“Winter morning” A. Pushkin

Painting by Gustav Courbet "The Outskirts of a Village in Winter"

Through the wavy mists
The moon creeps in
To the sad meadows
She sheds a sad light.

On the winter, boring road
Three greyhounds are running,
Single bell
It rattles tiresomely.

Something sounds familiar
In the coachman's long songs:
That reckless revelry
That's heartbreak...

Painting by Nikolai Krymov "Winter Evening"

IT WAS AUTUMN WEATHER THAT YEAR

That year the weather was autumn
She stood in the yard for a long time.
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting,
Snow only fell in January
On the third night. Waking up early
Tatiana saw in the window
In the morning the yard turned white,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
There are light patterns on the glass,
Trees in winter silver,
Forty merry ones in the yard
And softly carpeted mountains
Winter is a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything sparkles all around.

Painting by Arkady Plastov "First Snow"

WHAT A NIGHT! CRACKING FROST

What a night! Frost is bitter,
There is not a single cloud in the sky;
Like an embroidered canopy, a blue vault
Replete with frequent stars.
Everything in the houses is dark. At the gate
Locks with heavy locks.
People are buried everywhere;
Both the noise and the shout of the trade died down;
As soon as the yard guard barks
Yes, the chain rattles loudly.

And all of Moscow is sleeping peacefully...

Konstantin Yuon "End of Winter. Midday"

Poems by A.S. Pushkin about winter

Painting by Viktor Grigorievich Tsyplakov “Frost and Sun”

- an excellent way to look at snowy and cold weather with different eyes, to see in it the beauty that gray everyday life and dirty streets hide from us. It was not for nothing that they said that nature has no bad weather.

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

In the evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry,
There was darkness in the cloudy sky;
The moon is like a pale spot
Through the dark clouds it turned yellow,
And you sat sad -
And now... look out the window:

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

The whole room has an amber shine
Illuminated. Cheerful crackling
The flooded stove crackles.
It's nice to think by the bed.
But you know: shouldn’t I tell you to get into the sleigh?
Harness the brown filly?

Sliding on the morning snow,
Dear friend, let's indulge in running
impatient horse
And we'll visit the empty fields,
The forests, recently so dense,
And the shore, dear to me.

Painting by Alexey Savrasov "Courtyard. Winter"

WINTER EVENING

The storm covers the sky with darkness,
Whirling snow whirlwinds;
Then, like a beast, she will howl,
Then he will cry like a child,
Then on the dilapidated roof
Suddenly the straw will rustle,
The way a belated traveler
There will be a knock on our window.

Our ramshackle shack
And sad and dark.
What are you doing, my old lady?
Silent at the window?
Or howling storms
You, my friend, are tired,
Or dozing under the buzzing
Your spindle?

Let's have a drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief; where is the mug?
The heart will be happier.
Sing me a song like a tit
She lived quietly across the sea;
Sing me a song like a maiden
I went to get water in the morning.

The storm covers the sky with darkness,
Whirling snow whirlwinds;
Then, like a beast, she will howl,
She will cry like a child.
Let's have a drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief: where is the mug?
The heart will be happier.

Painting by Alexey Savrasov "Winter Road"

Here is the north, the clouds are catching up...

Here is the north, the clouds are catching up,
He breathed, howled - and here she is
The winter sorceress is coming,
She came and fell apart; shreds
Hanged on the branches of oak trees,
Lay down in wavy carpets
Among the fields around the hills.
Brega with a still river
She leveled it with a plump veil;
The frost has flashed, and we are glad
To the pranks of Mother Winter.

Painting by Gustav Courbet "The Outskirts of a Village in Winter"

WINTER!... PEASANT TRIUMPHANT... (Excerpt from the poem "Eugene Onegin")

Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant,
On the firewood he renews the path;
His horse smells the snow,
Trotting along somehow;
Fluffy reins exploding,
The daring carriage flies;
The coachman sits on the beam
In a sheepskin coat and a red sash.
Here is a yard boy running,
Having planted a bug in the sled,
Transforming himself into a horse;
The naughty man has already frozen his finger:
It's both painful and funny to him,
And his mother threatens him through the window.

Painting by Isaac Brodsky "Winter"

WINTER ROAD

Through the wavy mists
The moon creeps in
To the sad meadows
She sheds a sad light.

