"Winter morning" A. Pushkin

Painting by Gustave Courbet "Outskirts of the village in winter"

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...

Painting by Nikolai Krymov "Winter Evening"

THE AUTUMN WEATHER THAT YEAR

That year the autumn weather
She stood outside for a long time.
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting,
Snow fell only in January,
On the third night. Waking up early
Tatyana saw in the window
Whitewashed yard in the morning,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
Light patterns on glass
Trees in winter silver
Forty merry in the yard
And softly padded mountains
Winters are a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything shines around.

Painting by Arkady Plastov "First snow"

WHAT A NIGHT! FROST CRACKING

What a night! Frost crackling,
Not a single cloud in the sky;
Like a sewn canopy, a blue vault
It is full of frequent stars.
Everything is dark in the houses. At the gate
Locks with heavy locks.
Everywhere people rest;
The noise and the shout of the merchant subsided;
Only the yard guard barks
Yes, the ringing chain rattles.

And all of Moscow sleeps peacefully...

Konstantin Yuon "The end of winter. Noon"

Poems by A.S. Pushkin about winter - an excellent tool to look at the snowy and cold weather with different eyes, to see in it the beauty that gray everyday life and dirty streets hide from us. After all, it was not in vain that they said that nature does not have bad weather.

Painting by Viktor Grigoryevich Tsyplakov “Frost and Sun”

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
Harness a 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.

Painting by Alexei Savrasov "Courtyard. Winter"

WINTER EVENING

A storm covers the sky with mist,
Whirlwinds of snow twisting;
Like a beast, she will howl
It will cry like a child
That on a dilapidated roof
Suddenly the straw will rustle,
Like a belated traveler
There will be a knock on our window.

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

Let's drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief; where is the mug?
The heart will be happy.
Sing me a song like a titmouse
She lived quietly across the sea;
Sing me a song like a damsel
She followed the water in the morning.

A storm covers the sky with mist,
Whirlwinds of snow twisting;
Like a beast, she will howl
It will cry like a child.
Let's drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief: where is the mug?
The heart will be happy.

Painting by Alexei Savrasov "Winter Road"

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

Here is the north, catching up the clouds,
He breathed, howled - and here she is
The magic winter is coming
Came, crumbled; shreds
Hanging on the branches of oaks,
She lay down with wavy carpets
Among the fields around the hills.
A shore with a motionless river
Leveled with a plump veil;
Frost flashed, and we are glad
Leprosy mother winter.

Painting by Gustave Courbet "Outskirts of the village in winter"

WINTER!... THE PEASANT IS CELEBRATING... (Excerpt from the poem "Eugene Onegin")

Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant,
On firewood, updates the path;
His horse, smelling snow,
Trotting somehow;
Reins fluffy exploding,
A remote wagon flies;
The coachman sits on the irradiation
In a sheepskin coat, in a red sash.
Here is a yard boy running,
Planting a bug in a sled,
Transforming himself into a horse;
The scoundrel already froze his finger:
It hurts and it's funny
And his mother threatens him through the window.

Painting by Isaac Brodsky "Winter"

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...

Painting by Nikolai Krymov "Winter Evening"

THE AUTUMN WEATHER THAT YEAR

That year the autumn weather
She stood outside for a long time.
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting,
Snow fell only in January,
On the third night. Waking up early
Tatyana saw in the window
Whitewashed yard in the morning,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
Light patterns on glass
Trees in winter silver
Forty merry in the yard
And softly padded mountains
Winters are a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything shines around.

"Winter Morning" Alexander Pushkin

Frost and sun; wonderful day!
You are still dozing, 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.

Analysis of Pushkin's poem "Winter Morning"

Lyrical works in the work of Alexander Pushkin occupy a very significant place. The poet has repeatedly admitted that he treats with trepidation not only 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 the most diverse moments, skillfully creating images of an autumn forest or a summer meadow. However, one of the most successful, bright and joyful works of the poet is considered to be the poem "Winter Morning", created in 1829.

From the very first lines, Alexander Pushkin sets the reader in a romantic mood, describing the beauty of winter nature in a few simple and elegant phrases, 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 yesterday “the blizzard was angry” and “darkness hovered in the cloudy sky.” Perhaps, each of us is well aware of 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 such days, it is 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 an appeal to go for a walk, which promises a lot of unforgettable impressions. Especially if amazingly beautiful landscapes stretch outside the window - a river shining under the ice, forests and meadows powdered with snow, which resemble a snow-white blanket woven by someone's skillful hand.

Each 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 never ceases to amaze the poet at any time of the year. 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 permeated with warmth, grace and harmony. In addition, simple pleasures in the form of a toboggan ride bring genuine happiness to the poet and help to fully experience all 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 familiar allegory that makes one look for a hidden meaning in every line. These works are the embodiment of tenderness, light and beauty. Therefore, it is not surprising that it was written in a light and melodic iambic tetrameter, which Pushkin resorted to quite often in those cases when he wanted to give his poems a 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 thickening of colors: a snow storm is presented as a fleeting phenomenon that is not able to overshadow the expectations of a new day filled with majestic calm.

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