Kaliningrad hunting club . Epifanych went out through the forest into someone else's parish... A muddy shadow from a passing train briefly cut off from a light spot of ripening rye the tall gray figure of an old man with a gun... - These cast-iron animals have gone into the utter wilderness, you see! - he said out loud out of habit and picked his ear with his earpick after the beast screamed for a long time with an iron throat. - Mooed, bishop's mother! After all, it was stabbed! An iron beast, so that he..." He sleeps again, and in the morning he gets up for a new journey, makes a fire, eats porridge, feels the copper earpick on his collar, the one that hangs on a dirty cord instead of a cross, picks his ears, overgrown with gray fluff, and says aloud, looking at the sky: - You see that... Apparently, the ears are clogged. The seasoned pines are slightly rustling with the tops: the early sun plays on the tops with the ebb of their wet branches. it smells of wild rosemary, sipping cloudberries from the lowlands; under its bast shoes, turning the birch bark a bloody color, blueberries crumple. “Look, the mountain ash begins to give color, you won’t see it - and summer will blow away... which is already forever?..” Epifanych drove away, passing. , a herd of orcas, one black grouse stuck to the branch of a pine tree, pulled its timid head between its wings and cackled. there is no shot. The old man looks, but the gun has no trigger: the trigger has come off, the screw is rusty. Epifanych found tar and chopped it; I took out the insides of an old big stump so that it would be better accepted, and with a skillful hand I laid out the resinous chips inside the stump: “Here you are, young people, reign!..” And while he was fiddling with the plank, he didn’t notice how a cloud covered the sky and spread a blue canopy across the lake her shadow lay. And as soon as he had time to take off his hat and stand under the thick spruce, thunder struck, and lightning flashed across the water like fiery scattered cracks. Thunder struck, and to the side, with a dry crack, a century-old pine tree split from lightning and collapsed. ooo! - and wakes up... ... Epifanych stopped sleeping on the stove, looks inquisitively out the windows, hears people making noise like spring. Getting ready to set off, he realizes that nature will soon pull the winter road out from under his feet. A green wall of blooming rye - it obscured the half-yellow horizon in the field, and against its golden background one can see multi-colored figures of women in festive clothes, among the women the most prominent is his busty wife Stepanida, in her hand a new sickle shines like a silver crescent. In a slumber, the old man moves towards the golden field of sunset - he pokes into the fire, burns his hands, his yellowish-white beard cracks; the hat smells like sheepskin currants. Waking up, he realizes that he slipped off the stump. He takes off the row of fur from his sheepskin coat, takes off his sheepskin coat and, lounging by the fire on a woolen sheepskin, covering himself with the row of fur coats, dozes again. He hears as if the wind is passing through the forest, sprinkles deciduous rain all around, the trees groan, some crackle like a wood grouse on a current: tra-ah! tra-ah! The old man sees the water of the lake shining through the branches of the trees, and thinks: is the moon mooning? It's not water - it's ice!.. He wakes up - his singed beard is crackling again, his hat is smoldering, he smells of burning wood. So he shook himself off, shook his horned head, ran, and a swarm of prickly ones flew after him like a noisy cloud. The elk reached the lake, waded into the water up to his ears, rested in the coolness, and the buzzing creature disappeared. The beast is at ease at the rapids of the mouth of a forest river in the lake, the water rinses the sides corroded into blood, only the legs are sucked in by the liquid bottom, the elk pulls up its legs to swim. The water is noisy all around. The animal moves its ears in its sleep, and the ears convey anxiety to the eyes. Opening his eyes, the elk realizes that it is not the water that is making noise, but the wooden long paws of a terrible creature that is following him and bringing death to him. straight, but to the side, so that he can hear when they follow his tracks, and, not allowing the enemy to reach the end of the loop, rush to the side... The snow is deep, it does not support a heavy animal, and it is not a trail that follows it, but a deep furrow with it curls like a blackened bark, like a terrible piece of evidence, to where he went. The elk throws lumps of snow in all directions, breaks branches on its way with its horns, and death runs lightly along the top of the snow on sliding paws, and the elk hears it close by its smell. .. In old age, the same bottom freezes to the navel, and this leaves a person with little life left in the world. And you got carried away!.. But I won’t give up, you’re lying!.. I’m exhausted at work. Without tar, the wind will throw snow into the fire and you, bishop’s mother, will bury you head over heels.

MBOU "Sorskaya secondary comprehensive school No. 3 with in-depth study of individual subjects"

My thoughts on A.A. Fet’s poem

"Wonderful picture"

Performed:

Mironchuk Ksenia,

student of class 7A.

Supervisor:

Bezkorsaya L.G.

teacher of Russian language and literature

Sorsk, 2017

Why did I choose this topic?

