Alexander Pushkin - That year autumn weather: Verse. Alexander Pushkin Snow fell only in January on the third
” was written between 4 Jan. and 22 Nov. 1826. Pub. along with the 4th chapter 31 Jan. - 2 Feb. 1828 in St. Petersburg. In ed. dedication to Peter Alexandrovich Pletnev.
This work has been transferred to public domain in Russia according to Art. 1281 of the Civil Code of the Russian Federation, and in countries where the term of copyright protection is valid for the lifetime of the author plus 70 years or less. If the work is a translation, or other derivative work, or is co-authored, then the exclusive copyright has expired for all authors of the original and translation. |
Eugene Onegin
Novel in verseChapter Five
Oh, do not know these terrible dreams,
You, my Svetlana! Zhukovsky
That year the autumn weather
Stood in the yard for a long time
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting.
Snow fell only in January
On the third night. Waking up early
Tatyana saw through the window
Whitewashed yard in the morning,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
Light patterns on glass
Trees in winter silver
Forty merry in the yard
And softly padded mountains
Winters are a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything is white around.
Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant,
On firewood, updates the path;
His horse, smelling snow,
Trotting somehow;
Reins fluffy exploding,
A remote wagon flies;
The coachman sits on the irradiation
In a sheepskin coat, in a red sash.
Here is a yard boy running,
In the sled bug planting,
Transforming himself into a horse;
The scoundrel already froze his finger:
It hurts and it's funny
And his mother threatens him through the window ...
But maybe this kind
Pictures will not attract you:
All this is low nature;
Not much beauty here.
Warmed by God's inspiration,
Another poet with a luxurious style
He painted us the first snow
And all shades of winter bliss;
He will captivate you, I'm sure
Drawing in fiery verses
Secret walks in a sleigh;
But I don't want to fight
Not with him for the time being, not with you,
Young Finnish singer!
Tatyana (Russian soul,
I don't know why.)
With her cold beauty
I loved Russian winter
Frost in the sun on a frosty day,
And the sleigh, and the late dawn
Shine of pink snows,
And the darkness of Epiphany evenings.
Celebrated in the old days
In their house these evenings:
Servants from all over the court
They wondered about their young ladies
And they were promised every year
Husbands of the military and campaign.
Tatyana believed the legends
common folk antiquity,
And dreams, and card fortune-telling,
And the predictions of the moon.
She was troubled by omens;
Mysteriously to her all objects
proclaimed something.
Premonitions pressed against my chest.
A cutesy cat, sitting on the stove,
Purring, with a paw the stigma washed:
That was a sure sign to her,
What guests are coming. Suddenly seeing
Young two-horned face of the moon
In the sky on the left side
She trembled and turned pale.
When is the shooting star
Flew across the dark sky
And crumbled - then
Tanya was in a hurry in confusion,
While the star was still rolling
Whisper her heart's desire.
When something happened
She meet the black monk
Or a quick hare between the fields
Crossed her path
Not knowing what to start with fear
full of sad forebodings,
She expected misfortune.
Well? The beauty found the secret
And in the most horror she:
This is how nature made us
prone to contradiction.
The holidays have arrived. That's joy!
Guessing windy youth
Who has no regrets
Before which life is far
Lies bright, boundless;
Fortune telling old age through glasses
At his grave board,
Losing everything irretrievably;
And still: hope for them
He lies with his baby talk.
Tatyana with a curious look
Looks at sunken wax:
He is a wonderfully poured pattern
She says something wonderful;
From a dish full of water
Rings come out in succession;
And she took out a ring
To the song of the old days:
“The men there are all rich,
They row silver with a shovel;
To whom we sing, that's good
And glory! But it promises loss
This song is a pitiful tune;
miles koshurka the heart of the maidens
Frosty night; the whole sky is clear;
Luminaries of heaven wondrous choir
It flows so quietly, so according to ...
Tatyana on a wide yard
In an open dress comes out,
Points a mirror for a month;
But alone in the dark mirror
The sad moon trembles ...
