Poems of Russian classics about winter and winter landscapes. Yesenin's poem - winter sings

Snowflake

Light fluffy,
snowflake white,
What a pure
How brave!

Dear stormy
Easy to carry
Not in the sky azure,
Asking for the ground.

Azure miraculous
She left
Myself into the unknown
The country has fallen.

In the rays of shining
Slides, skillful,
Among the melting flakes
Preserved white.

Under the blowing wind
Trembling, uplifting,
On him, cherishing,
Light swings.

his swing
She is comforted
With his blizzards
Spinning wildly.

But here it ends
The road is long
touches the earth,
Crystal star.

lies fluffy,
Snowflake is bold.
What a pure
What a white!

Konstantin Balmont

Winter sings - calls out

Winter sings - calls out,
Shaggy forest cradles
The call of a pine forest.
Around with deep longing
Sailing to a distant land
Gray clouds.

And in the yard a snowstorm
Spreads like a silk carpet,
But it's painfully cold.
Sparrows are playful
Like orphan children
Huddled at the window.

Chilled little birds
Hungry, tired
And they huddle tighter.
A blizzard with a furious roar
Knocks on the shutters hung
And getting more and more angry.

And gentle birds doze
Under these whirlwinds of snow
At the frozen window.
And they dream of a beautiful
In the smiles of the sun is clear
Spring beauty.

Snow jam twists briskly ...

Snow jam twists briskly,
A trio of strangers is rushing across the field.

Chkzhaya youth rushes on a troika.
Where is my happiness? Where is my joy?

Everything rolled away under a brisk whirlwind
Here on the same crazy trio.

Enchantress Winter

Enchantress Winter
Bewitched, the forest stands,
And under the snowy fringe,
Motionless, dumb
He shines with a wonderful life.
And he stands, bewitched,
Not dead and not alive -
Magically enchanted by sleep
All entangled, all bound
Light chain downy...

Is the winter sun mosque
On him his ray oblique -
Nothing trembles in it
He will flare up and shine
Dazzling beauty.

Autumn has flown away
And winter came.
As on wings, flew
She is suddenly invisible.

Here the frost crackled
And they forged all the ponds.
And the boys screamed
Thanks to her for her hard work.

Here come the patterns
On glasses of wondrous beauty.
Everyone fixed their eyes
Looking at it. From high

Snow falls, flashes, curls,
Lies down with a veil.
Here the sun flashes in the clouds,
And the frost on the snow sparkles.

Fantasy

Like living sculptures, in sparks of moonlight,
The outlines of pines, firs and birches tremble a little;
The prophetic forest calmly slumbers, the bright shine of the moon accepts
And listens to the murmuring of the wind, all full of secret dreams.
Hearing the quiet moan of a blizzard, the pines whisper, the firs whisper,
It is comforting to rest in a soft velvet bed,
Remembering nothing, cursing nothing,
The branches are slender, bowing, listening to the sounds of midnight.

Someone's sighs, someone's singing, someone's mournful prayer,
And melancholy, and ecstasy, - the star sparkles as if,
It's like a light rain is streaming - and the trees dream something,
The fact that people do not dream, no one ever.
It is the spirits of the night that rush, it is their eyes that sparkle,
At the hour of deep midnight spirits rush through the forest.
What torments them, what worries them? What, like a worm, secretly gnaws at them?
Why can't their swarm sing the joyful hymn of Heaven?

Their singing sounds stronger and stronger, the languor in it is heard more and more,
Relentless striving unchanging sadness -
As if they are tormented by anxiety, a thirst for faith, a thirst for God,
It is as if they have so much torment, as if they are sorry for something.
And the moon keeps pouring radiance, and without flour, without suffering,
The outlines of prophetic fairy-tale trunks tremble a little;
They all doze so sweetly, listen indifferently to moans,
And with calmness they accept chats of clear bright dreams.

Winter road

Through the wavy mists
The moon is creeping
To sad glades
She pours a sad light.
On the winter road, boring
Troika greyhound runs
Single bell
Tiring noise.
Something is heard native
In the coachman's long songs:
That revelry is remote,
That heartache....
No fire, no black hut,
Wilderness and snow .... To meet me
Only miles striped
Come across alone...
Bored, sad ..... tomorrow, Nina,
Returning to my dear tomorrow,
I'll forget by the fireplace
I look without looking.
Sounding hour hand
He will make his measured circle,
And, removing the boring ones,
Midnight won't separate us.
It's sad, Nina: my path is boring,
Dremlya fell silent my coachman,
The bell is monotonous
Foggy moon face.

The creak of footsteps along the white streets...

The creak of footsteps along the white streets,
Lights away;
On the icy walls
Crystals sparkle.
From eyelashes hung in the eyes
silver fluff,
Silence of the cold night
Takes the spirit.

