Onegin snow fell only in January. Analysis of A. Pushkin’s poem “That year the autumn weather…. A. S. Pushkin “Winter Road”

The winter sorceress is coming,
She came and fell apart; 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.

A. S. Pushkin “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?
Ban 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.

A. S. Pushkin “Excerpts from the poem “Eugene Onegin”” Nature was waiting for winter. ,
Winter!.. Peasant, triumphant

That year the weather was autumn
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...

A. S. Pushkin “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 the coachman's long songs:
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, returning 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.

A. S. Pushkin “Winter. What should we do in the village? I meet"

Winter. What should we do in the village? I meet
The servant bringing me a cup of tea in the morning,
Questions: is it warm? Has the snowstorm subsided?
Is there powder or not? and is it possible to have a bed?
Leave for the saddle, or better before lunch
Messing around with your neighbor's old magazines?
Powder. We get up and immediately get on horseback,
And trot across the field at first light of day;
Arapniks in hands, dogs following us;
We look at the pale snow with diligent eyes;
We circle, we scour, and sometimes it’s late,
Having poisoned two birds with one stone, we are heading home.
How much fun! Here is the evening: the blizzard howls;
The candle burns darkly; embarrassed, the heart aches;
Drop by drop, I slowly swallow the poison of boredom.
I want to read; eyes glide over the letters,
And my thoughts are far away... I close the book;
I take a pen and sit; I forcibly pull out
The slumbering muse has incoherent words.
The sound doesn’t match the sound... I’m losing all rights
Above the rhyme, above my strange servant:
The verse drags on sluggishly, cold and foggy.
Tired, I stop arguing with the lyre,
I go to the living room; I hear a conversation there
About the close elections, about the sugar factory;
The hostess frowns in the semblance of weather,
The steel knitting needles move nimbly,
Or the king is guessing about the red one.
Yearning! So day after day he goes into solitude!
But if in the evening in a sad village,
When I sit in the corner playing checkers,
Will come from afar in a wagon or cart
Unexpected family: old lady, two girls
(Two blond, two slender sisters) -
How the deaf side is brought to life!
How life, oh my God, becomes full!
First, indirectly attentive gazes,
Then a few words, then conversations,
And there is friendly laughter and songs in the evening,
And the waltzes are playful, and the whispers at the table,
And languid glances, and windy speeches,
There are slow meetings on the narrow staircase;
And the maiden goes out onto the porch at dusk:
The neck, chest are exposed, and the blizzard is in her face!
But the storms of the north are not harmful to the Russian rose.
How hot a kiss burns in the cold!
Like a Russian maiden fresh in the dust of snow!

Analysis of the poem by A. S. Pushkin “That year the autumn weather…”

A.S. Pushkin is an unsurpassed poet. Master of love and landscape lyrics. Even in major works of poetry and prose, Alexander Sergeevich paid attention to pictures of nature. Lyrical digressions are long, emotional, intense. There are many of these in the poem “Eugene Onegin”.

It is known that the novel in verse was written not in St. Petersburg, but in the lap of nature. Some of the chapters were written in the family estate Mikhailovskoye, Pskov region. And most of the work is in the Boldino estate in the Nizhny Novgorod region.

The reader finds a description of the nature of these two places in “Eugene Onegin” to this day. For example, in the Mikhailovsky Museum-Reserve they enthusiastically show tourists the site of the duel between Onegin and Lensky. Boldino gave the novel all the romantic scenes of autumn. Since it was there that the poet spent this period for two years in a row.

It is known that the off-season was the time of greatest creative excitement for Alexander Sergeevich. The lyricist never hid his love for October and November. Which is clearly reflected in his work.

The poem “That year the autumn weather ...” is an excerpt from the novel “Eugene Onegin”. The lines become the introduction to the fifth chapter of the poem. Alexander Sergeevich spent about seven years to fully complete the narrative line of the work. Therefore, the date of writing of the passage is difficult to determine.

But contemporaries knew it for sure, since the first lines describe a rare natural phenomenon. Autumn has delayed, as the poet writes. The weather remained off-season until almost mid-winter. There was no snow.