Chu... the snow crunches... a passer-by; Virgo
Flies to him on tiptoe
And her voice sounds
More tender than flute melody:
What's your name? He looks
And he answers: Agathon.
Tatyana, on the advice of the nanny
Gathering to tell fortunes at night,
Quietly ordered in the bath
Set the table for two appliances;
But suddenly Tatyana became scared ...
And I - at the thought of Svetlana
I was scared - so be it ...
With Tatyana, we can’t tell fortunes.
Tatyana silk belt
I took it off, undressed and went to bed
Laid down. Lel is hovering over her,
And under the down pillow
The girl's mirror lies.
Everything calmed down. Tatyana is sleeping.
And Tatyana has a wonderful dream.
She dreams that she
Walking through the snow field
Surrounded by a sad haze;
In the snowdrifts in front of her
Noisy, swirling with its wave
Ebullient, dark and gray
A stream unfettered in winter;
Two zhordochki, glued together by an ice floe,
Trembling, disastrous bridge,
Laid across the stream:
And before the noisy abyss,
Full of confusion
She stopped.
Like an unfortunate separation
Tatyana grumbles at the stream;
Doesn't see anyone who has a hand
On the other hand, I would give it to her;
But suddenly the snowdrift stirred,
And who emerged from under it?
Big, ruffled bear;
Tatyana ah! and he roar
And a paw with sharp claws
He handed it to her; she's holding back
Leaned with a trembling hand
And fearful steps
Crossed the stream;
Went - so what? bear after her!
She, not daring to look back,
Hasty quickens step;
But from a shaggy footman
Can't run away;
Groaning, the unbearable bear brings down;
Before them is a forest; motionless pines
In its frowning beauty;
All their branches are weighed down
tufts of snow; through the peaks
Aspens, birches and lindens naked
A beam of night luminaries shines;
There is no road; bushes, rapids
All are covered with a blizzard,
Buried deep in the snow.
Tatyana in the forest; bear after her;
The snow is loose up to her knees;
Then a long bough around her neck
Hooks suddenly, then out of the ears
Golden earrings will vomit by force;
That in the fragile snow with a sweet leg
A wet shoe will get stuck;
Then she drops her handkerchief;
She has no time to raise; fears,
Bear hears behind him,
And even with a trembling hand
He is ashamed to lift the edge of his clothes;
She runs, he follows everything:
And she has no strength to run.
Fell into the snow; bear nimble
She grabs and carries;
She is insensitively submissive,
Does not move, does not die;
He rushes her along the forest road;
Suddenly, between the trees, a miserable hut;
All around is wilderness; from everywhere he
Covered with desert snow
And the window shines brightly
And in the hut and scream, and noise;
The bear said: here is my cousin:
Warm up a little!
And he goes straight into the canopy,
And puts it on the threshold.
She came to her senses, Tatyana looks:
There is no bear; she is in the passage;
Behind the door there is a cry and the sound of a glass,
Like a big funeral;
Seeing no point here
She looks quietly into the crack,
And what does he see? .. at the table
The monsters sit around
One in horns with a dog's muzzle,
Another with a cock's head
Here is a witch with a goat's beard,
Here the skeleton is stiff and proud,
There is a dwarf with a ponytail, and here
Half crane and half cat.
Even scarier, even weirder:
Here's a crab riding a spider
Here is a skull on a gooseneck
Spinning in a red cap
Here the mill dances squatting
And it crackles and flaps its wings:
Lay, laugh, sing, whistle and clap,
People's talk and horse top!
But what did Tatiana think?
When I found out among the guests
The one who is sweet and terrible to her,
The hero of our novel!
Onegin is sitting at the table
And he looks furtively at the door.
He will give a sign: and everyone is busy;
He drinks: everyone drinks and everyone screams;
He laughs: everyone laughs;
He furrows his brows: everyone is silent;
He is the boss there, it's clear:
And Tanya is not so terrible,
And curious now
Opened the door a bit...
Suddenly the wind blew, extinguishing
Fire of night lamps;
The gang of brownies was embarrassed;
Onegin, sparkling eyes,
A rattling rises from the table;
Everyone got up; he goes to the door.
