"It's a sad time! Oh charm! Analysis of the poem by A.S.

13.10.2019

Why does my dormant mind not enter then?

Derzhavin.

October has already come - the grove is already shaking off
The last leaves from their naked branches;
The autumn chill has died - the road freezes through.
The murmuring stream still runs behind the mill,
But the pond was already frozen; my neighbor is in a hurry
In the departing fields with his hunt,
And they suffer winter from mad fun,
And the barking of dogs wakes the sleeping oak forests.

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!
BUT winter holidays brilliant worries?
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.

Oh, red summer! I would love you
If it weren't for the heat, and dust, and mosquitoes, and flies.
You, destroying all spiritual abilities,
you torment us; like fields, we suffer from drought;
Just how to get drunk, but refresh yourself -
There is no other thought in us, and it is a pity for the winter of the old woman,
And, having spent it with pancakes and wine,
We make a wake for her with ice cream and ice.

The days of late autumn are usually scolded,
But she is dear to me, dear reader,
Silent beauty, shining humbly.
So unloved child in the native family
It draws me to itself. To tell you frankly
Of the annual times, I am glad only for her alone,
There is a lot of good in it; lover is not vain,
I found something in her a wayward dream.

How to explain it? I like her,
Like a consumptive maiden to you
Sometimes I like it. Condemned to death
The poor thing bows without grumbling, without anger.
The smile on the lips of the faded is visible;
She does not hear the yawn of the grave abyss;
Plays on the face even crimson color.
She is still alive today, not tomorrow.

sad time! oh charm!
Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me -
I love the magnificent nature of wilting,
Forests clad in crimson and gold,
In their canopy of the wind noise and fresh breath,
And the heavens are covered with mist,
And a rare ray of sun, and the first frosts,
And distant gray winter threats.

And every autumn I bloom again;
The Russian cold is good for my health;
I again feel love for the habits of being:
Sleep flies in succession, hunger finds in succession;
Easily and joyfully plays in the heart of blood,
Desires boil - I'm happy again, young,
I am full of life again - this is my body
(Allow me to forgive unnecessary prosaism).

Lead me a horse; in the expanse of the open,
Waving his mane, he carries a rider,
And loudly under his shining hoof
The frozen valley rings and the ice cracks.
But the short day goes out, and in the forgotten fireplace
The fire is burning again - then a bright light is pouring,
It smolders slowly - and I read before it
Or I feed long thoughts in my soul.

And I forget the world - and in sweet silence
I am sweetly lulled by my imagination
And poetry awakens in me:
The soul is embarrassed by lyrical excitement,
It trembles and sounds, and searches, as in a dream,
Finally pour out free manifestation -
And then an invisible swarm of guests comes to me,
Old acquaintances, fruits of my dreams.

And the thoughts in my head are worried in courage,
And light rhymes run towards them,
And fingers ask for a pen, pen for paper,
A minute - and the verses will flow freely.
So the ship slumbers motionless in motionless moisture,
But chu! - the sailors suddenly rush, crawl
Up, down - and the sails puffed out, the winds are full;
The mass has moved and cuts through the waves.

