The best fairy tales of Russian writers (FB2). Tsyferov “What two yellow friends were doing”

Literary author's fairy tale- probably one of the most popular genres of our time. Interest in such works is inexhaustible both among children and among their parents, and Russian fairy tale writers have made a worthy contribution to the general creative work. It should be remembered that a literary fairy tale differs from folklore according to several parameters. First of all, because it has a specific author. There are also differences in the way the material is conveyed and the clear use of plots and images to suggest that this genre has the right to complete independence.

Poetic tales of Pushkin

If you compile a list of fairy tales by Russian writers, it will take more than one sheet of paper. Moreover, works were written not only in prose, but also in poetry. Here a shining example A. Pushkin, who initially did not plan to compose children's works, can serve as a reference. But after a while, the poetic works “About Tsar Saltan”, “About the priest and his worker Balda”, “About dead princess and the Seven Bogatyrs,” “About the Golden Cockerel” added to the list of fairy tales by Russian writers. A simple and figurative form of presentation, memorable images, vivid plots - all this is characteristic of the work of the great poet. And these works are still included in the treasury

Continuation of the list

The literary tales of the period under review include some other, no less famous ones. Russian fairy tale writers: Zhukovsky ("The War of Mice and Frogs"), Ershov ("The Little Humpbacked Horse"), Aksakov (" The Scarlet Flower") - made their worthy contribution to the development of the genre. And the great collector of folklore and interpreter of the Russian language Dal also wrote a certain number fairy tales. Among them: “The Crow”, “The Snow Maiden Girl”, “About the Woodpecker” and others. You can recall other fairy tales by famous Russian writers: “The Wind and the Sun”, “The Blind Horse”, “The Fox and the Goat” by Ushinsky, “The Black Hen, or Underground inhabitants"Pogorelsky, "The Frog Traveler", "The Tale of the Toad and the Rose" by Garshin, " Wild landowner», « The wise minnow» Saltykova-Shchedrin. Of course, this is not a complete list.

Russian fairy tale writers

Leo Tolstoy, Paustovsky, Mamin-Sibiryak, Gorky, and many others wrote literary fairy tales. Among especially outstanding works One can note the “Golden Key” by Tolstoy Alexey. The work was planned as a free retelling of “Pinocchio” by Carlo Collodi. But here is the case when the alteration surpassed the original - this is how many Russian-speaking critics evaluate the writer’s work. The wooden boy Pinocchio, familiar to everyone since childhood, won the hearts of little readers and their parents for a long time with his spontaneity and brave heart. We all remember Buratino's friends: Malvina, Artemon, Pierrot. And his enemies: the evil Karabas and the nasty Duremar, and the fox Alice. Vivid images the characters are so unique and original, recognizable that, once you read Tolstoy’s work, you remember them for the rest of your life.

Revolutionary tales

One of them can be confidently included the creation of Yuri Olesha “Three Fat Men”. In this tale, the author reveals the theme of class struggle against the backdrop of such eternal values like friendship, mutual assistance; The characters of the heroes are distinguished by courage and revolutionary impulse. And Arkady Gaidar’s work “Malchish-Kibalchish” tells about a difficult period for the formation Soviet state - civil war. Malchish is a bright, memorable symbol of that era of struggle for revolutionary ideals. It is no coincidence that these images were subsequently used by other authors, for example, in the work of Joseph Kurlat, who revived the bright image of the hero in the fairy tale-poem “The Song of Malchish-Kibalchish.”

These authors include those who gave literature such fairy tales and plays as “The Naked King” and “The Shadow” - based on the works of Andersen. And his original creations “Dragon” and “ An ordinary miracle"(at first banned from production) forever entered the treasury of Soviet literature.

The poetic works of the genre also include the fairy tales of Korney Chukovsky: “The Tsokotukha Fly”, “Moidodyr”, “Barmaley”, “Aibolit”, “Cockroach”. To this day they are the most read in Russia poetic tales for children of all ages. Instructive and daring, brave and monstrous images and characters of the heroes are recognizable from the first lines. What about Marshak’s poems and Kharms’ delightful creativity? What about Zakhoder, Moritz and Kurlat? It is impossible to list them all in this rather short article.

Modern evolution of the genre

We can say that the genre of literary fairy tales evolved from folklore, in a sense exploiting its plots and characters. So at present, many Russian fairy tale writers are evolving into science fiction writers, giving birth to good works in fashionable style fantasy. Such authors probably include Yemets, Gromyko, Lukyanenko, Fry, Oldie and many others. It's a worthy change to previous generations authors of literary fairy tales.

An old man lived with his old woman
By the bluest sea;
They lived in a dilapidated dugout
Exactly thirty years and three years.
The old man was catching fish with a net,
The old woman was spinning her yarn.
Once he threw a net into the sea -
A net arrived with nothing but mud.
Another time he cast a net -
A net came with sea grass.
For the third time he cast the net -
A net came with one fish,
With not just a simple fish - a gold one.
How the goldfish prays!
He says in a human voice:
"Let me go to sea, old man!
Dear, I will give a ransom for myself:
I'll buy you anything you want."

Tales of Samuil Yakovlevich Marshak - Twelve Months

Do you know how many months there are in a year?

Twelve.

What are their names?

January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December.

As soon as one month ends, another begins immediately. And it has never happened before that February came before January left, and May overtook April.

The months go one after another and never meet.

But people say that in the mountainous country of Bohemia there was a girl who saw all twelve months at once.

How did this happen? That's how.

