According to statistics, depression after childbirth is observed in almost half of the fair sex. The main manifestation of this syndrome is hypersensitivity. It is difficult not to notice such changes in the character and behavior of a woman. The duration of this state can range from a couple of days to several years. Below, we propose to consider the main nuances associated with this phenomenon.

Childbirth is a huge physical and mental burden on a woman’s body.

How does postpartum depression manifest?

Before talking about what postpartum depression is, it should be mentioned that this syndrome can cause the development of life-threatening diseases. It is important to understand that the violation of the psycho-emotional breakdown should be treated with therapeutic methods. The development of this syndrome is accompanied by serious changes in life principles.

Often this type of depression appears within a few months after the birth of a child. At this moment, a woman needs male support, since a mental disorder leads to a violation of the ability to perform certain functions. Over time, the main symptoms characteristic of this condition, lose their severity.

Lack of understanding and care, as well as failure to recognize the presence of a syndrome that is difficult to cope with alone, can lead to a deterioration in physical and mental condition.

Many women, faced with this phenomenon, try not to attach importance to internal changes. Such a “disguise” of an existing problem can lead to certain difficulties in later family life. According to statistics, in every fifth woman, postpartum depression manifests itself even a few years after the birth of a child. Quite often, this syndrome occurs against the background of unsuccessful childbirth and the birth of a dead fetus. Often the causes of PDD lie in childhood traumas and conflicts with parents. In this situation, the birth of a child is a kind of mechanism for activating a chain reaction.

How long does postpartum depression last? The duration of this condition depends on the complexity of the syndrome and the severity of the underlying symptoms. If a woman has a tendency to "spleen" and depression, this condition can last for several years. If the feeling of depression is the result of violations of certain functions in the body, then such a state can last for several decades. When PRD manifests itself due to stress, then a few weeks are enough to get out of depression.

In the postpartum period, a significant hormonal restructuring of the body occurs, which directly affects the psycho-emotional state

Causes of depression after childbirth

After the birth of a baby, a lot of things change in the life of a young family. Most often, these changes affect women. Changes in the volume of blood in the body, changes in blood pressure and hormonal imbalances are the main causes of feeling lost. In addition, the following factors influence the development of depression:

1. Predisposition. According to scientists, some personality types tend to imitate the behavior of their parents. The most acute severity, hereditary predisposition is during stress.
2. Fear due to feelings of helplessness. Every woman strives to be the perfect mother for her child. However, not every parent can cross a certain psychological barrier. Fear of not meeting certain criteria can give rise to thoughts that life no longer belongs to her. After all, starting from the moment of birth, she should devote all her time exclusively to the child.
3. Lack of time. The inability to take time for yourself and put yourself in order can injure the psyche of any woman. The recovery period after childbirth is often accompanied by a feeling of pain due to changes in the body. In this situation, a woman can hardly cope with her household duties and caring for a child. The lack of rest and the opportunity to devote time to yourself is one of the main reasons for the development of depression.

According to experts, the signs and symptoms of postpartum depression are most often manifested in those women who have previously experienced a similar condition. People at risk for developing PPD include people with mental illness or who experience stress during pregnancy. Here you should pay attention to the fact that the presence of this syndrome negatively affects the condition of the newborn. The lack of attention and care has a strong effect on the formation of an emotional bond between the infant and the mother. According to researchers of this phenomenon, postpartum depression has a certain impact on the future of the child.

It is in the first months after birth that contact with the mother's body is vital for the child.. When a woman is in a state of prostration, she cannot give the necessary maternal warmth to the child. Against this background, the baby may experience certain difficulties with self-defense and concentration. In addition, the lack of maternal care can lead to difficulties in the development of speech.

Symptoms of postpartum depression increase gradually

The reasons for the difficulties in expressing one's own feelings are also associated with the presence of the syndrome in question in a woman. Experts say that postpartum depression destroys not only the woman, but also the child himself. Children whose parents have encountered this condition find it much more difficult to show their own emotions and interest in the world around them.

Clinical picture

The state of depression after the birth of a baby can be expressed by the following symptoms:

Stagnant milk. The presence of an egocentric character often complicates adaptation to new conditions. This leads to the fact that the young mother is not able to change the habitual foundations of life. It is difficult for such people to come to terms with the fact that their lifestyle must be completely revised.

Quite often, such mothers consider the newborn to be their competitor in the struggle for the love of relatives and friends. The difficulty of correct perception and lack of desire to take responsibility for the life of the child is the main cause of various difficulties and depression. In order to get rid of depression, a woman must again feel needed and desired.

Appearance changes. A condition comparable to panic manifests itself in young women in labor as a result of changes in appearance. Changes in body proportions, the appearance of stretch marks and the appearance of cellulite only aggravate the situation and reduce self-esteem to zero. The presence of financial problems and the attempt to self-restraint only worsen the situation. In order to fight this syndrome, a man must take on some of the household chores. The appearance of free time, which a woman can spend as she wants, significantly speeds up the exit from a depressive state.

