Luck. An excerpt from memories. Modern approaches to teaching spelling in elementary grades
- + II - - I holding. t holding. t Reflecting the movement of thought, the icons in the first case show: the verb is not on -it(- ), exception ( + ), 2nd conjugation ( II). The second entry is deciphered as follows: not on -it(- ), not an exception ( - ), 1st conjugation ( I). If the result of the first reasoning is the choice of the letter and, then the result of the second is letters e. At what stage did the “failure” occur, what incorrect conclusion did it lead to and, as a result, became the cause of the erroneous spelling? Finding answers to these and similar questions will teach the children to pay more attention to the correctness of their own actions. It is also necessary to convince fourth-graders that ignorance of letters in place of suffixes in the indefinite form of the verb can lead to an error. The task will help in this: “Read the boy’s reasoning and explain why the errors occurred: Obtained during the study of the section "Learning to write personal endings of verbs" knowledge must be included in the system acquired earlier. This will be done by adding a reminder of the characteristics of the verb. (Now the analysis involves indicating the conjugation of the verb and its role in the sentence.) In the course of training in determining the morphological characteristics of the verb, it is appropriate to discuss the question voiced by the foreign boy: “ Is it possible to determine the conjugation of past tense verbs? We do not learn from them the conjugation to write the ending» . Having received an affirmative answer to the first question and the necessary clarifications on the boy's second remark, the guys move on to task (450), which contains a "trap" that helps to reach a higher level of generalization. An approximate version of the organization of work: - Verbs are given: live, make noise, ring. Try to guess what conjugation the first verb is. (Perhaps the 2nd. After all, it ends in - it.) - And what conjugation make noise and ring? (Probably the 1st, because they don't end in -it.) - Let's check if you reasoned correctly. To do this, form the form of the 2nd person singular, 2nd and 3rd person plural. - What happened? (The first verb turned out to be of the 1st conjugation: live, live, live, and the rest - the 2nd: make noise, make noise, make noise; ringing, ringing, ringing.) - How was conjugation determined? (According to shock personal endings.) - Have your assumptions been confirmed? (No.) Why? (Because only the indefinite form was taken into account.) - What will you remember to avoid such mistakes in the future? (In the initial form, without first putting the verb in the personal form, its conjugation cannot be determined.) - In what case will the indefinite form help? (If the personal ending of the verb is unstressed.) The material of the training lessons will help to check the depth of knowledge and the degree of formation of the methods of action necessary for setting and solving spelling problems in the endings of different parts of speech. They also pursue another, no less important, goal: they “embed” the final link into the system of ideas that fourth-graders already have about how to act in order to correctly write the endings of nouns, adjectives, and now also verbs. 1. Why is the ability to write unstressed personal endings of verbs, as well as case endings of inflected parts of speech, complex? 2. What undesirable consequences can the use of the 3rd person plural form as a means of determining conjugation lead to? 3. What methodological solutions and specific methods of work recommended in the textbook "To the secrets of our language" do you consider useful to adopt? Literature
- Arsiry A.T., Dmitrieva G.M. Materials on entertaining grammar of the Russian language. - part 1 - Uchpedgiz, M., 1963. - p. 142 Ivanova V.A., Potikha Z.A., Rozental D.E. Interestingly about the Russian language. - L .: Education, 1990. - p. 168 Russian language in primary school: Theory and practice of teaching. // Ed. M.S. Soloveichik. - M.: 1993 and later. P. 159 Russian language: A textbook for students of the 4th grade of educational institutions: At 2 hours - Part 1 / S.V. Ivanov and others - M .: Ventana-Graf, 2005 Russian language. Proc. for 4 cells. early school At 2 h. Part 1 / A.V. Polyakov. - M .: Education, 2003 Ryabtseva S.L. Dialogue behind the desk. - M.: Enlightenment, 1989 Soloveychik M.S., Kuzmenko N.S. To the secrets of our language: Methodological recommendations for the textbook and notebooks in the Russian language for the 3rd grade of a four-year elementary school. A guide for the teacher. -3rd ed., revised. - Smolensk: Association of the XXΙ century, 2005. Soloveichik M.S., Kuzmenko N.S. To the secrets of our language: Grade 3: Russian language textbook for a four-year elementary school. At 2 h. Part 1. - 3rd ed., revised. - Smolensk: Association of the XXΙ century, 2005. Soloveichik M.S., Kuzmenko N.S. To the secrets of our language: Grade 4: Russian language textbook for a four-year elementary school. In 2 hours, Part 2 - 3rd ed., revised. - Smolensk: Association of the XXΙ century, 2005. Soloveichik M.S., Kuzmenko N.S. To the secrets of our language: Grade 4: Task book 2 to the Russian language textbook for a four-year elementary school. - Smolensk: Association of the XXΙ century, 2005. Soloveychik M.S., Kuzmenko N.S., Kubasova O.V., Kurlygina O.E. Russian language in elementary grades. Collection of methodical tasks. - M .: "Academy", 2000 and later. Fonin D.S. Attention: verb! - Beginning school. –– 1996, No. 3. – S. 25 – 28
LECTURE 8
Formation of spelling self-control
as a complex spelling skill
Plan- concept self-control. Teaching children to consciously control the correctness of writing at its different stages. Correction of specially made mistakes as a necessary spelling exercise, the conditions for the success of its application.
Checking himself, at first he argues something like this: “The sound [w] is not“ dangerous ”, because it is followed by a vowel, the letter w written correctly; [y] shock, no doubt, so the letter at chosen correctly; [p] - deaf double and stands in front of another double - [k], you need to put a danger signal under the letter P; the sound [k '] is in front of the vowel, so it can be trusted, which means the letter to chose correctly; [and] unstressed, it is easy to make a mistake in it, therefore, under the letter and We need to set up a danger signal." We see: the reasoning and actions of the student were aimed at, based on the knowledge of identifying features, to identify all the spellings in the word. The next step of the student is to determine in which part of the word spellings are found: “The paired voiceless consonant [p] is at the root of the word-name of the subject coat(fur coat, fur coat), and unstressed [and] –
at the end ( coat, coat)". Further, the rules are applied to dubious spellings: “How to find out the letter in the root of the name-subject? I will explain its meaning with the help of a single-root word: fur coats
ka- it's small fur coats
a.
