The goose is heavy on red legs. “Neater than fashionable parquet…” (excerpt from the novel “Eugene Onegin”)
CHAPTER FOUR
But our northern summer,
Caricature of southern winters,
It will flash and not: this is known,
Although we don’t want to admit it.
The sky was already breathing in autumn,
The sun shone less often,
The day was getting shorter
Mysterious forest canopy
With a sad noise she stripped herself,
Fog lay over the fields,
Noisy caravan of geese
Stretched to the south: approaching
Quite a boring time;
It was already November outside the yard.The dawn rises in the cold darkness;
In the fields the noise of work fell silent;
With his hungry wolf, a wolf comes out onto the road;
Smelling him, the road horse
Snores - and the traveler is cautious
Rushes up the mountain at full speed;
On morning dawn shepherd
He no longer drives the cows out of the barn,
And at midday in a circle
His horn does not call them;
A maiden singing in a hut
Spins, and, friend of winter nights,
A splinter crackles in front of her.And now the frost is crackling
CHAPTER FIVE
And they shine silver among the fields...
(The reader is already waiting for the rhyme of the rose;
Here, take it quickly!)
Neater fashionable parquet
The river shines, covered in ice.
Boys are a joyful people
Skates cut the ice noisily;
A heavy goose on red legs,
Having decided to sail across the bosom of the waters,
Steps carefully onto the ice,
Slips and falls; funny
The first snow is flickering and curling,
Stars falling on the shore.It's autumn weather this year
I stood in the yard for a long time,
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting,
Snow only fell in January
On the third night. Waking up early
Tatiana saw through the window
In the morning the yard turned white,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
There are light patterns on the glass,
Trees in winter silver,
Forty merry ones in the yard
And softly carpeted mountains
Winter is a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything is white all around.Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant,
On the firewood he renews the path;
His horse smells the snow,
Trotting along somehow,
Fluffy reins exploding,
The daring carriage flies;
The coachman sits on the beam
In a sheepskin coat and a red sash.
Here is a yard boy running,
Having planted a bug in the sled,
Transforming himself into a horse;
The naughty man has already frozen his finger:
He is both painful and funny,
And his mother threatens him through the window...CHAPTER SEVEN
Driven by spring rays,
There is already snow from the surrounding mountains
Escaped through muddy streams
To the flooded meadows.
Nature's clear smile
Through a dream he greets the morning of the year;
The skies are shining blue.
Still transparent, the forests seem to turn green with fluff.
A bee for a field tribute flies from a wax cell.
The valleys are dry and colorful;
The herds rustle and the nightingale
Already singing in the silence of the night.How sad your appearance makes me,
Spring, spring! it's time for love!
What languid excitement
In my soul, in my blood!
With what heavy tenderness
I enjoy the breeze
Spring blowing in my face
In the lap of rural silence!
Or is pleasure alien to me,
And everything that pleases lives,
Everything that rejoices and shines,
Causes boredom and languor
My soul has been dead for a long time,
And everything seems dark to her?Or, not happy about the return
Dead leaves in autumn,
We remember the bitter loss
Listening to the new noise of the forests;
Or with nature alive
We bring together the confused thought
We are the fading of our years,
Which cannot be reborn?
Perhaps it comes to our minds
In the midst of a poetic dream
Another, old spring
And it makes our hearts tremble
Dream of the far side
About a wonderful night, about the moon...
We all know the wonderful lines “The river shines more neatly than fashionable parquet, dressed in ice...”, written by the great Pushkin. This is an excerpt from (XLII stanza).
Pushkin's comparisons, with which he depicts nature, are so expressive and artistic that when reading his poems, a picture appears before your eyes. bright picture. In this context - a picture of a winter river.
These poems were written, apparently, at the end of December and beginning of January 1825-26, when the poet was in and created these lines under the impression of what he saw himself.
For a moment, the reader finds himself in a luxurious room with a carefully polished parquet floor. Overall, the picture of winter creates a joyful mood. And this mood is emphasized by comparing ice with shining parquet.