Lack of sexual desire. The birth of a child changes various aspects of family life, including sexual relations between partners. Some women are disgusted by the mere thought of sexual contact, since it was he who acted as the cause of changes in appearance. In such a situation, coldness and indifference arise between spouses. It is the absence of former feelings and emotions that leads women to a depressive state.

When analyzing questions about how postpartum depression manifests itself, the symptoms and treatment of this syndrome, one should pay attention to the fact that a depressive state can have several different forms of severity.

In some cases, the disease does not develop immediately, but only a few months after the birth of the baby.

neurotic type

This type of PRD develops in young mothers with neurotic disorders. Most often, this condition is accompanied by uncontrolled outbursts of anger and aggression. Often, the development of neurosis is associated with a negative course of pregnancy and the presence of factors such as the threat of miscarriage. Neurotic depression is often accompanied by panic attacks, anxiety, sleep problems and an obsessive sense of fear.

melancholic form

This syndrome is accompanied by lethargy and lethargy. Some women lose the ability to navigate in space. Quite often there are repeated changes in mood and behavior. Significantly less frequent attacks of hallucinations and the presence of delusional ideas about the baby. According to experts, this form of PRD syndrome is one of the most difficult. According to statistics, this condition occurs in about forty women out of ten thousand. In medicine, this phenomenon is referred to as postpartum psychosis.

Neurosis

The somatic symptoms in this form of depression are similar to the neurotic form of the depressive state. Patients with this diagnosis have problems with sleep, lack of appetite, sudden weight loss and panic attacks. A woman lives in constant fear that her actions may harm the newborn. Often, a depressed state manifests itself in the presence of a predisposition to psychosis or the loss of a close relative.

protracted type

The most common form of the syndrome in question. According to experts, this form of PRC is observed in every fifth woman in labor. Often, women disguise their depression under the difficulties associated with caring for a child. This form of the syndrome is characterized by a feeling of extreme fatigue and lack of pleasure when communicating with a newborn. An infant's tears can be the cause of an acute sense of guilt, due to the obsession that a young mother is not doing her job.

Being depressed, the mother cannot establish a deep emotional connection with the baby.

Irritability and an attempt to hide the negative perception of the surrounding reality can lead to serious mental health problems. Avoiding this fate is quite difficult, since the risk group exposed to this phenomenon includes a fairly large number of different types of people:

1. Women who have experienced the lack of maternal love and care. Most people in this category had no sense of security in infancy. Lack of parental affection and attention leads to an attraction to aggression and sadism.
2. Women prone to hysteria with the presence of an obsessive fear of committing certain actions that may endanger the life of the child.

Lack of self-esteem and lack of understanding from loved ones only increase the likelihood of developing a depressive state. The regression provoked by motherhood has a relationship with memories of conflicts in the family of the mother in labor. Public pressure and the desire to meet the established standards make life much more difficult. The danger of this condition is explained by the fact that only fifteen percent of women turn to a psychotherapist with their problem.

Treatment Methods

How to deal with postpartum depression on your own? It is impossible to answer this question, since the treatment of the PRD syndrome requires complex measures carried out by the joint efforts of specialists from the field of psychiatry and neurology. To determine the treatment strategy, it is very important to undergo an examination of the functionality of the brain. Organic lesions of this organ can significantly complicate the treatment. In order to find a solution to the problem, you should first visit a qualified psychologist.

In order to defeat this ailment, most women need a few specialist consultations. However, in more complex situations, the use of medications is required to normalize the functioning of the brain. In this case, women in labor are prescribed a course of antidepressants, which allow you to get rid of feelings of depression.

It is necessary to fight depression with the help of professionals, namely psychologists and psychotherapists.

Conclusion

Many women do not know what to do with their problem and are embarrassed to seek medical help. However, the lack of timely assistance can cause the formation of various diseases in both the mother and the child. At this moment in life, a woman needs the support of others. In men, such problems associated with the birth of a child, as a rule, are absent, and that is why support should be sought primarily from the husband.

Lack of attention and the presence of certain difficulties in adapting to new circumstances of family life can lead to the chronic form of this disease. That is why you should recognize the existence of problems as early as possible and seek qualified help.

Sometimes a few words are enough to convey the depth of the moment. This is what distinguishes short poems about the motherland. The authors, in just a few sentences, convey the whole storm of emotions caused by patriotism. Well, if we take the practical aspect of the issue, then sometimes a child may need just short poems about the Motherland. And there is nothing reprehensible in this.

Motherland!(G. Ladonshchikov)

hills, copses,
Meadows and fields -
native, green
Our land.
The land where I made
Your first step
Where did you ever go out
To the fork in the road.
And I realized that it
expanse of fields -
Particle of the great
My fatherland.