It is known that this is bad for nature: for plants and animals. This phenomenon especially upsets people who work in agriculture. There will be no snow cap to warm the earth, winter crops will die. Insects and some species of animals will not be able to tolerate the cold.

Therefore, the words of the writer sound despair and hope: “Winter was waiting, nature was waiting.” Even the reader begins to feel this expectation acutely. These lines are aphoristic. When winter is late, people often remember Pushkin's poems.

Snow is a clean, bright beginning of another period in nature, a new stage in life. Therefore, his appearance in January “on the third night” cannot but rejoice. The main character of the novel, Tatyana, wakes up early in the morning and notices that the yard has turned white. The dark wood of the roof, the dampness of the fence, the blackness of the ground - everything was hidden under a white veil.

This was not just the first snow that happens in November, flutters, and then quickly melts, barely touching the ground. And the real one, winter. By morning it was freezing. Fancy patterns even appeared on the glass. And the trees dressed up in silver and took on a solemn appearance. Everything is white, blindingly bright. And the animals and birds rejoice at the changes in the weather: “forty merry ones in the yard.”

Pushkin loves his heroes, and he has a particularly reverent attitude towards Tatyana Larina. Through the emotions of the characters, the author conveyed his own mood and feelings. Tatyana was inspired by autumn. And she is happy about the first snow like a child. While Onegin himself is indifferent to nature. He is bored in the village, because there are no balls, theaters and other delights of social life.

Means help the author convey the heroine’s excitement from the change in weather. artistic expression. Epithets: “light patterns”, “winter silver”, “whitened yard”, “cheerful magpies”. Metaphors: “winter’s brilliant carpet”, “nature was waiting.”

For the novel in verse, Alexander Sergeevich chooses iambic tetrameter. An unusual stanza of fourteen lines is also used. Thus, the passage “That year the autumn weather...” is a full-fledged sonnet.

The main idea of the poem is the expectation of the first snow, the anticipation of change. The writing style is romantic. A fragment of the work relates to landscape lyrics.

CHAPTER FIVE

Oh, don't know these terrible dreams
You, my Svetlana!

Zhukovsky

But maybe this kind
Pictures will not attract you:
All this is low nature;
There's not much that's elegant here.
Warmed by inspiration from God,
Another poet with a luxurious style
The first snow painted for us
And all the shades of winter negativity;
He will captivate you, I'm sure of it
Drawing in fiery verses
Secret sleigh rides;
But I don't intend to fight
Neither with him for now, nor with you,
Young Finnish singer!

Tatiana (Russian soul,
Without knowing why)
With her cold beauty
I loved the Russian winter,
There is frost in the sun on a frosty day,
And the sleigh and the late dawn
The glow of pink snows,
And the darkness of Epiphany evenings.
In the old days they celebrated
These evenings in their house:
Maids from all over the court
They wondered about their young ladies
And they were promised every year
Military men and the campaign.

Tatyana believed the legends
Of common folk antiquity,
And dreams, and card fortune-telling,
And the predictions of the moon.
She was worried about signs;
All objects are mysterious to her
They proclaimed something
Premonitions pressed in my chest.
A cutesy cat sitting on the stove,
Purring, he washed the stigma with his paw:
That was an undoubted sign to her,
That the guests are coming. Suddenly seeing
The young two-horned face of the moon
In the sky on the left side,

She trembled and turned pale.
When is the shooting star
Flying across the dark sky
And fell apart - then
In confusion, Tanya was in a hurry,
While the star was still rolling,
The desire of the heart to whisper to her.
When did it happen somewhere
She should meet a black monk
Or a quick hare between the fields
Crossed her path
Not knowing what to start with fear,
Full of sorrowful forebodings,
She was expecting misfortune.

Well? The beauty found the secret
And in the most horror she:
This is how nature created us,
I am prone to contradiction.
Christmas time has arrived. What a joy!
Windy youth guesses,
Who doesn't regret anything
Before which life is far
It lies bright and vast;
Old age guesses through glasses
At his grave board,
Having lost everything irrevocably;
And all the same: hope for them
He lies with his baby talk.

