And Nekrasov has a glorious autumn. Glorious Autumn
Glorious Autumn
Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
Fragile ice on the icy river
It lies like melting sugar;
Near the forest, like in a soft bed,
You can get a good night's sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not yet had time to fade,
Yellow and fresh, they lie like a carpet.
Glorious autumn! Frosty nights
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi,
And moss swamps and stumps -
Everything is fine under the moonlight,
Everywhere I recognize my native Rus'...
I fly quickly on cast iron rails,
I think my thoughts...
N. Nekrasov
Golden autumn
Autumn. Fairytale palace
Open for everyone to review.
Clearings of forest roads,
Looking into the lakes.
Like at a painting exhibition:
Halls, halls, halls, halls
Elm, ash, aspen
Unprecedented in gilding.
Linden gold hoop -
Like a crown on a newlywed.
The face of a birch tree - under a veil
Bridal and transparent.
Buried land
Under leaves in ditches, holes.
In the yellow maple outbuildings,
As if in gilded frames.
Where are the trees in September
At dawn they stand in pairs,
And the sunset on their bark
Leaves an amber trail.
Where you can't step into a ravine,
So that everyone doesn't know:
It's so raging that not a single step
There is a tree leaf underfoot.
Where it sounds at the end of the alleys
Echo at a steep descent
And dawn cherry glue
Solidifies in the form of a clot.
Autumn. Ancient Corner
Old books, clothes, weapons,
Where is the treasure catalog
Flipping through the cold.
B. Pasternak
The plums in the garden are falling,
A noble treat for the wasps...
A yellow leaf took a swim in the pond
And welcomes early autumn.
He imagined himself as a ship
The wind of wanderings rocked him.
So we will swim after him
To piers unknown in life.
And we already know by heart:
In a year there will be a new summer.
Why is there universal sadness?
In every line of poetry by poets?
Is it because there are traces in the dew?
Will the rains wash away and the winters freeze?
Is it because all moments are
Fleeting and unique?
L. Kuznetsova
"Autumn. Silence in the dacha village..."
Autumn. Silence in the dacha village,
And deserted and ringing on earth.
Cobwebs in the transparent air
Cold as a crack in glass.
Through the sandy pink pines
The roof with the cockerel is turning bluish;
In a light haze the velvet sun -
Like a peach touched with fluff.
At sunset, lush but not harsh,
The clouds are waiting for something, frozen;
Holding hands, they radiate shine
The last two, the most golden ones;
Both turn their faces to the sun,
Both fade at one end;
The eldest carries the feather of the firebird,
The youngest is the fluff of a fire chick.
N. Matveeva
Overnight
October!.. The trees are waiting for snow,
The river floods have quieted down while locked up...
I chose a haystack for myself for the night
Where night found me on my way.
Like fireflies in a slumbering swamp,
The stars trembled in the black heights;
The earth, chilled in its night flight,
In a dream she snuggled affectionately against me.
And I covered my feet with dry straw
And putting a gun under my head,
I warmed myself up and soon little by little
He warmed up the huge one...
The dawn flowed through the gaps in the leaden clouds,
For the whole day, for many, many years
The earth gave me the sun again,
From the dark night
At dawn!
Vania (in coachman's Armenian jacket).
Dad! who built this road?
Dad (in a coat with a red lining).
Count Pyotr Andreevich Kleinmichel, my dear!
Conversation in the carriage
I
Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorousThe air invigorates tired forces;
Fragile ice on the icy river
It lies like melting sugar;
Near the forest, like in a soft bed,
You can get a good night's sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not yet had time to fade,
Yellow and fresh, they lie like a carpet.
Glorious autumn! Frosty nights
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi,
And moss swamps and stumps -
Everything is fine under the moonlight,
Everywhere I recognize my native Rus'...
I fly quickly on cast iron rails,
I think my thoughts...
II
“Good dad! Why the charm?Should I keep Vanya the smart one?
You will allow me in the moonlight
Show him the truth.
This work, Vanya, was terribly enormous, -
Not enough for one!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is its name.
He leads armies; at sea by ships
Rules; rounds up people in the artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind
Stonemasons, weavers.