And she's scared; and hastily
Tatyana tries to run:
It is impossible in any way; impatiently
Rushing, wants to scream:
Can not; Eugene pushed the door:
And the eyes of hellish ghosts
A maiden appeared; furious laughter
Resounded wildly; everyone's eyes,
Hooves, trunks are crooked,
Crested tails, fangs,
Mustaches, bloody tongues,
Horns and fingers of bone,
Everything points to her.
And everyone screams: mine! my!
My! - said Eugene menacingly,
And the whole gang suddenly hid;
Remained in the frosty darkness.
The young maiden is with him a friend himself;
Onegin quietly captivates
Tatyana in a corner and lays down
Her on a wobbly bench
And bows his head
To her shoulder; suddenly Olga enters,
Behind her Lenskaya; light flashed;
Onegin waved his hand
And wildly he wanders with his eyes,
And scolds uninvited guests;
Tatiana is barely alive.
Argument louder, louder; suddenly Eugene
Grabs a long knife, and instantly
Defeated by Lenskaya; scary shadows
Thickened; unbearable cry
There was a sound ... the hut staggered ...
And Tanya woke up in horror...
Looks, it's already light in the room;
In the window through the frozen glass
The crimson ray of dawn plays;
The door opened. Olga to her
Aurora Northern Alley
And lighter than a swallow, flies in;
“Well,” he says, “tell me,
Who did you see in your dream?
But she, not noticing her sister,
Lying in bed with a book
Turning over the sheet after the sheet,
And he doesn't say anything.
Although this book did not show
No sweet inventions of the poet,
No wise truths, no pictures;
But neither Virgil nor Racine
Not Scott, not Byron, not Seneca,
Not even Ladies' Fashion Magazine
So no one was interested:
That was, friends, Martyn Zadeka,
Head of the Chaldean wise men,
Fortune teller, interpreter of dreams.
This deep creation
Brought by a wandering merchant
One day to them in solitude
And finally for Tatyana
Him with disjointed Malvina
He lost for three and a half,
In addition, taking more for them
Collection of fables areal,
Grammar, two Petriades,
Yes Marmontel volume three.
Martin Zadeka became then
Tanya's favorite ... He is a joy
In all sorrows she gives
And he sleeps with her.
She is disturbed by dreams.
Not knowing how to understand it
Dreams of terrible meaning
Tatyana wants to find.
Tatiana in a short table of contents
Finds in alphabetical order
Words: forest, storm, witch, spruce,
Hedgehog, darkness, bridge, bear, blizzard
And others. Her doubts
Martyn Zadeka will not decide;
But an ominous dream promises her
Many sad adventures.
A few days later she
Everyone was worried about that.
And here from a nearby settlement
Ripe young ladies idol,
County mothers joy,
The company commander arrived;
Entered ... Ah, the news, but what!
Music will be regimental!
The Colonel sent it himself.
What joy: there will be a ball!
The girls are jumping in advance;
But food was served. couple
They go to the table hand in hand.
Young ladies crowd to Tatyana;
Men against; and, being baptized,
The crowd is buzzing as they sit down at the table.
For a moment the conversations stopped;
The mouth is chewing. From all sides
Clattering cymbals and appliances
Yes, the glasses are ringing.
But soon a few guests
Raise a general alarm.
Nobody listens, they scream
Laughing, arguing and squeaking.
Suddenly the doors are wide open. Lenskoy enters,
And Onegin is with him. “Oh, the creator! -
The hostess shouts: - Finally!
Guests are crowding, everyone takes away
Appliances, chairs quickly;
They call, plant two friends.
Planted directly against Tanya,
And paler than the morning moon
And more tremulous than the persecuted doe,
She has dark eyes
Does not raise: bursts violently
There is a passionate heat in her; she is stuffy, bad;
She greets two friends
Can't hear tears from eyes
They want to drip; already ready
Poor thing to faint;
But will and reason power
They overcame. She two words
Silently spoke through her teeth
And sat at the table.
