Poem by A.S. Pushkin "Winter Morning"

LET'S READ IT AGAIN

Irina RUDENKO,
Magnitogorsk

Poem by A.S. Pushkin "Winter Morning"

Frost and sun; wonderful day!
You are still dozing, dear friend!

These lines are familiar to us from primary school. And every time we reread a poem, we never cease to admire the poet’s skill. The author wants to convey a feeling of joy and boundless happiness to the reader.

The poem is full of emotional and evaluative definitions: “day wonderful", "Friend charming", "carpets magnificent", "Friend Cute", "shore Cute" "Life is Beautiful!" - as if the poet wants to say.

In the second stanza, the sound composition changes: the howling of the blizzard helps to hear the sonorant nasals [l] and [n] in combination with vowels. The emotional mood also changes: the “cloudy sky”, the “pale spot” of the moon, “gloomy clouds” cause the heroine’s sadness. Yesterday's gloomy and dreary evening is contrasted with today's joyful morning: “Evening... and today... look out the window...” With the last line of this stanza, the author returns the reader to the present time, into an atmosphere of happiness. But would we be able to appreciate all the beauty of the morning if there were no gloomy, sad evening?

The third stanza is a winter landscape. Russian winter is not rich in colors, but the picture created by the poet is rich in color: it is blue (“under blue skies”), and black (“the transparent forest alone turns black”), and green (“the spruce turns green through the frost”). Everything sparkles and shines outside the window; in the stanza the cognate words “brilliant” and “glitters” are repeated twice:

Under blue skies
Magnificent carpets,
Shining in the sun, there is snow;
The transparent forest alone turns black,
And the spruce turns green through the frost,
And the river under the ice glitters.

The third and fourth stanzas are connected with the word “brilliance”:

The whole room has an amber shine
Illuminated.

Only this shine is no longer cold, winter, but warm, golden brown, amber. In the third stanza no sounds are heard (probably because the hero of the poem is in the house and sees the winter landscape from the window), but in the fourth stanza we clearly hear the crackling sound of a flooded stove. The tautology “crackles” is artistically justified.

However, the third and fourth stanzas are not contrasted. I remember the lines of B. Pasternak, which appeared more than a hundred years after Pushkin's poem:

Chalk, chalk all over the earth
To all limits.
The candle was burning on the table,
The candle was burning.

Here we see that the ominous outside world is contrasted with the bright world of the house. In Pushkin’s poem, everything is equally beautiful: the magnificent picture outside the window, and the cozy home environment:

It's nice to think by the bed.
But you know, shouldn't I tell you to get on the sleigh?
Ban the brown filly?

Life is amazing because there is harmony in it. This idea is expressed already in the first line of the poem. The day is wonderful thanks to the harmonious coexistence of frost and solar warmth and light. A person cannot fully enjoy a joyful sunny morning if there has never been a gloomy, dreary evening in his life; cannot feel the freshness of a frosty day if he has never felt the warmth of a flooded stove, cannot experience the happiness of awakening if he has never been immersed in the bliss of sleep. The imperative verbs (“wake up”, “open”, “appear”, “look”) in the first and second stanzas encourage the reader to feel the fullness of life. Let us feel the harmony of life, and then the cloudy sky will certainly turn into blue skies, the flakes of snow, swirled by an angry blizzard, will become “magnificent carpets”, the lonely blackening “transparent forest” will again be dense, and the brown filly will transform into an “impatient horse”.

Poems by A.S. Pushkin about winter - excellent remedy to look at the snowy and cold weather with different eyes, to see in it the beautiful things that are hidden from us gray everyday life and dirty streets. It was not for nothing that they said that nature has no bad weather.

Painting by Viktor Grigorievich Tsyplakov “Frost and Sun”

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;
Moon like pale spot,
Through the dark clouds it turned yellow,
And you sat sad -
And now... look out the window:

Under blue skies
Magnificent carpets,
Glistening in the sun, the snow lies;
The transparent forest alone turns black,
And the spruce turns green through the frost,
And the river glitters under the ice.

The whole room has an amber shine
Illuminated. Cheerful crackling
The flooded stove crackles.
It's nice to think by the bed.
But you know: shouldn’t I tell you to get into the sleigh?
Harness the brown filly?

Sliding on the morning snow,
Dear friend, let's indulge in running
impatient horse
And we'll visit the empty fields,
The forests, recently so dense,
And the shore, dear to me.

Painting by Alexey Savrasov "Courtyard. Winter"

WINTER EVENING

The storm covers the sky with darkness,
Whirling snow whirlwinds;
Then, like a beast, she will howl,
Then he will cry like a child,
Then on the dilapidated roof
Suddenly the straw will rustle,
The way a belated traveler
There will be a knock on our window.