Kremlin stars (S. Mikhalkov)

Kremlin stars
Burning above us
Everywhere their light reaches!
The guys have a good homeland,
And better than that Motherland
Not!

Motherland(P. Sinyavsky)

Has its own native land
By the stream and by the crane.
And you and I have it -
And the native land is one.

Blows something native and ancient (Julia Drunina)

Blows something native and ancient
From the vastness of my land.
Villages float in the snowy sea,
Like distant ships.

Walking along the narrow path,
I repeat - once again! -
"It's good that with a Russian soul
And she was born on Russian soil!

What is our Motherland! (V. Bokov)

An apple tree blooms over a quiet river.
Gardens, thinking, stand.
What a beautiful motherland
She herself is like a marvelous garden!

The river plays with rifts,
It has a fish all of silver
What a rich motherland
Do not count her goodness!

The wave runs slowly
The expanse of fields caresses the eye.
What a happy motherland
And this happiness is everything for us!

I look in the field(Yesenin)

I look into the field, I look into the sky -
Paradise in the fields and in the sky.
Drowning again in heaps of bread
My unplowed land.

Again in the unpasted groves
inescapable herds,
And flows from the green mountains
Golden water.

Oh, I believe - to know for the torment
Over the lost man
Someone caressing hands
Spills milk.

P. Voronko

Zhura-zhura-crane!
He flew over a hundred lands.
Flew, circled
Wings, legs worked hard.
We asked the crane:
Where is the best land? - He answered, flying:
- There is no better native land!

Motherland

M. Yu. Lermontov

I love my homeland, but with a strange love!
My mind won't defeat her.
Nor glory bought with blood
Nor full of proud trust peace,
No dark antiquity cherished legends
Do not stir in me a pleasurable dream.

But I love - for what, I do not know myself -
Her steppes are cold silence,
Her boundless forests sway,
The floods of her rivers are like seas;
On a country road I like to ride in a cart
And, with a slow gaze piercing the shadow of the night,
Meet around, sighing about an overnight stay,
The trembling lights of sad villages;
I love the smoke of the burnt stubble,
In the steppe, an overnight convoy
And on a hill in the middle of a yellow field
A couple of whitening birches.
With joy, unknown to many,
I see a complete threshing floor
Thatched hut,
Carved shuttered window;
And on a holiday, dewy evening,
Ready to watch until midnight
To the dance with stomping and whistling
To the sound of drunken men.

Goy you, Russia

Goy you, Russia, my dear,
Huts - in the robes of the image ...
See no end and end -
Only blue sucks eyes.
Like a wandering pilgrim,
I watch your fields.
And at the low outskirts
The poplars are languishing.
Smells like apple and honey
In the churches, your meek Savior.
And buzzes behind the bark
There is a cheerful dance in the meadows.
I'll run along the wrinkled stitch
To the freedom of the green lekh,
Meet me like earrings
A girlish laugh will ring out.
If the holy army shouts:
"Throw you Russia, live in paradise!"
I will say: “There is no need for paradise,
Give me my country."

Sergey Yesenin
1914

For peace, for children

Anywhere in any country
The guys don't want war.
They will have to enter into life soon,
They want peace, not war
The green noise of the native forest,
They all need a school
And the garden at the peaceful threshold,
Father and mother and father's house.
There are many places in the world
For those who live accustomed to work.
Our people raised their powerful voice
For all children, for peace, for work!
Let each ear ripen in the field,
Gardens are blooming, forests are growing!
Who sows bread in a peaceful field,
Builds factories, cities,
The one for the children of the orphanage
Will never wish!

E. Trutneva

About Motherland

What is my homeland called?
I ask myself a question.
The river that winds behind the houses
Or a bush of curly red roses?

Is that autumn birch over there?
Or spring drops?
Maybe a rainbow stripe?
Or a cold winter day?

Everything that has been around since childhood?
But it will all be nothing
Without mother's care dear,
And I'm not the same without friends.

That's what is called the Motherland!
To always be by your side
Everyone who supports will smile,
Who needs me too!

Oh Motherland!

Oh Motherland! In dim light
I catch with a quivering gaze
Your blueberries, copses - Everything that I love without memory:

And the rustle of the white-trunked grove,
And the blue smoke in the distance is empty,
And a rusty cross above the bell tower,
And a low mound with a star...

My hurts and forgiveness
They will burn like old stubble.
In you alone - and consolation
And my healing.

A. V. Zhigulin

Motherland

Motherland is a big, big word!
Let there be no miracles in the world,
If you say this word with soul,
It is deeper than the seas, higher than the heavens!

It fits exactly half the world:
Mom and dad, neighbors, friends.
Dear city, native apartment,
Grandma, school, kitten... and me.

Sunny bunny in the palm
Lilac bush outside the window
And on the cheek a mole -
This is also homeland.

