"Winter Evening" A. Pushkin

WINTER EVENING

Music by Mikhail Yakovlev
Words by Alexander Pushkin

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 dozing under the buzz
Your spindle?

Let's drink, good friend
My poor youth
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.

Takun F.I. Slavyansky bazaar. - M .: "Modern music", 2005

The poem was written in 1825, the first publication was "Northern Flowers for 1830". In 1832, Mikhail Yakovlev, Pushkin's lyceum friend, set it to music, and his melody remained the most popular. In total, there are romances for the poem by 45 composers, including A.A. Alyabyeva (1831), N.S. Titov (1838), A.S. Dargomyzhsky (1853), E.F. Napravnik (1879), N.M. Ladukhina, children's choir (1895), V.I. Rebikov (1901), N.K. Medtner (1907), C.A. Cui (1910), J.A. Eshpay (1935), G.V. Sviridov (1935). Was part of the repertoire of Sergei Lemeshev.

Mikhail L. Yakovlev (1798-1868)
Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin (1799-1837)

PIANO NOTES (2 sheets):

Kulev V. V., Takun F. I. The Golden Collection of Russian Romance. Arranged for voice with piano (guitar) accompaniment. Moscow: Modern music, 2003.

Said:

- Why are you, my old woman, silent at the window ?! -...

What are you, my old woman, silent at the window?! Sasha suddenly barked into Arina Rodionovna's ear.
The old woman jumped up in surprise and hit her head on the window sill.
- B^&d Sasha! she yelled. - I'll beat you once for such jokes!
- Gagaga. Sasha laughed merrily. - Why do you sleep all day? Let's fuck... uh... Let's drink from grief. - He recovered.
- Where is the mug? - Arina Rodionovna rose caustically, holding on to a bump that jumped up.
- In terms of?
- I mean, you ate everything yesterday. I said leave it in the morning. Where is there...
- What - not a drop left at all? - Pushkin asked dumbfounded.
- Not a bit. - The old woman said. Yes, you do need to knit. You look at what you write in general.
- What am I writing? - The poet muttered gloomily.
- And that. - Didactically snapped Arina. - Completely crazy. The editorial office has already called three times, asking where you get such nonsense.
- Are they about "Lukomorye" and "Tsar Saltan"? Sasha asked sadly.
- About him, dear. The nurse grinned. - "The hut is there on chicken legs" .. It still needs to be thought out ...
- Oh, don't get up. Pushkin winced. - It was necessary to rhyme unknown tracks with something. Footpaths. Chicken legs. That's all.
- Yes, p%zdets. laughed Arina Rodionovna. - Poet! Children will teach you at school! They will not fall asleep at night, imagining the hut .. Next. - Arina sat down more comfortably. - How many "Beautiful Knights" do you have coming out of the sea?
- Thirty. - Sasha growled.
- Yeah. The nanny nodded in satisfaction. - How many in the story?
- How many are there? Pushkin raised his head.
- Thirty-three Bogatyrs! - The nanny said. - Do they breed there, or what?
Sasha lowered his head and remained silent.
- Why do you have them in scales? Arina asked. - Can you imagine this picture visually? What were they doing in the sea at all?
- They did what they wanted. Pushkin snapped. - They lived there.
- Live or. - Mimicked the nanny. - X$#they probably lived there. They're breath-holding champions, huh?
- What are you tied to? - Sasha was offended. - It's a fairy tale. Story! Here they come out of the sea. By plot.
- According to what such a plot?? - Arina Rodionovna was amazed. - This is not a fairy tale at all, but some kind of p%zdets! Okay, rolled into a barrel "unknown little animal" - Let's say! - Although this in itself is absurd. Arina snorted. - Children's fairy tale pancake. "They rolled it into a barrel and pushed it into an okian." - #banish. Well, at least they didn’t set it on fire and pierced it with swords.
- Ash? Pushkin jumped up.
- Fuck. - Besieged by the nanny. - No need. Let's move on with the story. - Arina Rodionovna got up groaning and began to pace the room. - It means that Tsar Gvidon has sailed to the island ... Here you are Sashenka, the poet. - Nanny stopped and looked at Sasha.
- Well, the poet .. - Sasha responded sullenly. - And what?
- So tell me, poet - Arina barked - The first rhyme that comes to mind to the proper name "Guidon". BUT?!
Pushkin sullenly fell silent.
- Really "Bow"? - the nanny asked caustically. - Why didn't you call him Gruzdets right away? "Here writes to you Prince Gruzdets: Soon, the king, to you ..."
- Well, nanny .. - Sasha whined. - Well, it was written foolishly like that .. Well, what do I need now - to rewrite the whole fairy tale ?!
- Not foolishly, - didactically said the nanny, - But from drinking. Let's go further. Nanny adjusted her glasses. - Squirrel.
- Nya-yayan .. - Zanyl Alexander Sergeevich.
- This is already a squirrel, Comrades! - Arina Rodionovna recited. - You tell me, you are my onion grief, what kind of sick fantasy is this ?! You have the same in a fairy tale, as in your life unlucky: A week everything is fine, then hop! - and a squirrel.
Pushkin was gloomily silent.
- Well, the swan woman finished off your editorial office completely.
- Well, what's wrong with her? Sasha jumped up in surprise. - So beautifully summed up the intrigue.
- Oh, no, what a beauty. Arina Rodionovna giggled. - Did you even read what you scribbled there? - The nanny calmed down, made a soulful face and recited: - "Know, Your fate is close. After all, you are the princess!" - Arina could not restrain herself and neighed at the top of her voice.
- Oh b ^ & ya ... - Sasha grabbed his head with his hands. - I forgot to fix it. Dohokhmil. He glared angrily at the nurse. - There was no way to tell, right?
- You need to read it before posting. said Arina Rodionovna admonishingly. - Well, the last. - The old woman finally calmed down and looked into Sasha's eyes. - Saash..
- Ash? Pushkin muttered.
- Have you ever been to the zoo?
- Well, it was. Sasha looked at the nanny in bewilderment. - and what?
- Did you see Peacock there? - the nanny asked even more penetratingly.
- Saw. - Still not understanding the poet answered. - and what does it actually have ...
- And what kind of gait did you see? - In the voice of the nanny appeared malevolent notes. - "... And she herself is majestic .. As if Pava is performing!..." - That is, like a pregnant chicken, huh? - Summed up Arina Rodionovna. - Really, a queen.
Alexander Sergeevich groaned and rushed to the door.
- Where are you Sasha? - The nanny asked sympathetically.
- Urgently... Recall... Nafig... Such... Let's run!.. - Pushkin shouted incoherently, pulling the doorknob.
Arina Rodionovna got up slowly, went up to Sasha and gently took him by the sleeve. - Too late, Sashul. Nanny smiled softly. - Tomorrow in the shops of the city.
Alexander Sergeevich froze and began to gasp convulsively.
- The country should know its heroes by sight, Alexander Sergeevich. - Nanny giggled. - Let's go already. Let's drink from grief.
- A cool...
- Yes, I left it, I left it, the nanny waved it off cheerfully. - I knew what I needed to do. Let's go already. You are my monument, miraculous ..