It was he who drove the masses of people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle,
Having brought these barren wilds back to life,
They found a coffin here for themselves.
The path is straight: the embankments are narrow,
Columns, rails, bridges.
And on the sides there are all Russian bones...
How many of them! Vanechka, do you know?
Chu! menacing exclamations were heard!
Stomping and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran across the frosty glass...
What's there? Crowd of the dead!
Then they overtake the cast-iron road,
They run in different directions.
Do you hear singing?.. “On this moonlit night
We love to see our work!
We struggled under the heat, under the cold,
With an ever-bent back,
They lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
They were cold and wet and suffered from scurvy.
The literate foremen robbed us,
The authorities flogged me, the need was pressing...
We, God's warriors, have endured everything,
Peaceful children of labor!
Brothers! You are reaping our benefits!
We are destined to rot in the earth...
Do you all remember us poor people kindly?
Or have you forgotten a long time ago?..”
Do not be horrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from Mother Volga, from Oka,
From different ends of the great state -
These are all your brothers - men!
It’s a shame to be timid, to cover yourself with a glove.
You're not little!.. With Russian hair,
You see, he’s standing there, exhausted by fever,
Tall, sick Belarusian:
Bloodless lips, drooping eyelids,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Always standing in knee-deep water
The legs are swollen; tangles in hair;
I'm digging into my chest, which I diligently put on the spade
Day after day I worked hard all my life...
Take a closer look at him, Vanya:
Man earned his bread with difficulty!
I didn’t straighten my hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically with a rusty shovel
It's hammering the frozen ground!
This noble habit of work
It would be a good idea for us to adopt...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect a man.
Don’t be shy for your dear fatherland...
The Russian people have endured enough
He also took out this railway -
He will endure whatever God sends!
Will bear everything - and a wide, clear
He will pave the way for himself with his chest.
It’s just a pity to live in this wonderful time
You won’t have to, neither me nor you.”
III
At this moment the whistle is deafeningHe squealed - the crowd of dead people disappeared!
“I saw, dad, I had an amazing dream,”
Vanya said, “five thousand men,”
Representatives of Russian tribes and breeds
Suddenly they appeared - and He he told me:
“Here they are, the builders of our road!”
The general laughed!
I was recently in the groans of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw St. Stephen in Vienna,
Well... did the people create all this?
Excuse me for this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a little wild.
Or for you Apollo Belvedere
Worse than a stove pot?
Here are your people - these thermal baths and baths,
A miracle of art - he took everything away! -
“I’m not speaking for you, but for Vanya...”
But the general did not allow him to object:
Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! wild bunch of drunkards!..
However, it’s time to take care of Vanyusha;
You know, the spectacle of death, sadness
It is a sin to disturb a child's heart.
Would you show the child now?
The bright side... -
IV
“I'm glad to show you!Listen, my dear: fatal works
It’s over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working people
A tight crowd gathered around the office...
They scratched their heads:
Every contractor must stay,
Walking days have become a penny!
The foremen entered everything into a book -
Did you take to the bathhouse, did you lie sick:
“Maybe there is a surplus here now,
Here you go!..” They waved their hand...
In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Thick, squat, red as copper,
A contractor is traveling along the line on holiday,
He goes to see his work.
The idle people part decorously...
The merchant wipes the sweat from his face
And he says, putting his hands on his hips:
“Okay... nothing... well done!.. well done!..
With God, now go home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to the workers
AND - I give away the arrears!..“
Someone shouted “hurray”. Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer... Lo and behold:
The foremen rolled the barrel singing...
Even the lazy man could not resist!
The people unharnessed the horses - and the purchase price
Shouting “Hurray!” he rushed along the road...
It seems difficult to see a more gratifying picture
Shall I draw, general?..”
"Railway"
Vanya (in a coachman's jacket).
Dad! who built this road?
Papa (in a coat with a red lining),
Count Pyotr Andreevich Kleinmichel, my dear!
Conversation in the carriage
Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
Fragile ice on the icy river
It lies like melting sugar;
Near the forest, like in a soft bed,
You can get a good night's sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not yet had time to fade,
Yellow and fresh, they lie like a carpet.
