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,
On cloudy sky the darkness was moving;
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;
transparent forest one 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
Poem " Winter morning"- 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 innate quality Pushkin. He's with great skill conveyed this feeling 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. 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 simply and in clear 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. To the past sad day include: “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 nothing hidden in the poem philosophical meaning, some omissions and allegories. Not using beautiful phrases and expressions, Pushkin painted a magnificent picture that cannot leave anyone indifferent.
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.
Fear is yours best friend and yours worst enemy. It's like fire. You control the fire - and you can cook with it. You lose control over it, and it will burn everything around and kill you.
Until you yourself have learned to raise the sun into the heavens every morning, until you know where to direct lightning or how to create a hippopotamus, do not presume to judge how God rules the world - be silent and listen.
A person, in any guise,
Everyone dreams of finding a place in the sun.
And having enjoyed the light and warmth,
He begins to look for sunspots.
One fine day you will come to your place, take that same wine, but it doesn’t taste good, it’s uncomfortable to sit and you’re a completely different person.
Smile when there are clouds in the sky.
Smile when there is bad weather in your soul.
Smile and you will immediately feel better.
Smile, because you are someone’s happiness!
And a new day is like a clean leaf,
You decide for yourself: what, where, when...
Start it with good thoughts, friend,
And then everything will work out in life!
Let's just be. No promises needed. Don't expect the impossible. You will be with me, and I will be with you. Let's just have each other. Silently. Quiet. And for real!!!
When your face is cold and bored,
When you live in irritation and argument,
You don't even know what a torment you are
And you don’t even know how sad you are.When are you kinder than the blue in the sky,
And in the heart there is light, and love, and participation,
You don't even know what song you are
And you don’t even know how lucky you are!
I can sit by the window for hours and watch how it's snowing. The best thing is to look through the thick snow at a light, such as a street lamp. Or leave the house so that the snow falls on you. This is it, a miracle. By human hands this cannot be created.
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
Tatyana 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:
It's both painful and funny to him,
And his mother threatens him through the window...
A. S. Pushkin “Winter Road”
Through wavy fogs
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'm meeting
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,
He will come from afar in a wagon or cart
Unexpected family: old lady, two girls
(Two blond, two slender sisters) -
How the deaf side comes 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 the kiss burns in the cold!
Like a Russian maiden fresh in the dust of snow!
The poem “Winter Morning” was written by Alexander Sergeevich on November 3, 1829 in one day.
It was a difficult period in the poet's life. About six months earlier, he wooed Natalya Goncharova, but was refused, which, according to Pushkin, drove him crazy. Trying to somehow escape from unpleasant experiences, the poet chose one of the most reckless ways - to go to active army, to the Caucasus, where there was a war with Turkey.
After staying there for several months, the rejected groom decides to return and ask for Natalya’s hand in marriage again. On his way home, he visits his friends, the Wulf family, in the village of Pavlovskoye, Tula province, where this work is created.
In terms of its genre, the poem “Frost and Sun, a Wonderful Day...” refers to landscape lyrics, artistic style– romanticism. It is written in iambic tetrameter - my favorite poetic meter poet. It showed Pushkin’s high professionalism - few authors can beautifully write six-line stanzas.
Despite the apparent linearity of the poem, it is not only about the beauty of a winter morning. It bears the imprint of the author’s personal tragedy. This is shown in the second stanza - yesterday’s storm echoes the poet’s mood after the refusal of matchmaking. But further, using the example of magnificent morning landscapes, Pushkin’s optimism and belief that he can win the hand of his beloved are revealed.
And so it happened - in May next year The Goncharov family approved Natalia's marriage to Pushkin.
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?