1 leader.
Sad time! Oh charm!
Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me.
I love the magnificent nature of wilting,
In crimson and gold dressed forests ... -
this is how Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin once expressed his admiration for autumn nature. And I wanted to express my feelings in the words of the great poet.
2 leader. And I would like to continue with the words of another famous Russian writer and poet Ivan Alekseevich Bunin:
The forest, like a painted tower,
Purple, gold, crimson,
Cheerful, colorful wall
It stands over a bright meadow.
Birches with yellow carving
Shine in blue azure,
Like towers, Christmas trees darken,
And between the maples they turn blue
Here and there in the foliage through
Clearances in the sky, that windows.
The forest smells of oak and pine,
During the summer it dried up from the sun,
And autumn is a quiet widow
He enters his motley tower.
1 leader. Autumn ... The golden season, striking with the richness of flowers, fruits, a fantastic combination of colors: from bright, conspicuous, to blurry transparent halftones.
2 leader. But it’s true, look around, peer: foliage sparkles with forged gold, multi-colored lanterns of asters and chrysanthemums flash brightly, rowan berries froze on the trees with drops of blood, and the bottomless autumn sky surprises with the abundance and brightness of the stars scattered over it.
1 leader. Sad October holds out its visiting card, where the lines of a brilliant Russian poet are written in colorless fog ink:
October has already come - the grove is already shaking off
The last leaves from their bare branches;
The autumn cold has died - the road freezes through.
………………………………………………..
But the pond has already frozen ...
2 leader. Outside the windows now is autumn ... We call it differently: cold, golden, generous, rainy, sad ... But, be that as it may, autumn is a wonderful time of the year, this is the time of harvest, summing up field work, this is the beginning of school, this is preparation for a long and cold winter... And no matter how it was outside: cold or warm - the native land is always beautiful, attractive, charming! And folk wisdom says: "Autumn is sad, but life is fun." So let this October day sound beautiful, unrestrained cheerful laughter flows like a river, your legs do not know fatigue in, let your fun have no end!
All leading. We open our holiday "Autumn Ball".
1 leader. And now let's take an oath of the participants of the "Autumn Ball".
Everything. We swear!
2 leader. Have fun from the heart!
Everything. We swear!
1 leader. Dance until you drop!
Everything. We swear!
2 leader. Laugh and joke!
Everything. We swear!
1 leader. Participate and win in all competitions.
Everything. We swear!
2 leader. Share the joy of victory and prizes with friends.
Everything. We swear! We swear! We swear!
1 leader. We talked for a long time, but completely forgot that you have to dance at the ball.
They want to present their dances to us ...
2 leader. And now we start the competition.
1 competition - literary. Now the lines of Russian poets will be heard, and you will name their authors.
a) Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous air
Tired forces invigorate,
The ice is fragile on the icy river,
Like melting sugar lies.
Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space! -
The leaves have not faded yet,
Yellow and fresh lie like a carpet. (N.A. Nekrasov)

B) Eat in the original autumn
Short but wonderful time -
The whole day stands as if crystal,
And radiant evenings ... (F.I. Tyutchev)

C) The sky was already breathing in autumn,
The sun shone less
The day was getting shorter
Forests mysterious canopy
She was naked with a sad noise ... (A.S. Pushkin)

D) autumn. All our poor garden crumbles,
Yellowed leaves fly in the wind.
Only in the distance they flaunt, there, at the bottom of the valleys,
Brushes of bright red withering mountain ash ... (A.K. Tolstoy)
1 leader. And now the competition program is interrupted. Let's see …
2 leader. Dear guests, please listen to a short announcement. In parallel with our competition program, there is a competition for the title of King and Queen of the "Autumn Ball". Each of you has leaflets with numbers. Each of those present can come up to the basket and write down the number of the one whom he considers a contender for this title.
1 leader. It's time to take a break from dancing. For this we have a game.
2 leader. All of you probably love apples. I hope our members do too.
The game "Who will eat apples faster."
Apples are tied on a rope and the task of the participants is to eat an apple without hands.
1 leader. And now we invite everyone to watch the dance ...
2 leader. And now we invite 2 representatives from the group. Everyone knows how tasty and healthy potatoes are. Very often, we all have to both plant it and clean it. I suggest that the next participant in the game harvest. The game is called "Collect the Potato".
Conditions of the competition: a lot of potatoes are scattered on the floor, and blindfolded participants must quickly harvest in one minute. The winner is the one who collects the most potatoes in a bucket.