Our dilapidated shack
And sad and dark.
What are you doing, my old lady?
Silent at the window?
Or howling storms
You, my friend, are tired,
Or dozing under the buzzing
Your spindle?

Let's have a drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief; where is the mug?
The heart will be more cheerful.
Sing me a song like a tit
She lived quietly across the sea;
Sing me a song like a maiden
I went to get water in the morning.

The storm covers the sky with darkness,
Whirling snow whirlwinds;
Then, like a beast, she will howl,
She will cry like a child.
Let's have a drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief: where is the mug?
The heart will be more cheerful.

Painting by Alexey Savrasov " Winter road"

Here is the north, the clouds are catching up...

Here is the north, the clouds are catching up,
He breathed, howled - and here she is
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.

Painting by Gustav Courbet "The Outskirts of a Village in Winter"

WINTER!... PEASANT TRIUMPHANT... (Excerpt from the poem "Eugene Onegin")

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:
It's both painful and funny to him,
And his mother threatens him through the window.

Painting by Isaac Brodsky "Winter"

WINTER ROAD

Through the wavy mists
The moon creeps in
To the sad meadows
She sheds a sad light.

On the winter, boring road
Three greyhounds are running,
Single bell
It rattles tiresomely.

Something sounds familiar
In the coachman's long songs:
That reckless revelry
That's heartbreak...

Painting by Nikolai Krymov " Winter evening"

IT WAS AUTUMN WEATHER THAT YEAR

That year the weather was autumn
She 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 in 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 sparkles all around.

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.

Analysis of the poem “Winter Morning” by Pushkin

The poem “Winter Morning” is brilliant lyrical work Pushkin. It was written in 1829, when the poet had already been released from exile.

“Winter Morning” refers to the poet’s works dedicated to the quiet idyll of village life. The poet always treated the Russian people and Russian nature with deep trepidation. Love for the Motherland and native language was an innate quality of Pushkin. He conveyed this feeling with great skill in his works.

The poem begins with a line known to almost everyone: “Frost and sun; wonderful day!” From the first lines, the author creates a magical picture of a clear winter day. The lyrical hero greets his beloved - “adorable friend.” The amazing transformation of nature that took place overnight is revealed through a sharp contrast: “the blizzard was angry”, “the darkness was rushing” - “the spruce is turning green”, “the river is shining”. Changes in nature, according to the poet, will definitely affect a person’s mood. He invites his “sad beauty” to look out the window and feel the splendor of the morning landscape.

Pushkin liked to live in the village, away from the noisy bustle of the city. He describes the simple everyday joys. A person needs little to be happy: a cozy house with a hot stove and the presence of his beloved woman. A sleigh ride can be a particular pleasure. The poet strives to admire the fields and forests so dear to him, to evaluate the changes that have occurred to them. The charm of a walk is given by the presence of a “dear friend” with whom you can share your joy and delight.

Pushkin is considered one of the founders of the modern Russian language. “Winter Morning” is one of the small but important building blocks in this matter. The poem is written in simple and understandable language. Iambic tetrameter, which the poet loved so much, is ideal for describing the beauty of the landscape. The work is imbued with extraordinary purity and clarity. Main expressive means are numerous epithets. The past sad day includes: “cloudy”, “pale”, “gloomy”. A real joyful day is “magnificent”, “transparent”, “amber”. The central comparison of the poem is dedicated to the beloved woman - the “star of the north.”

There is no hidden philosophical meaning in the poem, no omissions or allegories. Not using beautiful phrases and expressions, Pushkin painted a magnificent picture that cannot leave anyone indifferent.

Poems by A.S. Pushkin about winter - an excellent way to look at snowy and cold weather with different eyes, to see in it the beauty that gray everyday life and dirty streets hide from us. It was not for nothing that they said that nature has no bad weather.

Painting by Viktor Grigorievich Tsyplakov “Frost and Sun”

WINTER MORNING

Frost and sun; wonderful day!
You are still dozing, dear friend -
It's time, beauty, wake up:
Open your closed eyes
Towards northern Aurora,
Be the star of the north!

In the evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry,
There was darkness in the cloudy sky;
The moon is like a pale spot
Through the dark clouds it turned yellow,
And you sat sad -
And now... look out the window:

Under blue skies
Magnificent carpets,
Glistening in the sun, the snow lies;
The transparent forest alone turns black,
And the spruce turns green through the frost,
And the river glitters under the ice.

The whole room has an amber shine
Illuminated. Cheerful crackling
The flooded stove crackles.
It's nice to think by the bed.
But you know: shouldn’t I tell you to get into the sleigh?
Harness the brown filly?

Sliding on the morning snow,
Dear friend, let's indulge in running
impatient horse
And we'll visit the empty fields,
The forests, recently so dense,
And the shore, dear to me.