On the winter, boring road
Three greyhounds are running,
Single bell
It rattles tiresomely.

Something sounds familiar
In the coachman's long songs:
That reckless revelry
That's heartbreak...

Painting by Nikolai Krymov "Winter Evening"

IT WAS AUTUMN WEATHER THAT YEAR

That year the weather was autumn
She stood in the yard for a long time.
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting,
Snow only fell in January
On the third night. Waking up early
Tatiana saw in the window
In the morning the yard turned white,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
There are light patterns on the glass,
Trees in winter silver,
Forty merry ones in the yard
And softly carpeted mountains
Winter is a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything sparkles all around.

“Winter Morning” Alexander Pushkin

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

In the evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry,
There was darkness in the cloudy sky;
The moon is like a pale spot
Through the dark clouds it turned yellow,
And you sat sad -
And now... look out the window:

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

The whole room has an amber shine
Illuminated. Cheerful crackling
The flooded stove crackles.
It's nice to think by the bed.
But you know: shouldn’t I tell you to get into the sleigh?
Ban the brown filly?

Sliding on the morning snow,
Dear friend, let's indulge in running
impatient horse
And we'll visit the empty fields,
The forests, recently so dense,
And the shore, dear to me.

Analysis of Pushkin's poem "Winter Morning"

Lyrical works occupy a very significant place in the work of Alexander Pushkin. The poet has repeatedly admitted that he is in awe not only of the traditions, myths and legends of his people, but also never ceases to admire the beauty of Russian nature, bright, colorful and full of mysterious magic. He made many attempts to capture a wide variety of moments, masterfully creating images of an autumn forest or a summer meadow. However, the poem “Winter Morning”, created in 1829, is rightfully considered one of the most successful, bright and joyful works of the poet.

From the very first lines, Alexander Pushkin puts the reader in a romantic mood, in a few simple and elegant phrases describing the beauty of winter nature, when the duet of frost and sun creates an unusually festive and optimistic mood. To enhance the effect, the poet builds his work on contrast, mentioning that just yesterday “the blizzard was angry” and “darkness rushed across the cloudy sky.” Perhaps each of us is very familiar with such metamorphoses, when in the midst of winter endless snowfalls are replaced by a sunny and clear morning filled with silence and inexplicable beauty.

On days like these, it’s simply a sin to sit at home, no matter how comfortably the fire crackles in the fireplace. And in every line of Pushkin’s “Winter Morning” there is a call to go for a walk, which promises a lot of unforgettable impressions. Especially if outside the window there are amazingly beautiful landscapes - a river glistening under the ice, forests and meadows dusted with snow, which resemble a snow-white blanket woven by someone’s skillful hand.

Every line of this poem is literally permeated with freshness and purity., as well as admiration and admiration for the beauty of his native land, which at any time of the year never ceases to amaze the poet. Moreover, Alexander Pushkin does not seek to hide his overwhelming feelings, as many of his fellow writers did in the 19th century. Therefore, in the poem “Winter Morning” there is no pretentiousness and restraint inherent in other authors, but at the same time, each line is imbued with warmth, grace and harmony. In addition, simple joys in the form of a sleigh ride give the poet true happiness and help him fully experience the greatness of Russian nature, changeable, luxurious and unpredictable.

The poem “Winter Morning” by Alexander Pushkin is rightfully considered one of the most beautiful and sublime works of the poet. It lacks the causticity so characteristic of the author, and there is no usual allegory, which makes you look for the hidden meaning in every line. These works are the embodiment of tenderness, light and beauty. Therefore, it is not surprising that it is written in light and melodic iambic tetrameter, to which Pushkin resorted quite often in those cases when he wanted to give his poems special sophistication and lightness. Even in the contrasting description of bad weather, which is intended to emphasize the freshness and brightness of a sunny winter morning, there is no usual concentration of colors: a snow storm is presented as a fleeting phenomenon that is not able to darken the expectations of a new day filled with majestic calm.

At the same time, the author himself never ceases to be amazed at such dramatic changes that occurred in just one night. It’s as if nature itself acted as the tamer of an insidious blizzard, forcing her to change her anger to mercy and, thereby, giving people an amazingly beautiful morning, filled with frosty freshness, the creaking of fluffy snow, the ringing silence of silent snowy plains and the charm of the sun’s rays shimmering with all colors rainbows in frosty window patterns.