1 leader. We remind you that the competition for the title of King and Queen continues.
Hurry up to make your choice of King and Queen. Since the competition program is coming to an end
2 leader. And now the last competition of our ball. Two participants from each group are invited. Competition "Wreath of leaves".
1 leader. In the meantime, the participants are working on wreaths, we offer you a performance ...
2 leader. They say that autumn is sadness, continuous rains, cloudy weather ... Do not believe it, friends! Autumn is beautiful and attractive in its own way. It brings generosity to the soul, warmth from human communication to the heart, brings unique beauty into our lives!
1 leader. It is announced who became the King and Queen of the ball. (They wear wreaths of leaves)
2 leader. Autumn has fully come into its own today, and we will celebrate its arrival. We thank this autumn for bringing us all to the "Autumn Ball". Ahead of winter, spring, summer ... And then autumn again. How many more will be in our life! We hope that the golden lights of the Autumn Ball holiday will be lit for all of us more than once in our school. See you soon!

Everything is so, but is this a reason not to love autumn - after all, it also has a special charm. It is not for nothing that Russian poets, from Pushkin to Pasternak, so often wrote about autumn, singing about the beauty of golden foliage, the romance of rainy, foggy weather, and the invigorating power of cool air. AiF.ru has collected the best poems about autumn.

Alexander Pushkin

Sad time! oh charm!
Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me -
I love the magnificent nature of wilting,
Forests clad in crimson and gold,
In their canopy of the wind noise and fresh breath,
And the heavens are covered with mist,
And a rare ray of sun, and the first frosts,
And distant gray winter threats.
And every autumn I bloom again;
The Russian cold is good for my health;
I again feel love for the habits of being:
Sleep flies in succession, hunger finds in succession;
Easily and joyfully plays in the heart of blood,
Desires boil - I'm happy again, young,
I am full of life again - this is my body
(Allow me to forgive unnecessary prosaism).

State Museum-Reserve of A. S. Pushkin "Mikhailovskoe". Pskov region. Photo: www.russianlook.com

Nikolai Nekrasov

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
The ice is fragile on the icy river
As if melting sugar lies;
Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not faded yet,
Yellow and fresh lie like a carpet.
Glorious autumn! frosty nights,
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi
And moss swamps, and stumps -
All is well under the moonlight
Everywhere I recognize my dear Russia ...
I quickly fly along cast-iron rails,
I think my mind...

Photo: Shutterstock.com / S.Borisov

Konstantin Balmont

And again autumn with a spell of rusty leaves,
Ruddy, scarlet, yellow, gold,
The mute blue of the lakes, their thick waters,
An agile whistle and a flight of tits in the oak forests.
Camel piles of majestic clouds,
The faded azure of cast skies,
The whole circle, the dimension of the features are cool,
Ascended vault, at night in star glory.
Who is a dream emerald blue
He got drunk in the summer hour, yearns at night.
All the past stands before him with his own eyes.
In the stream of the Milky, the surf beats quietly.
And I freeze, crouching to the center,
Through the mist of separation, my love, with you.

Fedor Tyutchev

Is in the lordship of autumn evenings
A touching, mysterious charm:
The ominous brilliance and variegation of trees,
Crimson leaves languid, light rustle,
Foggy and quiet azure
Over the sad orphan land,
And, like a premonition of descending storms,
A gusty, cold wind at times,
Damage, exhaustion - and on everything
That gentle smile of fading,
What in a rational being do we call
Divine bashfulness of suffering.

Athanasius Fet

When the through web
Spreads the threads of clear days
And under the villager's window
The distant Annunciation is more audible,
We are not sad, afraid again
Breath of near winter,
And the voice of the summer lived
We understand more clearly.

Sergey Yesenin

Quiet in the thicket of juniper along the cliff.
Autumn, a red mare, scratches her manes.
Above the river bank
The blue clang of her horseshoes is heard.
Schemnik-wind with a cautious step
Crumples foliage over road ledges
And kisses on the rowan bush
Red ulcers to the invisible Christ.