I hear the sound [b]. I can trust him, because he is followed by a vowel. So, it needs to be labeled b. I have written P, this is mistake. Cross it out and write a letter on top b. The second spelling is at the end. How to solve such problems, we still do not know, so I will put above the letter and, I will show that I doubt whether I chose it correctly. We gave an example of a detailed reasoning of a student, carrying out the process of checking what was written and fixing its results. It is clear that at the later stages of learning, these considerations collapse, and the operations that involve determining the type of orthograms and performing actions in accordance with the rule are combined. We all, of course, want the children to have nothing to correct in their notebooks. To do this, we are trying to work on the development of the spelling vigilance of young schoolchildren, we teach them to act in accordance with the prescriptions of the rules, in a word, we improve the actual spelling skills. But do we always realize that the last of them - the exercise of self-control - can, on an equal basis with the rest, participate in warning mistakes? What does that require? It is necessary to organize self-examination training in such a way that the efforts of students are directed not only to finding the wrong spelling, but also to discovering its cause - the wrong link in the reasoning, actions that led to the wrong choice of the letter. More briefly, this idea can be formulated as follows: it is necessary to form the ability to control not only your result, but also the process of achieving it (to exercise operational control). However, it is difficult for a small person to make his own mental actions the subject of analysis, so it is necessary to start by learning to look for errors in other people's reasoning that led to incorrect spelling. It is this methodological solution that was adopted and implemented on the material of very numerous exercises in the textbook "To the Secrets of Our Language". (In the relevant part of the lecture, we will talk about this in detail.) Indicators of the formation of spelling self-control are: 1) the ability to identify an error, discover those actions that were not committed when writing the text. How to ensure the effective formation of these skills, "make" them work to improve spelling literacy in general? Obviously, there is more than one answer to this question. Let's show how it is solved in the textbook "To the secrets of our language", since in it the teaching of self-control is carried out in a logic different from the traditional one. 2. Teaching children to consciously control the correctness of writing at its different stages. The experience of communicating with teachers shows that many of them believe that the ability to check oneself develops by itself, automatically, as they master the signs of basic orthograms and gain experience in solving the corresponding spelling problems. Is it possible to accept such a point of view? Of course no. Teaching self-examination must be purposeful. And it is necessary to start with the introduction into the minds of young schoolchildren of the installation: any written work is considered completed only when it is checked, when errors are found, if any. It is her awareness that the first steps in teaching self-control should be subordinated to. Word error is understandable to everyone, including first-graders, and, it would seem, does not need special consideration. However, being the object of search and analysis during self-examination, the error, as it were, passes into another "weight category" - it acquires the status of a concept. It is well known that it is easier to understand a concept if its introduction is motivated. What motive may be due to the inclusion of the concept error in the field of view of younger students? Let's try to figure it out. To do this, read the phrase below and appreciate the speed and ease of "making sense." " Advance thisplhopagdy.» Did you manage to understand right away that you have a line from a song to the words of E. Ryazanov “Nature does not have bad weather…”? What hindered the perception of what was written, made it difficult to understand it? Lots of graphical and spelling errors. The conclusion is unequivocal: for a written message to be understandable, it must be free from errors. The same conclusion is drawn by first-graders who are looking for an answer to the question "What does it mean to write correctly?" First, it turns out that "the correct letter is a letter without typos." The theme of the corresponding lesson is formulated in the same way. On it, students will learn what typos and typos are. It seems that it is clear why these two concepts were next to each other: both typos and misspellings are errors caused by inattention. In addition, they manifest themselves in the same way: omissions, substitutions, permutations of letters. The motivation for both terms is transparent, so children can deduce the meaning of each of them on their own. The reasoning begins with an excerpt from the childhood memories of V. Inber, who found an error in the book: “... In the line “Cockerel, cockerel, golden comb” was printed “comb”. In reporting errors made during print anii books, newspapers, magazines, given the name - about print ki, as well as information about special workers who look for and correct typos - proofreaders. (This information is not intended to be memorized.) First graders know from their own experience that errors are possible in notebooks, in pis handwritten text. The term is derived based on an analogy: print
at - aboutprint
ki;pis
ah - .... When the guys tried themselves as proofreaders, they eliminated the “breakdowns” in the words from the exercises, to each of them are invited to make an important decision for themselves. The “through” hero Anton has already expressed his opinion: “But I like to write like that, because it’s funny. Isn’t it fun to write with typos?” Accept your personal The solution for first graders will be helped by the notes made in advance on the board: I want to make everyone laugh. Let me be well understood. The choice of each student will be told by his “own” proposal written off by him. However, the correct letter is a letter not only without typos, but also without errors. What is an error? "Every rule violation is a mistake." The guys come to the understanding of the concept by working with a “cunning” sentence invented by Anton: nasharik snarled the ball[Ibid]. Having corrected all the mistakes, listed the rules of writing that Anton violated, the first graders are already ready to answer the question: what does it mean to write correctly? The answers of the guys are compared with the answers of the authors of the textbook: 
A constant return to the idea that errors and omissions make it difficult to understand what is written will form a more responsible attitude of children to written speech. And this allows us to hope that the desire for competent writing will become conscious, and self-control will become purposeful and motivated. The student who wants to be understood will check his notes in such a way that they are free from both errors and slips of the pen. Although the textbook “To the Secrets of Our Language” does not provide for the obligatory memorization of information about proofreaders and does not involve teaching children a strict distinction between slips and errors, the importance of this information and the corresponding skills cannot be underestimated. And that's why. When forming self-control, operations to detect slips and errors are divorced: after all, their appearance is provoked by various reasons. This is reflected in special handout points that guide students in various writing situations. Recall that in the textbook "To the secrets of our language" there are several reminders that accompany schoolchildren from the 1st to the 4th grade. It means, first of all, memo 4 « How to write without mistakes?”, which is transformed, supplemented as children master spelling, grammar, etc. But one thing remains unchanged: the function performed by the memo is to be a guide to spelling. There are two important points in this memo. The first is related to the permission to leave the “window” in place of the found spelling; it is a signal of an unresolved (but conscious!) task and a realized one - along the way letters - self-control. (After all, before the “window” appeared, the student needed to track his own actions step by step: evaluate each sound in the word; decide whether he can be “trusted”; determine which rule to act on; finally, set the boundaries of his own knowledge about how to solve the problem and opportunities to apply them.) The second key point of the memo is the point Check (work as a proofreader) that orients children to the implementation final self-control. What operations, according to the memo, does the action of checking what is written fall apart? - read the syllables - are there any typos; find all the spellings again; where possible, explain the choice of letters and decide if there are any mistakes; is - correct; in doubt - put over the letter ?
.
- read the syllables and listen to yourself - are all the sounds correctly indicated; mark dangerous places.
- underline the letter, place in the word or the whole word where the violation was made; underline the word, highlight the misspelled morpheme in it; underline the word in which there is an error, and indicate the morpheme containing the incorrect spelling in the margins with a conventional sign; write the correct letter in the margins, write the correct letter in the margins, put an error sign in the margins, and next to it - an indication of the morpheme or part of speech. mark only the line where you need to look for an error;
- indicate the page number on which the rule is formulated, the recommendation is given.
- Find the error (if it is not shown). Determine in which part of the word the mistake was made; if this part is not highlighted, mark it. Write out the word with a "box" in place of the letter that is chosen incorrectly. Decide which rule to apply. Follow the steps and insert the letter. Go back to the text where the error was and correct it.