Tatyana Bokova

vast country

If long, long, long
In an airplane we fly
If long, long, long
We have to look at Russia.
We'll see then
Both forests and cities
ocean spaces,
Ribbons of rivers, lakes, mountains ...

We will see the distance without edge,
Tundra where spring rings.
And then we'll understand what
Our country is big
Immeasurable country.

Russia is my Motherland!

Russia - You are like a second mother to me,
I have grown and grown before your eyes.
I go forward confidently and directly,
And I believe in God that lives in heaven!

I love the ringing of your church bells,
And our rural flowering fields,
I love people, kind and spiritual,
Who were raised by the Russian Land!

I love slender, tall birches -
Our sign and symbol of Russian beauty.
I look at them and make sketches,
Like an artist, I write my poems.

I could never part with you
For I love You with all my heart and soul.
War will come and I will go to fight
At any moment I want to be only with You!

And if it ever happens,
That fate will separate us from you
Like a bird in a tight cage I will beat,
And every Russian here will understand me!

E. Kislyakov

Motherland

We do not carry in treasured amulets on the chest,
We do not compose verses sobbingly about her,
She does not disturb our bitter dream,
Doesn't seem like a promised paradise.
We do not do it in our soul
The subject of buying and selling,
Sick, distressed, silent on her,
We don't even remember her.
Yes, for us it is dirt on galoshes,
Yes, for us it is a crunch on the teeth.
And we grind, and knead, and crumble
That unmixed dust.
But we lay down in it and become it,
That is why we call it so freely - ours.

Anna Akhmatova

native picture

Flocks of birds. Road tape.
Fallen wattle.
From the foggy sky
Sadly looks dim day

A row of birches, and the view is dull
Roadside pole.
As if under the yoke of heavy sorrow,
The hut rocked.

Half-light and half-darkness, -
And involuntarily rush into the distance,
And involuntarily crushes the soul
Endless sadness.

Konstantin Balmont

Motherland

I will return to you, fields of my fathers,
Oak forests are peaceful, shelter sacred to the heart!
I will return to you, home icons!
Let others respect the laws of decency;
Let others honor the jealous judgment of the ignorant;
Free at last from vain hopes,
From restless dreams, from windy desires,
Having drunk untimely the whole cup of trials,
Not a ghost of happiness, but I need happiness.
Tired worker, I hasten to my native country
Fall asleep with the desired sleep under the roof of your dear.
O father's house! oh, always loved!
Native heaven! my silent voice
In pensive verses you sang in a foreign country,
You will give me peace and happiness.
Like a swimmer in the pier, tested by bad weather,
He listens with a smile, sitting over the abyss,
And the thunderous whistle of the storm and the rebellious roar of the waves,
So, the sky is not praying for honors and gold,
Calm homebody in my unknown hut,
Hiding from the crowd of discerning judges,
In the circle of your friends, in the circle of your family,
I will watch the storms of light from afar.
No, no, I will not cancel the sacred vow!
Let the intrepid hero fly to the tents;
Let the bloody battles lover young
He studies with excitement, destroying the golden clock,
Science to measure the trenches of battle -
Since childhood I have loved the sweetest works.
A diligent, peaceful plow that blows the reins,
More honorable than a sword; useful in a modest share,
I want to cultivate my father's field.
Oratay, who reached the old days over the plow,
In sweet cares, my mentor will be;
To me a decrepit father sons are industrious
Will help fatten hereditary fields.
And you, my old friend, my faithful well-wisher,
My zealous nurse, you, the first garden
On the father's fields, reconnoitered in the days of old!
You will lead me to your thick gardens,
Trees and flowers you will tell the names;
I myself, when from heaven a luxurious spring
Breathe in the resurrected nature,
With a heavy spade I will appear in the garden;
I will come with you to plant roots and flowers.
Oh, good deed! you will not be in vain:
The goddess of pasture is more grateful than fortune!
For them, an unknown age, for them the flute and strings;
They are available to everyone and me for easy work.
Juicy fruits will be richly rewarded.
From the ridges and the spade I hasten to the fields and the plow;
And where the brook through the velvet meadow
Rolls thoughtfully desert jets,
On a clear spring day, I myself, my friends,
I will plant a solitary forest near the shore,
And fresh linden and silvered poplar;
In their shade my young great-grandson will rest;
There friendship will once hide my ashes
And instead of marble put on the tomb
And my peaceful spade and my peaceful forearm.

Evgeny Baratynsky

There is a sweet country, there is a corner on the earth

There is a sweet country, there is a corner on the earth,
Wherever, wherever you are - in the midst of a violent camp,
In the gardens of Armidins, on a fast ship,
Wandering merrily on the plains of the ocean, -
We are always carried away by our thoughts;
Where, alien to base passions,
We assign a limit to worldly exploits,
Where the world hope to forget someday
And close the old eyelids
We wish you the last, eternal sleep.