A.V. Druzhinina about Fet: “The power of Fet is that our poet knows how to get into the innermost recesses of the human soul... The poet makes clear to us the impulses of our own hearts before this or that scene of nature... The author in of the highest degree has...high musicality of verse...".

I wanted to prove that this is true, using the example of the poem “Wonderful Picture.”

Target work :

Study of artistic and visual means of the language of poetry, craftsmanshippoet.

Tasks :

- conduct an analytical reading of the text of the poem;

Convince yourself of the truth of the words of the critic Druzhinin about Fet’s poetic skill;

Convey your emotional perception of the text.

Study plan .

Justification for choosing the topic.

The purpose and objectives of the work.

Analysis of the poem “Wonderful Picture.”

Own creativity.

conclusions

Wonderful picture
How dear you are to me:

White plain,
Full moon,

The light of the high heavens,
And shining snow
And distant sleighs
Lonely running.

Indeed, a wonderful picture. Only 8 lines, from which some kind of mystery emanates.Winter night.Plain white with snow. Above her in the high skies is the full moon. Shiny snow. And lonely sleighin this snowy expanse. Very beautiful! And a little sad. And this whole picture is painted in just one complex sentence. And that's what's surprising: the poem has 21 words: 8 nouns, 7 adjectives, 1 participle, 2 pronouns, 3 conjunctions. And not a single verb. I thought: why? I re-read the poem again. And suddenly I realized:The poet does not need verbs in this picture.Reading the poem, you feel that the picture painted by the poet does not change before our eyes, it is somehow frozen, there is no movement in it. Everything he writes about happens simultaneously. And verbs convey movement, the dynamics of changing pictures.

I imagine an endless plain covered with a white, fluffy sheet. There is a full moon above this vast space. It is very bright, and it makes the sky seem high. A yellow stream of light pours from it, making the snow glisten.Simple winter landscape. And what a beauty!It’s a little sad that the moon is lonely in the vast expanse of the sky. In the distance, a lonely sleigh is running along the snowy plain. But there is a man in the sleigh. And he is alone in this snowy night desert. I understand the feelings of this traveler. Find yourself in winter moonlit night in a snowy desert among endless expanses - this is probably a test for the soul. This double loneliness (in nature and in the human soul) makes it even sadder. And you understand that for Fet, man and nature are a single whole. It seems to me that the poet is delighted with this cold beauty of nature. This is felt both in the author’s direct assessment (“Wonderful picture, how dear you are to me...”) and in the selection of epithets. But the poet subtly understands the feelings of a lonely traveler.

Watching the poet’s skill, I saw how accurate and true the epithets are: the plain is “white”, the moon is “full”, the skies are “high”, sleigh “distant”, running “lonely”. The epithet “lonely” stands out from this series with its coloring and makes the reader think. All together they create a feeling of some kind of mystery, understatement.

Attracts attentioncolor scheme of the poem: full moon against the background of the night sky, dark silhouette of a sleigh on white snow. This contrast gives special expressiveness to the winter landscape.

The lines of the poem are short, each of them has two or three, and only one has four words. And one gets the impression of the completeness of the painted picture, everything is so precise and visible. The earthly world (plain, snow, sleigh) and the heavenly world (moon, heaven) merged, united in some kind of mystery. The poem is written in trochee; I learned that this is the meter most often used in folk songs. Indeed, the poem resembles a folk song. The cross rhyme in the quatrains is easy to understand and the rhymes are precise.

In the first quatrain the voiced voice is repeated three times solid sound[R]. He fills the line with joy, a feeling of beauty. It is not in the second stanza. And that’s why this stanza sounds so easy. Buthere the sound [s] is repeated 6 times, which conveys the sensation of light, 4 times [n] - [n’]. There are 7 of these sounds in the first stanza. They are in almost every word. Alliteration makes a poemmusical, bright,beautiful,creates an impression of mysteryand combines the content of the stanzas. Thus, with the help of meter, rich rhyme and alliteration, the poet achieves the lightness of the verse and its musicality.

The last line talks about the lonely running of the sleigh. The word “lonely” makes me a little sad, butfeelings of loneliness do not arise, but a feeling of unity between man and nature appears. It seems to me that the “wonderful picture” painted by the poet is close to the truly Russian soul.Fet managed to convey in a short poem the beauty of a winter night, a feeling of love, slight sadness, spiritual unity with his native nature.

Conclusions.

My reflections on the content of the poem, observations of the poet’s skill, allow me to conclude that A. A. Fet is a great master of verse. He knows how to excite the soul with painted pictures of nature, to evoke experiences, positive emotions, i.e., according to the critic Druzhinin, “he knows how to climb into the innermost recesses of the human soul... he has a high musicality of verse...”