Children who happily cut ice with skates, a heavy goose that intended to swim, but only fell over funny as soon as it stepped on the ice. From these lines of the poem, the reader learns that skates already existed in the first half of the 19th century and were available even to the poor peasants. This suggests that Russian industrialists produced skates in sufficient quantity and at an affordable price.
What else do these lines convey? They say that living next to the poet are not the poorest, and not at all beggars, not half-starved serfs. Even in winter, their poultry is well fed (the goose is heavy). Peasants can afford to spend an extra penny on skates for children's pleasure.
The river shines, covered in ice.
Boys are a joyful people
Skates cut the ice noisily;
The goose is heavy on red legs,
Having decided to sail across the bosom of the waters,
Steps carefully onto the ice,
Slips and falls; funny
The first snow flashes and curls,
Stars falling on the shore.
Universal anthology. 2nd grade Team of authors
“Neater than fashionable parquet…” (excerpt from the novel “Eugene Onegin”)
Tidier than fashionable parquet
The river shines, covered in ice.
Boys are a joyful people
Skates cut the ice noisily;
A heavy goose on red legs,
Having decided to sail across the bosom of the waters,
Steps carefully onto the ice,
Slips and falls; funny
The first snow is flickering and curling,
Stars falling on the shore.
From the book Commentary on the novel "Eugene Onegin" author Nabokov Vladimir From the book Russian History literature of the 19th century century. Part 1. 1800-1830s author Lebedev Yuri VladimirovichThe creative history of A. S. Pushkin’s novel “Eugene Onegin.” In Pushkin’s draft papers from the Boldino autumn of 1830, a sketch of the diagram of “Eugene Onegin” was preserved, visually representing creative history novel: “Onegin” Note: 1823, May 9. Chisinau, 1830, 25
From the book In the Light of Zhukovsky. Essays on the history of Russian literature author Nemzer Andrey SemenovichZhukovsky's poetry in the sixth and seventh chapters of the novel "Eugene Onegin" The beetle buzzed. A. S. Pushkin Echoes of Zhukovsky’s poetry in “Eugene Onegin” have been repeatedly noted by researchers (I. Eiges, V. V. Nabokov, Yu. M. Lotman, R. V. Iezuitova, O. A. Proskurin). At the same time, attention
From the book From Pushkin to Chekhov. Russian literature in questions and answers author Vyazemsky Yuri Pavlovich“Eugene Onegin” Question 1.57 “But, my God, what boredom it is to sit with a sick person day and night, Without leaving a single step!” How many days did Onegin sit with his dying man?
From the book 100 greats literary heroes[with illustrations] author Eremin Viktor Nikolaevich“Eugene Onegin” Answer 1.57 “But, having flown to my uncle’s village, I found Him already on the table, Like a ready-made tribute
From the book Heroes of Pushkin author Arkhangelsky Alexander NikolaevichEvgeny Onegin As noted by V.G. Belinsky, “Eugene Onegin” by A.S. Pushkin “wrote about Russia for Russia.” The statement is very important. In general, it must be said that there is a more complete and more accurate disclosure of the image of Eugene Onegin than was done by Belinsky in articles 8 and 9
From the book Universal Reader. 1 class author Team of authorsEVGENY ONEGIN EVGENY ONEGIN - main character Pushkin's novel in verse, the action of which takes place in Russia from the winter of 1819 to the spring of 1825 (see: Yu. M. Lotman. Commentary.) Introduced into the plot immediately, without prefaces or prologues. Eugene Onegin (chapter 1) goes to the village
From the book Universal Reader. 2nd grade author Team of authors“Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant...” (excerpt from the novel “Eugene Onegin”) Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant, Renews the path on the wood; His horse, sensing the snow, trudges along at a trot; Exploding the fluffy reins, the daring carriage flies; The coachman sits on the beam in a sheepskin coat, in red
From the book Universal Reader. 3rd grade author Team of authors“The sky was already breathing in autumn...” (excerpt from the novel “Eugene Onegin”) Already the sky was breathing in autumn, The sun was shining less often, The day was getting shorter, The mysterious canopy of the forests was exposed with a sad noise, Fog was settling on the fields, A noisy caravan of geese was stretching to the south:
From the book Works of Alexander Pushkin. Article eight author“Driven by the spring rays...” (excerpt from the novel “Eugene Onegin”) Driven by the spring rays, From the surrounding mountains the snow has already fled in muddy streams To the sunken meadows. With a clear smile, nature greets the morning of the year through a dream; The skies are shining blue. Still transparent, the forests seem to rest in peace
