"Crow" Alexander Blok
Here is a crow on a sloping roof
So it remained shaggy since winter...
And there are spring bells in the air,
Even the crow’s spirit was occupied...
Suddenly she jumped to the side with a stupid leap,
She looks down at the ground sideways:
What is white under the tender grass?
Here they turn yellow under the gray bench
Last year's wet shavings...
These are all the crow's toys.
And the crow is so happy,
It’s spring, and it’s easy to breathe!..
Analysis of Blok's poem "Crow"
In 1913, Blok published two small children's books: “Fairy Tales” and “All Year Round.” The poet was not lucky enough to know the joy of fatherhood. Therefore, his poems for young readers are based on impressions received in childhood. Researchers note that Alexander Alexandrovich showed himself to be a person who well understands the child’s special worldview. Probably the main reason for this is my own happy childhood. Blok grew up in an atmosphere of love. He spent a lot of time on the Shakhmatovo estate, where he had the opportunity to experience the beautiful nature of central Russia. Little Sasha began writing poems at the age of five. As a teenager, the poet published a family literary magazine.
He had a great love for animals: dogs, hedgehogs, hares. He was sympathetic to insects and worms. Such a tender attitude towards our smaller brothers is reflected in poems written for children. In particular, in the work “Crow”, included in the “Spring” section of the collection “All Year Round”. It describes the behavior of a bird joyfully welcoming spring - a time of renewal, rebirth. She pays attention to all sorts of little things: to shavings turning yellow under a gray bench, to something turning white under the tender grass. The snow has melted, and now the crow has a clear view of all the potential toys - just paradise for a curious bird. She even felt more comfortable breathing in the spring! In the poem “The Crow,” Blok appears before readers as a sensitive and attentive observer who knows how to notice the peculiarities of bird behavior. Moreover, the poet comes up with a character for his heroine, describes her experiences. Close to “Crow” is another poem for children - “Bunny”. They differ in the mood created, but are comparable in their touching attitude towards representatives of the fauna.
Alexander Alexandrovich approached works composed for children extremely seriously and demandingly. This is proven by the notes made in the manuscripts of poems for the collections “All Year Round” and “Fairy Tales,” as well as minor changes made some time after writing. It’s a shame that lyrics for children occupy a small place in Blok’s work. Nevertheless, each work is a real masterpiece of children's poetry, understandable even to the youngest readers, contributing to the development of their aesthetic taste, instilling a love of literature.
Here is a crow on a sloping roof
So it remained shaggy since winter...
And there are spring bells in the air,
Even the crow’s spirit was occupied...
Suddenly she jumped to the side with a stupid leap,
She looks down at the ground sideways:
What is white under the tender grass?
There they turn yellow under the gray bench
Last year's wet shavings...
The crow has all these toys,
And the crow is so happy,
It’s spring, and it’s easy to breathe!..
Analysis of the poem “Crow” by Blok
Alexander Alexandrovich Blok, symbolist, singer of the Beautiful Lady, in 1913 published a series of works for children, among which one of the most characteristic is “The Crow”.
The poem was written in the fall of 1912. Its author is 32 years old, married, famous, and constantly in creative search. Traveled around Europe and was impressed by the sinking of the Titanic. By genre - poems about nature, by size - three-foot anapest with paired rhyme, 6 stanzas. The poems are written specifically for children. Intonation is aimed at evoking empathy and a response in the child’s heart. Moreover, there is only one exclamation; most stanzas end with a thoughtful ellipsis. An absurd, ordinary bird should not make children laugh, but touch it. Each couplet contains a comical line describing a crow. “So she’s remained shaggy since winter”: she’s still cold, she’s catching a cold, she hasn’t fluffed up her feathers. “The spirit has taken up”: a phraseological turn that means approximately the same as the line of I. Krylov’s fable “the breath stole from the goiter.” That is, she forgot to put on airs and became indescribably excited by the “spring bells.” “Stupid Leap”: this bird has a special, close-knit structure of its toes, which is why it waddles, sideways. In general, the crow is known for its passion for games, entertainment and pranks.
The only question in stanza 4: what turns white under the grass? And then the bird switches to something else: the wet shavings are turning yellow. “These are all toys”: the bird knows how to keep itself busy, its curiosity is limitless. “I’m glad it’s spring and she can breathe freely!” There is no question of food; she wants to explore the world, observe and have fun. The vocabulary is neutral and colloquial, all rhymes are open, except for the third couplet. Inversion (changed word order): she looks. The epithets are simple, realistic, there are few of them: shaggy, stupid, tender. Repeat: what. The child involuntarily learns from the heroine of the poem curiosity, the ability to enjoy simple things, to share emotions not only with people, but also with nature. The author knows very well that the treasures of children from their pockets resemble the simple toys of crows. The picture drawn by the poet is simple, but includes all the basic ideas about spring as a season. Actually, the work was created for a collection with a didactic bent, “All Year Round.”