Painting "Golden Autumn". Ilya Ostroukhov, 1886-1887 Oil on canvas. Photo: www.russianlook.com

Ivan Bunin

The autumn wind rises in the forests,
It goes noisily through the thickets,
Dead leaves pluck and fun
In a frenzied dance carries.
Just freeze, fall down and listen,
Waving again, and after him
The forest will buzz, tremble - and pour
Leaves rain golden.
It blows in winter, frosty blizzards,
Clouds float in the sky...
Let all the dead, the weak perish
And return to dust!
Winter blizzards are the forerunners of spring,
Winter blizzards must
Bury under cold snow
Dead by the coming of spring.
In the dark autumn the earth takes cover
Yellow foliage, and under it
Dormant shoots and vegetation vegetation,
Juice of life-giving roots.
Life is born in mysterious darkness.
Joy and death
Serve the imperishable and unchanging -
Eternal beauty of Being!

Painting «On the veranda. Autumn". Stanislav Zhukovsky. 1911 Photo: www.russianlook.com

Boris Pasternak

Autumn. Fairy tale,
All open for review.
clearings of forest roads,
Looking into the lakes
Like in an art exhibition:
Halls, halls, halls, halls
Elm, ash, aspen
Unprecedented in gilding.
Linden hoop gold -
Like a crown on a newlywed.
The face of a birch - under the veil
Wedding and transparent.
buried earth
Under foliage in ditches, pits.
In the yellow maples of the wing,
As if in gilded frames.
Where are the trees in September
At dawn they stand in pairs,
And sunset on their bark
Leaves an amber trail.
Where you can not step into the ravine,
So that everyone does not know:
So raging that not a step
A tree leaf underfoot.
Where it sounds at the end of the alleys
Echoes at the steep slope
And dawn cherry glue
Freezes in the form of a clot.
Autumn. ancient corner
Old books, clothes, weapons,
Where is the treasure catalog
Flips through the cold.

Kibereva Elizabeth

One of the topics in the lesson "Listening to music" was a conversation about the seasons. I especially liked the season of autumn and, doing my homework, I decided to get to know the theme of "Autumn" in painting, literature and music.

Having started work, I discovered that I knew little of poems about autumn, I was almost unfamiliar with paintings, and only one thing came to my mind from musical works.

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Preview:

NG MBOU DOD "DMSh im. V.V. Andreeva"

City competition of research projects "History of one masterpiece"

Nomination "Musical Art"

Sad time, eyes charm ... ..

Kibireva Elizabeth

1st grade student

vocal department

Supervisor:

Korolkova M.A.

teacher

theoretical disciplines

Nefteyugansk, 2013.

Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3

Main part. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4

Conclusion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8

Appendix. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . nine

Introduction.

In September of this year, I, like many children of my age, went to first grade. My old dream was to learn to sing and play an instrument, so I entered the music school named after Vasily Vasilyevich Andreev and became a student of the vocal department. In addition to vocal lessons, I attend solfeggio and listening to music, learning to play the piano.

Having started work, I discovered that I knew little of poems about autumn, I was almost unfamiliar with paintings, and only one thing came to my mind from musical works. Then I decided to conduct a survey among my comrades and ask them such questions.

Do you know poems about autumn?

Do you know pictures about autumn?

Do you know musical works, songs about autumn?

After the survey, it was concluded that my comrades know very few poems (two out of 14), they don’t know pictures at all (not a single positive answer out of 14), they know a little more songs (three out of 14).

Main part.

In autumn, nature calms down, as if preparing for a winter sleep, it seems tired, weary. The trees are shedding their leaves. Birds leave us and fly to warm countries. When you look at this fading autumn nature, different feelings cover you: tenderness, surprise from admiring the beauty, and sadness from saying goodbye to summer, warmth that the beauty of autumn is leaving. If we compare the season with the time of the day, then spring is morning, because everything wakes up, starts to move, summer is the middle of the day, and autumn is twilight, evening, end of the day.

Autumn is so different! In early autumn, nature is adorned with colorful attire. What colors and shades you will not see! And in late autumn it rains, the leaves fall, all the fabulous beauty of nature fades, leaves. It is sad to see bare trees, clouds and puddles.