Tragi-nervous phenomena,
Girlish swoons, tears
Eugene could not stand for a long time:
He's had enough of them.
An eccentric, hitting a huge feast,
Was already angry. But, languid maidens
Noticing the trembling impulse,
Lowering your eyes in annoyance,
He pouted and, indignantly,
He swore to infuriate Lensky
And to take revenge.
Now, triumphant in advance,
He began to draw in his soul
Caricatures of all guests.
Of course, not only Eugene
I could see Tanya's confusion;
But the purpose of glances and judgments
At that time, fat was a pie
(Unfortunately oversalted)
Yes, in a tarred bottle,
Between roast and blanc mange
Tsimlyanskoye is already being carried;
Behind him is a line of narrow, long glasses,
Like your waist
Zizi, the crystal of my soul,
The subject of my innocent verses,
Love is an alluring fiyal,
You, from whom I was drunk!
Getting rid of the damp cork,
The bottle popped; wine
hisses; and here with an important posture,
Tormented by a couplet for a long time,
Trike gets up; before him the congregation
Keeps a deep silence.
Tatyana is barely alive; Trike,
Turning to her with a leaf in his hand,
Sang out of tune. splashes, clicks
He is greeted. She is
The singer is forced to sit down;
The poet is modest, though great,
Her health first drinks
And she passes the verse.
Send greetings, congratulations;
Tatyana thanks everyone.
When is it up to Evgeny
It came, then the maiden's languid look,
Her embarrassment, fatigue
Pity was born in his soul:
He silently bowed to her,
But somehow the look of his eyes
He was wonderfully gentle. Is that why
That he was really touched
Or he, coquettish, naughty,
Involuntarily or out of good will,
But this look of tenderness expressed:
He revived Tanya's heart.
The chairs are pushed back;
The crowd pours into the living room:
So bees from a tasty hive
A noisy swarm flies to the field.
Satisfied with a festive dinner
The neighbor sniffs in front of the neighbor;
The ladies sat down to the fire;
The girls whisper in a corner;
The green tables are open:
The name of the playful players
Boston and old men's ombre
And whist, still famous,
monotonous family,
All greedy boredom sons.
Eight Roberts have already played
Vista Heroes; eight times
They changed places;
And they bring tea. I love the hour
Define lunch, tea
And dinner. We know the time
In a village without big fuss:
The stomach is our faithful breguet;
And to the article, I note in parentheses,
What I'm talking about in my stanzas
I am just as often about feasts,
About different foods and traffic jams,
How are you, divine Omir,
You, thirty centuries idol!
XXXVII. XXXVIII. XXXIX.
But they bring tea: the girls are decorous
As soon as they took the saucers,
Suddenly from behind the door in the long hall
The bassoon and flute resounded.
Delighted by the music of thunder,
Leaving a cup of tea with rum
Paris of the county towns,
Suitable for Olga Petushkov,
To Tatyana Lensky; Kharlikov,
Bride of ripe years
My poet takes Tambov,
Buyanov rushed off to Pustyakova,
And everyone poured out into the hall,
And the ball shines in all its glory.
At the beginning of my romance
(See first notebook)
I wanted like Alban
To describe the Petersburg ball;
But, entertained by an empty dream,
I've been reminiscing
About the legs of ladies I know.
In your narrow footsteps
Oh legs, full of delusions!
With the betrayal of my youth
It's time for me to get smarter
Get better in deeds and in style,
And this fifth notebook
Clear away deviations.
Monotonous and insane
Like a whirlwind of young life,
The waltz whirl is whirling noisily;
The couple flashes by the couple.
Approaching the moment of revenge,
Onegin, secretly smiling,
Suitable for Olga. Fast with her
Spins around the guests
Then he puts her on a chair,
Starts talking about this, about this;
After two minutes later
Again with her he continues the waltz;
Everyone is in amazement. Lensky himself
Doesn't believe his own eyes.
The mazurka rang out. used to
When the mazurka thundered,
Everything in the great hall was trembling,
The parquet cracked under the heel,
The frames shook and rattled;
Now it's not that: and we, like ladies,
We slide on varnished boards.