In one small village there lived an evil and stingy woman with her daughter and stepdaughter. She loved her daughter, but her stepdaughter could not please her in any way. No matter what the stepdaughter does, everything is wrong, no matter how she turns, everything is in the wrong direction.

Fairy tale by Korney Ivanovich Chukovsky - Aibolit

Good Doctor Aibolit!
He is sitting under a tree.
Come to him for treatment
And the cow and the she-wolf,
And the bug and the worm,
And a bear!
He will heal everyone, he will heal everyone
Good Doctor Aibolit!

And the fox came to Aibolit:
"Oh, I was bitten by a wasp!"
And the watchdog came to Aibolit:
"A chicken pecked me on the nose!"
And the hare came running
And she screamed: “Ay, ah!
My bunny got hit by a tram!
My bunny, my boy
Got hit by a tram!
He ran along the path
And his legs were cut,
And now he's sick and lame,
My little bunny!"
And Aibolit said:
"No problem! Bring it here!"

Fairy tales by Alexander Pushkin, Vladimir Oloevsky, Vsevolod Garshin, Maskim Gorky, Konstantin Paustovsky, Andrei Platonov

Alexander Pushkin “The Tale of the Priest and His Worker Balda”

Once upon a time there was a priest,

Thick forehead.

Pop went to the market

View some products.

Balda meets him

He goes without knowing where.

“Why, dad, did you get up so early?

What are you asking for?”

The priest answered him: “I need a worker:

Cook, groom and carpenter.

Where can I find one like this?

Isn’t the servant too expensive?”

Balda says: “I will serve you gloriously,

Diligently and very efficiently,

In a year, for three clicks on your forehead,

Give me some boiled spelt.”

The priest became thoughtful,

He began to scratch his forehead.

Click to click, it's like roses.

Yes, he hoped for Russian maybe.

Pop says to Balda: “Okay.

It won't be hard for both of us.

Live in my yard

Show your zeal and agility."

Balda lives in the priest's house,

He sleeps on the straw,

Eats for four

Works for seven;

Everything dances with him until daylight,

The horse will be harnessed, the strip will be plowed,

He will flood the oven, prepare everything, buy it,

He'll bake the egg and peel it off himself.

Popadya can't boast about Balda enough,

Popovna is only sad about Balda,

Popyonok calls him father;

He makes porridge and looks after the child.

Only the priest doesn’t like Balda.

He will never take a liking to him,

He often thinks about retribution;

Time passes, and the deadline is approaching.

The priest neither eats nor drinks, does not sleep at night:

His forehead is cracking in advance.

Here he confesses to the priest:

“So and so: what can we do?”

The woman has a quick-witted mind,

Capable of all sorts of tricks.

Popadya says: “I know the remedy,

How to remove such a disaster from us:

Order Balda's service so that he becomes unbearable;

And demand that he fulfill it exactly.

This will save your forehead from reprisals,

And you’ll send Balda away without retribution.”

The priest's heart became more cheerful,

He began to look at Balda more boldly.

So he shouts: “Come here,

My faithful worker Balda.

Listen: the devils have agreed to pay

I have a rent due upon my death;

You wouldn't need a better income,

Yes, there are arrears on them for three years.

How do you eat your spelled,

Collect a full rent from the devils for me.”

Balda, there’s no need to argue with the priest,

He went and sat down by the seashore;

There he began to twist the rope

Yes, the end of it will be wetted in the sea.

An old demon came out of the sea:

“Why did you, Balda, come to us?” —

“Yes, I want to wrinkle the sea with a rope,

Yes, you, damned tribe, make a face.”

The old demon was overcome by despondency here.

“Tell me, why such disfavor?” —

“What for? You don't pay rent

Don't remember the due date;

This will be fun for us,

You dogs are a great nuisance.” —

“Bastard, wait until you wrinkle the sea,

You will receive the rent in full soon.

Wait, I’ll send my grandson to you.”

Balda thinks: “It’s not easy to pull this off!”

The sent imp emerged,

He meowed like a hungry kitten:

“Hello, Balda little man;

What kind of rent do you need?

We have not heard of rent for centuries,

There was no such sadness for the devil.

Well, so be it - take it, and by agreement,

From our common verdict -

So that in future there will be no grief for anyone:

Which of us will run around the sea faster?

Then take the full rent for yourself,

Meanwhile, a bag will be prepared there.”

Balda laughed slyly:

“What did you make up, right?

Where can you compete with me?

With me, with Balda himself?

What an adversary they sent!

Wait for my little brother."

Balda went to the nearby forest,

I caught two bunnies and put them in a bag.

He comes to the sea again,

Finds an imp by the sea.

Balda holds one bunny by the ears:

“Dance to our balalaika;

You, little devil, are still young,

I'm weak to compete with me,

It would just be a waste of time.

Overtake my brother first.

One two Three! catch up."

The imp and the bunny set off:

Besnok along the seashore,

And the bunny goes home to the woods.

Behold, having run around the sea,

Sticking out his tongue, raising his muzzle,

The imp came running, gasping for breath,

All wet, wiping himself with his paw.

Thoughts: things will get better with Balda.

Lo and behold, Balda is stroking his brother,

Saying: “My beloved brother,

Tired, poor thing! rest, darling."

The imp was dumbfounded

He tucked his tail and became completely subdued.

He looks sideways at his brother.

“Wait,” he says, “I’ll go get the quitrent.”

He went to his grandfather and said: “Trouble!

The smaller Balda overtook me!”

The old Bes began to think.

And Balda made such a noise,

That the whole sea was confused

And it spread out in waves.

The imp came out: “That’s enough, little man,

We will send you the entire quitrent -

Just listen. Do you see this stick?