The house of Pushkin's nanny Arina Rodionovna is always crowded

In the village of Kobrino, Gatchina District, Leningrad Region, there is the only museum in the world dedicated to a Russian serf woman, a friend of the great poet Arina Rodionovna. It is called "A. S. Pushkin's nanny's house". It is hard to believe that a few years ago this hut, miraculously preserved to this day, almost perished.

A small hut made of logs that have darkened with time, standing right next to the road, is not immediately distinguishable among countless private choirs. The house is like a house, only very old and very small. This is especially striking in contrast to the modern cottages standing nearby. But when you read the inscription “Pushkin’s nanny, Arina Rodionovna, lived here” on the facade, you tremble in your heart – is it really him?

I enter the residential part - and I am greeted by the smell of birch brooms and dried herbs. And in general, the nanny's house does not look like a familiar museum at all. He is alive. And it seems that its inhabitants just went out for a while and are about to return.

Most of it is occupied by a Russian stove. I touch - warm. And from the cast-iron pots standing on it, it smells delicious of cabbage soup and porridge. Or does it just seem to me? And here is a real woman's kut, where there is a shelf with dishes, including the first Russian mixer - a whorl. This curious object is a cut off top of a young pine with several horns. In this case, it is necessary with an odd number. For some reason, it was believed that this way the whorl would be better knocked down. Here you can also admire jugs of all sizes and colors - here is the uryl from which they washed, here is sour cream ... Next to it is a large table for ten or twelve eaters, and wide long benches along the walls. You will not see beds, down jackets, or patchwork quilts in the household of Arina Rodionovna. Because the owner didn't have them. But a real cradle is suspended from the ceiling, in which babies were rocked.

But most of all in the nanny's house, the walls are striking. They are black, smoked - after all, stoves were then heated in black.