I want to reread the poem, experience high emotions again and again.

My poem.

Silvery snow, on fluffy branches,
Falling, spinning, Bullfinches are dancing,
It is from century to century, in winter colors
It falls in flakes. The lights are on...

I wanted to convey the idea of ​​the eternity of nature, its greatness and beauty, and that this greatness and eternity cannot be fully comprehended. And that’s why nature always excites, makes you feel like you’re a small part of it, makes your heart beat faster.

Internet resources: https :// yandex . ru / images / search ? text =

Artists write canvases, poets write poems. And just as an artist with a brush, with one stroke, creates a play of chiaroscuro, so a poet, in one word, in one phrase, paints the subtlest shades and subtle shifts of artistic meaning. And now, before our eyes, as if in reality, a “Wonderful picture” appears, written in words.

The pictures are different. Some you want to look at and look at, others you don’t want to return to. Because they leave neither a trace nor a clue in the soul. So it is with poems. One describes the beauty of birch trees in five, or even ten, quatrains, the other in four lines. And these four lines attract, fascinate, and make you want to re-read them again and again.

Many people took on landscape lyrics, but not everyone succeeded in landscapes, and not everyone succeeded in writing lyrics. And Afanasy Fet brought together both. A wonderful poet, the greatest lyric landscape painter. According to Nekrasov, after A.S. Pushkin, there was no one except Fet, whose poetry would give so much poetic and aesthetic pleasure.

Afanasy Fet's poem has only two stanzas. No expression, no questions, no exclamations, no anxiety. Everything is simple, calm. Night. An amazing, fabulous silence emanates from the poet’s painting. This white plain with a full moon - as if the winter scenery had been installed for centuries.

The hostess winter came and turned the plain into a white canvas - smoothed out all the roughness and unevenness. The canvas, like a cover, like a canopy, covered the vanity, absorbed the movement. There was silence, the flat snowy surface was illuminated " by the light of the high heavens" On the fairy-tale surface - not a soul, only " distant sleigh running alone».

This moving point is like a symbol of the fate of a person who goes through his lonely life. life path. Only he and the Almighty. What's next? Everything lay low, frozen in anticipation, in anticipation of something wonderful. This is how children wait for the New Year. Anticipation hangs in the air. You can smell it. Waiting for a miracle is a sure sign of it. That’s why A. Fet calls his painting wonderful and dear, because in each of us there lives a child and a desire to see the incredible.

And theorists put the picture into pieces. They praised the inversion - high skies, distant sleighs. We were amazed by the sound, musicality, and lightness of the rhythm of the poem. We noticed the complete absence of verbs, and the manner of writing the poem - trochaic trimeter - characteristic of folk songs. We remembered that the work - early period and was included in the collection “Snow”.

Afanasy Fet lived to be 72 years old. His paradox as a lyrical landscape painter was that he was both enterprising and successful in matters of career and business. He began writing poems at the age of 15. Many young men at that time were fond of poetry, but for Afanasy Fet this hobby became destiny. Because future generations will remember him as a poet, and not as a landowner or military man. First, being deprived of his noble title, Fet made a military career.

After leaving the service, he bought an estate with his wife’s dowry and turned her into a wet nurse - the whole family lived on the income from the estate. Rye was grown, poultry was bred, and a stud farm was developed. And at the same time, the poet paid a lot of attention to creativity and self-development. Knew several languages. Before last days worked on translations. Despite the difficult and difficult life, Afanasy Fet did not complain, he endured and in his works he sang love and nature - that is, the Creator and His creation.

Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet

Wonderful picture
How dear you are to me:
White plain,
Full moon,

The light of the high heavens,
And shining snow
And distant sleighs
Lonely running.

The ability to convey all the beauty of the surrounding nature in a few phrases is one of the most striking distinctive features creativity of Afanasy Fet. He went down in the history of Russian poetry as an amazingly subtle lyricist and thoughtful landscape painter who was able to choose simple and precise words when describing rain, wind, forest or different seasons. At the same time, only the poet’s early works are distinguished by such liveliness and accuracy, when his soul was not yet clouded by a feeling of guilt before the woman he once loved. Subsequently, he dedicated a huge number of poems to Maria Lazic, moving further and further in his work into love and philosophical lyrics. Nevertheless, many of the poet’s early works have survived, which are filled with amazing purity, lightness and harmony.