Let him take away the quitrent.

Well? Are you afraid of twisting your arms?

What are you waiting for?" - “Yes, I’m waiting for this cloud over there:

I'll throw your stick there,

And I’ll start a fight with you devils.”

The imp got scared and went to his grandfather,

Tell about Baldov's victory,

And Balda is making noise over the sea again

Yes, he threatens the devils with a rope.

The imp came out again: “Why are you bothering?

There will be a quitrent for you if you want...”

“No,” says Balda, “

Now it's my turn

I will set the conditions myself,

I will give you, enemy, a task.

Let's see how strong you are.

Do you see the gray mare there?

Raise the mare,

Carry it half a mile;

If you carry the mare, the dues are already yours;

If you don’t carry the mare, he will be mine.”

Poor little devil

I crawled under the mare,

I strained

I strained myself

He lifted the mare and took two steps.

On the third he fell and stretched his legs.

And Balda told him: “You stupid demon,

Where did you follow us?

And I couldn’t take it off with my hands,

And look, I’ll blow you between your legs.”

Balda sat astride the filly,

Yes, he rode a mile, so there was a column of dust.

The imp got scared and went to his grandfather

I went to talk about such a victory.

There is nothing to do - the devils have collected the quitrent

Yes, they put a sack on Balda.

Balda comes, quacks,

And the priest, seeing Balda, jumps up,

Hiding behind the butt

He squirms in fear.

Balda found him here,

He gave the quitrent and began to demand payment.

Poor pop

He raised his forehead:

From the first click

The priest jumped to the ceiling;

From the second click

Lost my tongue;

And from the third click

It knocked the old man's mind out.

And Balda said reproachfully:

“You shouldn’t be chasing something cheap, priest.”

Vladimir Odoevsky “Town in a Snuffbox”

Papa put the snuff box on the table. “Come here, Misha, look,” he said. Misha was an obedient boy; He immediately left the toys and went up to daddy. Yes, there was something to see! What a wonderful snuff box! motley, from a turtle. What's on the lid? Gates, turrets, a house, another, a third, a fourth - and it’s impossible to count, and all are small and small, and all are golden; and the trees are also golden, and the leaves on them are silver; and behind the trees the sun rises, and from it pink rays spread across the entire sky.

- What kind of town is this? - Misha asked.

“This is the town of Tinkerbell,” answered daddy and touched the spring...

And what? Suddenly, out of nowhere, music started playing. Where this music was heard from, Misha could not understand: he also walked to the door - was it from another room? and to the clock - isn't it in the clock? both to the bureau and to the slide; listened here and there; He also looked under the table... Finally Misha was convinced that the music was definitely playing in the snuffbox. He approached her, looked, and the sun came out from behind the trees, quietly creeping across the sky, and the sky and the town became brighter and brighter; the windows burn with a bright fire, and there is a kind of radiance from the turrets. Now the sun crossed the sky to the other side, lower and lower, and finally completely disappeared behind the hillock; and the town darkened, the shutters closed, and the turrets faded, only for a short while. Here a star began to warm up, here another, and then the horned moon peeked out from behind the trees, and the town became brighter again, the windows turned silver, and bluish rays streamed from the turrets.

- Daddy! papa! Is it possible to enter this town? I wish I could!

- It’s strange, my friend: this town is not your height.

- It’s okay, daddy, I’m so small; just let me go there; I would really like to know what is going on there...

“Really, my friend, it’s cramped there even without you.”

- Who lives there?

- Who lives there? Bluebells live there.

With these words, dad lifted the lid on the snuff box, and what did Misha see? And bells, and hammers, and a roller, and wheels... Misha was surprised: “What are these bells for? why hammers? why a roller with hooks? - Misha asked daddy.

And daddy answered: “I won’t tell you, Misha; Take a closer look for yourself and think: maybe you’ll guess it right. Just don’t touch this spring, otherwise everything will break.”

Papa went out, and Misha remained over the snuffbox. So he sat and sat above her, looked and looked, thought and thought, why are the bells ringing?

Meanwhile, the music plays and plays; It’s getting quieter and quieter, as if something is clinging to every note, as if something is pushing one sound away from another. Here Misha looks: at the bottom of the snuffbox the door opens, and a boy with a golden head and a steel skirt runs out of the door, stops on the threshold and beckons Misha to him.

“Why,” thought Misha, “daddy said that it’s too crowded in this town without me? No, apparently they live in it good people“You see, they’re inviting me to visit.”

- If you please, with the greatest joy!

With these words, Misha ran to the door and was surprised to notice that the door was exactly his height. How good well-mannered boy, he considered it his duty first of all to turn to his guide.

“Let me know,” said Misha, “with whom I have the honor of speaking?”

“Ding-ding-ding,” answered the stranger, “I am a bell boy, a resident of this town.” We heard that you really want to visit us, and therefore we decided to ask you to do us the honor of welcoming us. Ding-ding-ding, ding-ding-ding.

Misha bowed politely; the bell boy took him by the hand and they walked. Then Misha noticed that above them there was a vault made of colorful embossed paper with gold edges. In front of them was another vault, only smaller; then a third, even smaller; the fourth, even smaller, and so on all the other vaults - the further, the smaller, so that the last one, it seemed, could barely fit the head of his guide.

“I am very grateful to you for your invitation,” Misha told him, “but I don’t know if I can take advantage of it.” True, here I can walk freely, but further down there, look at how low your vaults are - there, let me tell you frankly, I can’t even crawl through there. I'm surprised how you pass under them too.

- Ding-ding-ding! - answered the boy. - Let's go, don't worry, just follow me.