Natalia Klyushina, head of the museum "House of A. S. Pushkin's nanny" says that all the exhibits of this museum are a gift from the inhabitants of the surrounding villages. This is how a children's wooden walker-playpen from Vyra appeared, a cradle (cradle), which was woven mainly from willow twigs or birch bark, an old shop from the village of Kurovitsy, bast shoes (there are varieties of them here - bast shoes and feet, by the way, in winter bast shoes were enough for ten days , in the summer, in the suffering, for three days).

A festive outfit - a sundress with a white jacket, which flaunts next to a spinning wheel - a gift from a local resident, will also allow you to imagine the inhabitant of such a dwelling. “And the most valuable exhibit of the museum is a linen sack bag. According to legend, this is a personal item of Arina Rodionovna. Of course, it is already dilapidated, like any genuine relic,” says Natalia Klyushina.

A house is alive as long as there is a person in it

But the most important exhibit is, of course, the house of Pushkin's nanny Arina Rodionova, which has miraculously survived to this day. It is known that the Hannibals bought it for Arina Rodionovna when she, twenty years old, was married to a fifteen-year-old "muzhik". She lived here for sixteen years - from 1781 to 1798, here she gave birth to four children. And then she moved with the Pushkin family to Moscow. In Kobrin, her eldest son Yegor Fedorov remained to live with his family.

It is symbolic, but the nanny's hut, the oldest in the village of Kobrino, was preserved even during the war - everything was burning around, and she stood untouched by fire or shells. And after the war, when Arina Rodionovna's house was left without an owner, it could burn down or fall apart. In the early 1950s, a kind woman saved the hut. It was Natalya Mikhailovna Nyrkova, a village teacher.

Once, having visited this hut and marveling at the deplorable state it is in, I bought it. And began to live in it. The roof was leaking, the walls were sagging. But she lived here, she didn’t want to move anywhere, she tried to make the house a museum. I understood its value. “A house is alive as long as there is a person in it,” she said. And she achieved her goal - in 1974 a museum was opened here.

True, before that, a thorough restoration was carried out here - the house had to be raised, the lower crowns changed. And today, the head of the museum, Natalia Klyushina, begins her working day by carefully looking at the walls to see if there are traces of woodworm work anywhere. This gluttonous beetle especially loves to feast on old logs. Natalya Klyushina says that a few years ago, under the guidance of the famous Russian restorer Mark Kolyada, a restoration was carried out in the nanny's house. Then the experts "looked" inside each log. And they found that in some of them the place of wood is already dust. The woodworms have done their job and have worn away the old tree. “I had to take out all this dust with the help of special vacuum cleaners, and then make injections, filling the resulting voids with pine sawdust mixed with a special chemical hardener,” says Natalia Klyushina.

The folk trail will not overgrow

And recently, the Poet's Nanny's House Museum won a grant under the program "Preservation and Use of Cultural Heritage in Russia". Thanks to funds from the federal budget, an open-air stage has already appeared on the territory of the museum, and now a multifunctional play area is being built - the farmstead of Arina Rodionovna. According to Natalia Klyushina, in this pavilion it will be possible to get acquainted with the heroes of Alexander Pushkin's fairy tales, to go on an interactive tour. In addition, the museum plans to sow the land in front of the house with flax. First, it blooms very beautifully. And secondly, there will be an opportunity to show the guests the entire process of production of linen. How the peasants ruffled it, how then they wove shirts from it ....

Despite the fact that a small museum - the nanny's house is located away from noisy city highways, it is always crowded here. Natalia Klyushina says that 18-19 thousand people visit Arina Rodionovna's house every year. Recently, foreign tourists have also begun to drop in here often. And this means that a folk trail will always lead to a small and modest house in Kobrin.

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

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.

Analysis of the poem "Winter Evening" by Pushkin

The winter evening of A.S. Pushkin was written in 1825. The inspiration for the poet was a small village - Mikhailovskoye, where the poet was sent some time after the southern exile. A sharp change of environment - from the bright, sunny south, where Pushkin was surrounded by picturesque mountain landscapes, seas and a festive atmosphere in the circle of friends to a distant settlement in the winter, cast a depressing state on the poet, who was already dreary. It was during this period of life that Pushkin was under the supervision of his own father. All correspondence and further actions of the young talent were under strict control.

Pushkin always associated the family hearth with reliable support and protection in any life situation. But in such conditions, he was practically forced out of his native circle, and the poet was imbued with local nature, spending a lot of time outside the house.

