifying in their independent state, on the one hand, by the Austro-Hungarian Empire, on the other, by Russian tsarism. Franco became an enemy of both the bureaucratic Austrian and the despotic tsarist government. While still a student, he joined those circles of youth that were considered revolutionary, dangerous in the eyes of the Austrian-German gendarmes, the Polish gentry and tsarist officials. Ardent by nature, courageous, selfless, Franco became the leader of the Ukrainian democratic youth in Galicia. He had to make acquaintance with an Austrian prison very early on.

Franco passionately loved his people and strove for their national liberation. But no less ardently he loved the world of work and hated all oppressors, everyone who lives on the labor of others, predatory, usurious profit, regardless of nationality.

The life of a working person in backward Galicia at that time was terrible and hopeless. Capitalist industry was just beginning to develop. Workers in the oil fields and Borislav lived in terrible conditions. The life of construction workers was difficult. Franco's first poems are rich in social motives. The mason is a frequent hero of his first literary works. He portrays himself in the image of a builder-mason when he dreams of the future of his country, his people.

Franko’s essays “Borislav Laughs” attracted the attention of a wide range of readers. They had knowledge of the lives of workers and ardent sympathy for them.

On the path of his search for national and social justice, Franco could not help but encounter advanced Russian literature. Reactionary German and Polish circles had a savage hatred of everything Russian. These circles in Austria were obediently followed by those Ukrainian bourgeois reactionaries who sought reconciliation with their oppressors and tried to beg them for grains of reform for the Ukrainian people. They were hostile to everything Russian; for them, all Russians were equally “Muscovites.”

Franco led those Ukrainian youth who, in the eighties of the last century, decisively opposed the Ukrainian reactionaries in Galicia, against obscurantism, backwardness, and narrow nationalism. Franco was a member of the student “Muscovophile” circle. Together with his comrades, he enthusiastically studied Russian progressive literature, fiction and journalism. Franco knew Pushkin. Turgenev, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Nekrasov. The Russian populist writers Gleb Uspensky and Pomyalovsky were close to him.

A great role in the development of Franco as a writer, publicist and public figure was played by the remarkable Russian-Ukrainian scientist, writer and politician Mikhail Petrovich Drahomanov.

He was a professor at Kyiv University, a gifted historian and literary critic, an active participant in the Ukrainian society “Gromada,” which united representatives of the Ukrainian intelligentsia in Russia. Drahomanov defended the national independence of the Ukrainian people, fought against the tsarist government and at the same time advocated the close friendship of all Slavic peoples, especially the fraternal friendship of the Russian and Ukrainian peoples. In his own person, Drahomanov expressed the commonality of Russian-Ukrainian culture. He wrote in both Russian and Ukrainian, and was a participant in both Russian and Ukrainian publications.

The tsarist government persecuted the young progressive professor, and he eventually had to leave Russia. He joined revolutionary circles abroad and published the Ukrainian magazine Hromada in Switzerland.

Drahomanov, even before his expulsion from Russia, came to Galicia, to Lvov, and became acquainted with local Ukrainian literary and social circles. The youth called him their teacher. From Drahomanov she learned about the great Russian democratic literature. The friendship that developed between Drahomanov and Franco continued until the end of the life of Drahomanov, who died in 1895 in Bulgaria, where he was a professor of general history at Sofia University.

Belinsky, Chernyshevsky, Dobrolyubov, Herzen became teachers in literature for Ivan Franko. His talent developed more and more powerfully. Poems, stories, great stories followed one after another. He wrote a large historical novel “Zakhar Berkut” from the early history of Carpathian Rus', stories from the life of Borislav workers, the story “Boa Constrictor”, exposing the exploitation of miners, etc. His works are imbued with love for the working people. They are written in strong and clear literary language. Franco himself is visible in them - an intelligent democrat, sensitive to the people's grief, infinitely devoted to his homeland. There are many features in Franco’s work that make him similar to such Russian writers as Garshin, Korolenko, and Gleb Uspensky.

At the end of the last century, the situation of the Ukrainian people in Galicia became especially difficult, and the reaction intensified. Franco's activities were attacked by Ukrainian chauvinists. He sometimes felt powerless, loneliness, he did not see where salvation for his native people could come from, and these moods were reflected in notes of sadness in the poems of the last period of his life.

But he did not lose faith in the victory of the Ukrainian just cause. He only had a presentiment that he would not be able to see with his own eyes the liberated Western Ukraine in a single Ukrainian family, in friendly proximity with the Russian people. He wrote the symbolic poem "Moses". This is a very strong poetic and philosophical work. It speaks of the tragedy of the people's leader, who fights all his life for the happiness of the people, leads the people through the desert to the cherished country, suffers because the people do not believe in this happy country, but persistently continues their work. The biblical Moses dies without seeing the triumph of his idea, but his very death inspires a people faithful to his memory. The words of the leader live, and the people achieve victory.