Painting by Alexey Savrasov "Courtyard. Winter"

WINTER EVENING

The storm covers the sky with darkness,
Whirling snow whirlwinds;
Then, like a beast, she will howl,
Then he will cry like a child,
Then on the dilapidated roof
Suddenly the straw will rustle,
The way a belated traveler
There will be a knock on our window.

Our dilapidated shack
And sad and dark.
What are you doing, my old lady?
Silent at the window?
Or howling storms
You, my friend, are tired,
Or dozing under the buzzing
Your spindle?

Let's have a drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief; where is the mug?
The heart will be more cheerful.
Sing me a song like a tit
She lived quietly across the sea;
Sing me a song like a maiden
I went to get water in the morning.

The storm covers the sky with darkness,
Whirling snow whirlwinds;
Then, like a beast, she will howl,
She will cry like a child.
Let's have a drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief: where is the mug?
The heart will be more cheerful.

Painting by Alexey Savrasov "Winter Road"

Here is the north, the clouds are catching up... Here is the north, the clouds are catching up,
He breathed, howled - and here she is
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.

Painting by Gustav Courbet "The Outskirts of a Village in Winter"

WINTER!... PEASANT TRIUMPHANT... (Excerpt from the poem "Eugene Onegin")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:
It's both painful and funny to him,
And his mother threatens him through the window.

Painting by Isaac Brodsky "Winter"

WINTER ROAD

Through the wavy mists
The moon creeps in
To the sad meadows
She sheds a sad light.

On the winter, boring road
Three greyhounds are running,
Single bell
It rattles tiresomely.

Something sounds familiar
In the coachman's long songs:
That reckless revelry
That's heartbreak...

Painting by Nikolai Krymov "Winter Evening"

IT WAS AUTUMN WEATHER THAT YEAR

That year the weather was autumn
She 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 in 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 sparkles all around.

Painting by Arkady Plastov "First Snow"

WHAT A NIGHT! CRACKING FROST

What a night! Frost is bitter,
There is not a single cloud in the sky;
Like an embroidered canopy, a blue vault
Replete with frequent stars.
Everything in the houses is dark. At the gate
Locks with heavy locks.
People are buried everywhere;
Both the noise and the shout of the trade died down;
As soon as the yard guard barks
Yes, the chain rattles loudly.

And all of Moscow is sleeping peacefully...

Konstantin Yuon "End of Winter. Midday"

Thank you, Lyuba, for the article! Thanks to you and your article, I was transported to this sunny, frosty day, breathed in the fresh, vigorous air that smelled of watermelon, saw the sun piercing and transforming everything around... And I admire these ice floes and hummocks of incredible shape and sparkling purity. The sun's rays, piercing the transparency of the ice, reflected on the white blanket of snow with sparkles of all the colors of the rainbow. And blue sky. And white clouds. And tenderness in the air.” But the next phrase: “The gaze from the contemplation of external beauty moves to internal contemplation... and the inner world is reflected in an amazing way, as if from a magic mirror, into the outer one...” - evokes a feeling of aching recognition... Where has this already been?... A premonition of Eternity through beauty material world? Al Farid! “Big Kasida or Path of the Righteous (Revelation of the Soul - to the True Self)”! The very beginning - “THE EYES FEED THE SOUL WITH BEAUTY”! And further: “Oh, golden cup of the universe! And I got drunk from the flash of lights, from the clinking of bowls and the joy of friends. To get drunk, I don’t need wine, - I’m drunk with the sparkle of drunkenness!” - this drunkenness with the “sparkle of drunkenness,” filled with the beauty of the world is the beginning of the path. And God, infinity begin here, now in this specific existence. Saint Simeon, the new Theologian, said that whoever does not see God in this life will not see him in the next. And the beginning of the path to God is the indispensable fullness of the heart and the fullness of love. This is love for a flower, for a tree...” (Z. Mirkina). Al Farida’s poem echoes and is echoed by another Sufi work - “The Book of the Path of the Sufi”: ““The first step in the ascent of the soul to the Path is love for everything that exists in the Creation of Allah. Let the one who dares to follow the Path become a brother or sister to every tree growing on earth, every bird singing in the branches or flying in the sky, every lizard scurrying in the sands of the desert, every flower blooming in the garden! Every living creature of Allah begins to matter in the lives of such ascetics - as a great miracle created by Allah for his own and our improvement! Each person is then seen not just as a relative or a stranger, a friend or a stranger - but as a child of the Creator!” (From the parable “On the Path of the Sufi and life in the embrace of God.” RGDN)

Here's “frost and sun” for you! Through external beauty- to the inner, to God. Because God is everywhere and in everything, and in everyone - in every blade of grass, in every blade of grass, in every snowflake, in every phenomenon, in every person... Thank you, Lyuba, for this push of ezoosmosis - for your article!

logos2207 01/06/2018 21:59

WINTER MORNING.

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.