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I remember a clear, clean pond;
Over the canopy of branched birches,
Among its peaceful waters, its three islands bloom;
Brightening cornfields between their wavy groves,
Behind him rises a mountain, before him in the bushes rustles
And the mill splashes. Village, wide meadow,
And there is a happy home ... the soul flies there,
There I would not have grown cold even in my old age!
There the heart is languid, the sick has found
The answer to everything that burned in him,
And again for love, for friendship blossomed
And happiness again enlightened.
Why the languid sigh and tears in the eyes?
She, with a painful blush on her cheeks,
She, who is not, flashed before me.
Rest, rest easy under the turf of the grave:
a living memory
We will not be separated from you!
We cry... but I'm sorry! The sadness of love is sweet.
Tradny tears of regret!
Not that cold, severe longing,
Dry sorrow of disbelief.

Evgeny Baratynsky

Russia

You are extraordinary even in a dream.
I won't touch your clothes.

And in secret - you will rest, Russia.

Russia is surrounded by rivers
And surrounded by wilds,
With swamps and cranes,
And with the cloudy gaze of a sorcerer,

Where are the diverse peoples
From edge to edge, from valley to valley
Conduct night dances
Under the glow of burning villages.

Where are the sorcerers with the soothsayers
Enchant cereals in the fields
And witches amuse themselves with devils
In road snow pillars.

Where the blizzard sweeps violently
Up to the roof - fragile housing,
And girl on an evil friend
Under the snow it sharpens more sharply.

Where are all the ways and all the crossroads
Exhausted with a living stick,
And a whirlwind whistling in the bare bars,
Sings the legends of old...

So - I learned in my slumber
Country native poverty,
And in the patches of her rags
Souls hide nakedness.

Path sad, night
I trampled to the graveyard,
And there, in the cemetery, spending the night,
I sang songs for a long time.

And he did not understand, did not measure,
To whom did I dedicate the songs,
What god did you passionately believe in?
What girl did you love?

I rocked a living soul,
Russia, you are in your expanses,
And now - she did not stain
original purity.

I doze - and behind the slumber is a mystery,
And Russia rests in secret.
She is extraordinary in dreams,
I won't touch her clothes.

Alexander Blok

Oh Motherland

Oh Motherland, oh new
With a golden roof of blood,
Trumpet, moo like a cow,
Roar telkom thunders.

I wander through the blue villages,
Such a grace
Desperate, cheerful
But I am all in you, mother.

In the school of revelry
I strengthened the flesh and mind.
From the birch rumble
Your noise is growing.

I love your vices
And drunkenness, and robbery,
And in the morning in the east
Lose yourself as a star.

And all of you, as I know
I want to crush and take
And I curse bitterly
Because you are my mother.

Sergey Yesenin

Is it my side, side

Is it my side, side,
Hot stripe.
Only the forest, yes salting,
Yes, the river scythe ...

The old church languishes
Throwing a cross into the clouds.
And sick cuckoo
Does not fly from sad places.

For you, my side,
In the flood every year
With a pillow and knapsacks
Praying sweat pours.

Faces are dusty, tanned,
The eyelid gnawed out the distance,
And dug into a thin body
Save the meek sadness.

Sergey Yesenin

Russia cannot be understood with the mind

Russia cannot be understood with the mind,
Do not measure with a common yardstick:
She has a special become -
One can only believe in Russia.

Fedor Tyutchev

These poor villages

These poor villages
This meager nature
The land of native long-suffering,
The land of the Russian people!

They don't understand and they don't notice
The proud gaze of a foreigner,
What shines through and secretly shines
In your humble nakedness.

Dejected by the burden of the godmother,
All of you, dear land,
In a slavish form, the King of Heaven
Went out blessing.

Fedor Tyutchev

From the wilds fogs timidly

From the wilds fogs timidly
Native closed the village;
But the spring sun warmed
And the wind blew them away.

Know it's boring to wander for a long time
Over the expanse of lands and seas,
A cloud stretches for the homeland,
Just to cry over her.

Athanasius Fet

Motherland

They mock you
They, oh motherland, reproach
You with your simplicity
The wretched appearance of black huts ...

So son, calm and impudent,
Ashamed of his mother -
Tired, timid and sad
Among his urban friends,

Looks with a smile of compassion
To the one who wandered hundreds of miles
And for him, by the day of goodbye,
Saved the last penny.

Ivan Bunin

Russia

In the stony glow of the fire,
Under the ardent cry of world enmity,
In the smoke of untamed storms, -
Your appearance flies with an imperious spell:
Ruby and sapphire crown
Above the clouds pierced azure!

Russia! in the evil days of Batu
Who, who to the Mongol flood
Built a dam, didn't you?
Whose, in a tense will, you
For the pay of slavery, saved Europe
From Genghis Khan's heel?

But from the deaf depths of shame,
From the darkness of permanent humiliations,
Suddenly, with a bright cry of a fire, -
Isn't it you, with the scorching steel of your gaze,
Ascended to sovereignty of decrees
During the days of Peter's revolution?