To paint a picture, the artist has paints, the poets have words, the composer has only sounds. But they can perfectly draw, as Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky does. In Tchaikovsky's melodious melody "Autumn Song" - parting with the outgoing summer, regret about the fading nature. The work is dominated by sad intonations - sighs. The melody evokes memories, nostalgia. In it, a sad autumn landscape and the mood of a person are merged into one. Listening to the "Autumn Song" it is easy to imagine an empty veranda strewn with withered leaves, and the sounds of a piano coming from afar ... This is my favorite work.

S. Yu. Zhukovsky was probably overwhelmed with similar feelings when creating his painting "Autumn. Veranda" (Appendix No. 1).

One of the most famous artists who loved to paint autumn so much is Isaac Ilyich Levitan. Autumn was Levitan's favorite season, and he devoted many paintings to it.

The painting "Golden Autumn" is one of the best creations of the artist, bright colors, solemn peace create a feeling of the greatness of nature. Looking at the pictures, I just want to exclaim: “It's a sad time! Eyes of charm! ”,“ Lush nature withering ”,“ Forests clad in crimson and gold. How accurately and aptly Pushkin described his favorite season in famous poems, and the artist depicted autumn, putting a flurry of feelings and experiences into his paintings (Appendix No. 2).

In the picture we see birch grove in copper-gold autumn decoration. In the depths of the meadow, a river is lost, on the left bank of which there are slender white-yellow birch trees and two aspens with almost fallen leaves. The ground is covered with yellowing withered grass. And on the right bank of the river there is a row of still green willows, which seem to resist autumn withering. The river surface seems motionless and cold. The autumn day depicted by the artist is full of light.

The same rich autumn decoration appears before us in the painting by V.D. Polenov "Golden Autumn" (Appendix No. 3).

A poem by Sergei Yesenin surprisingly fits this picture:

The golden grove dissuaded

Birch, cheerful language,

And the cranes, sadly flying,

No more regrets...

In terms of mood, the musical work “Autumn” from the cycle “The Seasons” by A. Vivaldi echoes this picture. Listening to music, we can imagine the following picture: autumn leaves, falling, spinning in a waltz, the sun is shining, the birds, smoothly flapping their wings, fly south.

Both musical works and the painting "Golden Autumn"depict calm autumn weather.

These works impressed me very much and I also wanted to depict autumn, to convey my mood in the drawing, inspired by the melody Appendix No. 4, No. 5).

But autumn is not only golden with a clear azure sky! Autumn weather can be sad and cheerful, sunny and cloudy, golden and gray.

At vocal lessons, I got acquainted with the song "Autumn" to the verses of A. Pleshcheev. Minor fret, the melody returns to the same note. It depicts a picture of autumn bad weather:

Autumn has come

dried flowers,

And look sad

Bare bushes.

Wither and turn yellow

Grass in the meadows

Only turns green

Winter in the fields.

A cloud covers the sky

The sun doesn't shine

The wind howls in the field

The rain is drizzling.

Noisy water

fast stream,

The birds have flown

To warm climes.

This poem is consonant with "Autumn Melody" by A. Rybnikov. The music expresses a melancholy, depressed, sad mood, consonant with an uncomfortable, bleak picture of a fading nature. The music is monotonous, plaintive, even some disturbing notes are heard. Notes of regret for the outgoing warmth and beauty.

This is exactly what Isaac Levitan saw autumn in his painting "Autumn" (Appendix No. 6).

And in the painting "Autumn" by Stanislav Yulianovich Zhukovsky, a real autumn bad weather broke out at all! (Appendix No. 7).

Looking at this uncomfortable landscape one can hear the sound of the wind carrying the last wet leaves and gray clouds, merging with the restless notes of the work "The Tempest" by L. V. Beethoven.

Conclusion.

Composers, poets and artists see the nature of autumn in different ways, and convey their impressions in different ways with the help of colors, intonations, comparisons: composers in music, poets in poetry, artists in their paintings.

"A sad time" or "glamor of the eyes"... One way or another, autumn at all times inspired poets, artists and musicians to great masterpieces. Such a different autumn: in some works - a celebration of colors and the triumph of nature, in others - bright sadness, nostalgia, bad weather.