In 1842, Afanasy Fet wrote the poem “Wonderful Picture,” masterfully depicting a winter night landscape. For such works, the poet was often criticized by venerable writers, believing that the absence of deep thoughts in poetry is a sign of bad taste. However, Afanasy Fet did not claim to be an expert on human souls. He was simply trying to find simple and accessible words to talk about what he saw and felt. It is noteworthy that the author expressed his personal attitude to the surrounding reality extremely rarely, seeking only to record various objects and phenomena. However, in the poem “Wonderful Picture” the poet cannot resist admiration and, talking about a frosty winter night, admits: “How dear you are to me!” Fet feels a special charm in what surrounds him - “the white plain, the full moon” bring into the author’s life long-forgotten feelings of joy and peace, which are enhanced by “the lonely running of a distant sleigh.”

It would seem that there is nothing remarkable or worthy of attention in the recreated picture of a winter night. Probably, the poem itself was written at the moment when Afanasy Fet was making a short journey across the vast Russian expanses. But the tenderness that the author puts into every line of this work indicates that such a night walk gave the author incomparable pleasure. Fet manages to convey his true feelings and remind us all that we can experience happiness even from simple and familiar things, which we often simply do not pay attention to.

White plain,

Full moon,

The light of the high heavens,

And shining snow

And distant sleighs

Lonely running.

A. Fet confesses his love for the winter landscape. In A. Fet’s poems, the shining winter prevails, in the brilliance of the prickly sun, in the diamonds of snowflakes and snow sparks, in the crystal of icicles, in the silvery fluff of frosty eyelashes. The associative series in this lyric does not go beyond the boundaries of nature itself; here is its own beauty, which does not need human spirituality. Rather, it itself spiritualizes and enlightens the personality. A. Fet introduced rural landscapes and scenes into poetry folk life, appeared in the poems as “a bearded grandfather”, he “groans and crosses himself”, or a daring coachman on a troika.

The poetry of F. Tyutchev is a kind of lyrical confession of a man who visited “this world in its cancerous moments,” in the era of the collapse of centuries-old social foundations, moral dogmas and religious beliefs.

In his lyrical masterpieces, F. Tyutchev outwardly proceeds not from a predetermined thought, but from a feeling or impression that suddenly captured him, inspired by phenomena outside world, the surrounding reality, a momentary emotional experience. The poet sees a rainbow and immediately sketches out a small “landscape in verse” of just eight lines, as N. Nekrasov aptly called his poetic pictures of nature. But the process of creating a poem does not end there. In the poet’s creative vision, the brightness and fleetingness of the “rainbow vision” entails a different image - bright and fleeting human happiness. A new stanza appears, and the “landscape in verse” takes on the meaning of a philosophical allegory (“How unexpected and bright.”).

Another example. The hopeless rain inspires the poet with the idea of ​​equally hopeless human grief, and he writes poems not about rain, but about tears. However, the entire intonation, the entire rhythmic structure of the poem is imbued with the incessant sound of falling raindrops (“human tears, oh human tears.”).

A. Fet was always attracted to the poetic theme of evening and night. The poet early developed a special aesthetic attitude towards the night and the onset of darkness. At the new stage of his creativity, he already began to call entire collections “Evening Lights”, in them, as it were, a special, Fetov philosophy of the night.

In the “night poetry” of A. Fet, a complex of associations is revealed: night - abyss - shadows - sleep - visions - secret, intimate - love - the unity of the “night soul” of a person with the night element. This image receives philosophical deepening in his poems, new second meaning; In the content of the poem, a second plan appears - symbolic. His association “night-abyss” takes on a philosophical and poetic perspective. She begins to get closer to human life. The abyss is an airy road - the path of human life.

MAY NIGHT

Lagging clouds fly over us

The last crowd.

Their transparent segment softly melts

At the crescent moon

A mysterious power reigns in spring

With stars on the forehead. -

You, tender! You promised me happiness

On a vain land.

Where is the happiness? Not here, in a wretched environment,

And there it is - like smoke

Follow him! follow him! by air -

And we'll fly away into eternity.

The May night promises happiness, a person flies through life in pursuit of happiness, the night is an abyss, a person flies into the abyss, into eternity. Further development this association: night - human existence - the essence of being. A. Fet imagines the night hours as revealing the secrets of the universe. The poet's nocturnal insight allows him to look “from time to eternity,” he sees “the living altar of the universe.” The association night - abyss - human existence, developing in the poetry of A. Fet, absorbs the ideas of Schopenhauer. However, the closeness of the poet A. Fet to the philosopher is very conditional and relative. The ideas of the world as a representation, man as a contemplator of existence, thoughts about intuitive insights, apparently, were close to A. Fet.

The idea of ​​death is woven into the figurative association of A. Fet’s poems about the night and human existence (the poem “Sleep and Death”, written in 1858). Sleep is full of the bustle of the day, death is full of majestic peace. A. Fet gives preference to death, paints its image as the embodiment of a unique beauty.

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