But in the cities, in the villages
Another mazurka saved
Initial colors:
Jumps, heels, mustaches
All the same: they have not changed
Dashing fashion, our tyrant,
The disease of the newest Russians.
Buyanov, my fervent brother,
Led to our hero
Tatyana with Olga; nimbly
Onegin went with Olga;
Leads her, slipping carelessly,
And leaning over her whispers gently
Some vulgar madrigal
And shakes his hand - and blazed
In her selfish face
The blush is brighter. my Lensky
I saw everything: I flared up, not myself;
In jealous indignation
The poet is waiting for the end of the mazurka
And calls her to the cotillion.
But she can't. It is forbidden? But what?
Yes, Olga has already given her word
Onegin. Oh god, god!
What does he hear? She could…
Is it possible? A little from diapers
Coquette, windy child!
She knows the trick
Already learned to change!
Lensky is unable to bear the blow;
Cursing women's pranks,
Goes out, requires a horse
And he jumps. pair of pistols
Two bullets - nothing more -
Suddenly, his fate will be resolved.
That year, autumn weather ... (Excerpt from the poem "Eugene Onegin")
Alexander Pushkin
That year the autumn weather
Stood in the yard for a long time
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting.
Snow fell only in January
On the third night. Waking up early
Tatyana saw through the window
Whitewashed yard in the morning,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
Light patterns on glass
Trees in winter silver
Forty merry in the yard
And softly padded mountains
Winters are a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything is white around.
Winter!... Peasant triumphant... (Excerpt from the poem "Eugene Onegin")
Alexander Pushkin
Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant,
On firewood, updates the path;
His horse, smelling snow,
Trotting somehow;
Reins fluffy exploding,
A remote wagon flies;
The coachman sits on the irradiation
In a sheepskin coat, in a red sash.
Here is a yard boy running,
Planting a bug in a sled,
Transforming himself into a horse;
The scoundrel already froze his finger:
It hurts and it's funny
And his mother threatens him through the window.
Winter evening
Alexander Pushkin
A storm covers the sky with mist,
Whirlwinds of snow twisting;
Like a beast, she will howl
It will cry like a child
That on a dilapidated roof
Suddenly the straw will rustle,
Like a belated traveler
There will be a knock on our window.
Our ramshackle shack
And sad and dark.
What are you, my old lady,
Silent at the window?
Or howling storms
You, my friend, are tired
Or slumber under the buzz
Your spindle?
Let's drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief; where is the mug?
The heart will be happy.
Sing me a song like a titmouse
She lived quietly across the sea;
Sing me a song like a damsel
She followed the water in the morning.
A storm covers the sky with mist,
Whirlwinds of snow twisting;
Like a beast, she will howl
It will cry like a child.
Let's drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief: where is the mug?
The heart will be happy.
Here is the north, catching up the clouds ... (Excerpt from the poem "Eugene Onegin")
Alexander Pushkin
Here is the north, catching up the clouds,
He breathed, howled - and here she is
The magic winter is coming
Came, crumbled; shreds
Hanging on the branches of oaks,
She lay down with wavy carpets
Among the fields around the hills.
A shore with a motionless river
Leveled with a plump veil;
Frost flashed, and we are glad
Leprosy mother winter.
Now it's my time... (excerpt from a poem)
Alexander Pushkin
Now it's my time: I don't like spring;
The thaw is boring to me; stink, dirt - I'm sick in the spring;
The blood is fermenting; feelings, the mind is constrained by melancholy.
In the harsh winter I am more satisfied,
I love her snows; in the presence of the moon
How easy the sleigh run with a friend is fast and free,
When under the sable, warm and fresh,
She shakes your hand, glowing and trembling!
How fun, shod with sharp iron feet,
Glide on the mirror of stagnant, smooth rivers!
And the brilliant anxieties of the winter holidays?..
But you also need to know honor; half a year snow yes snow,
After all, this is finally the inhabitant of the lair,
Bear, get bored. You can't for a century
We ride in a sleigh with the young Armides
Or sour by the stoves behind the double panes.