As you can see, these records violated the norms of graphics, in particular, the rules for indicating the softness of consonants. Separate words are proposed for correction, their number does not exceed the norm (8 - 12 words). Note: the task is formulated in such a way that the attention of first-graders first focuses on correct writing, and only then sent to search for errors. In addition, material fixation of the results of the check is provided: a +,
errors are corrected in the way shown. And so that undistorted images of each word are deposited in spelling memory, students are invited to write them down right, acting on memo 2 “How to write down your thoughts and words?”, The last paragraph of which just provides for the verification of what is written. Error is a multifunctional phenomenon. It is interesting to us as an indicator of the student's incorrect actions at one stage or another of solving a spelling problem. Therefore, along with the ability to control the result (writing a word), it is necessary to form the ability to track the process of achieving it, in other words, to exercise operational control. And then we can expect that the developed ability to consciously check what is written will provide an opportunity not only to find and correct already made mistakes, but also to prevent their occurrence. As is probably clear from all that has been said, the lecture on the formation of spelling self-control in primary schoolchildren is not accidentally presented as the last one - it, like the ability to exercise self-control itself (during writing and after its completion), is of a generalizing nature. Paraphrasing one of the theses of the textbook "To the secrets of our language", we can say: a full-fledged meaningful spelling training is a full-fledged spelling self-control. Check how you learned the material. 1. Look through all the lectures worked out and reveal the meaning of the thesis: full-fledged conscious spelling training. 2. Remember Seryozha Tsarapkin, who thought about how to write an adverb unbearable. Determine whether he is checking the result or the process of achieving it? 3. Prove that the reception of writing with "windows" (see lecture 2) is a way to teach children to self-control, carried out as they write. 4. Explain the educational meaning of the methods of correcting and showing errors in students' notebooks mentioned in the lecture. Illustrate how a differentiated approach to students can be provided. 5. What information about the causes of errors, as well as in general about the level of spelling training of schoolchildren, can a teacher receive if, when writing the text, they marked: a) all spellings with dots; b) question marks - doubtful? 6. Return to task 227 from O.V. Uzorova, E.A. Nefyodova. Taking into account the conditions that ensure the positive impact of the “negative material” on the development of spelling skills, evaluate the methodological literacy of the presentation of the material in this task. Literature 1. Aleshkovsky Yuz. Black-brown fox. - M .: Children's literature, 1967 2. Blues S.M. Work on mistakes. Textbook M.S. Soloveichik, N.S. Kuzmenko "To the secrets of our language". - Beginning school - 2004. - No. 8 - P. 40 - 45 3. Borisenko I.V. Teaching junior schoolchildren spelling on a communicative basis. - Beginning school - 1998. - No. 3. - P. 40 - 41 4. Koreshkova T.V. Reception of cacography: possibilities and conditions of application. - Beginning school - 2000. - No. 6. - P. 38 - 43 5. Koreshkova T.V. Use of incorrect spellings when teaching self-examination. - Beginning school - 2003. - No. 6. - P. 82– 86 6. Soloveichik M.S., Kuzmenko N.S. To the secrets of our language: Grade 1: Russian language textbook for a four-year elementary school. - 3rd ed., revised. - Smolensk: Association of the XXΙ century, 2005 7. Soloveichik M.S., Kuzmenko N.S. To the secrets of our language: Methodological recommendations for a textbook-notebook on the Russian language for the 1st grade of a four-year elementary school. A guide for the teacher. - 3rd ed., revised. - Smolensk: Association of the XXΙ century, 2004.8. Soloveichik M.S., Kuzmenko N.S. To the secrets of our language: Guidelines for the textbook and workbooks on the Russian language for the 2nd grade of a four-year elementary school. A guide for the teacher. - 3rd ed., revised. - Smolensk: Association of the XXΙ century, 2004.9. Talyzina N.F. Formation of cognitive activity of younger students. - M .: Education, 1988 10. Uzorova O.V., Nefedova E.A. Reference book on the Russian language: 3 cells. (fourteen). - M.: AST: Astrel, 2005 11. Tselikova M.L. Kakograficheskie spellings in the lesson of the Russian language. - Beginning school - 2003. - No. 6. - P. 86 - 88 1 Ramburs - in international trade - payment for the purchased goods through the bank
2 Collection of normative documents. Russian language. / Comp. E.D. Dneprov, A.G. Arkadiev. - M .: Bustard, 2004, p.12.
3 And in the following we mean nouns of the 1st, 2nd, 3rd declension, so the type of declension is not indicated
Each of us has some warm and kind memories from childhood, because it is in childhood that everything is serious for you and you feel that you are capable of much. And how nice it is to remember this already in adulthood.
We have selected 8 interesting and funny memories from childhood, reflecting the essence of childish spontaneity!
When I was small (probably 7 years old), we lived in an apartment on the 2nd floor, and I was in love with a boy from the 3rd. Their balcony was directly above ours, and when I went to bed, I laid out my right hand beautifully on top of the blanket. So that if suddenly my object of sighing descends (like Tarzan on a liana) into my room, then it would be easy for him to put a ring on my finger.
As a child, she played a strange game: she took two bags, stuffed them with pillows, sat on the sofa, and then ... sat. Long - about an hour on average. When my mother asked what I was doing, she answered her in a businesslike manner: “Mom, please don’t touch me, I’m actually on the train!”
The warmest memory from early childhood is connected with the morning preparations for the garden, more specifically: with cocoa, which my mother made in the morning. A new jar of Nesquik ended very quickly, because I cracked it dry for a sweet soul. Now I already have two children of my own, who also ask for cocoa in the morning. The jar ends just as quickly, but the children have nothing to do with it. I still eat it quietly.
As a child, she was a very generous child, and she also loved the cartoon "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" and believed that they really live in the sewers. I felt sorry for them, because they constantly ate the same pizza, and I decided to take them pancakes! Fortunately, my mother intercepted me with a plate at the gate, when I walked with a firm gait to the drain.
When I was 6 years old, I went with my grandmother to the grocery store. We went to the counter, there was a queue of several people. One of the aunts says to my grandmother: “What a beautiful granddaughter!” Without hesitation, I take off my shorts and underpants and say: “I am a grandson!”
When I was little, my dad shaved his head. I didn't recognize him and I was scared. When they fell asleep, I called my grandmother and said that my mother was sleeping with some strange man. Grandma was at our house in 10 minutes. Then I flew.
When I was 10-11 years old, my brother and I were taken to a church where one priest was a friend of my godfather. Before confession, the good father asked me if I knew what communion was. I said I'm smart and I know. And I told him what the sacrament, gerund, how they differ, did not forget about the participle turnover. Judging by the face of the priest at that moment, I am still not very smart.
My mother and I didn't get along very well, especially as children - I was hypersensitive, and my mother always had a very strong character. Now we have begun to communicate much closer, and my mother has become a friend who will always give advice and help to relate to the situation easier. But recently she surprised me. We worked in the country, harvested in the greenhouse. And at some point in the middle of the conversation, she turned to me and asked: “Do you know what my only joy in life is?” I shook my head, and my mother smiled and simply replied, “You.”
There are not so many poems in the world that I cried over - and these are not necessarily good poems: Tsvetaeva’s favorite Sonechka Holliday had everything in order with literary taste, but she still cried not from Tsvetaeva’s poems, but from “I give you a dog, I ask you to love her." And yet, to make the reader weep and be touched is a serious merit, for these feelings are beneficial. It’s understandable why I couldn’t calm down for two hours after Yesenin’s “Song of the Dog” - I still consider it one of the greatest Russian poems - but I won’t undertake to explain why, at the age of ten, I roared over Inber’s poems: “ Late at night, by the pillow, when everyone is tired, little ears grow to listen to dreams.". What's wrong here? A complete idyll! At night, the pillow does not sleep, listens to dreams, and during the day it sleeps itself; banal fairy tale story. But either because such a plump and prosaic creature as a pillow was animated and endowed with magical abilities, or because of a special Inber tearful intonation, I completely lost self-control. And I must tell you that the years have changed little in this sense - Inber has a poem, on which I am now ... which is completely indecent for my years ... I'm talking about the lullaby "To the son who does not exist." Everything is brilliant there, except for the last stanza (in which the author falls into a completely plush sweetness): “ He looked into his native harbor - and sailed away again. The boy is made to swim, the mother is made to wait". No impossible.
Maybe if I hadn’t read all this as a child ... But since then her poems have become so engraved in my memory, home folklore and modern speech that every time I turn to Mozhaika from the Moscow Ring Road, I read - to myself or aloud: “ It was still cold in all its glory, the wires of the Mozhaisk Highway were still white...". This is from a children's poem about the war - "Home, Home" - which describes the story of a family that has flown away for evacuation and happily returned to its native birches.