The wind sleeps and everything goes numb
Just to sleep;
The clear air itself is shy
Breathe in the cold.

December morning

In the sky a month - and night
Yet the shadow did not move,
Reigns itself, not realizing
That the day has already started, -

What though lazy and timid
Beam after beam
And the sky is still all over
At night it shines with triumph.

But two or three moments won't pass,
The night will evaporate over the earth,
And in full splendor of manifestations
Suddenly, the daytime world will embrace us ...

White birch
under my window
covered with snow,
Exactly silver.

On fluffy branches
snow border
Brushes blossomed
White fringe.

And there is a birch
In sleepy silence
And the snowflakes are burning
In golden fire

A dawn, lazy
Walking around,
Sprinkles branches
New silver.

Winter morning

Frost and sun; wonderful day!
You are still dozing, my lovely friend -
It's time, beauty, wake up:
Open eyes closed by bliss
Towards the northern Aurora,
Be the star of the north!

Evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry,
In the cloudy sky, a haze hovered;
The moon is like a pale spot
Turned yellow through the gloomy clouds,
And you sat sad -
And now ..... look out the window:

Under blue skies
splendid carpets,
Shining in the sun, the snow lies;
The transparent forest alone turns black,
And the spruce turns green through the frost,
And the river under the ice glitters.

The whole room amber gleam
Enlightened. Cheerful crackling
The fired oven crackles.
It's nice to think by the couch.
But you know: do not order to the sled
Ban the brown filly?

Gliding through the morning snow
Dear friend, let's run
impatient horse
And visit the empty fields
The forests, recently so dense,
And the shore, dear to me.

I'm delirious on the first snow

I'm on the first snow delirium.
In the heart are lilies of the valley of flashing forces.
Evening blue candle star
He lit up my road.

I don't know if it's light or dark?
In more often the wind sings or a rooster?
Maybe instead of winter in the fields,
The swans sat on the meadow.

You are good, O white surface!
A light frost warms my blood.
So I want to press to the body
Bare breasts of birches.

Oh forest, dense dregs!
Oh, the joy of the snow-covered fields!
So I want to close my hands
Over the woody thighs of the willows

Many words and expressions of the Russian language were born from nature. Images in poetry: you always wonder how a poet could in simple terms to express the very essence of the state of nature! Apparently, everything is important here: the combination of sounds, the sequence of images. And these images are real! But it is quite possible to feel them only by finding yourself at least approximately in the situation that inspired these poems to the poet.
And recently, in January, walking through the winter forest, I fully felt the power of the images of one poem

Sergey Yesenin

Winter sings - calls out,
Shaggy forest cradles
The call of a pine forest.
Around with deep longing
Sailing to a distant land
Gray clouds.

And in the yard a snowstorm
Spreads like a silk carpet,
But it's painfully cold.
Sparrows are playful
Like orphan children
Hug by the window.

Little birds are chilled,
Hungry, tired
And they huddle tighter.
A blizzard with a furious roar
Knocks on the shutters hung
And getting more and more angry.

And gentle birds doze
Under these whirlwinds of snow
By the dead window.
And they dream of a beautiful
In the smiles of the sun is clear
beautiful spring

Let's take these images one by one:

Yesenin grew up in the countryside, among nature, he knew and felt it firsthand. Is in his biography interesting fact, when in January 1910 he fled from the Spas-Klepikovskaya school, where he studied, home, in Konstantinovo. And he walked on foot through the winter forests, and this is about 80 kilometers. Please note that the poem dates from this particular year.

The poem is built on contrasts, oppositions, and goes as if in waves:

Winter sings - calls out,
Shaggy forest cradles
The call of a pine forest.

Yesenin often came up with new ones, unusual words. There is such a word here: ringing. The question arises: how can you cradle with a chime? Imagine a "lullaby" when a hundred bells ring around! But here it’s different: the ringing of a pine forest is a ringing frosty silence, when any small sound: the creak of snow under your foot or the crackling of trees from frost is heard in absolute silence with a ringing echo

hairy forest

A pine forest covered with hoarfrost, really shaggy, but some kind of unusual, silvery "shaggyness"

Pine chime

You look at these pines and clearly hear how they ring in absolute silence.

Around with deep longing
Sailing to a distant land
With eating clouds.

Take a look at the first picture! In winter, clouds are most often like this: whitish, gray, blurry

And then there is a sharp contrast in the poem: from the ringing silence of a majestic pine forest to an ordinary rural courtyard, along which a snowstorm sweeps and small chilled sparrows huddle against the window and each other

And in the yard a snowstorm
Spreads like a silk carpet,
Oh, painfully cold.
Sparrows are playful
Like orphan children
Huddled at the window.