Winter morning
Alexander Pushkin
Frost and sun; wonderful day!
You are still dozing, my lovely friend -
It's time, beauty, wake up:
Open eyes closed by bliss
Towards the northern Aurora,
Be the star of the north!
Evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry,
In the cloudy sky, a haze hovered;
The moon is like a pale spot
Turned yellow through the gloomy clouds,
And you sat sad -
And now ... look out the window:
Under blue skies
splendid carpets,
Shining in the sun, the snow lies;
The transparent forest alone turns black,
And the spruce turns green through the frost,
And the river under the ice glitters.
The whole room amber gleam
Enlightened. Cheerful crackling
The fired oven crackles.
It's nice to think by the couch.
But you know: do not order to the sled
Ban the brown filly?
Gliding through the morning snow
Dear friend, let's run
impatient horse
And visit the empty fields
The forests, recently so dense,
And the shore, dear to me.
Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant,
On firewood, updates the path;
His horse, smelling snow,
Trotting somehow;
Reins fluffy exploding,
A remote wagon flies;
The coachman sits on the irradiation
In a sheepskin coat, in a red sash.
Here is a yard boy running,
Planting a bug in a sled,
Transforming himself into a horse;
The scoundrel already froze his finger:
It hurts and it's funny
And his mother threatens him through the window...
This little excerpt from "Eugene Onegin" is known to all Russian people. But the further we move away from the era of A.S. Pushkin, the more difficult it is for young children to learn this poem by heart. Why? Because for 14 lines there are at least 8 obsolete words, without understanding which the child will not draw in his imagination a picture captured by the poet. He will not feel the joy and freshness of the first frosty day, the delight and unity of nature and man.
Children easily memorize verses when they understand them. Therefore, all incomprehensible words must be explained.
Drovni- this is a sleigh on which they carried firewood. reins- ruts, furrows, traces of runners in the snow. Kibitka- covered wagon. What does covered mean? A leather or cloth top, a "hood", was attached to the sledge or flight crew, this is the prototype of the modern convertible.
A man driving horses and carts. The coachman ruled postal or coachman (similar to a taxi) wagons. He was sitting on the box, the driver's seat at the front of the wagon. Sheepskin coat - a fur coat, cut like a robe, hugging the whole body, as a rule, was belted with a sash - a belt sewn, as a rule, from a wide braid or cloth, sometimes with velvet at the ends, the sash tied a person around the waist and was used with outerwear. The red sash was a sign of panache, in addition, its color was easily recognizable from afar. The yard boy is a small servant in a manor house. Sled - our usual, manual, sled. And the Bug was the name of all black dogs. (What color should the dog be drawn for the fairy tale "Turnip"?)
Why does the wagon fly, the peasant triumphs, and the boy laughs? Because everyone is happy with the snow. Let's read the verses preceding "Winter ..." and opening the fifth chapter of the poem:
That year the autumn weather
Stood in the yard for a long time
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting.
Snow fell only in January
On the third night.
Waking up early
Tatyana saw through the window
Whitewashed yard in the morning,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
Light patterns on glass
Trees in winter silver
Forty merry in the yard
And softly padded mountains
Winters are a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything is white around.
That's why everyone rejoices - the coachman, the peasant, the child, the mother: people were waiting for the snow and missed it.
Now that all unfamiliar words are understood, images begin to appear in the child. In the background, a fast wagon rushes, a fashionable coachman (a red sash!) Drives horses with daring. Snowflakes scatter around (like splashes scatter in the wake of a boat). Towards the wagon, or maybe behind it, a skinny peasant horse slowly drags along, she carries the peasant into the forest. Why not from the forest? Because the peasant horse renews the path, that is, it runs along the first snow, laying grooves, ruts, this is also an indication of part of the day. Morning, no doubt, early morning. Not everyone is awake yet.