Glorious autumn! Frosty nights
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi,
And moss swamps and stumps -
Everything is fine under the moonlight,
Everywhere I recognize my native Rus'...
I fly quickly on cast iron rails,
I think my thoughts...
Good dad! Why the charm?
Should I keep Vanya the smart one?
You will allow me in the moonlight
Show him the truth.
This work, Vanya, was terribly enormous
Not enough for one!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is its name.
He leads armies; at sea by ships
Rules; rounds up people in the artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind
Stonemasons, weavers.
It was he who drove the masses of people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle,
Having brought these barren wilds back to life,
They found a coffin here for themselves.
The path is straight: the embankments are narrow,
Columns, rails, bridges.
And on the sides there are all Russian bones...
How many of them! Vanechka, do you know?
Chu! menacing exclamations were heard!
Stomping and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran across the frosty glass...
What's there? Crowd of the dead!
Then they overtake the cast-iron road,
They run in different directions.
Do you hear singing?.. "On this moonlit night
We love to see our work!
We struggled under the heat, under the cold,
With an ever-bent back,
They lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
They were cold and wet and suffered from scurvy.
The literate foremen robbed us,
The authorities flogged me, the need was pressing...
We, God's warriors, have endured everything,
Peaceful children of labor!
Brothers! You are reaping our benefits!
We are destined to rot in the earth...
Do you all remember us poor people kindly?
Or have you forgotten a long time ago?..”
Do not be horrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from Mother Volga, from Oka,
From different ends of the great state -
These are all your brothers - men!
It's a shame to be timid, to cover yourself with a glove,
You're not little!.. With Russian hair,
You see, he’s standing there, exhausted by fever,
Tall sick Belarusian:
Bloodless lips, drooping eyelids,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Always standing in knee-deep water
The legs are swollen; tangles in hair;
I'm digging into my chest, which I diligently put on the spade
Day after day I worked hard all my life...
Take a closer look at him, Vanya:
Man earned his bread with difficulty!
I didn’t straighten my hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically with a rusty shovel
It's hammering the frozen ground!
This noble habit of work
It would be a good idea for us to adopt...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect a man.
Don’t be shy for your dear fatherland...
The Russian people have endured enough
He also took out this railway -
He will endure whatever God sends!
Will bear everything - and a wide, clear
He will pave the way for himself with his chest.
It’s just a pity to live in this wonderful time
You won't have to - neither me nor you.
At this moment the whistle is deafening
He squealed - the crowd of dead people disappeared!
“I saw, dad, I had an amazing dream,”
Vanya said, “five thousand men,”
Representatives of Russian tribes and breeds
Suddenly they appeared - and he said to me:
“Here they are - the builders of our road!..”
The general laughed!
"I was recently within the walls of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw St. Stephen in Vienna,
Well... did the people create all this?
Excuse me for this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a little wild.
Or for you Apollo Belvedere
Worse than a stove pot?
Here are your people - these thermal baths and baths,
It’s a miracle of art - he took everything away!”
“I’m not speaking for you, but for Vanya...”
But the general did not allow him to object:
"Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! wild bunch of drunkards!..
However, it’s time to take care of Vanyusha;
You know, the spectacle of death, sadness
It is a sin to disturb a child's heart.
Would you show the child now?
The bright side..."
Glad to show you!
Listen, my dear: fatal works
It’s over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working people
A tight crowd gathered around the office...
They scratched their heads:
Every contractor must stay,
Walking days have become a penny!
The foremen entered everything into a book -
Did you take to the bathhouse, did you lie sick:
"Maybe there is a surplus here now,
Here you go!.." They waved their hand...
In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Thick, squat, red as copper,
A contractor is traveling along the line on holiday,
He goes to see his work.
The idle people part decorously...
The merchant wipes the sweat from his face
And he says, putting his hands on his hips:
“Okay... nothing... well done!.. well done!..
With God, now go home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to the workers
And - I give you the arrears!..”
Someone shouted “hurray”. Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer... Lo and behold:
The foremen rolled the barrel singing...
Even the lazy man could not resist!
The people unharnessed the horses - and the purchase price
With a cry of "Hurray!" rushed along the road...
It seems difficult to see a more gratifying picture
Shall I draw, general?..