In the poem "Winter Evening" the oppressed and, in some way, hermitic mood of the author is clearly observed. The main characters are a lyrical protagonist and an old woman, symbolizing the poet's beloved nurse, to whom the verse is dedicated.

In the first of four stanzas, the impressions of the snowstorm are vividly conveyed. The swirling winds, accompanied by a lonely howl and crying, convey a mood of longing and a state of hopelessness in relation to a hostile world.

The second stanza reveals the contrast between the home and the outside world, in which housing is presented as dilapidated, sad and full of darkness, unable to protect against life's adversities. An old woman who motionlessly spends her time looking out the window also evokes sadness and hopelessness.

Suddenly, in the third stanza, there is a desire to overcome the dreary state and renounce hopelessness. A tired soul must again find the strength to wake up and again there is hope for a better life path.

The poem ends with a picture of a confrontation between the inner strength of the hero and the hostility of the outside world. Now it becomes clear that only the personal strength of the hero, a positive attitude, and not the walls of his home can protect him from life's adversities. Pushkin comes to this conclusion in his poem.

The sad experience of loneliness in Mikhailovsky will later warm the poet's soul and will forever remain a pleasant memory. In peace and quiet, Pushkin got new inspiration and many vivid images, colors and epithets with which he praised nature in the future.

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.

A.S. Pushkin wrote the poem Winter Evening in 1825, in the village of Mikhailovsky, where he was exiled after his southern exile.

In the south, Pushkin was surrounded by vivid pictures of nature - the sea, mountains, sun, numerous friends and a festive atmosphere.

Once in Mikhailovsky, Pushkin suddenly felt loneliness and boredom. In addition, in Mikhailovskoye it turned out that the poet's own father took on the functions of an overseer, checking his son's correspondence and controlling his every step.

In Pushkin's poetry, the house, the family hearth has always symbolized protection from life's adversities and blows of fate. The resulting strained relationship with the family forced the poet to leave home, spending time with neighbors or in nature. This mood could not but be reflected in his poems.

An example is the poem "Winter Evening". There are two heroes in the poem - a lyrical hero and an old woman - the poet's favorite nurse, Arina Rodionovna, to whom the poem is dedicated. The poem has four stanzas. each of the two quatrains.

In the first stanza, the poet paints a picture of a snow storm. Whirling whirlwinds, howling and crying of the wind creates a mood of melancholy and hopelessness, hostility of the outside world. In the second stanza, Pushkin contrasts the house with the outside world, but this house is a poor defense - a dilapidated shack, sad and dark. And from the image of the heroine - an old woman sitting motionless by the window, it also breathes sadness and hopelessness. And suddenly, in the third stanza, bright motives appear - the desire to overcome despondency and hopelessness. Wake up a weary soul. There is hope for a better life. In the fourth stanza, the picture of a hostile external world is again repeated, which is opposed by the inner strength of the lyrical hero. The main protection and salvation from life's hardships and upheavals are not the walls of the house, but the inner strength of a person, his positive attitude, Pushkin says in his poem.

Loneliness in Mikhailovsky. which oppressed the poet so much, had positive aspects. Later, the poet will remember this time with love, and wish to return it back. In peace and quiet, in nature, the poet was inspired, his senses sharpened and new vivid images, magnificent colors and epithets were born, which we meet, for example, in his descriptions of nature paintings. An example is the poem Winter Morning.

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.

The poem Winter Morning is bright and joyful, it exudes vivacity and optimism. The impression is enhanced by the fact that everything is built on contrasts. The impetuous beginning of the poem “Frost and Sun, a wonderful day”, gentle poetic images of the beauty - the heroine of the poem, to whom the author appeals to go for a walk, already create a joyful and bright mood. And suddenly, in the second stanza - a description of a cloudy yesterday evening. storms outside the window, the sad mood of the heroine. Pushkin uses gloomy colors here (cloudy sky, haze, the moon turns yellow as a pale spot through gloomy clouds). And again, in contrast, in the third stanza - a description of this morning's shining. Bright and juicy epithets (blue skies, magnificent carpets, a river glitters, etc.) create an image of a magnificent sparkling winter landscape, convey a cheerful, cheerful mood. The author, as if declares, never need to indulge in despondency, adversity is transient, they will surely be followed by bright and joyful days. Having described the delights of nature, the hero again turns his gaze to the room in the fourth stanza of the poem. This room is no longer dull, as it was the day before, it is illuminated by a golden, inviting "warm amber light." Coziness and warmth beckon to stay at home, but there is no need to succumb to laziness. Out in the open air! - calls the author.

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