Autumn is the time of the magical transformation of nature, which generously gives the last rays of warmth, preparing to fall asleep for many months under a fluffy winter cover.

Autumn is the season that leaves no one indifferent. Therefore, such wonderful lines were dedicated to autumn by poets and writers. Artists have painted many pictures of autumn nature, which are masterpieces and never cease to delight us. With the richness of its colors, autumn attracted the attention of great composers who sang of its beauty.

I love autumn, maybe because I was born in October. Perhaps because "Autumn Song" P.I. Tchaikovsky is one of my favorite works for me and my mother. I dream of learning to play the piano and perform "Autumn Song" for her one fine October evening...

Appendix.

Literature.

Autumn (Z. Fedorovskaya)

Autumn at the edge of the paint bred,

On the foliage quietly brushed:

The hazel turned yellow and the maples blushed,

In autumn purple, only green oak.

Autumn comforts:

Don't miss summer!

Look - the grove is dressed in gold!

*** (A. Pushkin)

Already the sky was breathing in autumn,

The sun shone less

The day was getting shorter

Forests mysterious canopy

With a sad noise she was naked,

Fog fell on the fields

Noisy geese caravan

Stretched to the south: approaching

Pretty boring time;

November was already at the yard ...

Autumn (V. Avdienko)

Autumn walks along the path

Wet her feet in puddles.

It's raining

And there is no light.

Lost somewhere summer.

Autumn is coming

Autumn wanders.

Wind with maple leaves

Reset.

New carpet underfoot

Yellow-pink -

Maple.

*** (A. Pleshcheev)

Boring picture!

Clouds without end

The rain is pouring down

Puddles on the porch

stunted rowan

Wet under the window;

Looks village

Gray spot.

What are you visiting early

Autumn has come to us?

Still asks the heart

Light and warmth!

*** (A.S. Pushkin)

Sad time! Oh charm!

Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me -

I love the magnificent nature of wilting,

Forests clad in crimson and gold,

In their canopy of the wind noise and fresh breath,

And the heavens are covered with mist,

And a rare ray of sun, and the first frosts,

And distant gray winter threats.

Autumn (A.N. Maikov)

Covers a golden leaf

Wet ground in the forest...

I boldly trample with my foot

Spring forest beauty.

Cheeks are burning from the cold:

I like to run in the forest,

Hear the branches crack

Rake the leaves with your feet!

I have no former pleasures here!

The forest has shrugged off a secret:

The last nut is plucked

The last flower is plucked;

Moss is not raised, not blown up

A pile of curly mushrooms;

Doesn't hang around the stump

Purple lingonberry brushes;

Long lies on the leaves

The nights are frosty, and through the forest

Looks cold somehow

Clear skies...

Autumn (K. Balmont)

Cowberry ripens

The days got colder

And from the bird's cry

The heart is only sadder.

Flocks of birds fly away

Away, beyond the blue sea,

All the trees are shining

In multi-colored attire.

The sun laughs less.

There is no incense in flowers.

Autumn will wake up soon

And cry awake.

Autumn fairy tales and stories.

I. S. Turgenev Autumn day in a birch grove(an excerpt from the story “Date” from the cycle “Hunter's Notes”). Many of the stories in the Hunter's Notes also take place in autumn.

I. S. Sokolov-Mikitov Short stories about autumn: Autumn,Listopadnichek Fairy tale, Forest in autumn, Autumn in the forest, The hot summer has flown by, Autumn in Chun.

N. G. Garin-MikhailovskyAutumn prose poem.

I. A. Bunin Antonov apples.

K. G. Paustovskyyellow light, GiftA story about autumnbadger nose, Farewell to summer, What are the rains(Excerpt from the story "Golden Rose"),My house, Dictionary of native nature.