Tatiana with a curious gaze
He looks at the sunken wax:
He has a wonderfully poured pattern
Something wonderful is telling her;
From a dish full of water,
The rings come out in a row;
And she took out the ring
To the song of the old days:
“The peasants there are all rich,
They shovel silver
To whom we sing, it is good
And glory! But it promises loss
This song is a pitiful tune;
Dearer is the skin of a virgin's heart.

The night is frosty, the whole sky is clear;
A wondrous choir of heavenly luminaries
It flows so quietly, so accordingly...
Tatiana in the wide yard
Comes out in an open dress,
The mirror points for a month;
But alone in the dark mirror
The sad magnifying glass is trembling...
Chu... the snow crunches... a passerby; Virgo
Flying towards him on tiptoe,
And her voice sounds
More tender than a pipe tune:
What is your name? He looks
And he answers: Agathon.

Tatyana, on the advice of the nanny
Going to cast a spell at night,
She quietly ordered in the bathhouse
Set the table for two cutlery;
But Tatyana suddenly became scared...
And I - at the thought of Svetlana
I became scared - so be it,
We can't do magic with Tatyana.
Tatyana silk belt
She took off, undressed and went to bed
She lay down. Lel hovers above her,
And under the pillow is down
The maiden mirror lies.
Everything calmed down. Tatyana is sleeping.

And Tatyana has a wonderful dream.
She dreams that she
Walking through a snowy meadow
Surrounded by sad darkness;
In the snowdrifts in front of her
It makes noise, swirls with its wave
Ebullient, dark and gray
Stream unshackled by winter;
Two perches, glued together with ice,
Trembling, disastrous bridge,
Laid through the stream;
And before the noisy abyss,
Full of bewilderment
She stopped.

Like an unfortunate separation,
Tatiana grumbles about the stream;
Doesn't see anyone who hands
I would give it to her from the other side;
But suddenly the snowdrift began to move.
And who came from under it?
A big, disheveled bear;
Tatyana ah! and he roars
And a paw with sharp claws
He handed it to her; she's holding herself together
She leaned on her trembling hand
And with timid steps
Crossed the stream;
I went - so what? the bear is behind her!

She, not daring to look back,
The hasty quickens his pace;
But from the shaggy footman
Can't escape in any way;
Groaning, the obnoxious bear falls;
There is a forest in front of them; motionless pines
In its frowning beauty;
All their branches are weighed down
Shreds of snow; through the peaks
Aspen, birch and linden trees
The ray of the night luminaries shines;
There is no road; bushes, rapids
Everyone is covered in a blizzard,
Immersed deep in the snow.

Tatiana in the forest; the bear is behind her;
The snow is loose up to her knees;
Then a long branch around her neck
Suddenly it gets hooked, then from the ears
The golden earrings will be torn out by force;
Then in the fragile snow from my sweet little leg
A wet shoe will get stuck;
Then she drops the handkerchief;
She has no time to rise; fears,
He hears the bear behind him,
And even with a trembling hand
He is ashamed to raise the edge of his clothes;
She runs, he follows,
And she no longer has the strength to run.

Fell into the snow; bear quickly
She is grabbed and carried;
She is insensitively submissive,
Doesn't move, doesn't die;
He rushes her along the forest road;
Suddenly, between the trees there is a wretched hut;
All around is wilderness; he's from everywhere
Covered in desert snow,
And the window glows brightly,
And in the hut there was screaming and noise;
The bear said: “Here is my godfather:
Warm yourself up with him a little!”
And straight into the canopy he goes
And he puts it on the threshold.

I came to my senses, Tatyana looked:
There is no bear; she is in the hallway;
Behind the door there is a scream and the clink of a glass,
Like at a big funeral;
Not seeing a bit of sense here,
She looks quietly through the crack,
And what does he see?.. at the table
Monsters sit around:
One with horns and a dog's face,
Another with a rooster's head,
There's a witch with a goat beard,
Here the frame is prim and proud,
There's a dwarf with a ponytail, and here
Half crane and half cat.

