Poem “Winter Morning” by A.S. Pushkin was written by him in one of the most fruitful creative periods- during exile in Mikhailovskoye. But on the day when this poetic work was born, the poet was not on his estate - he was visiting friends, the Wulf family, in the Tver province. When starting to read the poem “Winter Morning” by Pushkin, it is worth remembering that it was written in one day, and not a single edit was made to the text. One can only marvel at the talent of the creator who was able to so quickly translate it into a magnificent landscape lyrics and my own mood, and the beauty of Russian nature, and reflections on life. This work is rightfully one of the most famous in Pushkin’s work.
In the poem “Winter Morning” several important topics. The main and most obvious is the theme of love. In every line one can feel the poet’s tenderness addressed to his beloved, one can feel his reverent attitude to her, the inspiration that gives him the feeling. His beloved is a lovely child of nature, and this is sweet to him and causes deep heartfelt feelings. Another topic is reflections on the birth of a new day, which erases all previous sorrows and makes the world more beautiful and more fun. Despite the fact that the evening was sad, today the sun illuminates everything around, and its light gives the most important thing - hope. In addition, Alexander Sergeevich uses the landscape not just as artistic technique to personify his own thoughts and not only as a symbol of a new beginning - the beautiful Russian nature is also the theme of his poem, which can be downloaded to slowly enjoy each line. And finally, the general idea of the entire work is the unity of man and nature in the general philosophical sense.
The general mood that can be felt in the text of Pushkin’s poem “Winter Morning,” which can be read online for free to feel the joy of life, is optimistic, because it tells that any storm is not eternal, and after it, when a bright streak comes, life is still more wonderful. Even the stanzas that talk about evening sadness seem to be full of joyful anticipation of the morning. And when it comes, the joy becomes complete, because everything around, every snowflake illuminated by the winter sun, is so beautiful! This is a cheerful and cheerful work - it seems that the poet forgot both about exile and loneliness, admiring his sleeping beloved and native nature. Reading this poem fills the soul positive emotions, reminds us of how beautiful the world is and how important it is to love our native nature.
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 through 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.
Thank you, Lyuba, for the article! Thanks to you and your article, I was transported to this sunny, frosty day, breathed in the fresh, vigorous air that smelled of watermelon, saw the sun piercing and transforming everything around... And I admire these ice floes and hummocks of incredible shape and sparkling purity. The sun's rays, piercing the transparency of the ice, reflected on the white blanket of snow with sparkles of all the colors of the rainbow. And blue sky. And white clouds. And tenderness in the air.” But here’s the next phrase: “The gaze moves from contemplation of external beauty to internal contemplation... and inner world amazingly as if reflected from a magic mirror into the outside…” - evokes a feeling of aching recognition... Where has this already happened?... A premonition of Eternity through the beauty of the material world? Al Farid! “Big Kasida or Path of the Righteous (Revelation of the Soul - to the True Self)”! The very beginning - “THE EYES FEED THE SOUL WITH BEAUTY”! And further: “Oh, golden cup of the universe! And I got drunk from the flash of lights, from the clinking of bowls and the joy of friends. To get drunk, I don’t need wine, - I’m drunk with the sparkle of drunkenness!” - this drunkenness with the “sparkle of drunkenness,” filled with the beauty of the world is the beginning of the path. And God, infinity begin here, now in this specific existence. Saint Simeon, the new Theologian, said that whoever does not see God in this life will not see him in the next. And the beginning of the path to God is the indispensable fullness of the heart and the fullness of love. This is love for a flower, for a tree...” (Z. Mirkina). Al Farida’s poem echoes and is echoed by another Sufi work - “The Book of the Path of the Sufi”: ““The first step in the ascent of the soul to the Path is love for everything that exists in the Creation of Allah. Let the one who dares to follow the Path become a brother or sister to every tree growing on earth, every bird singing in the branches or flying in the sky, every lizard scurrying in the sands of the desert, every flower blooming in the garden! Every living creature of Allah begins to matter in the lives of such ascetics - as a great miracle created by Allah for his own and our improvement! Each person is then seen not just as a relative or a stranger, a friend or a stranger - but as a child of the Creator!” (From the parable “On the Path of the Sufi and life in the embrace of God.” RGDN)
Here's “frost and sun” for you! Through external beauty- to the inner, to God. Because God is everywhere and in everything, and in everyone - in every blade of grass, in every blade of grass, in every snowflake, in every phenomenon, in every person... Thank you, Lyuba, for this push of ezoosmosis - for your article!
logos2207 01/06/2018 21:59
WINTER MORNING.
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 through 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.
Frost and sun; wonderful day! You are still dozing, lovely friend - It’s time, beauty, wake up: Open your eyes closed with bliss Towards the northern Aurora, Appear as the Star of the North! In the evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry, there was darkness in the cloudy sky; The moon, like a pale spot, turned yellow through the gloomy clouds, And you sat sad - And now... look out the window: Under the blue skies With 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 is illuminated with an amber shine. The flooded stove crackles with a cheerful sound. It's nice to think by the bed. But you know: shouldn’t we tell the brown filly to be banned from the sled? Sliding through the morning snow, dear friend, let us indulge in the running of the impatient horse and visit the empty fields, the forests that were recently so dense, and the shore that is dear to me.
“Winter Morning” is one of Pushkin’s brightest and most joyful works. The poem is written in iambic tetrameter, which Pushkin resorted to quite often in those cases when he wanted to give his poems special sophistication and lightness.
From the first lines, 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. 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.
Each line of the verse is literally permeated with freshness and purity, as well as admiration and admiration for beauty. native land, which never ceases to amaze the poet at any time of the year. There is no pretentiousness or restraint in the verse, 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 bring true happiness and help to fully experience the greatness of Russian nature, changeable, luxurious and unpredictable. 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 a 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.
Frost and sun; wonderful day! You are still dozing, lovely friend - It’s time, beauty, wake up: Open your eyes closed with bliss Towards the northern Aurora, Appear as the Star of the North! In the evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry, there was darkness in the cloudy sky; The moon, like a pale spot, turned yellow through the gloomy clouds, And you sat sad - And now... look out the window: Under the blue skies With 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 is illuminated with an amber shine. The flooded stove crackles with a cheerful sound. It's nice to think by the bed. But you know: shouldn’t we tell the brown filly to be banned from the sled? Sliding through the morning snow, dear friend, let us indulge in the running of the impatient horse and visit the empty fields, the forests that were recently so dense, and the shore that is dear to me.
“Winter Morning” is one of Pushkin’s brightest and most joyful works. The poem is written in iambic tetrameter, which Pushkin resorted to quite often in those cases when he wanted to give his poems special sophistication and lightness.
From the first lines, 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. 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.
Each line of the verse 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. There is no pretentiousness or restraint in the verse, 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 bring true happiness and help to fully experience the greatness of Russian nature, changeable, luxurious and unpredictable. 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 a 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.
Poems by A.S. Pushkin about winter - an excellent tool to look at snowy and cold weather with different eyes, to see in it the beautiful things that are hidden from us gray everyday life and dirty streets. It was not for nothing that they said that nature has no bad weather.
Painting by Viktor Grigorievich Tsyplakov “Frost and Sun”
WINTER MORNING
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 through 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 dilapidated 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 it 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:
He is both painful and funny,
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 long songs coachman:
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,
On glass easy patterns,
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.