Little birds are chilled,
Hungry, tired
And they huddle tighter.

A blizzard with a furious roar
Knocks on the shutters hung
And getting more and more angry.

And again a nap:

And gentle birds doze
Under these whirlwinds of snow
By the dead window.

And the poem ends brightly, with hope:

And they dream of a beautiful
In the smiles of the sun is clear
beauty spring

Notice here the frequently repeated solar letter C.

Sergei Yesenin's poem "Winter sings, calls out" was written by the poet at the age of fifteen. Then he did not think about serious literary creativity and for a long time did not dare to publish poems, considering them immature. But readers liked the poetic imagery of the poem, its simplicity.

Winter, as a harsh but beautiful season, has always been one of the favorite themes of Russian poetry. In Yesenin's poems, winter appears changeable and unpredictable. At the beginning of the poem, winter is akin to an affectionate mother cradling a child at the cradle. But the quiet gentle blizzard, creeping with a silk carpet, is replaced by an evil blizzard that hits the shutters, and the playful little sparrows ruffled from the cold and snuggled up at the window, like lonely children. The whole poem is built on such antitheses.

In the verse “Winter sings, haunts, the shaggy forest cradles” there are many sound metaphors: “the chime of a pine forest” in a pine forest in a hard frost, the knock of village shutters from the “mad roar” of a blizzard. The author uses personifications: winter is calling, a snowstorm is spreading, a blizzard is angry; expressive epithets: frozen window, gray clouds, clear spring, small birds. Yesenin's poem is a vivid sketch of a powerful and harsh nature that frightens all living things. At the end of the poem there is an optimistic note: “gentle birds” see in a dream the smile of the sun and the beauty of spring. On the site you can read the text of the poem in full. It can be downloaded for free.

Winter sings - calls out,
Shaggy forest cradles
The call of a pine forest.
Around with deep longing
Sailing to a distant land
Gray clouds.

And in the yard a snowstorm
Spreads like a silk carpet,
But it's painfully cold.
Sparrows are playful
Like orphan children
Huddled at the window.

Little birds are chilled,
Hungry, tired
And they huddle tighter.
A blizzard with a furious roar
Knocks on the shutters hung
And getting more and more angry.

And gentle birds doze
Under these whirlwinds of snow
At the frozen window.
And they dream of a beautiful
In the smiles of the sun is clear
Spring beauty.

Winter sings - calls out
Shaggy forest cradles

The call of a pine forest.
Around with deep longing
Sailing to a distant land
Gray clouds.

And in the yard a snowstorm
Spreads like a silk carpet,

But it's painfully cold.
Sparrows are playful
Like orphan children
Huddled at the window.

Little birds are chilled,
Hungry, tired

And they huddle tighter.
A blizzard with a furious roar
Knocks on the shutters hung
And getting more and more angry.

And gentle birds doze
Under these whirlwinds of snow

At the frozen window.
And they dream of a beautiful
In the smiles of the sun is clear
Spring beauty.

Analysis of the poem "Winter sings, calls out" Yesenin

AT early period Esenin's creativity to the greatest extent manifested his pure and bright soul. From the very first works, he was interested in the amazing and Magic world nature. folk tales and the legends that the poet heard in childhood animated this world, gave it human features and quality. The poem “Winter sings - calls out ...” was written by Yesenin in 1910. He considered it a childish and immature literary experience. It was first published only in 1914 under the title Sparrows.

The poem resembles a wonderful children's fairy tale. From the very first lines appear in it magical characters. Winter appears as a loving mother singing a lullaby to the “furry forest”. The bewitching picture of sleep is complemented by the "deep longing" of the clouds. A traditional fairy-tale image of a “distant country” appears, embodying magical hopes and dreams.

The blizzard can be compared to snow queen, which is unbearably beautiful, but "painfully cold." Love for her can drive a person crazy and forever leave him in an icy captivity. The poet introduces the central image of the poem - "sparrows", which resemble "orphan children". All living beings tend to stock up on supplies and equip their homes long before the onset of winter. Only for carefree sparrows every time the arrival of winter is a sudden surprise. They can only hope for the mercy and kindness of man. The picture of “small birds” snuggled up at the window looks very touching. A dispersed blizzard, personifying an evil sorceress, seeks to vent its anger on defenseless birds. The salvation of the "sparrows" lies in their mutual support. Huddled in a tight bunch, they dutifully endure cold, hunger and fatigue. In a dream, happiness comes to them in the form of the long-awaited "beauty of spring."

In general, the poem clearly shows the features folk art. Yesenin uses traditional epithets: “shaggy forest”, “gray clouds”. The main images-characters are clearly divided into good and evil. In relation to the weakest, the author uses diminutive forms of words: “children”, “birds”. They enjoy the sincere disposition and participation of the author. "Fairy tale", as expected, has a happy ending, but only in a dream.