Even more terrible, even more wonderful:
Here's a cancer riding a spider,
Here's a skull on a gooseneck
Spinning in a red cap,
Here the mill is dancing squatting
And it flutters and flaps its wings;
Barking, laughing, singing, whistling and clapping,
Human rumor and horse top!
But what did Tatyana think?
When I found out between the guests
The one who is sweet and scary to her,
The hero of our novel!
Onegin sits at the table
And he looks at the door furtively.

He gives a sign - and everyone is busy;
He drinks - everyone drinks and everyone screams;
He laughs - everyone laughs;
Frowns his eyebrows - everyone is silent;
He's the boss there, that's clear:
And Tanya is not so terrible,
And, curious, now
Opened the door a little...
Suddenly the wind blew, extinguishing
The fire of night lamps;
The gang of brownies became confused;
Onegin, his eyes sparkling,
He gets up from the table, rattling;
Everyone stood up; he goes to the door.

And she’s scared; and hastily
Tatyana tries to run:
There is no way; impatiently
Tossing about, he wants to scream:
Can not; Evgeny pushed the door:
And to the gaze of hellish ghosts
A maiden appeared; furious laughter
It sounded wild; everyone's eyes
Hooves, trunks are crooked,
Tufted tails, fangs,
Mustaches, bloody tongues,
Horns and fingers are bone,
Everything points to her
And everyone shouts: mine! my!

My! - Evgeny said menacingly,
And the whole gang disappeared suddenly;
Left in the frosty darkness
The young maiden is his friend;
Onegin quietly captivates
Tatyana is in the corner and lays down
Her on a shaky bench
And bows his head
On her shoulder; suddenly Olga comes in,
Behind her is Lensky; the light flashed;
Onegin waved his hand,
And his eyes wander wildly,
And he scolds uninvited guests;
Tatiana lies barely alive.

The argument is louder, louder; suddenly Evgeniy
He grabs a long knife and instantly
Lensky is defeated; scary shadows
Condensed; unbearable scream
There was a sound... the hut shook...
And Tanya woke up in horror...
He looks, it’s already light in the room;
In the window through frozen glass
The crimson ray of dawn plays;
The door opened. Olga to her,
Aurora of the northern alley
And lighter than a swallow, it flies;
“Well,” he says, “tell me,
Who did you see in your dream?

But she, the sisters, without noticing,
Lies in bed with a book,
Going through leaf after leaf,
And he doesn't say anything.
Although this book was not
Neither the sweet inventions of the poet,
No wise truths, no pictures,
But neither Virgil nor Racine,
Not Scott, not Byron, not Sepeka,
Not even Ladies Fashion Magazine
So it didn’t interest anyone:
That was, friends, Martin Zadeka,
The head of the Chaldean sages,
Fortune teller, dream interpreter.

This is a profound creation
Brought by a nomadic merchant
One day to them in solitude
And finally for Tatyana
Him with the scattered "Malvina"
He lost for three and a half,
In addition, I also took for them
A collection of local fables,
Grammar, two Petriads
Yes Marmontel third volume.
Martin Zadeka later became
Tanya's favorite... He is a joy
In all her sorrows he gives her
And sleeps with her constantly.

She is troubled by a dream.
Not knowing how to understand him,
Dreams have terrible meaning
Tatyana wants to find it.
Tatyana in a short table of contents
Finds in alphabetical order
Words: forest, storm, witch, spruce,
Hedgehog, darkness, bridge, bear, blizzard
And so on. Her doubts
Martin Zadeka will not decide;
But an ominous dream promises her
There are many sad adventures.
A few days later she
Everyone was worried about that.

But with a crimson hand
Dawn from the morning valleys
Brings the sun behind him
Happy name day holiday.
In the morning the Larins' house is visited by guests
All full; whole families
The neighbors gathered in carts,
In wagons, chaises and sleighs.
There is a hustle and bustle in the front hall;
Meeting new faces in the living room,
Barking mosek, smacking girls,
Noise, laughter, crush at the threshold,
Bows, shuffling guests,
The nurses cry and the children cry.