And after that, they will tell me here - as they say in some of today's articles about Inber - that she never entered the great literature: cute, talented, but no one needs it now ... Firstly, the author who entered the folklore , already in literature, you can’t cross out: “The centipede has babies” - no worse than Chukovsky. What about The Girl from Nagasaki? Tell her who, that this song will remain from her mainly in the memory of the people, Inber might have switched to chanson and would have achieved a lot; like all poets who know how to write prose, she is strong in the ballad, remarkably holds the plot, and such poems of her as "Vaska Whistle in a binder" or "Setter Jack" would have fallen into the anthology of Soviet poetry with the most demanding selection. Vertinsky, who is very picky in his choice of texts, wrote the famous "Johnny" on her poems - "Little Johnny has hot palms and teeth like almonds" - and this thing also cannot complain about oblivion.
And secondly, something tells me one comforting thought: you never know who is not read and remembered now? Now I'm generally not very good with reading and memory. But wait, other times will come when subtle and complex emotions will be in demand, when it will not be embarrassing to sympathize and be touched, and even sentimentality will be quite appropriate, and interest in the Soviet will be deep and non-opportunistic, especially since much will be repeated; and then Inber will still be re-read, and her place in literature, who knows, will become more honorable. You just have to survive the so-called dark ages - in our case, I hope, just years.
Little is actually remembered about Inber. For example, that she was Trotsky's cousin and somehow survived. This is written even in Wikipedia, and it's not true. Trotsky's cousin was her mother, Fanny Solomonovna Shpentzer, a literature teacher. It is hard to imagine that Trotsky's cousin could have survived, published, and received the Stalin Prize: Stalin was, of course, unpredictable - but not so unpredictable. Trotsky probably played a certain role in Inber's life - it is precisely this kinship, then saving, albeit quite distant, that can explain her hasty return from exile. She and her husband went there from Odessa, but returned less than six months later, while her husband, Nathan, stayed, then moved to Paris and disappeared. Probably, life in Soviet Russia seemed more promising to her, and she was not mistaken. The point, of course, is not that Trotsky helped - he could be regarded as a kind of guarantee, and then not for long: she made her way into the twenties thanks to her own talent and phenomenal instinct. She began to show this instinct early, back in the 1910s, when she came across her own literary style: let's say, in the first book - "Sad Wine" - there is still no trace of this manner, everything is rather trivial there, but already in "Bitter Delight", released in the revolutionary seventeenth, that sad irony appears, that mocking and at the same time sentimental tone, which was the then fashion with the light hand of Teffi; but as a poet, Inber was stronger than Teffi, although in prose, perhaps, she is inferior to her. Teffi, the most human person in Russian prose of the twentieth century, had her own style in prose, a magical gift for putting words in a true angle; Inber is a good prose writer, but her style lacks a personal stamp. But in poetry, where Teffi could not always get rid of pathos, Inber is stronger, and her plots are better built, and the story is dry, muscular, and speech characteristics are excellent. " Lyubusya-Lyubka has pink lips - you'd better not tell us in front of us! At Lyubusya-Lyubka's - better don't tell! - the scarf is very gaseous, poisonous gas". Taffy is not so weak - she wanted to, she could - but this urban speech was already unfamiliar to her: in the twenties she lived in Paris.
There were several excellent poetesses in the twenties, who then disappeared - this is a separate, very interesting topic, why in the twenties, more precisely, after the twenty-third, Akhmatova almost fell silent, Tsvetaeva almost did not write, but the voices of Shkapskaya, Inber, Adalis sounded all over Russia. Here's the thing, I think. The twenties were, of course, extremely attractive and, I would say, creative, for all the filthiness of the word; they greatly stimulated literature, but there was a taste of vulgarity in them, an admixture of bad taste, much more distinct than in the Russian Silver Age. Only people who, according to Yevgeny Petrov, could write at that time, for whom, according to Yevgeny Petrov, irony replaced their worldview, since it was the only possible reaction to the lack of values. Here Mayakovsky could not: his satire is not ontological, it does not question the foundations of being, the mission of the poet, the very concept of literature. And the revolution is sacred to him. There was an attempt to see in his revolutionary odes a parody, buffoonery - well, he could not seriously, in fact, glorify all this and not understand anything! More or less consistently, this topic is developed in the book of the self-taught lighthouse expert Bronisław Gorb, The Jester at the Throne of the Revolution, but the author is too stubbornly wishful thinking. If you wish, you can even see a parody in Hamlet (and it is there, see The Mousetrap), but “the ability to see the funny side in everything is the surest sign of a petty soul,” we read from Belinsky. The satire of the twenties in its best examples is not funny or funny unintentionally, as Anna Gerasimova aka Umka showed in her dissertation “Funny among the Oberiuts”; that which was sacred to Mayakovsky was subjected to ridicule. Hence the Oberiuts, Vaginov, hence Inber, whose poetry, for all its sentimentality, was very harsh and thus proves that sentimentality is not from weakness, but from strength. The exception was Shkapskaya - she was the first to fall silent - but her ontology is undermined from the other side: men failed to dispose of the Absolute, and women got it. Shkapskaya is physiological to the point of obscenity, to the point of true genius shamelessness, which we will not find in Akhmatova either. When values collapse, either physiology saves (as in Shkapskaya, Sholokhov, Babel, Pilnyak, Vesely, Zamyatin partly), or ridicule.
Inber found the intonation with which in the twenties it was possible to talk about love, and about motherhood, and about old parents. She joined the main, in my opinion, literary group of the second half of the twenties (not counting the immediately defeated Oberiuts): the constructivists became her literary family.
Who are the constructivists, the direct heirs of the acmeists and their direct students? The term was coined by Selvinsky. Constructivism does not mean the pathos of naked creation, solid rationality, the poetics of labor, etc. This is just constructive, positive, sound thinking - the prevalence of the intellectual principle over the chaotic, consciousness over the subconscious. Constructivism is prose in verse, which often gives a curious junction; in today's Russian literature, the ball is ruled by people who believe that the more random, the more true, and do not really think not only about coherence, but even about elementary literacy. For them, everything that can be recounted - by definition, they despise prose, the ballad, love ellipses, “dropped links”, but if for Mandelstam these dropped links were just a way to speed up poetic speech, to make it denser, then in today's literary mainstream it is a way to obscure the meaning, to give out incomprehensibility for a meaningful statement. In general, the more incomprehensible, the better. The story in verse has its drawbacks, its risks - there really is a chance to slip into the devaluation of the poetic word, into the lyrical reportage; but in the best examples, the prose content and poetic devices strike a wonderful spark. This is what happens with Selvinsky in Ulyalayevshchina, with Lugovsky in Bolsheviks of the Desert and Spring, with Inber in the ballads of the twenties. She is not a constructivist in the "Selvinsky" and "Lugovsky" sense - but the excitement, the joy of novelty, mockery of personal and poeticization of collective effort - this, of course, makes her related to them; and it is not in vain that she, as a true constructivist, writes a lot at this time about construction sites, about trips, about great Soviet projects.
Today, all this is repeatedly ridiculed, but in Inber’s essays of that time, in her poems, in reports for Ogonyok and Searchlight (she worked a lot for magazines, she had to feed her teenage daughter, whom she, like Tsvetaeva, gave birth to her Alya in 1912) there is indeed the excitement of construction, the freshness of novelty and a sense of perspective. She turned out to be an excellent essay writer, precisely because all this, power stations, radio stations, desert flooding, etc., was really new to her. The experience was completely different - and therefore the estrangement that Shklovsky discovered, she succeeded without effort: all this was very strange for her, and she, like all women, loved novelty.