ON THE. Nekrasov: “Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous air invigorates tired forces."
It's the beginning of September.
Autumn comes into its own, sneaks up unnoticed and penetrates the city squares and streets and parks. This is especially felt in the morning.
You go outside and see the first fallen yellow leaves under your feet. Of course, from mid-August they begin to turn golden gray on the trees, especially on birches, but everyone thinks that this is not true, because it is still summer outside. And now you look and understand: yes, autumn has come.
I don’t know why, but I fell in love with morning walks and even jogging. Now I enjoy the autumn melancholy, which gives me more strength and energy than summer. Paradox)))
There was one verse that I really like, although it’s about August. Its meaning is that when you live in a village, you notice all the signs and changes in nature. The city is depressing, and apparently that’s why you want to run away from it. And autumn intensifies this desire.
E. Bondareva
He will still pass through steppes and groves,
He will taste the berries in the forest,
Resounds with good songs,
Drinks ripe dew from the leaves.
He will get lost in the fields, forgotten
And he will fall into a deep, childish sleep.
He’ll get up in the morning and won’t stop looking at it
The bins are filled with grain.
Simple, without any special mark,
August appeared in the yard.
They wouldn't even notice him in the city,
If it weren't for the page on the calendar.
So I live in a large metropolis, I don’t notice a thing, and for many years I have been dreaming of getting out into nature, into the forest, into a field, onto a lake, to take a walk in quiet solitude, to think about life, to heal my wounds, to stop and look back.
Many people, not just me, now want to sit alone with nature, be silent, look at it, and let it look at you.
But listen to Paustovsky’s words about autumn!
Paustovsky "Distant Years"
“It was already September. Dusk was approaching. Anyone who has not seen the Kyiv autumn will never understand the tender charm of these hours.
The first star lights up in the heights. Autumn lush gardens silently wait for the night, knowing that the stars will definitely fall to the ground and the gardens will catch these stars, like in a hammock, in the thick of their foliage and lower them to the ground so carefully that no one in the city will even wake up or know about it. »
A month ago, my husband and I turned off the Internet and throughout August I didn’t know how to fill the information space.
I read newspapers and magazines in the evenings, and then I discovered the most curious thing for myself - in Okey (a chain of stores) there is a rack at the entrance where you can take any book you like or leave your own, which is no longer needed. And thanks to this book circulation, I touched those books that would never have fallen into my hands under other circumstances. Not because they are not my format, but simply on the Internet there is so much stuff that makes your eyes run wild that it is no longer up to Soviet old books.
I took a book to Okay "You and me"(young family library 1988). This is a somewhat naive book for newlyweds, about love, about family life.
And on the first page I opened “just like that” "autumn" love letters of Paustovsky,just right for my mood and immediately envied him how much fun he was having.(Paustovsky and Prishvin are two Russian classics that we studied at school. They wrote a lot about nature).
So, at first I glanced through these letters, then I stopped and began to read.
Paustovsky went to the wilderness for inspiration, to the Ryazan region, or rather to Solotcha. And so he writes beautiful letters to his beloved Tatyana. About how he loves her more than life itself, etc.
I look at the date - May 1945... It would seem that these letters should be filled with a military theme, the exultation of victory, but there is not even a hint... One love, one feeling of the inner state of the soul. Somewhere I read a phrase a couple of years ago that In Leningrad there lived a couple in love who did not notice the Blockade. Maybe a real Leningrader who lived through the siege will not like this statement, but it seems very meaningful to me.
“It’s four o’clock in the morning, dead silence, only the clock is knocking... On the evening of September 24, I left for Solotcha. I didn't want to stay in Moscow. I wanted solitude - deaf, complete.
I received it beyond measure. I live alone in an empty, abandoned house... Endless cold nights... And all the nights for some reason Sologub’s poems do not leave my memory: “You can’t see a thing in the field. Someone is calling: “Help!” What can I do? I myself am poor, I am mortally tired - how can I help?... The garden outside the windows is already falling with rain, but there are still some small touching flowers left. Here's one of them. And autumn leaves. This is not sentiment at all. You don’t have our autumn there... It’s three o’clock in the morning. Darkness, wind. I went out into the garden, it was deaf and scary, there were only huge stars in the black sky and fallen leaves rustling under my feet.”