And again, at the hour of world reckoning,
Breathing through cannon muzzles
Your fire sipped your chest, -
All ahead, country leader,
Above the darkness you threw a torch,
Illuminating the way for the people.

What do we have before this terrible force?
Where are you, who dares to contradict?
Where are you, who can know fear?
We just do what you decide
We are to be with you, we are to glorify
Your greatness is forever!

Valery Bryusov

Russia

Again, as in the golden years,
Three worn out harnesses fray,
And painted knitting needles
In loose ruts...

Russia, impoverished Russia,
I have your gray huts,
Your songs are windy for me, -
Like the first tears of love!

I can't pity you
And I carefully carry my cross ...
What kind of sorcerer do you want
Give me the rogue beauty!

Let him lure and deceive, -
You won't disappear, you won't die
And only care will cloud
Your beautiful features...

Well? One more concern -
With one tear the river is noisier
And you are still the same - forest, yes field,
Yes, patterned to the eyebrows ...

And the impossible is possible
The road is long and easy
When it shines in the distance of the road
Instant glance from under the scarf,
When ringing melancholy guarded
The deaf song of the coachman! ..

Alexander Blok

***
Winter evening
Nikolay Rubtsov

The wind is not the wind -
I'm leaving home!
In the barn is familiar
straw crunches,
And the light shines...

And more -
no sound!
Not a twinkle!
In the darkness of a blizzard
Flying over bumps...

Oh, Russia, Russia!
Why don't I call?
What made you sad?
What did you doze off?

Let's wish
Good night everybody!
Let's go for a walk!
Let's have a laugh!

And we'll arrange a holiday
And let's open the cards...
Eh! Trumpets are fresh.
But the same fools.

***
"My quiet homeland! .."
Nikolay Rubtsov

Quiet my home!
Willows, river, nightingales...
My mother is buried here
In my childhood.

Where is the graveyard? You did not see?
I can't find it myself.-
The villagers answered quietly:
- It's on the other side.

Silently answered the inhabitants,
The convoy passed quietly.
Church dome
Overgrown with bright grass.

Where I swam for fish
Hay is rowed into the hayloft:
Between river bends
People dug a canal.

Tina is now a swamp
Where he loves to swim...
Quiet my home
I didn't forget anything.

New fence in front of the school
The same green space.
Like a happy crow
I'm sitting on the fence again!

My wooden school! ..
The time will come to leave
The river behind me is foggy
Will run and run.

With every hut and cloud,
With thunder ready to fall
I feel the most burning
The deadliest bond.

***
Star of the fields
Nikolay Rubtsov

Star of the fields, frozen in the mist
Stopping, he looks into the hole.
It's already twelve o'clock,
And sleep enveloped my homeland...

Field star! In moments of upheaval
I remembered how quiet it was behind the hill
She burns over the autumn gold,
She burns over the winter silver...

The star of the fields burns without fading,
For all the anxious inhabitants of the earth,
Touching with its friendly beam
All the cities that have risen in the distance.

But only here, in the icy haze,
She rises brighter and fuller,
And I'm happy as long as the world is white
Burning, burning star of my fields...

***
MOTHERLAND
Konstantin Simonov

Touching the three great oceans,
She lies, spreading the cities,
Covered with a network of meridians,
Invincible, wide, proud.

But at the hour when the last grenade
Already in your hand
And in a short moment it is necessary to remember at once
All that we have left in the distance,

You remember not a big country,
What did you travel and find out
Do you remember your homeland - such,
How did you see her as a child?

A piece of land, crouched against three birches,
A long road behind the woods
A river with a creaky ferry,
Sandy shore with low willows.

This is where we were lucky to be born
Where for life, until death, we found
That handful of earth that is good,
To see in it signs of the whole earth.

Yes, you can survive in the heat, in a thunderstorm, in frost,
Yes, you can be hungry and cold
Go to death ... But these three birches
You can't give it to anyone while you're alive.

There the skies and waters are clear!

V. Zhukovsky

There the skies and waters are clear!
There the songs of the birds are sweet!
O motherland! all your days are beautiful!
Wherever I am, but everything is with you
Soul.

Do you remember how under the mountain,
Silvered with dew,
The ray was whitening at times in the evening
And silence flew into the forest
From heaven?

Do you remember our calm pond,
And the shadow from the willows at midday sultry,
And above the water from the herd, the rumble is discordant,
And in the bosom of the waters, as through glass,
Village?

There, at dawn, the bird sang;
The distance lit up and brightened;
There, there my soul flew:
It seemed to the heart and eyes -
Everything is there!..

If long, long, long
In an airplane we fly
If long, long, long
We have to look at Russia.
We'll see then
Both forests and cities
ocean spaces,
Ribbons of rivers, lakes, mountains ...