From the book Works of Alexander Pushkin. Article nine author Belinsky Vissarion Grigorievich«… It's a sad time! The charm of the eyes..." (excerpt from the novel "Eugene Onegin")...It's a sad time! Ouch charm! Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me - I love the lush decay of nature, the forests dressed in crimson and gold, in their canopies the sound of the wind and fresh breath, and covered with wavy mist
From the book How to Write an Essay. To prepare for the Unified State Exam author Sitnikov Vitaly Pavlovich“Eugene Onegin” We admit: it is not without some timidity that we begin to critically examine such a poem as “Eugene Onegin.” (1) And this timidity is justified by many reasons. "Onegin" is Pushkin's most sincere work, the most beloved child of his imagination and
From the author's book“Eugene Onegin” (End) Great was Pushkin’s feat that he was the first to poetically reproduce in his novel Russian society of that time and in the person of Onegin and Lensky showed his main, that is, male, side; but perhaps the greater feat of our poet is that he is the first
From the author's bookBelinsky V. G. “Eugene Onegin”
From the author's book“Eugene Onegin” (end) Pushkin’s great feat was that he was the first in his novel to poetically reproduce Russian society of that time and, in the person of Onegin and Lensky, showed its main, that is, male side; but perhaps the greater feat of our poet is that he is the first
From the author's bookN. G. Bykova “Eugene Onegin” The novel “Eugene Onegin” occupies central place in the works of A. S. Pushkin. This is his biggest piece of art, the most rich in content, the most popular, which had the strongest influence on the fate of the entire Russian
As always, I missed everything, and forgot to congratulate myself on the twenty-first World Day poetry. Now congratulations, at least in hindsight. Good holiday.
I would like to think that people will always write poetry. Of course, people will rack their brains about how to put maximum meaning into such a small column of words, and feelings to boot. And the words will be the simplest, nothing special, but the most appropriate. And even at night, some of the people will select these words and quickly write them down in a notebook lying at the ready. To re-read and laugh in the morning.
Once I had a dream with a portrait of Pushkin and two lines: “I love you, Peter’s creation! I love your strict, slender appearance.” They should have been continued, and various options were offered right there, right next to the portrait - something like a test. And I confidently chose: “He should move with respect, but he will do such a thing!” I re-read it this morning. Funny. Or maybe the best that we could come up with? Or maybe the best is yet to come?
Personally, I believe it. People will always add columns, read columns, love columns, learn by heart, memorize. Let at least some of their people. And we must definitely congratulate them. Congratulate yourself on the fact that I really love good columns, real columns, preserved columns.
I studied grass, opening a notebook,
And the grass began to sound like a flute.
I caught the correspondence of sound and color,
And when the dragonfly sang its hymn,
Passing between the green frets like a comet,
I knew that every dewdrop is a tear.
Knew that in every facet of a huge
ok,
In every rainbow of brightly chirping wings
The burning dwells word of the prophet,
And I miraculously discovered Adam’s secret.
I loved my painful work, this
masonry
Words sealed with their own
light,
riddle
Vague feelings and a simple solution to the mind,
I saw truth in the word truth
herself,
My tongue was true, like a spectral
analysis,
And the words were lying under my feet.
And I’ll also say: my interlocutor is right,
At a quarter of the noise I heard, at half the light I
saw,
But he did not humiliate either his loved ones or herbs,
I did not offend my father’s land with indifference,
And while on earth I worked, having accepted
The gift of cold water and fragrant bread,
Above me stood the bottomless sky,
The stars fell on my sleeve.
Arseny Tarkovsky
Poems by A.S. Pushkin V primary school studied from grades 1 to 4. Here is a selection of poems about winter that are easy to learn. For children in grades 2-3, it is enough to memorize a small passage (separated by a line) for the lesson. These verses are taught in full in high school.
