The old grandfather sat down at the table. “Snow and snow” A

“Snow and Snow” Alexander Blok

Snow and snow. The whole hut was swept away.
The snow is knee-deep all around.
So frosty, light and white!
Only black, black walls...

And the breath leaves your lips
Steam frozen in the air.
There's smoke creeping out of the chimneys;
Here they are sitting in the window with a samovar;

The old grandfather sat down at the table,
He leaned over and blew on the saucer;
There the grandmother crawled off the stove,
And all around the kids are laughing.

The guys are hiding, watching,
How a cat plays with kittens...
Suddenly the guys are squeaky kittens
They threw it back into the basket...

Away from home into the snowy expanse
They rolled off on a sled.
The yard is filled with screams -
They made a giant out of snow!

Stick in the nose, screwed up the eyes
And they put on a shaggy hat.
And he stands there, a childish thunderstorm, -
He'll grab it, he'll grab it!

And the guys laugh, scream,
Their giant turned out to be a success!
And the old woman looks at her grandchildren,
Will not contradict the childish disposition.

Analysis of Blok’s poem “Snow and Snow”

In 1913, two children's poetry collections by Blok were published. The work of 1906 was included in the book “All Year Round,” addressed to the youngest readers. The poems are divided according to the seasons, and seasonal changes in nature form the basis of the theme of the cycle. Merry fun in the yard, the snowy beauty of nature and the anticipation of a wonderful Christmas - these are the main semantic dominants of the winter section of the book.

The style of the work is determined by the influence of the figurative structure of the Russian fairy tale in combination with the classical rhythmic structure, clear and strict.

The poem begins with an image of a village covered in snowdrifts. In the landscape sketch of the “snowy expanse,” light colors certainly dominate, and the bright whiteness stands out sharply against the background of the black walls of the hut.

The order of the images reflected in the second quatrain is interesting. The series begins with steam leaving the lips in frosty weather. Then an image of a similar reality appears - smoke from a chimney. The analogy ends with steam coming from a hot samovar. Along with it, the narrator’s position also changes: the room becomes the plot center, and the main characters are grandfather, grandmother and the guys.

The narrator's attention is focused on the behavior of the young inhabitants of the hut, the description of which is replete with vocabulary with the semantics of positive emotions. The children are busy playing carefree, and soon they run out into the yard in search of new fun. The narrator moves along with them, who happily describes sledding and sculpting a snow “giant.” Delight and fun are growing, which is conveyed by the lexemes “screams”, “laughing”, “screaming”. The snowman, jokingly referred to as the “childish thunderstorm,” finds himself at the epicenter of the fun. A children's fantasy is voiced, which causes an outburst of laughter: the playful tomboys imagine a snowman alive, capable of grabbing one of them “in an armful.”

The older generation is lenient and kind about the noise made by their grandchildren. A harmonious picture of a carefree, joyful world is emerging, filled with children's inventions and exciting games.

Similar intonations permeate the artistic space of The Dilapidated Hut, also included in the winter cycle of the poetic book. Certain images and motifs are repeated: the “old grandmother” watches from the window her playful grandchildren frolicking in the snowy yard. At the end of the poem there is a new theme related to the anticipation of the arrival of spring.

Alexander Alexandrovich Blok

Snow and snow. The whole hut was swept away.
The snow is knee-deep all around.
So frosty, light and white!
Only black, black walls...

And the breath leaves your lips
Steam frozen in the air.
There's smoke creeping out of the chimneys;
Here they are sitting in the window with a samovar;

The old grandfather sat down at the table,
He leaned over and blew on the saucer;
There the grandmother crawled off the stove,
And all around the kids are laughing.

The guys are hiding, watching,
How a cat plays with kittens...
Suddenly the guys are squeaky kittens
They threw it back into the basket...

Away from home into the snowy expanse
They rolled off on a sled.
The yard is filled with screams -
They made a giant out of snow!

Stick in the nose, screwed up the eyes
And they put on a shaggy hat.
And he stands there, a childish thunderstorm, -
He'll grab it, he'll grab it!

And the guys laugh, scream,
Their giant turned out to be a success!
And the old woman looks at her grandchildren,
Will not contradict the childish disposition.

The style of the work is determined by the influence of the figurative structure of the Russian fairy tale in combination with the classical rhythmic structure, clear and strict.

The poem begins with an image of a village covered in snowdrifts. In the landscape sketch of the “snowy expanse”, light colors certainly dominate, and bright whiteness stands out sharply against the background of the black walls of the hut.

You are from the tops of sad mountains
She came to us to sing and disappear
And again throw from the top
A sparkling fire.
So go dancing fast,
Joy, mountain thunderstorm!
So that spark follows spark
She burned our eyes!

Christmas

A ringing bell strikes
The winter air awakens.
We didn't work in vain
There will be a bright rest.
Light frost shines silver
Near the entrance.
Silver on blue
Stars in the clear firmament.
How transparent, snow-white
The sparkle of patterned windows!
How fluffy and softly tender
Your golden curl!
How thin you are in a red fur coat,
With a bow in your braid!
If you laugh, your lips will tremble,
Eyelashes will tremble.
You amuse all passers-by -
Young and old
The ugly and the pretty
Fat and lean.
They will marvel, smile,
They'll trudge along,
It's almost like they're laughing
The children didn't see it.
The sisters will be happy with the dolls,
The brothers are asking for guns
And you don't need it at all
No toys.
You will decorate the Christmas tree yourself
The stars are golden
And tie it to a branch with a peg
The apples are big
You throw beads on the Christmas tree,
Golden threads.
You will push apart the strong branches,
You shout: “Look!”
You shout, you raise a branch
With thin hands...
And the old man is laughing there
With a white mustache!