You are beautiful, fields of the native land,
Even more beautiful are your bad weather;
Winter is similar in it to the first winter
As with the first people of her peoples! ..
Fog here dresses the sky vaults!
And the steppe spread out in a lilac shroud,
And so she is fresh, and so kindred with a soul,
As if it was created only for freedom ...

Kremlin stars
Burning above us
Everywhere their light reaches!
The guys have a good homeland,
And better than that Motherland
Not!

Zhura-zhura-crane!
He flew over a hundred lands.
Flew, circled
Wings, legs worked hard.

We asked the crane:
Where is the best land? -
He answered, flying:
- There is no better native land!

hills, copses,
Meadows and fields -
native, green
Our land.
The land where I made
Your first step
Where did you ever go out
To the fork in the road.
And I realized that it
expanse of fields -
Particle of the great
My fatherland.

Hello, my native land,
With your dark forests
With your great river
And boundless fields!

Hello, dear people,
Hero of labor tireless,
In the middle of winter and in the summer heat!
Hello, my native land!

In a wide area
predawn time
Scarlet dawns rose
over the native country.

Every year it gets better
Dear edges...
Better than our motherland
Not in the world, friends!

Ride across the seas, oceans,
It is necessary to fly over the whole earth:
There are different countries in the world
But one like ours is not to be found.

Deep are our bright waters,
The land is wide and free,
And the factories rumble without ceasing,
And the fields are noisy, blooming ...

Airplanes are flying
over our fields...
And I shout to the pilots:
"Take me with you!
So that over native land
I shot like an arrow

saw rivers, mountains,
Valleys and lakes
and swell on the Black Sea,
and boats in the open
plains in riotous color
and all the children in the world!

Zhura-zhura-crane!
He flew over a hundred lands.
Flew, circled
Wings, legs worked hard.

We asked the crane:
Where is the best land? -
He answered, flying:
- There is no better native land!

hills, copses,
Meadows and fields -
native, green
Our land.
The land where I made
Your first step
Where did you ever go out
To the fork in the road.
And I realized that it
expanse of fields -
Particle of the great
My fatherland.

song swallows
Above my window
Sculpt, sculpt a nest...
I know, soon in it
The chicks will appear
They will start to vote
They will be parents
Moscara to wear.
Little ones flutter
From the nest in summer
Fly over the world
But they always
They will know and remember
What is in the native land
The nest will greet them
Above my window.

Motherland is a big, big word!
Let there be no miracles in the world,
If you say this word with soul,
It is deeper than the seas, higher than the heavens!

Flocks of birds. Road tape.
Fallen wattle.
From the foggy sky
Sadly looks dim day
A row of birches, and the view is dull
Roadside pole.
As if under the yoke of heavy sorrow,
The hut rocked.
Half-light and half-darkness, -
And involuntarily rush into the distance,
And involuntarily crushes the soul
Endless sadness.

You are extraordinary even in a dream.
I won't touch your clothes.
I doze - and behind the slumber is a mystery,
And in secret - you will rest, Russia.

Poems about Motherland

“Who lives well in Russia” and “The Tale of Igor's Campaign” - usually from these works children learn for the first time about the history of their homeland, about the peasant people, about the traditions and customs of Ancient Russia. Both of them are filled with a feeling of deep patriotism, they sing of the nature of Mother Russia, they talk about the Russian soul and the problems of the country. Many poems about Russia for children today are included in the school literature curriculum.

In the 20th century, when the October Revolution was brewing in the country, when there were a lot of problems in the country, poetry for children acquired a deeper meaning, the authors forced them to think about the future fate of the Motherland with their quatrains. Poems about Russia for children during this period were written by Sergei Yesenin, Alexander Blok and Vladimir Mayakovsky. Each in his own way understood the changes taking place in the country in connection with the revolution. But love for Russia allowed them to create a number of wonderful poems and poems.

I will chant
With the whole being in the poet
sixth of the earth
With a short name "Rus".

This poem by Sergei Yesenin is known to every schoolchild, his and other poems about Russia for children are asked by the teacher to teach the children by heart. Most of the works of Sergei Alexandrovich were devoted to his native land, he admired the spiked meadows, sang the harmony of birches and the boundlessness of fields. Yesenin's poems are similar to an oath of allegiance to their Fatherland:

If the holy army shouts:
"Throw Russia, live in paradise!"
I will say: "There is no need for paradise,
Give me my country."

Although the poet was married for some time to a foreign dancer, Isadora Duncan, and traveled with her to many countries of the world, he was always drawn to home, he never wanted to exchange his homeland for foreign lands.

Another great poet, Alexander Blok, was imbued with love for his native land in early childhood. Coming to Shakhmatovo as a child every summer, he fell in love with the beauty of nature. One of his first poems about Russia for children was this work:

Clearly the golden days have arrived.
All the trees stand as if in radiance.
At night it blows cold from the earth;
In the morning the white church in the distance
And close and clear outline.