Misha obeyed. In fact, with every step they took, the arches seemed to rise, and our boys walked freely everywhere; when they reached the last vault, then the bell boy asked Misha to look back. Misha looked around, and what did he see? Now that first vault, under which he approached when entering the doors, seemed small to him, as if, while they were walking, the vault had lowered. Misha was very surprised.

- Why is this? - he asked his guide.

- Ding-ding-ding! - answered the conductor, laughing. “It always seems like that from a distance.” Apparently you weren’t looking at anything in the distance with attention; From a distance everything seems small, but when you come closer it looks big.

“Yes, it’s true,” answered Misha, “I haven’t thought about it until now, and that’s why this is what happened to me: the day before yesterday I wanted to draw how my mother was playing the piano next to me, and my father was reading a book at the other end of the room.” . But I just couldn’t manage to do this: I work, I work, I draw as accurately as possible, but everything on paper comes out like daddy is sitting next to mummy and his chair is standing next to the piano, and meanwhile I can see very clearly that the piano is standing next to me , at the window, and daddy is sitting at the other end, by the fireplace. Mama told me that daddy should be drawn as small, but I thought that mummy was joking, because daddy was much taller than her; but now I see that she was telling the truth: daddy should have been drawn small, because he was sitting far away. Thank you very much for your explanation, very grateful.

The bell boy laughed with all his might: “Ding-ding-ding, how funny! Don't know how to draw daddy and mommy! Ding-ding-ding, ding-ding-ding!”

Misha seemed annoyed that the bell boy was mocking him so mercilessly, and he very politely told him:

- Let me ask you: why do you always say “ding-ding-ding” to every word?

“We have such a saying,” answered the bell boy.

- Proverb? - Misha noted. “But daddy says that it’s very bad to get used to sayings.”

The bell boy bit his lips and didn't say another word.

There are still doors in front of them; they opened, and Misha found himself on the street. What a street! What a town! The pavement is paved with mother-of-pearl; the sky is mottled, tortoiseshell; the golden sun walks across the sky; if you beckon to it, it will come down from the sky, go around your hand and rise again. And the houses are made of steel, polished, covered with multi-colored shells, and under each lid sits a little bell boy with a golden head, in a silver skirt, and there are many of them, many and less and less.

“No, now they won’t deceive me,” said Misha. “It only seems so to me from a distance, but the bells are all the same.”

“But that’s not true,” answered the guide, “the bells are not the same.” If we were all the same, then we would all ring in one voice, one like the other; and you hear what songs we produce. This is because the larger of us has a thicker voice. Don't you know this too? You see, Misha, this is a lesson for you: don’t laugh at those who have a bad saying; some with a saying, but he knows more than others, and you can learn something from him.

Misha, in turn, bit his tongue.

Meanwhile, they were surrounded by bell boys, tugging at Misha’s dress, ringing, jumping, and running.

“You live a joyful life,” Misha told them, “you could stay with you forever.” You do nothing all day, you have no lessons, no teachers, and music all day long.

- Ding-ding-ding! - the bells screamed. - I’ve already found some fun with us! No, Misha, life is bad for us. True, we don’t have lessons, but what’s the point? We wouldn't be afraid of lessons. Our whole problem lies precisely in the fact that we, the poor, have nothing to do; We have neither books nor pictures; there is neither daddy nor mummy; have nothing to do; play and play all day long, but this, Misha, is very, very boring. Will you believe it? Our tortoiseshell sky is good, our golden sun and golden trees are good; but we, poor people, have seen enough of them, and we are very tired of all this; We’re not an inch from the town, but you can imagine what it’s like to sit in a snuffbox for a whole century, doing nothing, and even in a snuffbox with music.

“Yes,” answered Misha, “you are telling the truth.” This happens to me too: when after studying you start playing with toys, it’s so much fun; and when on a holiday you play and play all day long, then by the evening it becomes boring; and you get to grips with this and that toy - everything is not nice. I didn’t understand for a long time; Why is this, but now I understand.

- Yes, besides that, we have another problem, Misha: we have guys.

- What kind of guys are they? - Misha asked.

“The hammer guys,” answered the bells, “they’re so evil!” every now and then they walk around the city and knock on us. The bigger ones, the less often the “knock-knock” happens, and even the little ones are painful.

In fact, Misha saw some gentlemen walking along the street on thin legs, with very long noses, and whispering to each other: “Knock-knock-knock! Knock-Knock! lift it up! hit me! Knock-Knock!" And in fact, the hammer guys were constantly knocking and knocking on one bell and then on another, and poor Misha began to feel sorry for him. He approached these gentlemen, bowed to them very politely and asked with good nature why they beat the poor boys without any regret. And the hammers answered him:

- Go away, don’t bother me! There, in the ward and in a dressing gown, the warder lies and tells us to knock. Everything is tossing and clinging. Knock-Knock! Knock-Knock!

- What kind of supervisor is this? - Misha asked the bells.

“And this is Mr. Valik,” they rang, “a very kind man, he doesn’t leave the sofa day and night; We can't complain about him.

Misha - to the warden. He looks: he is actually lying on the sofa, in a robe and turning from side to side, only everything is face up. And his robe has pins and hooks, apparently or invisibly; As soon as he comes across a hammer, he will first hook it with a hook, then lower it, and the hammer will hit the bell.

Misha had just approached him when the warden shouted:

- Hanky ​​panky! who walks here? who's wandering around here? Hanky ​​panky? who doesn't go away? who doesn't let me sleep? Hanky ​​panky! hanky panky!