V. Sukhomlinsky I want to have my say.

K. D. Ushinsky Stories and Tales Autumn.

M. M. Prishvin Poetic miniatures about autumn.

N. I. Sladkov Autumn in the forest, Autumn on the doorstep, Forest secretsSeptember(Autumn on the threshold, On the great path, Spider, Time, Birds, Belkin fly agaric, Winged shadow, Forgotten owl, Sly dandelion, Friends-comrades, Forest rustles),October(Seamstress, Terrible invisible,

Bouquet of pheasants, Trees creak, Mystery of the birdhouse, Old acquaintance, Magpie train, Autumn Christmas tree, Stubborn finch, Forest rustles, Magic shelf),November(Why is November piebald? Icicle Resort, Porosha, Wagtail Letters, Desperate Hare, Titmouse Stock, Starlings Have Arrived, Forest Rustles).

G. A. Skrebitsky Autumn(A story from the book “Four Artists”).

G. Ya. Snegirev blueberry jam.

V. G. Suteev An Apple.

V. V. Bianchi

The famous poem “Autumn” (in a different edition “October has already come ...”) is known to everyone in our country. Perhaps not by heart, but a couple of lines are required. Or at least some phrases, especially those that have become winged. Yes, at least this one: “A sad time! Eye charm! Who else could say that? Of course, Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin! Autumn time - the charm of the eyes ... Look how subtly noticed ... What could inspire a person, even if he is very gifted, to write such a touching work? Just autumn? Or something more?

Family estate

In the autumn of 1833, in Boldino, a village located not far from Nizhny Novgorod, comes a famous person, author of the most famous works to this day, Russian genius, literary reformer - A. S. Pushkin. Autumn time, eyes charm ... He loves this place, he idolizes the season, giving him not only inspiration, but also physical strength. The estate visited by the famous poet is ancestral.

"Autumn"

The work "Autumn" is considered unfinished, consisting of 11 full eight lines and the twelfth begun. In poetry, he describes his worldview during his stay in Boldino. Silence, the opportunity to forget, even to renounce the world, in order to give free rein to thoughts and dreams... Only work - seething, selfless, all-consuming...

This is how the inspired one felt. Autumn time - the charm of the eyes - captured the author, forcing the bright colors of words to draw every moment of the withering of the surrounding nature. The poet describes the life and way of life of the county estates, his own pastime.

He also talks about his attitude to the seasons, arguing in detail one or another point of view. The author relates enthusiastic words not only to autumn, but also to winter with its amusements and beauties. Pushkin shares his feelings with readers in a simple way.

Autumn time, eyes of charm, so unloved by many, but conquered his heart, makes him feel the need to justify himself to the rest, proving and explaining his enthusiastic attitude, which is so strikingly different from the opinion of most other people.

First visit to Boldino

For the first time, Pushkin came to the Nizhny Novgorod region on the eve of his wedding. The author was stuck in Boldino for three months. The magnificent autumn time - the charm of the eyes, as Pushkin wrote - inspired him to fruitful work. At that time, from the pen of the Russian classic came a whole series of works that are most famous to this day, including "The Tale of the Priest and His Worker Balda."

Second visit

The next time (in the autumn of 1833) Pushkin goes to the village on purpose, he already perceives it not as a family estate, but as an office for creativity. He is in a hurry to go there, despite the fact that a beautiful wife is waiting for him in St. Petersburg, and he has not been at home for a very long time. Pushkin stayed in Boldino for only a month and a half, but during this time he gave the world several fairy tales and more than one verse.

Autumn time! Eyes of charm! .. Do you know how beautiful Boldino autumn is? She cannot but conquer with her beauty.

Everyone who has ever visited those places experiences the same feelings as Pushkin, but not everyone can express them so eloquently. Perhaps this is not necessary. After all, we have his "Autumn".

P.S.

In the same period, Pushkin gave life to such a well-known work as The History of Pugachev. In Boldino, the author finished work on the work, rewriting it cleanly. There, work began on the cycle “Songs of the Western Slavs”. The writer must not have been exaggerating when he wrote that it was in autumn that he felt a surge of inspiration:

"... And I forget the world - and in the sweet silence
I am sweetly lulled by my imagination,
And poetry awakens in me...