In his childhood and youth, A. Blok spent every summer at his mother’s estate Shakhmatovo. The impressions of those happy years formed the basis for the sketch “The Raven”.
will you please me?? ? Well, please... post Blok's poems here, the more the better... Thanks in advance) *)*)* and received the best answer
Answer from A Beast Called Arctic Fox[guru]
Alexander Blok - TO THE MUSE
Is in your innermost melodies
Fatal news of death.
There is a curse of sacred covenants,
There is a desecration of happiness.
And such a compelling force
What am I ready to repeat after rumors,
It's like you brought down angels,
Seducing with its beauty...
And when you laugh at faith,
Suddenly it lights up above you
That dim, purple-gray
And I once saw a circle.
Evil or good? - All of you are not from here.
Wise things they say about you:
For others, you are both a Muse and a miracle.
For me you are torment and hell.
I don't know why at dawn,
At an hour when there was no more strength,
I didn’t die, but I noticed your face
And asked for your consolations?
I wanted us to be enemies
So why did you give me
Meadow with flowers and firmament with stars -
All the curse of your beauty?
And more insidious than the northern night,
And more intoxicating than golden ai,
And gypsy love in short
Your caresses were terrible...
And there was a fatal joy
In the trampling of cherished shrines,
And maddening delight to the heart -
This bitter passion is like wormwood!
aka
How hard it is to walk among people
And pretend not to die
And about the game of tragic passions
Tell the story to those who have not yet lived.
And, peering into my nightmare,
Finding order in a discordant whirlwind of feelings,
So that through the pale glow of art
Learned life's disastrous fire!
An animal named Arctic fox
Oracle
(89363)
I am Hamlet. The blood runs cold
When treachery weaves a web,
And in the heart - first love
Alive - to the only one in the world.
You, my Ophelia,
The cold took life far away,
And I perish, prince, in my native land
Stabbed with a poisoned blade.
Reply from JATYANA Obolenskaya[newbie]
l
Reply from Ernest Stolbov[guru]
CROW,
Here is a crow on a sloping roof
So it remained shaggy since winter...
And there are spring bells in the air,
Even the crow’s spirit was occupied...
Suddenly she jumped to the side with a stupid leap,
She looks down at the ground sideways:
What is white under the tender grass?
Here they turn yellow under the gray bench
Last year's wet shavings...
These are all toys for the crow.
And the crow is so happy,
It’s spring, and it’s easy to breathe!..
Reply from Galina Kitcha[guru]
AUTUMN WILL
I set out on a path open to view,
The wind bends the elastic bushes,
The broken stone lay along the slopes,
There are scant layers of yellow clay.
Autumn has sprung up in the wet valleys,
Revealed the cemeteries of the earth,
But thick rowan trees in passing villages
The red color will shine from afar.
Here it is, my fun is dancing
And it rings, rings, disappearing in the bushes!
And far, far away it waves invitingly
Your patterned, your colored sleeve.
Who lured me onto the familiar path,
Smiled at me through the prison window?
Or - driven by a stone path
A beggar singing psalms?
No, I’m going on a journey uninvited by anyone,
And may the earth be easy for me!
I will listen to the voice of drunken Rus',
Relax under the roof of a tavern.
Should I sing about my luck?
How I ruined my youth in hops...
I will cry over the sadness of your fields,
I will love your space forever...
There are many of us - free, young, stately -
Dies without loving...
Shelter you in the vast distances!
How to live and cry without you!
A Block
It was an autumn evening. To the sound of glass rain
It was the same me who decided -
painful question
When in my office, huge and foggy,
Logged in
that gentleman. Behind him is a shaggy dog.
Sat down on a chair by the fire
guest tired,
And the dog lay down on the carpet at his feet.
Guest politely
said: “Are you still not enough?
It's time to humble yourself before the Genius of Fate,
с:р".
“But in old age there is a return of both youth and heat...” -
So
I started... but he insistently interrupted:
"She is still the same: Linor
Mad Edgar.
No refund. - More? Now I've said everything."
AND
strange: life was delight, storm, hell,
And here - in the evening
an hour - alone with a stranger -
Under this businesslike, long-calm gaze,
Introduced herself
it's much easier for me...
That gentleman left. But the dog is with me
permanently.
In a bitter hour a kind gaze will stare at me,
And a paw
put the hard one on your knee,
It’s as if he’s saying: It’s time to come to terms with: r
And again the impulses of youth, and explosions of strength, and extreme opinions,
But there was no happiness, and no, and there is no longer any doubt about it.