“It’s me,” Misha answered bravely, “I’m Misha...

- What do you need? - asked the warden.

- Yes, I feel sorry for the poor bell boys, they are all so smart, so kind, such musicians, and at your order the guys constantly knock on them...

- What do I care, you guys! I'm not the big one here. Let the guys hit the boys! What do I care? I’m a kind warden, I always lie on the sofa and don’t look after anyone. Shury-mury, Shury-mury...

- Well, I learned a lot in this town! - Misha said to himself. “Sometimes I get annoyed why the warden doesn’t take his eyes off me.” “What a wicked one! - I think. - After all, he is not daddy or mummy; What does it matter to him that I’m being naughty? If I had known, I would have been sitting in my room.” No, now I see what happens to poor boys when no one is watching them.

Meanwhile, Misha walked further and stopped. Looks like a golden tent with pearl fringe; At the top, a golden weather vane is spinning like a windmill, and under the tent lies Princess Spring and, like a snake, it curls up and then unfurls and constantly pushes the warden in the side. Misha was very surprised by this and told her:

- Madam princess! Why are you pushing the warden in the side?

“Zits-zits-zits,” answered the princess. - You are a stupid boy, a foolish boy. You look at everything, you see nothing! If I didn't push the roller, the roller wouldn't spin; if the roller did not spin, it would not cling to the hammers, the hammers would not knock; if the hammers did not knock, the bells would not ring; If only the bells did not ring, there would be no music! Zits-zits-zits.

Misha wanted to know if the princess was telling the truth. He bent down and pressed her with his finger - and what?

In an instant, the spring developed with force, the roller spun vigorously, the hammers began to knock quickly, the bells began to play nonsense - and suddenly the spring burst. Everything fell silent, the roller stopped, the hammers hit, the bells curled to the side, the sun hung down, the houses broke... Then Misha remembered that daddy didn’t order him to touch the spring, he got scared and... woke up.

- What did you see in your dream, Misha? - asked daddy.

It took Misha a long time to come to his senses. He looks: the same papa’s room, the same snuffbox in front of him; Mama and Daddy are sitting next to him and laughing.

-Where is the bell boy? Where is the guy's hammer? Where is Princess Spring? - Misha asked. - So it was a dream?

- Yes, Misha, the music lulled you to sleep, and you took a good nap here. At least tell us what you dreamed!

“You see, daddy,” said Misha, rubbing his eyes, “I kept wanting to know why the music was playing in the snuffbox; So I began to diligently look at it and make out what was moving in it and why it was moving; I thought and thought and began to get there, when suddenly, I saw, the door to the snuff box had dissolved... - Then Misha told his whole dream in order.

“Well, now I see,” said papa, “that you really almost understand why the music is playing in the snuffbox; but you will understand this even better when you study mechanics.

Vsevolod Garshin “Frog Traveler”

Once upon a time there lived a frog-croak. She sat in the swamp, caught mosquitoes and midges, and in the spring croaked loudly with her friends. And she would have lived the whole century happily - of course, if the stork had not eaten her. But one incident happened.

One day she was sitting on a branch of a driftwood sticking out of the water and enjoying the warm, gentle rain.

“Oh, what beautiful wet weather today! - she thought. “What a pleasure it is to live in the world!”

The rain drizzled down her motley lacquered back; drops of it flowed under her belly and behind her legs, and it was delightfully pleasant, so pleasant that she almost croaked, but, fortunately, she remembered that it was already autumn and that frogs don’t croak in autumn - that’s what spring is for , - and that, having croaked, she could lose her frog dignity. So she remained silent and continued to bask.

Suddenly, a thin, whistling, intermittent sound rang out in the air. There is such a breed of ducks: when they fly, their wings, cutting through the air, seem to sing, or, better said, whistle. Pew-pew-pew-pew - sounds in the air when a flock of such ducks flies high above you, and you can’t even see them themselves, they fly so high. This time the ducks, having described a huge semicircle, descended and sat down in the very swamp where the frog lived.

- Quack quack! - said one of them. — It’s still a long way to fly; I need to eat.

And the frog immediately hid. Although she knew that the ducks would not eat her, a large and fat frog, she nevertheless dived under the snag, just in case. However, after thinking, she decided to stick her big-eyed head out of the water: she was very interested in finding out where the ducks were flying.

- Quack quack! - said the other duck. - It's getting cold already! Hurry to the south! Hurry to the south!

And all the ducks began to quack loudly as a sign of approval.

- Lady ducks! - the frog dared to say. - What is the south to which you are flying? I apologize for the concern.

And the ducks surrounded the frog. At first they had a desire to eat it, but each of them thought that the frog was too big and would not fit into the throat. Then they all started shouting, flapping their wings:

- It's good in the south! Now it's warm there! There are such nice warm swamps there! What worms there are! Good in the south!

They screamed so much that they almost deafened the frog. She barely convinced them to shut up and asked one of them, who seemed to her to be fatter and smarter than everyone else, to explain to her what the south was. And when she told her about the south, the frog was delighted, but in the end she still asked, because she was careful:

— Are there a lot of midges and mosquitoes there?

- ABOUT! Whole clouds! - answered the duck.

- Kwa! - said the frog and immediately turned around to see if there were any friends here who could hear her and judge her for croaking in the fall. She really couldn’t resist croaking at least once.

- Take me with you!

- This is amazing to me! - exclaimed the duck. - How will we take you? You don't have wings.

— When are you flying? - asked the frog.

- Soon soon! - all the ducks shouted. - Quack quack! quack! quack! It is cold here! South! South!