WINTER MORNING
Frost and sun; wonderful day!
You are still dozing, dear friend -
It's time, beauty, wake up:
Open your closed eyes
Towards northern Aurora,
Be the star of the north!
In the evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry,
There was darkness in the cloudy sky;
The moon is like a pale spot
Through the dark clouds it turned yellow,
And you sat sad -
And now... look out the window:
Under blue skies
Magnificent carpets,
Glistening in the sun, the snow lies;
The transparent forest alone turns black,
And the spruce turns green through the frost,
And the river glitters under the ice.
The whole room has an amber shine
Illuminated. Cheerful crackling
The flooded stove crackles.
It's nice to think by the bed.
But you know: shouldn’t I tell you to get into the sleigh?
Harness the brown filly?
Sliding on the morning snow,
Dear friend, let's indulge in running
impatient horse
And we'll visit the empty fields,
The forests, recently so dense,
And the shore, dear to me.
Sorceress - winter
Here is the north, the clouds are catching up,
He breathed, howled, and here she is
The winter sorceress is coming,
Came, crumbled into shreds
Hanged on the branches of oak trees,
Lay down in wavy carpets
Among the fields around the hills.
Brega with a still river
She leveled it with a plump veil;
The frost has flashed, and we are glad
To the pranks of Mother Winter.
Winter road
Through the wavy mists
The moon creeps in
To the sad meadows
She sheds a sad light.
On the winter, boring road
Three greyhounds are running,
Single bell
It rattles tiresomely.
Something sounds familiar
IN long songs coachman:
That reckless revelry
That's heartbreak...
No fire, no black house...
Wilderness and snow... Towards me
Only miles are striped
They come across one.
Bored, sad... Tomorrow, Nina,
Tomorrow, come back to my dear,
I'll forget myself by the fireplace,
I'll take a look without looking at it.
The hour hand sounds loud
He will make his measuring circle,
And, removing the annoying ones,
Midnight will not separate us.
It’s sad, Nina: my path is boring,
My driver fell silent from his doze,
The bell is monotonous,
The moon's face is clouded.
Winter evening
The storm covers the sky with darkness,
Whirling snow whirlwinds;
Then, like a beast, she will howl,
Then he will cry like a child,
Then on the dilapidated roof
Suddenly the straw will rustle,
The way a belated traveler
There will be a knock on our window.
Our dilapidated shack
And sad and dark.
What are you doing, my old lady?
Silent at the window?
Or howling storms
You, my friend, are tired,
Or dozing under the buzzing
Your spindle?
Let's have a drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief; where is the mug?
The heart will be more cheerful.
Sing me a song like a tit
She lived quietly across the sea;
Sing me a song like a maiden
I went to get water in the morning.
The storm covers the sky with darkness,
Whirling snow whirlwinds;
Then, like a beast, she will howl,
She will cry like a child.
Let's have a drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief: where is the mug?
The heart will be more cheerful.
“Neater than fashionable parquet”
Neater than fashionable parquet,
The river shines, covered in ice.
Boys are a joyful people
Skates cut the ice noisily;
The goose is heavy on red legs,
Having decided to sail across the bosom of the waters,
Steps carefully onto the ice,
Slips and falls; funny
The first snow flashes and curls,
Stars falling on the shore.
Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant,
On the firewood he renews the path;
His horse smells the snow,
Trotting along somehow;
Fluffy reins exploding,
The daring carriage flies;
The coachman sits on the beam
In a sheepskin coat and a red sash.
Here is a yard boy running,
Having planted a bug in the sled,
Transforming himself into a horse;
The naughty man has already frozen his finger:
He is both painful and funny,
And his mother threatens him through the window.
(From the novel "Eugene Onegin")
What a night! Frost is bitter,
There is not a single cloud in the sky;
Like an embroidered canopy, a blue vault
Replete with frequent stars.
Everything in the houses is dark. At the gate
Locks with heavy locks.
People are buried everywhere;
Both the noise and the shout of the trade died down;
As soon as the yard guard barks
Yes, the chain rattles loudly.
And all of Moscow is sleeping peacefully...