The paradox here seems to be: how could it be that Larisa Reisner, whose first man was Gumilyov, and whose first poetic passion was Akhmatova, became a woman commissar? But that's exactly what could happen: after all, the women of the Silver Age were inspired by something that did not exist yet. As in Gippius: "I need something that does not exist, never happens" ... Revolution - this is the novelty he desires; only many of the men were crushed or frightened by the demon summoned by the sorcerer's apprentices, and the women were more fearless. Stormcaller yells "Let the storm blow harder!" - and when he sees a storm, like Gorky, he says that it’s not that he called for such a storm, and even the fearless Blok says: they say, we didn’t call these days, but the coming centuries. But women, who always want the unprecedented, just like it all very much - “And the miraculous comes so close to the collapsed dirty houses, unknown to anyone, but desired by us from the ages.” They always want the ultimate, the huge, the impossible, and they get it. As the vile but clever Vasily Vasilyich Rozanov wrote, what can be done with Nastasya Filippovna than to satisfy her? - only to kill.
And so the twenties became the heyday of young women's poetry: a man does not know how to blaspheme like that, so decisively break with the past, he does not know how to meet the present and the future with curiosity, and not with horror. Curiosity is called a feminine trait for a reason.
And they - Inber, Adalis, Barkova, Radlova, later Bergholz - managed to find a new language where the elders were silent, where men were powerless. And two new types appeared: a woman commissar (after all, this was not only Reisner, there were many of them, and among the anarchists too) - and a woman essay writer, she is a reporter, a driver, even a pilot. Pretty, small, businesslike, fearless, cynical, witty.
This style was created by Inber.
She generally understood the style - it was not in vain that she lectured about Parisian fashion in her native Odessa, it was not in vain that she and her husband lived in Europe for four years, studying this very fashion; but a leather jacket and notebook suited her better than Parisian clothes. Women of this breed wrote essays with magnificent irony and genuine admiration: for them, some village was at that time more interesting than Paris. Novelty is the main thing! Inber’s stories of this time - “About my daughter”, “About my father”, “Mura, Tosik and a responsible communist”, the story “A Place in the Sun”, her poems, brought from trips, are the best that she did in literature. She really liked Soviet life. Some write now that she adapted, feeling the dubiousness of the origin - but nothing like that, she was absolutely honest. And she calmly continued to write good poetry. True, in the poem "Travel Diary" a new statuary, solemnity appeared, she mastered the octave with her usual talent for versification, - and at the end a toast was proclaimed "As for the crown of everything, Joseph Vissarionovich, for you!" - but plasticity, joy, excitement remained with her. Of course, the tragedy of the thirties was not reflected in her poems in any way, but the treasury of the thirties did not fully enter into them either; she stopped only writing her sad and cheerful prose, she went, like Shkapskaya, into a sketch.
The true flowering of her talent, however, fell ... scary to write - during the blockade, because what kind of flowering is that? But nothing can be done, she, like Bergholz, wrote her best things since the stormy twenties in the terrible forties. Maybe because during the war people again became equal to themselves. And the state stopped putting pressure on them, relying on personal initiative - people were allowed to save the country. It was not before that, the authorities had other concerns, except for how to constantly press subjects. And most importantly - in an existential situation, at the limit of possibilities, her best features returned to Inber. mockery. Sobriety. Courage. Self-discipline.
In besieged Leningrad, Inber wrote Pulkovo Meridian, a long diary poem in iambic pentameter hexastich. She refused to leave Leningrad - not so much because her personal heroism was such, but because her husband, the famous doctor Ilya Strashun, the author of the fundamental historical study "Russian Doctor at War", was supposed to stay in Leningrad. He was the director of the First Medical Institute in besieged Leningrad and could not leave anywhere. Inber stayed with him all this time. Her blockade diary “Almost Three Years” is her best prose, concise, harsh, without a shadow of reflection (on the contrary, Lydia Ginzburg in “Notes of a Blockade Man” is saved by reflection - but Inber, of course, is not such a deep person: she does not think, and fixes).
"Pulkovo Meridian" is a good thing. It contains pathetic bureaucratic digressions, deliberate Stalinist insertions - but most of these under-octaves, made according to the constructivist principle (the clash of high poetic form and the roughest, most cruel prose), testify to the long-awaited acquisition of a new language.
I'm wearing gloves, felt boots, two fur coats
(One at the feet). On the head is a scarf;
I made a shield out of it,
She covered her chin, nose and lips.
I buried myself in a blanket, like in a snowdrift.
Warm, great. Only the forehead freezes.
I lie and think. About what? About bread.
About a crust sprinkled with flour.
The whole room is full of them. Even furniture
He pushed out. He is close and
Far away, like the promised land.
And the best one is the baked one.
And then another fucked up
The whole ice-hole with a kerosene bucket.
And that's all, teeth chattering from the cold,
The owner is remembered unkindly:
So that his house burns down, so that he becomes blind,
So that he loses cards for bread.
There is a sieve in the filter system -
Transparent steel muslin,
The smallest of all. That's how I am
I try to keep the grains of life,
So that in the fluid memory of the human
They settled like the sand of the sea.
It used to be, Muse during the day, in gray frost,
Counterweight to the black power of the enemy,
Ordovka, in a beret with a star,
Stood at the Kanavka near Swan
And with a wave of crimson mittens
The order was exemplary.
This is high class. And even if there is not that spontaneity, that flame that Berggolts has (any comparisons are blasphemous), but the intonation of pride, dignity, strength is certainly there; and there are stanzas no worse than those of Akhmatova.
Why did Inber get this thing? Because for her, who grew up in one of the most literary houses in Odessa, it was natural for literature to shield herself from everything, to see literature in it as a panacea; because self-discipline for her is organic, not violent; because she knows from the experience of the twenties that those who focus on food degrade and die, and those who have a business live in spite of everything. "Pulkovo Meridian" is a manifesto of the struggling spirit. This is poetry that really and everyday helped to survive without going crazy from hunger and horror, and its effect is just as beneficial and saving today, seventy years later.
Inber was among those who, in the words of Akhmatova, "did not survive the second round." She endured the thirties, survived the forties, but when her husband, who had heroically worked the entire blockade in Leningrad, was thrown out of the institute during the struggle against cosmopolitanism, something in her broke forever.
She began to write monstrously bad Soviet poetry. After the publication of Pasternak's "Poems from the Novel" in Znamya, she scolded these poems and publicly wondered why they should be published. She attacked the first publications of Leonid Martynov - they say, unreliable - and Leonid Martynov answered her with a poem, where he compared it with an old tree: “ But why would it be for the sake of hotter than kerosene, an old aspen flared up in a wet pad? I didn't give her a reason. It rustled in vain. After all, I did not sell my soul or body to anyone. The whirling of fiery foliage, the sinister whistling of the wind ... I look at such things without irritation". In general, she began to blow on the water, attacking even those who did not intend against the Soviet regime either in sleep or in spirit. She began to be counted among the most mediocre, the most ideological. The story "How I Was Little", with all its charm, is thinner and paler than the lovely early stories. Now she was devoted without enthusiasm, cautious without need. The thaw did not touch her. There was nothing in her from the former little Vera, the favorite of the constructivists, the best journalist of Ogonyok, an adamant and fearless blockade. Unlike Bergholz, who remained true to herself to the end, albeit at the cost of reckless alcoholic self-destruction, Inber did not resemble her former self in any way. The prose has stopped. Sometimes there was publicity. The last verses are worse even than the late Tikhonov. She survived her husband and daughter, her little grandson died during the blockade, so she died completely alone, at 82, although in an atmosphere of full state recognition. Her last notes, diaries, letters keep a trace of the deepest sorrow and a terrible, childish misunderstanding - why did it all happen, why?