"Silver, snowy hops..."

Silvery, snowy hops
I'll get drunk and get drunk:
With a heart devoted to snowstorms,
I'll fly to the heights of the sky.
In the snowy distances wings blow, -
I hear, I hear a white call;
In a whirlwind of stars, without effort
I will throw off the links of all shackles.
Get drunk with light hops,
Be snow-eyed too...
Ah, I lost count of the weeks
In a whirlwind of white beauty!

"Surrendering to the snowy blizzard..."

Surrendering to the snowy blizzard,
I'm drowning in your eyes;
In a cold, starry circle
We freeze in white dreams.
In a winged cradle
Fall asleep among the snow;
Understand the song of the blizzard
In the lines of my poems.
Understand the full power of the call
Victorious winter days, -
Give in to the blizzard again
My heart melted in her!

“Here the river is fuller...”

Here the river is fuller
Pulls white ice.
The Lord's summer breathes
From cold water.
I'm with rebellious thoughts
Yes, with an intoxicated soul
Full of spring noises
Filled with blue water.
And I look, triumphant,
Into the icy distance...

Unnecessary spring

Silvered out, sounded off...
And because of the houses, drunk,
Knocking on an empty room
Early spring is unnecessary.
She is gray and unwashed,
She's depraved to the end
Like pigs poking into a trough,
Snoring on my porch.
And over the unmade bed
Bent over, pressing on my chest,
And in the heart, crushed by a blizzard,
Shamelessly wants to look.
Well then! I’ll grit my teeth and meet,
And, choosing a cunning, clear moment,
I'll mutilate her with a spell
And I’ll tear out the yellowed fang!
Let him shake his shrill snout:
Why did you come in uninvited?
Where the sun never entered,
Where did the blizzard night flow?

In the eyes of the unnecessary day is so bright,
But in the heart there is always night.
For my beauty as a gift
The old woman brought me her daughter.
"Here, spend your days and nights with her:
Look, she's slim, just like that one.
She will do whatever you want:
She is shameless and simple."
I'm watching. My gaze is blind and keen:
"She is beautiful, your daughter.
Just wait until Krasnaya Gorka:
Then I will marry her."

Winter has passed. I am sick.
I'm back in the corner, among the books.
He seems happy
My idle double.
Yes, I have no leisure
Talk about all sorts of nonsense.
Did we understand each other?
Well, the doors are locked.
I'm tired of guests.
Tell me I'm sad.
However, during the week -
I’ll only let in one:
The one who is away from work
Lost my complexion
And died from spells
Magic ring.

"In a dark room you are dishonored..."

In a dark room you are dishonored
You are devoted to the bright street,
You are coming, beautiful woman,
You are drunk!
The train crawls behind you and flutters,
Like a snake dying in the dust...
You see: life still glimmers in him!
Got dusty!

"You woke up early in the morning..."

You woke up early in the morning
And she left her sweet home.
And long, long out of the fog
The spear flickered behind the hill.
And I, barely a teenager, listened to talk
About your wondrous power,
And stirred up the fragments of swords,
Scattered by you in battle.
Enough to live in the same separation -
You won't leave the house in the morning.
I'm becoming more and more in love and rebellious
I look into your eyes, sister!
Teach me daytime combat -
I am no longer the same boy,
And I will open it to the small world
Flight of the free spear!

April (?) 1907

"And we will raise them with pitchforks..."

And we will raise them with pitchforks,
We'll swing our bodies on their hinges,
So that the veins in the neck burst,
So that the damned blood flows.

"Wet summer. I'm lying..."

Wet summer. I'm lying
In bed - sick. Something's coming
Hot and burning in the chest.
And on the estate, in the shadows of the bright night,
Dogs run around the house barking.
And among my own people, I am not myself. Between blood
Bloodless - and I don’t know the feelings of kinship.
And people are disgusted with a few
Only smaller than the mosquito I killed.
And the candle has long been illuminated
That place in the book where the professor is boring,
Like a whining mosquito, it sings in my ears,
That women are oppressed in our country
And therefore the fate is similar to the worker.
Wait a minute! Here is a portrait: a gray-haired professor -
Sleek, washed, thirty-five
Released book editions! Stop!
Are you saying that the worker is oppressed?
Wait: in the spring I saw a daredevil,
A worker who dared to die
He will go, and his friends will go with him. And the bugles will fall silent,
And work will stop at once
In factories. And the fat manufacturer
He bows to the workers' feet. Stop!
Are you saying that a woman is a slave?
I know a woman. In her soul
There was a sheaf of fire. There is wind in the gait.
In the eyes there are two seas of sorrow and passion.
And it was all made of light dust -
Trembling and flexible. So,
Professor, union of four elements
I was alone in it. She could kill -
Could have been resurrected. Come on, you
Kill and then resurrect! Can not?
But a woman and a worker can.

Peselnik

There are twenty girls behind the forest
It blossomed more beautiful than the day.
Sergey Gorodetsky