The poem refers to the best works literature for children. It can teach a child to understand and appreciate beauty. native nature, as well as cultivate feelings of kindness and compassion.

"Winter sings - calls out", analysis of Yesenin's poem

Winter is a harsh season, especially in temperate latitudes. Very coldy, snowstorms, thaws - every Russian person is familiar with all the "charms" of this time of year. How many proverbs are associated with winter, how many observations will take. And yet, the people loved winter for the opportunity to take a break from hard work on the ground, for reckless fun at Christmas, Epiphany, Shrovetide.

Russian literature, especially poetry, did not stand aside. In verse, winter was celebrated as an honored and long-awaited guest, compared either with a Russian beauty or with an evil old woman.

The Russian poet Sergei Alexandrovich Yesenin, at the beginning of his work, wrote the poem “Winter sings - sings”, about the analysis of which and will be discussed Further. Then the young man was only 15 years old, he did not think that he would become a poet. When the first publications appeared, for a long time he did not dare to print this poem, considering it too naive, student. But it was precisely for the ease of perception that readers fell in love with this work afterwards.

Indeed, the image of winter that appeared at the beginning of the poem is associated with an affectionate mother who cradles her child - in this case"furry forest". The author does not accidentally choose the epithet "shaggy": for sure, everyone can imagine tree branches covered with hoarfrost, reminiscent of hairy paws. But behind this seeming affection lies another image - a cruel stepmother who punishes negligent children. It is precisely such - unhappy, miserable - that “playful sparrows” look like. It is not for nothing that the poet compares them with "orphan children" who snuggled up at the window to somehow warm up.

Thus, Yesenin’s winter is like a two-faced Janus: it will turn one face, then another. On this opposition, the whole poem is built. So the blizzard "spreads like a silk carpet", but "painfully cold." And the blizzard, which “with a furious roar” knocks on the shutters and “gets more and more angry”, with its severity opposes the “clear beauty of spring”, which stares at hungry and tired birds.

Of course, in poetry it is already a kind of cliché to compare winter with an old woman, shaggy, gray-haired (after all, it is with gray hair that the reader’s idea of ​​​​snows and blizzards is most often associated), and spring with a beautiful girl. But Yesenin manages to avoid a too obvious repetition with the help of the dream motif, which the unfortunate frozen sparrows see.

In general, the poem is filled various sounds. One can also hear the “chime of a pine tree” - of course, a purely Yesenin metaphor. The blizzard makes a "mad roar" and knocks on the shutters. Those who have been in the countryside in winter have a very good idea of ​​such sounds.

Epithets, in characteristic folk art manner, are constant: the carpet is silk, the clouds are gray, the roar is furious, and the spring is clear. But the use of such a means of expressiveness still does not leave a feeling of a stereotyped description. And this is achieved, first of all, thanks to the construction of the entire poem.

Unusual sounding gives a special construction of the lines. Each stanza consists of couplets united by a paired rhyme, but the end of the second line ends as if with a continuation, forming its own rhyme with the continuation of the second couplet. Therefore, each stanza outwardly gives the impression of an ordinary quatrain, in fact, being a six-line, and the poem also sounds in a special way, with an interruption in rhythm.

Naturally, when describing Russian nature, the poet could not help but use personifications: “winter hoots and lulls”, “a snowstorm spreads like a silk carpet”, and “the blizzard is getting more and more angry”. All this is an echo of folk ideas about nature, endowed with spirits. However, the author clearly counted on the reader's sympathy for the poor frozen birds and at the same time on the awareness of the majesty and ruthlessness of nature, since all living things are helpless before her omnipotence.

Thus, in the poem of Sergei Yesenin, a feeling of tender maternal love and a feeling of lonely loneliness, admiring the harsh beauty of Russian nature and longing for a bright ideal, hopelessness and hope. Therefore, the poem does not give the impression of a student - on the contrary, the originality of the author is already felt here, which will distinguish Yesenin from many other poets of the Silver Age.

"Winter sings - calls out" Sergei Yesenin

Winter sings - calls out,
Shaggy forest cradles
The call of a pine forest.
Around with deep longing
Sailing to a distant land
Gray clouds.

And in the yard a snowstorm
Spreads like a silk carpet,
But it's painfully cold.
Sparrows are playful
Like orphan children
Huddled at the window.

Little birds are chilled,
Hungry, tired
And they huddle tighter.
A blizzard with a furious roar
Knocks on the shutters hung
And getting more and more angry.

And gentle birds doze
Under these whirlwinds of snow
At the frozen window.
And they dream of a beautiful
In the smiles of the sun is clear
Spring beauty.

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