The Soviet government, in general, went through a similar path, although it is much more to blame than Inber.
When you read the early Inber poems, the same “Pillow”, or “Lullaby”, or the lines about the grandson in “Meridian” - and compare this with poems from the last book of 1971, you will inevitably think about another murder, although no martyrology of the Soviet it is not included in the literature. She was, in general, selfish and cold at times, and coquettish beyond measure, but she was a real poet and a good person, she was one of those people who could write Babel’s “Oil”, that is, she was rightfully considered the voice of a young and promising country , in which there was a place for heroism, and sentiment, and love, and work. Perhaps all this lacked compassion, that true humanity that, for example, Platonov had. But Inber did not lay claim to the Platonic scale. She was small, though inflexible. And compassion was familiar to her, and she felt and felt sorry for people, judging by the diary and Meridian. Apparently, the verdict of Soviet Russia was signed in the late forties - after that, no thaw could fix anything: the late Stalin finished off what the war did not finish off.
Inber's poems are unlikely to infect anyone today with enthusiasm or seduce with the freshness of great plans. Today they can only make you cry.
Not so little. Sometimes you have to cry too.
People, how to answer the questions for the exercise?
1. Read the brief information about the writer V. P. Nekrasov.
Viktor Platonovich Nekrasov (1911 -1987), the author of one of the best stories about the Patriotic War - "In the trenches of Stalingrad", for which he was awarded the title of laureate of the State Prize, was a direct participant in the events of those years; was wounded twice. He spent almost all his life in Kyiv, he loved this city very much and, not without reason, considered it one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
2. Read an excerpt from the memoirs of this writer.
Encounters with the past...
... The school where you studied. The house where you lived. The yard is an asphalt patch among high walls. Here they played "detectives and robbers", exchanged stamps, broke their noses. It was good. And, most importantly, simple. Noses healed quickly...
But there are other encounters as well. Far less idyllic. Encounters with the war years; with the roads along which you retreated, with the trenches in which you sat, with the land where your friends lie ... But even in these meetings, more sad than joyful, there are those that cause a smile.
I wandered around Mamaev Kurgan for a long time. Many years have passed since we parted from Stalingrad. The trenches are overgrown with grass. Frogs croaked in the craters, and in places where there were minefields, goats roamed peacefully, nibbling grass. In the trenches, shells, black from rust, were lying around ...
Bypassing the entire mound, I went down the ravine to the Volga. And suddenly he stopped, not believing his eyes. There was a barrel in front of me. An ordinary iron barrel riddled with bullets from gasoline.
In October-November of the forty-second year, the advanced passed along this very ravine. On one side were the Germans, on the other - we. Somehow I was instructed to put a minefield on the opposite slope of the ravine.
The field was set, and since there were no landmarks around - no pillars, no destroyed buildings - nothing, I “tied” it to this very barrel on the report card, in other words, I wrote: “The left edge of the field is at a distance of so many meters in azimuth such and such from an iron barrel at the bottom of a ravine. The divisional engineer scolded me for a long time afterwards: “Who is it that binds minefields like that? Today there is a barrel, but tomorrow there is no ... Disgrace! .. ”I had nothing to answer.
And now the war has long passed, and there is no trace of either Hitler or the minefield, and they peacefully graze on the former front line goat, and the barrel is still lying and lying ...
1. Explain the meaning of the word idyllic (meetings). Which dictionary will help you clarify its meaning?
2. Re-read that part of the memories, which speaks of idyllic encounters with the past. What type of speech is this (a description of a place, a state of the environment, a state of a person, or a combination of these typical fragments)?
3. What means of language helped the author convey the special tone of this description? Evaluate from these positions the selection of syntactic constructions (types of simple sentences) and punctuation marks, in particular, ellipsis.
4. Compare with this description the 2nd fragment of memories (by no means idyllic) about the trenches of Stalingrad. What type of speech is this? What types of simple sentences are used here? Explain the word order in these sentences (predicate + subject). What is it - inversion or direct word order? What is the emotional content of the ellipsis in this fragment?
5. Reread the rest of the text - about the meeting with the barrel. What type of speech is leading in this part of the text? What typical fragments are included in it? For what purpose?
“She liked novels early on;
They replaced everything for her;
She fell in love with deceptions
Both Richardson and Rousseau.
Her father was a good fellow
Belated in the last century;
But he saw no harm in books;
He never reads
They were considered an empty toy
And didn't care about
What is my daughter's secret volume
Dozing until the morning under the pillow?
A.S. Pushkin
There are books - by the will of decency
They are not in the shadow of the century.
To take quotes from them - custom -
On all scheduled days.
In the library or reading room
Anyone, it’s so usual -
They are on the personal shelf.
As if retired a long time ago.
They are honored.
And without regret
Big holiday expenses
They are updated on anniversaries
Fonts, paper and format.
Amendments are made to the preface
Ile write anew, in a hurry.
And - stay healthy -
Where as the share is good.
On them is the seal of venerable boredom
And the prescription of the passed sciences;
But, taking one in hand,
You, the time
You suddenly get burned...
Accidentally penetrating from the middle,
Involuntarily, you will go through everything,
All together one line,
What did you pull apart.
A. Tvardovsky
Read poems to women...
Read poetry to women
Yours, others, it doesn't matter.
Let them talk about something personal
Or there is no sense in them a single line -
Read poetry to women!
Give women flowers
Although this is generally not clear:
Ripped off - perishes irrevocably
Bud of heavenly beauty.
Give women flowers!
Love your woman
The only one is infinite
Give everyone else eternity
And delight in paradise.
Love your woman!
O. Kovalchukova
* * *
I open the lonely volume -
shed bound volume.
The man wrote these lines.
I don't know for whom he wrote.
Let him think and love differently,
and in centuries we have not met ...
If I cry from these lines,
so they were meant for me.
Veronika Tushnova
book reader
Book reader and I wanted to find
My quiet paradise in the humility of consciousness,
I loved them, those strange ways
Where there is no hope and no memory.
Tirelessly swim streams of lines,
Enter the straits of heads impatiently
And watch the stream foam
And listen to the roar of the rising tide!
But in the evening... Oh, how terrible she is,
Night shadow behind the closet, behind the icon case,
And the pendulum, as motionless as the moon,
What shines over the shimmering swamp!
N. Gumilyov
... Life is short and fleeting,
And only literature is eternal.
Poetry soul and inspiration,
Sweet languor for the heart.
K. Balmont
I see - can you forgive conceit? -
My poems are in your hands
O girl of the coming century!
You sit by the window in the moonlight
And the moon pours into the gaps between the verses
The words. Which are not within words ...
R. Tagore
Book
She is my adviser
In all ordinary affairs,
In all matters of life,
teacher in my work,
In my distant wanderings,
On the road by land and water,
Inexhaustible spring
And wise knowledge and simple,
Everything that I have experienced in my life.
My faithful companion, good friend,
With whom I always share
Hours of reflection and leisure.
Hernandez
The hypocrite read poetry
The hypocrite read poetry,
He cursed and grumbled,
And wrote letters to the authorities,
Where everything is pretty distorted!
Read civic poetry
They looked ugly
He found dirt, blackness,
Decline and destruction!
Read landscape poetry
Yes, I almost died of longing,
Forests and flowers,
Brooks and moths!
He read poems about love,
I saw mortal sins
Debauchery, sodom, porn,
There was enough spirit for everything!
M. Lvovsky
37
There are moments in this life
When grace rolls in
And then take up the books
And they start reading.