The yard boy is not busy and can play. He rejoices in the first snow this winter, he is fiddling with a black dog and a sled, and although he is cold, he does not want to part with sunny sparks in the snow. His mother threatens him through the window, but does not interfere, she herself is glad of the snow - for her, snow means rest from field work and good winter, cheerful mood. She probably looks at her son and admires him, she probably smiles ...
Having well understood what the poem is about, and having drawn a picture in his imagination, the child will remember with pleasure the peasant, the wagon and the boy with the dog. The imagination will turn on, the feeling of frost and the winter sun will be remembered. By the way, such description poems give unlimited scope for drawing.
In connection with this work, older children can read the story of A.P. Chekhov "Not in a good mood" (1884). Main character, the bailiff Prachkin, for the first time in his life hears Pushkin's lines and comments on them in accordance with his life experience and bad mood after a card loss (the bailiff is a police position in which a person led the investigation of police, executive and administrative affairs):
"-" Winter ... The peasant, triumphant ... - monotonously crammed the son of the police officer, Vanya, in the next room. - The peasant, triumphant ... renews the path ... "
- "Triumphing ..." - reflects involuntarily listening to the bailiff. - "If he had been hit with a dozen hot ones, he would not have been very triumphant. Rather than triumph, it would be better to pay taxes regularly ...
- "His horse, smelling snow ... smelling snow, trots somehow ..." - Prachkin hears further and cannot refrain from remarking:
"- If only she had galloped away! What a trotter was found, say mercy! A nag - a nag is ...
- "Here is a yard boy running ... a yard boy, putting a bug in a sleigh ..."
- So, he ate, if he runs and indulges ... And the parents don’t have the mind to put the boy to work. Than to carry a dog, it would be better to chop wood ...
- "He is both hurt and funny, and his mother threatens ... and his mother threatens him through the window ..."
- Threat, threaten ... Too lazy to go out into the yard and punish ... I would lift his fur coat and chik-chik! chik-chik! It's better than shaking a finger... Otherwise, look, a drunkard will come out of him... Who composed this?" - in the end, Prachkin can't stand it.
- Pushkin, dad.
- Pushkin? Hm! .. Must be some kind of eccentric. They write and write, but what they write - they themselves do not understand! Just to write!"
However, here you need to act very delicately. Humor should be based on understanding the situation. Better take your time, don't read this story to children - junior schoolchildren before they are sure they understand why Apollon Grigoriev, a poet and literary critic of the 19th century, said: "Pushkin is our everything".
Tatyana Lavrenova
Discussion
What Nekrasov?! Where did you get that from?))) This is an excerpt from Onegin .. Before arguing, it would not hurt to brush up on the classics .. And the size of the verse characteristic of Pushkin ..
12/25/2008 04:10:21 PM, Tanya 09.12.2008 17:48:54, Alexeyvery interesting and instructive for children (thank you)
28.11.2008 21:14:47, alinaLetting this "respected" Tatiana first read Onegin, and stop talking nonsense, then she will see where it is written in black and white, whose work it is ...
11/28/2008 00:19:29, OlgaAnd to prove that this is actually A. Pushkin, I can give reliable facts: not only on the Internet, having scored this main line in the search, find the poem "Eugene Onegin", but you can even take any program for kindergarten or school, and it will be written there that this is an excerpt from a poem by A. Pushkin. So stop arguing - ours took :)
16.11.2008 00:13:53And Pushkin in general cannot be confused with anyone just because all his poems are special. Pay attention to the smoothness of his syllable. Take any of Pushkin's poems, and everywhere they will be the softest and smoothest! No wonder teachers and parents take his books before the children are allowed to sleep. Only his poetry is so comforting. Therefore, there is even nothing to argue here - of course A. Pushkin!
11/15/2008 11:51:40 PM, Yulia SergeevnaIn this passage from the "novel in verse" I was always embarrassed by the fact that how else can a horse, except at a trot, drag firewood?
Here is a wolf, of course, he "jogged" ... It would be nice for the kids to show all these possible types of horse racing! This will probably be one of the most useful games based on poems on the topic early development winter children...