With his portly wife
Fat Pustyakov arrived;
Gvozdin, an excellent owner,
Owner of poor men;
The Skotinins, the gray-haired couple,
With children of all ages, counting
From thirty to two years;
District dandy Petushkov,
My cousin, Buyanov,
In down, in a cap with a visor
(As you know him, of course)
And retired adviser Flyanov,
Heavy gossip, old rogue,
Glutton, bribe-taker and buffoon.

With the family of Panfil Kharlikov
Monsieur Triquet also arrived,
Witty, recently from Tambov,
With glasses and a red wig.
Like a true Frenchman, in your pocket
Trike brought a verse to Tatyana
To a voice known to children:
Reveillez-vous, belle endormie.
Between the old songs of the almanac
This couplet was printed;
Triquet, the quick-witted poet,
He was born from the dust,
And boldly instead of belle Nina
Posted by belle Tatiana.

And from a nearby village
The idol of mature young ladies,
A joy for county mothers,
The company commander arrived;
Entered... Oh, what news!
There will be regimental music!
The colonel himself sent her.
What joy: there will be a ball!
The girls jump early;
But food was served. Couple
They go to the table hand in hand.
The young ladies are crowding towards Tatiana;
Men are against; and, being baptized,
The crowd buzzes as they sit down at the table.

Conversation fell silent for a moment;
The mouth is chewing. From all sides
Plates and cutlery rattle
Yes, the glasses ring.
But soon the guests gradually
They raise general alarm.
Nobody listens, they shout
They laugh, argue and squeak.
Suddenly the doors are wide open. Lensky enters
And Onegin is with him. “Ah, creator! -
The hostess shouts: “Finally!”
Guests are crowding, everyone is taking them away
Cutlery, chairs quickly;
They call and seat two friends.

They put him right next to Tanya,
And, paler than the morning moon
And more trembling than a persecuted doe,
She's the darkening eyes
Doesn't lift: flares up violently
She has a passionate heat; she feels stuffy and ill;
She greets two friends
Can't hear, tears from my eyes
They really want to drip; already ready
The poor thing will faint;
But will and reason have power
We overcame. She's two words
Through her teeth she spoke quietly
And sat at the table,

Tragi-nervous phenomena,
Girlish fainting, tears
Evgeniy couldn’t stand it for a long time:
He suffered enough of them.
The eccentric, having found himself at a huge feast,
I was already angry. But, languid maidens
Noticing the tremulous impulse,
Looking down in annoyance,
He pouted and, indignantly,
Swore to enrage Lensky
And take some revenge.
Now, triumphant in advance,
He began to draw in his soul
Caricatures of all guests.

Of course, not only Evgeniy
I could see Tanya’s confusion;
But the purpose of glances and judgments
It was a fat pie at that time
(Unfortunately, over-salted);
Yes, here it is in a tarred bottle,
Between roast and blanc mange,
Tsimlyanskoye is already being carried;
Behind him, line up narrow, long glasses,
Like your waist
Zizi, crystal of my soul,
The subject of my innocent poems,
Love's tempting vial,
You are the one who made me drunk!

Freed from the wet cork,
The bottle popped; wine
Hisses; and with an important posture,
Tormented by the couplet for a long time,
Triquet gets up; there is a meeting before him
Maintains deep silence.
Tatiana is barely alive; Triquet,
Turning to her with a piece of paper in his hand,
Sang out of tune. Splashes, clicks
He is welcomed. She
The singer is forced to sit down;
The poet is modest, even great,
Her health is the first to drink
And he gives her the verse.

Send greetings and congratulations;
Tatyana thanks everyone.
When is it up to Evgeniy?
It has come, then the maidens look languid,
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 was he, flirting, playing naughty,
Whether involuntarily or out of good will,
But this gaze expressed tenderness:
He revived Tanya's heart.