“Let me think for just five minutes,” said the frog, “I’ll be right back, I’ll probably come up with something good.”

And she plopped down from the branch she was about to climb onto again, into the water, dived into the mud and completely buried herself in it so that foreign objects would not interfere with her thinking. Five minutes passed, the ducks were just about to fly, when suddenly, from the water, near the branch on which she was sitting, her muzzle appeared, and the expression of this muzzle was the most radiant that only a frog is capable of.

- I came up with an idea! I found! - she said. “Let two of you take the twig in your beaks, and I will cling to it in the middle.” You will fly, and I will drive. It is only necessary that you do not quack, and I do not croak, and everything will be excellent.

Although being silent and dragging even a light frog for three thousand miles is not God knows what pleasure, her intelligence delighted the ducks so much that they unanimously agreed to carry her. They decided to change every two hours, and since there were, as the riddle says, so many ducks, and even so many, and half as many, and a quarter as many, and there was only one frog, they didn’t have to carry it very often. They found a good, strong twig, two ducks took it in their beaks, the frog clung its mouth to the middle, and the whole flock rose into the air. The frog was breathless from the terrible height to which he was raised; in addition, the ducks flew unevenly and tugged at the twig; the poor wah dangled in the air like a paper clown, and clenched her jaws with all her might so as not to break away and plop down on the ground. However, she soon got used to her position and even began to look around. Fields, meadows, rivers and mountains quickly flashed under her, which, however, was very difficult for her to see, because, hanging on a twig, she looked back and a little up, but she still saw something and was happy and proud.

“That’s a great idea,” she thought to herself.

And the ducks flew after the front pair carrying her, shouting and praising her.

- Marvelous clever mind our frog,” they said, “even among ducks there are few like him.”

She could hardly resist thanking them, but remembering that if she opened her mouth, she would fall from a terrible height, she clenched her jaw even tighter and decided to endure. She dangled like this all day: the ducks carrying her took turns in flight, deftly picking up the twig; it was very scary: more than once the frog almost croaked in fear, but you had to have presence of mind, and she had it. In the evening the whole company stopped in some swamp; At dawn, the ducks and the frog set off again, but this time the traveler, in order to better see what was happening on the way, clung to her back and head forward, and her belly back. Ducks flew over compressed fields, over yellowed forests and over villages full of grain in stacks; From there came the sound of people talking and the sound of flails being used to thresh rye. People looked at a flock of ducks and, noticing something strange in it, pointed at it with their hands. And the frog really wanted to fly closer to the ground, show himself and listen to what they were saying about him. On her next vacation she said:

“Can’t we fly not so high?” I feel dizzy from the heights, and I'm afraid of falling if I suddenly feel sick.

And the good ducks promised her to fly lower. The next day they flew so low that they heard voices:

- Look, look! - children shouted in one village. - Ducks are carrying a frog!

The frog heard this and her heart jumped.

- Look, look! - adults shouted in another village. - What a miracle!

“Do they know that I came up with this and not the ducks?” - thought the frog.

- Look, look! - they shouted in the third village. - What a miracle! And who came up with such a clever thing?

Here the frog could no longer stand it and, forgetting all caution, screamed with all her might:

- It's me! I!

And with that scream she flew upside down to the ground. The ducks squawked loudly; one of them wanted to pick up the poor companion on the fly, but missed. The frog, shaking all four legs, quickly fell to the ground; but since the ducks flew very quickly, she fell not directly on the place where she screamed and where there was a solid road, but much further, which was great happiness for her, because she splashed into a dirty pond at the edge of the village.

She soon emerged from the water and immediately again shouted at the top of her lungs:

- It's me! I came up with this!

But there was no one around her. Frightened by the unexpected splash, the local frogs all hid in the water. When they began to emerge from it, they looked with surprise at the new one.

And she told them a wonderful story about how she had been thinking all her life and finally invented a new, extraordinary way of traveling on ducks; how she had her own ducks that carried her wherever she pleased; how she visited the beautiful south, where it’s so nice, where there are such beautiful warm swamps and so many midges and all sorts of other edible insects.

“I stopped by to see how you live,” she said. “I will stay with you until spring, until my ducks, which I released, return.”

But the ducks never returned. They thought that the frog had crashed to the ground and were very sorry for it.

Maxim Gorky "The Case of Yevseyka"

One day a little boy Evseyka - very good man! — sitting on the seashore, fishing. This is a very boring thing if the fish, being capricious, does not bite. And the day was hot, Evseika began to doze out of boredom and - plop! - fell into the water.

He fell, but nothing, he was not afraid and floated quietly, then he dived and immediately reached the seabed.

He sat down on a stone, softly covered with red algae, looked around - very good!

A scarlet starfish crawls slowly, baleen lobsters walk confidently on the stones, a crab moves sideways; Everywhere on the rocks, like large cherries, sea anemones are scattered, and everywhere there are a lot of curious things: sea lilies are blooming, sea lilies are swaying, fast shrimp are flashing like flies, and they are dragging sea ​​turtle, and two small green fish are playing above its heavy shield, just like butterflies in the air, but a hermit crab is carrying its shell along the white stones. Evseika, looking at him, even remembered poetry:

A house is not Uncle Yakov's cart...

And suddenly he hears a clarinet squealing just above his head:

- Who are you?

Looks over his head huge fish covered in bluish-silver scales, her eyes bulging and, baring her teeth, she smiles pleasantly, as if she had already been roasted and was lying on a platter in the middle of the table.

- Is that what you say? - asked Evseyka.

Evseyka was surprised and asked angrily:

- How are you? After all, fish don't talk!