Go through dangerous years, they lie in wait for you everywhere,
But if you come out unscathed, then you will finally believe a miracle
And finally you will see that there was no need for happiness,
That this pipe dream wasn’t enough for half a lifetime,
That the cup of creative delight overflowed,
That everything is no longer mine, but ours, and a connection with the world has been established.
And only with a kind smile will you sometimes remember
About that fragile childhood dream that people used to call happiness.
A Block
Reply from ANNA YAKOVLEVA[guru]
Buy a book!
Reply from Lyudmila Kolosova[guru]
Secret signs flare up
On a blank, impenetrable wall
Gold and red poppies
They gravitate over me in my sleep.
I take refuge in the night caves
And I don’t remember harsh miracles.
At dawn - blue chimeras
They look in the mirror of the bright skies.
I run away into the past moments,
I close my eyes in fear,
On the sheets of a cooling book -
Golden maiden braid.
Above me the firmament is already low,
A black dream weighs heavily in my chest.
My destined end is near
Both war and fire are ahead.
Reply from Shiny_Girl[guru]
Let the month shine - the night is dark...
There is spring in my love soul
Will not replace stormy bad weather.
The night has spread over me
And responds with a dead look
In the dull gaze of the sick soul,
Doused with sharp, sweet poison.
And in vain, passions are hidden,
In the cold darkness before dawn
I wander among the crowd
With only one cherished thought:
Let the month shine - the night is dark.
May life bring happiness to people, -
There is spring in my love soul
Will not replace stormy bad weather.
The girl sang in the church choir
The girl sang in the church choir
About all those who are tired in a foreign land,
About all the ships that went to sea,
About everyone who has forgotten their joy.
So her voice sang, flying into the dome,
And a ray shone on a white shoulder,
And everyone looked and listened from the darkness,
How the white dress sang in the beam.
And it seemed to everyone that there would be joy,
That all the ships are in the quiet backwater,
That there are tired people in a foreign land
You have found a bright life for yourself.
And the voice was sweet, and the beam was thin,
And only high, at the Royal Doors,
Participant in the Mysteries, the child cried
That no one will come back.
***
The light in the window was shaking,
In the twilight - alone -
Whispered at the entrance
With darkness harlequin.
Was shrouded in darkness
White and red outfit
Upstairs - behind the wall -
Jester's masquerade.
There they covered their faces
Into colorful lies.
But in the hand they recognized
Inevitable trembling.
He uses a wooden sword
I wrote letters.
Admired by the strange
She looked down.
Not believing the admiration
With darkness - alone -
At the brooding door
The harlequin laughed.
***
Spring in the river breaks the ice floes,
And I don’t feel sorry for the dear dead:
Having overcome my heights,
I forgot the winter gorges
And I see the blue distance.
What to regret in the smoke of a fire,
Why lament at the cross,
When I'm always waiting for the blow
Or a divine gift
From Moses' bush!
***
During the day I do the things of vanity,
I turn on the lights in the evening.
Hopelessly foggy - you
You are playing a game in front of me.
I love this lie, this shine,
Your alluring girlish outfit,
Eternal hubbub and street noise,
A row of lanterns running away.
I love and admire and wait
Iridescent colors and words.
I'll come and go again
Into the depths of flowing dreams.
How deceitful you are and how white you are!
I like white lies. .
Finishing the day's activities,
I know you will come again in the evening.
Reply from Tatyana Loktina[guru]
Alexander Blok -
Spring day passed idle
At an unwashed window:
I was bored behind the wall and sang,
Like a captive bird, a wife.
I slowly collected dispassionately
Memories and deeds;
And it became mercilessly clear:
Life made a noise and went away.
Thoughts and disputes will return,
But it will be boring and dark;
Why lower the curtains on the windows?
The day has burned out in my soul for a long time.
....
Oh, spring without end and without edge -
An endless and endless dream!
I recognize you, life! I accept!
And I greet you with the ringing of the shield!
I accept you, failure,
And good luck, my greetings to you!
In the enchanted area of crying,
There is no shame in the secret of laughter!
I accept sleepless arguments,
Morning in the curtains of dark windows,
So that my inflamed eyes
Spring was annoying and intoxicating!
I accept desert weights!
And the wells of earthly cities!
The illuminated expanse of the skies
And the languor of slave labor!
And I meet you at the doorstep -
With a wild wind in snake curls,
With an unsolved name of god
On cold and compressed lips...
Before this hostile meeting
I will never give up my shield...
You will never open your shoulders...
But above us is a drunken dream!
And I look and measure the enmity,
Hating, cursing and loving:
For torment, for death - I know -
All the same: I accept you!
Reply from 3 answers[guru]
Hello! Here is a selection of topics with answers to your question: will you please me?? ? please... post Blok's poems here, the more the better... Thanks in advance) *)*)*