The pushed-back chairs rattle;
The crowd pours into the living room:
So the bees from the tasty hive
A noisy swarm flies into the field.
Satisfied with the festive dinner,
Neighbor sniffles in front of neighbor;
The ladies sat down by the fireplace;
The girls whisper in the corner;
The green tables are open:
The names of the perky players
Boston and old men's ombre,
And whist, still famous,
Monotonous family
All sons of greedy boredom.

Eight Roberts have already played
Heroes of whist; eight times
They changed places;
And they bring tea. I love the hour
Determine with lunch, tea
And dinner. We know the time
In a village without much fuss:
The stomach is our faithful breget;
And by the way, I will note in parentheses,
What am I saying in my stanzas?
I just as often talk about feasts,
About various foods and traffic jams,
How are you, divine Omir,
You, idol of thirty centuries!

XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX

But they bring tea; girls decorously
They barely took hold of the saucers,
Suddenly, from behind the door in the long hall
The bassoon and flute sounded.
Delighted by the music of thunder,
Leaving a cup of tea with rum,
Paris of the district towns,
Approaches Olga Petushkov,
To Tatyana Lensky; Kharlikov,
Bride of overripe years,
My Tambov poet takes it,
Buyanov sped away to Pustyakova,
And everyone poured into the hall.
And the ball shines in all its glory.

At the beginning of my novel
(See first notebook)
I wanted someone like Alban
Describe the St. Petersburg ball;
But, entertained by empty dreams,
I started remembering
About the legs of ladies I know.
In your narrow footsteps,
Oh legs, you are completely mistaken!
With the betrayal of my youth
It's time for me to become smarter
Get better in business and style,
And this fifth notebook,
Clear from deviations.

Monotonous and crazy
Like a young whirlwind of life,
A noisy whirlwind swirls around the waltz;
Couple flashes after couple.
Approaching the moment of vengeance,
Onegin, secretly smiling,
Approaches Olga. Quick with her
Hovering around the guests
Then he sits her on a chair,
Starts talking about this and that;
Two minutes later
Again he continues the waltz with her;
Everyone is amazed. Lensky himself
He doesn't believe his own eyes.

The Mazurka sounded. It happened
When the mazurka thunder roared,
Everything in the huge hall was shaking,
The parquet cracked under his heel.
The frames shook and rattled;
Now it’s not the same: we, like ladies,
We slide on the varnished boards.
But in cities, in villages
I also saved the mazurka
Initial beauties:
Jumps, heels, mustache
Still the same: I haven’t changed them
Dashing fashion, our tyrant,
The disease of modern Russians.

Buyanov, my perky brother,
He brought us to our hero
Tatiana and Olga; nimbly
Onegin went with Olga;
Leads her, gliding carelessly,
And, leaning over, he whispers to her tenderly
Some vulgar madrigal
And he shakes hands and bursts into flames
In her proud face
The blush is brighter. My Lensky
I saw everything: he flushed, he was not himself;
In jealous indignation
The poet is waiting for the end of the mazurka
And he calls her to the cotillion.

But she can't. It is forbidden? But what?
Yes, Olga already gave her word
Onegin. Oh my God, my God!
What does he hear? She could…
Is it possible? Just out of diapers,
Coquette, flighty child!
She knows the trick,
I've learned to change!
Lensky is unable to bear the blow;
Cursing women's pranks,
Comes out and demands a horse
And he jumps. A couple of pistols

All Russian people know this small excerpt from Eugene Onegin. 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 outdated words, without understanding which the child will not draw in his imagination the 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 learn poetry easily when they understand it. Therefore, all unclear words must be explained.

Drovni- this is a sleigh on which they carried firewood. Reins- ruts, furrows, tracks from runners in the snow. Kibitka- covered wagon. What does covered mean? A leather or fabric top, a “hood,” was attached to the sleigh or summer carriage; this is the prototype of the modern convertible.