And he thinks:

“That’s it! I don’t understand German at all, but I understood fish language right away! Wow, what a good fellow!”

And, becoming poised, he looks around: a multi-colored playful fish swims around him and laughs and says:

- Look! Here the monster has arrived: two tails!

- But there are no scales, fi!

- And there are only two fins!

Some, more daring ones, swim right up to the bow and tease:

- Good good!

Evseika was offended:

- What impudent people! It’s as if they don’t understand that this is a real person in front of them...

And he wants to catch them, and they, swimming away from under his hands, frolic, push each other with their noses in the sides and sing in chorus, teasing the big crayfish:

Cancer lives under the stones

The fishtail is chewed by the crayfish,

The fishtail is very dry

Cancer does not know the taste of flies.

And he, fiercely moving his mustache, grumbles, stretching out his claws:

- If you catch me, I’ll cut off your tongues!

“What a serious guy,” thought Evseyka.

A big fish pesters him:

- Where did you get the idea that all fish are dumb?

- Dad said.

- What is dad?

- So-so... Like me, only bigger and with a mustache. If he's not angry, then he's very sweet...

- Does he eat fish?

Then Evseyka got scared: tell her what he’s eating!

He raised his eyes upward and saw through the water a dull green sky and the sun in it, yellow as a copper tray; the boy thought and said a lie:

- No, he doesn’t eat fish, he’s very bony...

- However - what ignorance! - the fish cried offendedly. - We are not all bony! For example, my family...

“We need to change the conversation,” Yevsey realized and politely asked:

-Have you ever been upstairs?

- Very necessary! - the fish snorted angrily. - There’s nothing to breathe there...

- But what flies...

The fish swam around him, stopped right in front of his nose, and suddenly said:

- Moo-hee? Why did you come here?

“Well, it begins! - thought Evseika. “She’ll eat me, you fool...” And, as if carefree, he answered:

- So-so, I’m walking...

- Hm! - the fish snorted again. - Or maybe you are already a drowned man?

- Here's another! - the boy shouted offendedly. - Not even at all! I'll get up now and...

He tried to get up, but he couldn’t: it was as if he had been wrapped in a heavy blanket - he couldn’t turn around or move!

“Now I’m going to start crying,” he thought, but he immediately realized that don’t cry—there are no tears in the water, and he decided that he shouldn’t cry—maybe somehow he’ll be able to get out of this unpleasant story.

And all around - oh my God! - various sea inhabitants have gathered - there are no numbers! A sea cucumber climbs onto your leg, looking like a poorly drawn piglet, and hisses:

- I would like to get to know you better...

The sea bubble trembles in front of his nose, pouts, puffs - he reproaches Evseyka:

- Fine! Fine! Neither cancer, nor fish, nor shellfish, ah-ah-ah!

“Wait, maybe I’ll still be an aviator,” Yevsey tells him, and a lobster climbed onto his lap and, moving his eyes on strings, politely asks:

- May I ask what time it is?

The sepia floated past, just like a wet handkerchief; siphonophores flash everywhere like glass balls, a shrimp tickles one ear, someone curious also probes the other, even small crustaceans travel along the head - they get tangled in the hair and pull it.

- Oh oh oh! - Evseika exclaimed to himself, trying to look at everything carefree and affectionately, like dad when he is guilty and mom is angry with him.

And all around there were fish hanging in the water - lots of them! - they move their fins quietly and, staring at the boy with round eyes, boring as algebra, mutter:

How can he live in the world?

without whiskers and scales?

We fish couldn't

spread your tails!

He is not like cancer, nor like us - in very many ways.

Isn't this a miracle?

ugly octopuses?

“Fools! - Evseyka thinks offended. “I got two B’s in Russian last year...”

And he pretends that he doesn’t hear anything, he even wanted to whistle carefree, but it turned out that he couldn’t: water gets into his mouth like a cork.

And the chatty fish keeps asking him:

- Do you like it with us?

- No... that is, yes, I like it... It’s very good at home too! - Yevsey answered and got scared again:

“Fathers, what am I saying?! Suddenly she will get angry and they will start eating me...”

But he says out loud:

- Let's play sometime, otherwise I'm a little bored...

The talkative fish liked this very much, she laughed, opening her round mouth so that her pink gills became visible, wagging her tail, glistening with sharp teeth and shouting in an old woman’s voice:

- It's good to play. It's very good to play!

- Let's swim up! - Yevsey suggested.

- For what? - asked the fish.

- But you can’t go down anymore! And there, up there, are flies.

- Muh-hee! Do you love them?..

Yevsey only loved mom, dad and ice cream, but answered:

- Well? Let's swim! - said the fish, turning upside down, and Yevsey immediately grabbed it by the gills and shouted:

- I'm ready!

- Stop! You monster have stuck your paws too deep into my gills...

- Nothing!

- How is it nothing? A decent fish cannot live without breathing.

- God! - the boy cried. - Why are you all arguing? Play like this...

And he thinks:

“If only she would pull me up a little, and then I’ll emerge.”

The fish swam as if dancing and sang at the top of its lungs:

Fluttering fins

And toothy and skinny,

Looking for food for lunch,

The pike is walking around the bream!..

The little fish are circling and shouting in unison:

That's the thing!

The pike struggles in vain

Pinch the bream!

That's how it is - a thing!

They swam and swam, the higher they went, the faster and easier it became, and suddenly Evseyka felt his head jump out into the air:

He looks - it’s a clear day, the sun is playing on the water, green water is splashing onto the shore, making noise, singing, Evseykino’s fishing rod is floating in the sea, far from the shore, and he himself is sitting on the same stone from which he fell, and is already all dry!