Having stuck inquisitive apples
In printed characters a black swarm,
Read one page first
Then you move on to the second
And there, you see, already the third
She will beckon you on her own...
Oh, who invented these books -
The abode of the secret mind?
I have read a dozen of them in my life,
I can't brag big
But every third print
In my brain rages.
That is why, during leisure hours,
Tired of peaceful labor,
I am a book - a fat girlfriend -
Sometimes I read sometimes.
I. Irteniev
Treasure Island
So hello - goodbye -
Suddenly found on the top shelf
Old edition books
My roots, fragments.
These letters and ink
These faded colors
These, Lord have mercy,
Adventures and fairy tales.
Do you remember the volumes of "Detgiz"
Bound in pale gray.
Where is Tom Sawyer and Alice
Quentin Dorward with Gulliver?
Musketeers with Robinson
The Children of Captain Grant…
It smelled of gunpowder, ozone,
Like maritime smuggling!
It's a pity the light bulb was off.
Fish fat. Temperature.
You alone saved me -
Harmful literature.
Head burns and shrinks
The heat floats before the eyes -
But it turns white under the snow
My ship has sails.
As it was read from under the desk
About pirates and monsters!
Here they are - color cards,
This is my treasure island.
Forgotten carelessly
Conan Doyle and Seton Thompson,
Walter Scott and, of course,
Monte Cristo with Billy Bones!
A. Ampilov
My "Bread"
I became related to the book in the days of the war.
Oh, how sad that relationship was!
Pulling tight father's pants,
I ran away from hunger to the reading room.
The reading room was located in the old house.
At that time he was blind in the evenings ...
Familiar weary Madonna
She took a book off the shelf like bread.
And she gave it to me with a smile.
And, apparently, she was happy with it.
And I'm wary of a snail
Attached to the edge of the table.
And the gray room
With sad lights
Sailed away...
And everything seemed like a dream.
Although books did not replace bread for me,
But they helped to forget about him.
Me meeting those
Will be remembered for a long time...
And now - in the days of success or adversity -
I am here again,
And the young Madonna daily bread
He gives me from the shelf.
A. Dementiev
Reader
Shouldn't be very unhappy
And, most importantly, secretive. Oh no! -
To be clear to the contemporary
The poet is all wide open.
And the ramp sticks out under your feet,
Everything is dead, empty, light,
Lime light cold flame
He was branded by a brow.
And every reader is like a mystery,
Like a treasure buried in the ground
Let the very last, random,
Silent all his life.
There is everything that nature hides,
Whenever she wants, from us.
There's someone helplessly crying
At some appointed time.
And how much twilight of the night is there,
And shadows, and how much coolness,
There those unfamiliar eyes
Until the light they speak to me
I'm being blamed for something.
And they agree with me...
So the confession flows silently,
Conversations the most blessed heat.
Our age on earth is fleeting
And the appointed circle is narrow,
And he is unchanging and eternal -
The poet's unknown friend.
A. Akhmatova
Red bound books
From the paradise of children's life
You send me a farewell greeting,
Unchanged Friends
Worn, red bound.
A little easy lesson learned
I run immediately to you, it happened.
- Too late! - Mom, ten lines! ..-
But, fortunately, my mother forgot.
Lights flicker on the chandeliers...
It's good to read a book at home!
Under Grieg, Schumann and Cui
I learned the fate of Tom.
It's getting dark... It's fresh in the air...
Tom is happy with Becky full of faith.
Here with the torch is Injun Joe
Wandering in the twilight of the cave...
Cemetery... The prophetic cry of an owl...
(I'm scared!) Here it flies through the bumps
Adopted prim widow,
Like Diogenes living in a barrel.
Lighter than the sun is the throne room,
Above the slender boy is a crown...
Suddenly - a beggar! God! He said:
"Allow me, I am the heir to the throne!"
Gone into the darkness, who arose in it,
Britain's sad fate...
- Oh, why among the red books
Wouldn't you like to fall asleep behind the lamp again?
Oh golden times.
Where the look is bolder and the heart is purer!
Oh golden names
Huck Finn, Tom Sawyer, The Prince and the Pauper!
M. Tsvetaeva
BOOK
Carelessly throw an unread story,
The owner left and hung up the lock.
Today he gave the last fifty kopecks
For a brief encounter with the hero Zoro.
He will sit on the best of third place,
He alone has a chair,
Watch Zoro kidnap the bride
Tearing through the leaves in the forbidden garden.
Twelve sergeants and ten corporals
He is surrounded, but the mask runs,
And now on a horse rushes over the rocks,
And the dust from the hooves pours into the audience.
And here on the rock, where there is a curve over the abyss,
Fearless Zoro met with the enemy..
Well, will a miserable book show
Such a full blown punch?
The black girth of the binding is silent,
Pages tightly embraced in the spine,
And the book is still. But the book is hunting
Cling to a human warm hand.
M. Svetlov
Books
There is a bottomless box of the world -
From Homer down to us.
To know at least Shakespeare,
It takes a year for smart eyes.
How to master this box?
He does not keep any extra books.
But now we are reading
all who will be forgotten.
Books come out every day.
Dramas, novels, poems
pomaded moments
From worldly nonsense.
We snatch on clothes,
quit tobacco
And admire on the shelf
with each new spine.
Dust stains piles of paper.
Books shrink and grow.
Here they are, anthropophagi
Human minutes!
Filling the corridors
bedrooms, hallways, attics,
Window sills and chairs
and tables and chests.
Out of two hundred, only one is needed -
Search, you won't find
And you will dump heavily on the shelves
Precious and false.
Peacefully smoldering porridge
phrases, titles and names:
Reasoning, laughter and stupidity,
boring case, bright moan.
Oh, from reading these canned food
Woe to our heads!
Not enough poor nerves
And the flair is bursting at the seams.
Crowded memory
drowns thoughts in a whirlwind of words ...
Even the critics are tired
to disassemble poods of knots.
All reading league
Ask: who is now
rereading a book,
Like once... many times?
Reread if hundreds
waiting in line!
Wrote - means, it is necessary.
Respect every work!
Is it possible in a thousandth harem
To love all the beauties?
No. But with everyone
You can play nice.
Who is "Onegin" today
read by heart?
Rukavishnikov hurries
Volume Twenty. Laughter and sadness!
Who got me behind these lines
Call Mitrofan,
Got the salt of them so deep
How I would like ... sperm whale.
It's easy for us... What will happen next?
Will be instead of cities
Uncut mass
get wet stacks of volumes.
Sasha Black
I don't have flowers
For a moment I am deceived by their beauty,
They will stand for a day or two and wither,
I don't have flowers.
And the birds do not live here,
They only huff mournfully and deafly,
And in the morning - a ball of fluff ...
Not even birds live here.
Only books in eight rows,
Silent, heavy volumes,
Guarded by age-old languor,
Like eight rows of teeth.
The second-hand book dealer who sold them to me,
I remember being hunchbacked and poor...
...Trading behind a cursed graveyard
The book dealer who sold them to me.
N. Gumilyov
In library
M. Kuzmin
About yellowed sheets
Within the walls of evening libraries,
When thoughts are so pure
And the dust is drunker than the drug!
My lesson is difficult for me now.
Where from a strange dream to go?
I have now found a flower
In the process of ancient Gilles de Retz.
Cut through with a network of pale veins,
Dry but secretly fragrant...
Probably put it
Some lover here.
46
More from scarlet female lips
His cheeks burned hot,
But the gaze of the eyes was already dull
And thoughts are coldly cruel.