In my opinion, leaving the city and staying on such an “island” with yourself is wonderful!
“On the third day I sent you a second telegram. Then I went into the meadows beyond the old riverbed of the Oka, to the so-called “Island”. (For God’s sake, don’t stop reading the letter at this point; it will be interesting later.) The island is huge, it is surrounded on all sides by water, the Oka River and its old riverbed. It was sunny, a blue day, and there was frost in the shadows. And since I kept thinking about one sweet woman who is now so far away, I wandered until dusk. In the evening I approached the old riverbed and saw that there was no bridge, it was flooded and water was rapidly flowing a meter above it. Only then did I find out that on the Oka, due to the end of navigation, all the locks were opened and the second flood of the Oka, which is usual here in late autumn, began. The water was rising before our eyes, I was alone on the island, it was far from Solotcha. It got dark, clouds gathered, the wind blew up, and thick snow began to fall. And there wasn’t a single haystack nearby. And it was freezing cold. And I realized that I had gotten myself into a very bad situation. And I thought about you all the time. Fortunately, I had matches, I hardly lit a fire, it was noticed from a distance in the evening from the other shore, and the red-haired peasant Lyukhin came for me in a canoe in the darkness and storm. He told me: “It’s a trump card that I noticed you, otherwise by morning the whole island will definitely flood.”
In the morning I looked out of the mezzanine windows - gray Oka water was flowing in waves where the island had been, and in hindsight I became scared. How can one not think about the strangeness of life.”
How reverently he spoke about his third wife Tatyana: " Tenderness, my only person, I swear on my life that such love (without boasting) has never existed in the world. It never was and never will be, all other love is nonsense and nonsense. Let your heart beat calmly and happily, my heart! We will all be happy, everyone! I know and believe... “Probably only in nature such inspired thoughts, stories, images are born. In the city it is difficult to concentrate and write anything.
I often replace trips out of town with a good book (because going out of town is much harder than taking a book off the shelf). But now, while your daughter is little, you don’t really honor her. Therefore, looking back, I want to remember what books I liked, so that someday I could re-read them with my daughters.
First of all, I remember in the fall the story of Leonid Andreev “Bite”. I read it as a child and it stuck with me. It seems to me that it is useful for children to read this, it helps to form in them pity and compassion for our smaller brothers.
( A dog living in an empty country house sees only bad things from people all its life. The owners arrive at the dacha. The dog gets used to them, but in the fall they leave, leaving her alone again).
Platonov’s story “Cow” also seems to me to be autumnal, but this is a completely hopeless story, so I won’t talk about it here. I just think it needs to be read as a classic someday. At school, I think we took Platonov in 7th grade and this story shocked me.
And of course, autumn means Prishvin and my favorite “Pantry of the Sun”. About two independent brothers and sister. My brother fell into a swamp and almost died, but everything ended well.
While I was looking for an illustration, I found a wonderful painting by Inessa Rakhmanova “Pantry of the Sun”.
Prishvin has many short stories about the seasons, in particular about autumn.
“Short stories about the nature of the autumn season by Mikhail Mikhailovich Prishvin in the form of notes convey that touching mood of romance and pleasant sadness that hovers in nature in the fall. The first yellow leaves, the wonderful time of golden autumn and the onset of cold weather, the events through which autumn nature passes, lovingly described in lines by the writer of Russian nature.”
Vitaly Bianchi, Garin-Mikhailovsky and many others also wrote about nature.
Of course, the autumn mood is conveyed to me in Astafiev’s prose, but there is less lyricism here And more adventures.
Particularly colorful pictures of nature in the film “Taiga Tale” (based on the work of Astafiev). Akimka comes to nature, to spend the winter in a small house, and there lies a dying city girl. Akimka got her out, but it took more than one month. And there are no medicines or help around... mother taiga...
In any case, autumn is the time of dreams, you want more warmth and love. “The colder and more hopeless the darkness outside, the more comfortable the warm soft light in the apartment seems. And if summer is the time to run away from home towards unfulfilled dreams, then late autumn is the time to return.” © Al Quotion