“Wow,” he said, smiling at the sun, “so I surfaced!”

In order to compile a list of fairy tales, we need to remember and write down those fairy tales that we became acquainted with during our studies in the third and fourth grades. This may include fairy tales by Russian writers not only from textbooks on literary reading, but also fairy tales that are studied in extracurricular reading lessons.

The list of our fairy tales will consist of three columns:

1. Numbering.
2. Author who wrote this fairy tale. We will choose Russian authors.
3. The title of the fairy tale.

And so, the list can be compiled from memory or by opening books on literary reading. Another convenient option for compiling a list of Russian fairy tales studied in grades 3 and 4 is to use your reader's diary, if you are driving it.

List of fairy tales by Russian writers studied in grades 3 and 4

The books have a separate section, which is called: “Great Russian Writers”, as well as “ Literary tales". Also, to compile the list, we turned to methodological recommendations, where fairy tales by Russian writers are offered for students primary school, namely, let's pay attention to grades 3 and 4.

Our list will look like this:

1. A. S. Pushkin. His works are introduced to all classes. What applies to students in grades 3 and 4 are poems and three fairy tales:

• the first is "The Tale of Tsar Saltan, of his glorious son and mighty hero Prince Guidon Saltanovich and Fr. beautiful princess swans";
• the second tale of this author is “The Tale of the Dead Princess and the Seven Knights”;
• the third tale is “The Tale of the Priest and His Worker Balda.”

• "Alenushka's Tales";
• "The Tale of brave hare- Long ears";
• "Slanty Eyes, Short Tail."

3. V. M. Garshin. Acquaintance with the favorite fairy tale of many students, on which a cartoon was also based, namely “The Frog Traveler”.

4. V. F. Odoevsky “Town in a Snuff Box”. Getting to know this fairy tale involves preparatory vocabulary work.

5. V. M. Garshin “The Tale of the Toad and the Rose.”

6. P. P. Bazhov. Acquaintance with the work of the great Russian writer, namely the fairy tale “The Silver Hoof”. Based on this fairy tale famous cartoon, which is loved by both adults and children.

7. S. T. Aksakov “The Scarlet Flower”. A well-known and beloved fairy tale of children for several generations.

Students are introduced to the following fairy tales at the discretion of the teacher.

8. M. G. “The Case of Evseyka.”

9. K. G. Paustovsky “Steel Ring”.

10. A.P. Platonov “Multi-colored butterfly.”

Abstract to the book-collection:

This book will fit perfectly into home library your child. Must-read works of the poetic genre, as well as prose, foreign and domestic classics and contemporaries - this is what our series is built on. Thanks to the brilliant writing staff, the book will form and develop a child's excellent reading taste. On the pages of the book " The best fairy tales Russian writers" you will meet works of impeccable examples of Russian fiction– A.S. Pushkina, V.A. Zhukovsky, M.Yu. Lermontov, P.P. Ershova, S.T. Aksakov and many others.

The book will be an ideal assistant in preparing for literature lessons, as well as when writing essays, since it contains fairy tales that are included in the compulsory and additional school reading program.

For middle school age.

Table of contents of the book “The Best Fairy Tales of Russian Writers”:

1. Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin:

• A tale about a priest and his worker Balda;
• The tale of Tsar Saltan, his son, the glorious and mighty hero Prince Guidon Saltanovich, and the beautiful princess Swan;
• The Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish;
• The Tale of the Dead Princess and the Seven Knights;
• The Tale of the Golden Cockerel;

2. Vasily Andreevich Zhukovsky:

• The tale of Tsar Berendey, of his son Ivan Tsarevich, of the cunning of Koshchei the Immortal and of the wisdom of Princess Marya, Koshchey’s daughter;
• The Tale of Ivan Tsarevich and the Gray Wolf;

3. Mikhail Yurievich Lermontov:

• Ashik-Kerib;

4. Pyotr Pavlovich Ershov:

• The Little Humpbacked Horse;

5. Sergey Timofeevich Aksakov:

• The Scarlet Flower;

6. Vladimir Fedorovich Odoevsky:

• Moroz Ivanovich;
• Town in a snuffbox;

7. Antony Pogorelsky (Alexey Alekseevich Perovsky):

• Black chicken, or Underground inhabitants;

8. Vladimir Ivanovich Dal:

• Girl Snow Maiden;
• Crow;
• War of mushrooms and berries;

9. Konstantin Dmitrievich Ushinsky:

• Blind horse;
• Wind and sun;
• Hunter of fairy tales;
• Fox and goat;

10. Mikhail Larionovich Mikhailov:

• Forest mansions;
• Two Frosts;
• Volga and Vazuza;

11. Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov:

• General Toptygin;

12. Mikhail Evgrafovich Saltykov-Shchedrin:

• The wise minnow;
• The story of how one man fed two generals;
• Selfless hare;
• Raven-petitioner;

13. Vsevolod Mikhailovich Garshin:

• Frog traveler;
• Something that didn't exist;

14. Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy:

• Three Bears;
• Lipunyushka;
• Tsar and shirt;

15. Nikolai Semenovich Leskov:

• The hour of God's will;

16. Dmitry Narkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak:

• Gray Neck;
• A fairy tale about the glorious king Pea and his beautiful daughters Princess Kutafya and Princess Pea;
• Saying.

Download the book for free - collection “The best fairy tales of Russian writers [anthology]” in FB2 format:

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The best fairy tales of Russian writers [anthology] (FB2) was last modified: February 3rd, 2016 by Koskin

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