And, of course, the devil's passion
I got up in my soul, like singing,
What a gift of love, flower, wither
Was thrown in the book of crime.
And after, there, in the shadow of the arcades,
In the splendor of the marvelous night
Who noticed a dull look,
Whose cry was heard inviting?
There are so many secrets in love
So torture the old tombs!
It seems to me that the blood
Stains many pages.
And the thorn accompanies the crown,
And the burden of life is an evil burden...
But what's up with that, dude?
Tireless as time!
My dreams... they are pure
And you, distant killer, who are you?!
O yellowed leaves,
Shagreen bindings!
N. Gumilyov
Book
Chain of white parallelograms
In black dashes - into your vent
Pulls Austerlitz and Vagramov
Storms up to the vortex of Waterloo.
In arc lamps (twenty-five amps!),
Above the table - pour memory
Thoughts of a thousand great feathers
In the realm of knowledge, the spirit of kings.
But what about thoughts? - dry grains
The flames that anciently lit up
Someone's soybeans over piles, in the lake
Hate, night under the skull of gorillas.
In the circle of books, the sage and the wolverine,
Sensitive to prey, on a bitch.
From amoebas to rikksrt and mach
All the ages of the earth - in one line!
If they think there, beyond the distance,
Seven icons will be entered into that tablet,
Everything we lived, what we waited for,
So that the universe would feel sorry for us.
V. Bryusov
Without a book in the world, night and mind
human miserable,
Without a book, like herds,
Senseless peoples.
In her virtue, duty, in her
power and salt of nature,
It is your future
and sure blessings.
V. Hugo
About the book
And at night, and behind the herd
There was a book with me:
With whips next to
And a shepherd's bag.
And they came to me
From these gray pages
famous were
From distant borders.
Behind the outskirts, meadow
Swept by at times
That polar blizzard
It's tropical heat.
And behind the school desk
lagging behind guys
I led away on the map,
What a considerate brother.
I will not say in vain -
This children will understand:
The book is a friend
And more than once we
Contact him.
Explain and help
Will take you away
But it will also require
And love and worries...
A. Tvardovsky
For books
"Mom, dear, don't torment me!
Are we going or not?"
I'm big - I'm seven years old,
I'm stubborn - that's better.
Surprisingly stubborn:
They will say no, but yes.
I will never give in
Mom clearly knows this.
"Play, get down to business,
Building a house." - "Where's the cardboard?"
"What's the tone?" - "Not at all!
I'm just tired of living!
Tired ... to live ... in the world,
All the big ones are executioners,
David Copperfield... - "Be quiet!
Nanny, fur coat! What children!"
Snowflakes fly right into your mouth...
Lantern lights...
"Well, driver, hurry up!
Will there be, mommy, pictures?
How many books! What a crush!
How many books! I will read everything!
Joy in the heart, but in the mouth
The taste of the salty counter.
M. Tsvetaeva
Oh my light!
My old friend is a book!
On the shelves
Simple shelving.
The basis of all teachings and religions.
Mind Source
Knowledge madam.
great gift
For the coming generations
From all the ages past
Intelligence.
mother nature
Stages of conquest
And Prometheus
Unquenchable Light!!!
Everything is in the book!
I open the volume
I freeze in sweet languor.
How much eternal
Appears in it
And every line
Like a revelation.
P. Petrishchev
There are wise bookshelves
There are wise bookshelves
reading rooms and libraries,
and I know: long, short,
but my age will last in them.
When they open my volume
on the table in silence
I put my soul in the palm of my hand
who came to visit me.
S. Schipachev
May is pouring rain today
To the world, both sinful and holy,
Everything faded. But where is the sun
Behind this cloud or that one?
Calls to the heights of the book-bird,
She will tell me the answer
And now, bending over the page,
I brought out the sun.
I hold in my hands the Miracle Bird,
I am a maid and a mistress.
Fly, I'll help you get through.
But just quietly, slowly!
Book... what is it
Book? Not a set of pages
This is the realm of restlessness
The rumble of thunder, the rise of lightning ...
It's tears, love and anger
lived chapter,
Branch of the tree of life
Embodied in words.
N. Brown
Word
Silent tombs, mummies and bones -
Only the word is given life:
From the ancient darkness, on the world churchyard,
Only letters are heard.
And we have no other property!
Know how to save
Though to the best of my ability, in the days of anger and suffering,
Our immortal gift is speech.
I. Bunin
Everything created by the mind
All that the soul aspires to
Like amber at the bottom of the sea
The books are carefully kept.
Yu.Vanag
An excerpt from the poem "The House of the Poet"
... My shelter is miserable. And times are tough.
But the shelves of books are rising like a wall.
Here at night they talk to me
Historians, poets, theologians.
And here is their voice, powerful as an organ,
Deaf speech and the quietest whisper
No winter hurricane can drown out
Neither the roar of the waves, nor the gloomy murmur of Pontus.
Well, my mouth has long been closed ... Let it be!
It is more honorable to be firm by heart
And write off secretly and furtively,
In life, to be not a book, but a notebook ...
M. Voloshin
An excerpt from the tragedy "Faust"
... My consolation is a mental flight
Through books from page to page.
In winter, reading will quickly pass the night,
Warmth flows through the body cheerfully,
And if a rare volume comes across,
With joy I am in the seventh heaven ...
J. W. Goethe
The inscriptions on the book
The page here is like a window:
He who opens to see the world is given.
And a true friend, and a random guest,
She will lift you up.
The world will illuminate, reveal secrets, -
You only listen agree!
R. Gamzatov
Doubts
Books, my books are lines
Those roads where, and timid and bold,
That walked, rising to the top, I,
That, stumbling, flew into the gorge.
Books, books - bloody victories.
Do you know, taking heights,
You cover yourself with glory
Or you shed blood in vain!
R. Gamzatov, translated by N. Grebnev
No, I'm not just publishing a book -
I reveal my fate to you:
Dawn of hope, purity of desire,
Green forests of memories
And tenderness blooming meadows -
I give everything, than life is dear to me ...
A. Gramsci
The country of readers! Such
History did not know.
I love your eternal restlessness
And the search for the ideal.
How do you get - from the primer
Under the power of the press
You go, worshiping her,
All the way to the grave...
Cover or binding -
Like a little door
Opening the entrance
And access to the heart.
E. Dolmatovsky
You put the title to the heart
Book on the chest.
You delve into every word
And such a reader
It's embarrassing to cheat.
This is what I tell myself
We are the worst.
Book, I tell myself
Shouldn't be colder
your heart.
So that the heart does not warm the book,
And she is his.
V. Inber
Rustle of book pages
Accompanies us in life everywhere,
From bustling capitals
To the village by a quiet dam,
From the hot lowlands
To the expanses of the Arctic Circle,
From curls to gray hair
The book - we do not have a best friend.
V. Inber
Like a perpetual motion machine in us - words sound,
What is poured out in a line,
stanza, page,
That rejoicing, and then sadness suddenly ...
How much can fit in a book
Passion, news, knowledge... There is no border
At the realm of little sorceresses - letters!
A. Zemlyansky
I'm in a handful of the whole brain, I devour
There are so many books that the world cannot contain them.
I can not satiate the greedy appetite -
I'm dying of hunger all the time.
T. Campanella
 |
Excerpt from "The Widow of Valencia" Who, moving away from a noisy life, Like me, closes himself in silence, To that it is quite enough Conversations with a reasonable book. Any book is a smart friend: A little tired, it stops; She silently teaches, Leisure is instructive with her. Having tasted the joy of reading with my soul And betrayed by piety, I am forever protected From the vanity of imagination.