Reading Pushkin. "Eugene Onegin"
Chapter 5 Part 2
))))
Thanks a lot for clarifying :)
02/06/2008 15:47:20, DannyMany confuse this excerpt from EO with Nekrasov's poem "Once in a cold winter time ...".
Why this happens - I personally do not understand.
Nekrasov is:
"One day in the cold winter season
I came out of the forest. There was a severe frost.
I look, it rises slowly uphill,
a horse carrying a cart of brushwood..."
It's just the same theme :)
I also thought it was Nekrasov
01/08/2008 12:29:45 pm, DimanComment on the article "Winter. The peasant triumphs"
More on the topic "How to explain obsolete words to a child":
A poem about the winter of my own composition. Hometasks. Education of children. A poem about the winter of my own composition. They asked my 3rd grader) Nothing comes into my head ((Help ...
I don't understand anything. Assignment: explain the meaning of the words and the reason for their appearance in the text The child turns to me with a question for the third time in all the time of study, and then I sat in a puddle, this is by no means the reason for their appearance. even if you consider the words morally obsolete ...
The peasant, triumphant, On the firewood renews the path; His horse, smelling the snow, Trotted somehow; And the tent is light, and therefore the fluffy reins exploding, The daring tent flies ...
Set to learn the rule over the weekend. Learned something learned, but there is no way to understand. In general, we don’t have much with Russian, but as far as analysis by composition, cases comes, and now we get to declensions, in general, get out, come. To be honest, I'm very nervous. Tell me something - a book, a website, on your fingers how to explain, calm down and drink valerian? :))
That year the autumn weather
Stood in the yard for a long time
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting.
Snow fell only in January
On the third night. Waking up early
Tatyana saw through the window
Whitewashed yard in the morning,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
Light patterns on glass
Trees in winter silver
Forty merry in the yard
And softly padded mountains
Winters are a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything is white around.
__________
An excerpt from a novel in verse.
Analysis of the poem "That year autumn weather" by Pushkin
The stanza “That year the autumn weather” by Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin opens the fifth chapter of “Eugene Onegin”.
The poem was written in 1826. Its author is 27 years old, the last months of his exile in Mikhailovskoye are coming. Already in the fall, the emperor will call him to his place to clarify all misunderstandings. They both part quite happy with each other. In the same period, the poet will join the editorial board of the new magazine Moskovsky Vestnik, however, this cooperation will be short-lived. The genre of the lyrical digression is landscape, the size is the favorite Onegin stanza, iambic with three types of rhyme, where the cross alternates with the adjacent and encompassing. There are both closed and open rhymes. E. Onegin has already read Tatyana's letter, answered it with a rebuke of the most egocentric romanticism. Love, however, without reciprocity not only did not die out, but became stronger. This description of winter precedes the well-known scene of the girl's Christmas dream. The poet again narrates with the charm of realism, being, in fact, a chronicler of his own life. That year, autumn lingered fairly, not giving way. The impatient lexical repetition “waiting” is imbued with the personal attitude of the poet. “Snow fell in January”: the gloominess of late autumn tormented both nature and impressionable human hearts. "On the third in the night": here is already photographic accuracy. The lyrical heroine wakes up early, as if anticipating that the crisis in nature has passed. The inversion “Tatyana saw” vividly depicts a girl looking out the window at a transformed landscape. “The whitened yard” (by the way, in a rather short stanza the word “yard” is mentioned three times): a simple but expressive epithet. "Curtain" the word has several meanings. Lawn, flowerbed, park area. Winter dress adorned everything around, including roofs and fences. And the glass (already widespread in the 19th century) in the windows is painted with intricate patterns created with a brush of frost. The metaphor "trees in silver" conveys the poet's admiration of the opened picture, however, as well as the epithet "merry". In the finale - the apotheosis of the triumph of winter: brilliant carpets that covered the area, the brilliance of pure, untouched snow on a sunny morning. “Everything is bright, everything is white”: the final enumeration that completes the expressiveness of the winter landscape.
The fifth chapter of "Eugene Onegin" by A. Pushkin was dedicated to P. Pletnev, an old friend and literary critic, and was published in the winter of 1828.