A man driving horses drawn to a carriage. The coachman drove postal or coachman (analogous to a taxi) carts. He was sitting on the driver's seat - the coachman's seat in front of the cart. A sheepskin coat is a fur coat, cut like a robe, hugging the whole body, as a rule, it 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 dandy; in addition, its color was easily recognizable from afar. A yard boy is a small servant in a manor's house. The sled is our ordinary, manual sled. And Zhuchka 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 about the snow. Let's read the verses preceding "Winter..." and opening the fifth chapter of the poem:

That year the weather was autumn
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.

That's why everyone is happy - the coachman, the peasant, the child, the mother: people were waiting for the snow and missed it.

Now that all unfamiliar words are understood, the child begins to develop images. In the background a fast carriage is rushing by, a fashionable coachman (with a red sash!) is driving the horses with daring. Snowflakes are flying around (like splashes flying in the wake of a boat). A skinny peasant horse is slowly trailing towards the wagon, or maybe behind it, she is taking the peasant into the forest. Why not from the forest? Because the peasant’s horse renews its path, that is, it runs through the first snow, laying grooves and ruts, this is also an indication of part of the day. It's definitely early morning. Not everyone has even woken up yet.

The yard boy is not busy and can play. He rejoices at the first snow this winter, he tinkers with a black dog and a sled, and although he is cold, he does not want to part with the sparkles of sunshine on the snow. His mother threatens him through the window, but does not interfere; she herself is glad of the snow - for her snow means a break from field work and good winter crops, a 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 gladly remember the peasant, the wagon, and the boy with the dog. Your imagination will turn on and you will remember the feeling of frost and winter sun. By the way, such descriptive poems provide unlimited scope for drawing.

In connection with this work, older children can read the story of A.P. Chekhov's "Out of spirit" (1884). Main character, police officer Prachkin, hears Pushkin’s lines for the first time in his life and comments on them in accordance with his life experience and bad mood after a card loss (stanovoy police officer is a police position in which a person headed the investigation of police, executive and administrative matters):

"- "Winter... The peasant, triumphant... - the policeman's son, Vanya, crammed monotonously in the next room. - The peasant, triumphant... renews the path...

- “Triumphing...” - reflects the involuntarily listening bailiff. - “If they slapped him with a dozen hot ones, he wouldn’t be very triumphant. Rather than celebrate, it would be better to pay taxes regularly...

“His horse, sensing the snow... sensing the snow, trudges along at a trot somehow...” Prachkin hears further and cannot resist remarking:

"- If only she could take off at a gallop! What kind of trotter was found, pray tell! A nag is a nag...

- “Here is a yard boy running... a yard boy, putting a bug in a sled...”

- So, he’s full, if he’s running around and playing around... But the parents don’t have it in their heads to put the boy to work. Rather than carry a dog, it would be better to chop wood...

- “He’s both hurt and funny, and his mother is threatening... and his mother is threatening him out the window...”

- Threaten, threaten... Too lazy to go out into the yard and punish him... I would lift up his fur coat and chik-chik! chick-chick! It’s better than wagging a finger... Otherwise, look, he’ll turn out to be a drunkard... Who wrote this?” - in the end Prachkin can’t stand it.

"- Pushkin, dad.

- Pushkin? Hm!.. Must be some kind of eccentric. They write and write, but they don’t understand what they write! Just to write!"

However, here you need to act very delicately. Humor should be based on understanding the situation. It’s better not to rush, you shouldn’t read this story to children - younger schoolchildren until they are sure they understand why Apollo Grigoriev, a 19th century poet and literary critic, said: "Pushkin is our everything".

Tatiana Lavrenova

Methodological materials

Tatiana Lavrenova

Comment on the article "Winter. The peasant triumphs"

What Nekrasov?! Where did you even get this from?))) This is an excerpt from Onegin.. Before arguing, it wouldn’t hurt to brush up on the classics.. And the meter of the verse characteristic of Pushkin..

12/25/2008 16:10:21, Tanya 09.12.2008 17:48:54, Alexey

very interesting and educational for children (thank you)

28.11.2008 21:14:47, Alina

Total 26 messages .

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