Blok was a symbolist poet, and he described the Motherland somewhat differently than other authors. For him, it was both a lover and a mother, but he did not seek to personify her as a woman. A whole cycle called "Motherland" was dedicated by the poet to his native country, this includes the works known to every teenager "Russia" and "My Russia, my life ...". One cannot ignore Blok's historical poem "On the Kulikovo Field":

Oh my Russia! My wife! To pain
We have a long way to go!
Our path is an arrow of the Tatar ancient will
Pierced us in the chest.

Each of us knows by heart the work of Vladimir Mayakovsky “What is good and what is bad?” From childhood, but this poet also composed many poems about Russia for children. Let us quote one of the most famous, which is called "Russia":

Here I go, overseas ostrich,
in feathers of stanzas, meters and rhymes.
Hide your head, stupid, I try
in plumage ringing explosion.

This is the beginning, and this is the end of the work:

Well, take me with a vile grip!
Shave the feathers with the razor of the wind.
Let me disappear, alien and overseas,
under the fury of all the Decembers.

Mayakovsky had his own way of declaring love and devotion to the Motherland, although in these lines we do not see descriptions of beautiful landscapes, like Yesenin’s, there are no words “my Russia”, you still understand through the lines what the poet wanted to say. Almost every poet wrote poems about Russia for children, but we can read the brightest works from Afanasy Fet, Fyodor Tyutchev, Alexander Pushkin and Marina Tsvetaeva. "What do we call Motherland?"
What do we call motherland?
The house where we live
And birches along which
We are walking next to my mother.

What do we call motherland?
A field with a thin spikelet,
Our holidays and songs
Warm evening outside.

What do we call motherland?
Everything that we keep in our hearts
And under blue sky
Russian flag over the Kremlin.
© Stepanov Vladimir

There is no better homeland
Zhura-zhura-crane!
He flew over a hundred lands.
Flew, circled
Wings, legs worked hard.
We asked the crane:
- Where is the best land? -
He answered, flying:
- There is no better native land!
© P. Voronko

For peace, for children
Anywhere in any country
The guys don't want war.
They will have to enter into life soon,
They want peace, not war
The green noise of the native forest,
They all need a school, And a garden at a peaceful threshold,
Father and mother and father's house.
There are many places in the world
For those who live accustomed to work.
Our people raised their powerful voice
For all children, for peace, for work!
Let each ear ripen in the field,
Gardens are blooming, forests are growing!
Who sows bread in a peaceful field,
Builds factories, cities,
The one for the children of the orphanage
Will never wish!
© E. Trutneva

About Motherland
What is my homeland called?
I ask myself a question.
The river that winds behind the houses
Or a bush of curly red roses?
Is that autumn birch over there?
Or spring drops?
Maybe a rainbow stripe?
Or a cold winter day?
Everything that has been around since childhood?
But it will all be nothing
Without mother's care dear,
And I'm not the same without friends.
That's what is called the Motherland!
To always be by your side
Everyone who supports will smile,
Who needs me too!

Oh Motherland!
Oh Motherland! In dim light
I catch with a quivering gaze
Your blueberries, copses -
Everything that I love without memory:
And the rustle of the white-trunked grove,
And the blue smoke in the distance is empty,
And a rusty cross above the bell tower,
And a low mound with a star...
My hurts and forgiveness
They will burn like old stubble.
In you alone - and consolation
And my healing.
© A.V. Zhigulin

Kremlin stars
Kremlin stars
Burning above us
Everywhere their light reaches!
The guys have a good homeland,
And better than that Motherland No!
© S. Mikhalkov

Motherland
Motherland is a big, big word!
Let there be no miracles in the world,
If you say this word with soul,
It is deeper than the seas, higher than the heavens!
It fits exactly half the world:
Mom and dad, neighbors, friends.
Dear city, native apartment,
Grandma, school, kitten... and me.
Sunny bunny in the palm
Lilac bush outside the window
And on the cheek a mole -
This is also homeland.
© Tatyana Bokova

vast country
If long, long, long
In an airplane we fly
If long, long, long
We have to look at Russia.
We'll see then
Both forests and cities
ocean spaces,
Ribbons of rivers, lakes, mountains ...
We will see the distance without edge,
Tundra where spring rings.
And then we'll understand what
Our country is big
Immeasurable country.

Russia is my Motherland!
Russia - You are like a second mother to me,
I have grown and grown before your eyes.
I go forward confidently and directly,
And I believe in God that lives in heaven!
I love the ringing of your church bells,
And our rural flowering fields,
I love people, kind and spiritual,
Who were raised by the Russian Land!
I love slender, tall birches -
Our sign and symbol of Russian beauty.
I look at them and make sketches,
Like an artist, I write my poems.
I could never part with you
For I love You with all my heart and soul.
War will come and I will go to fight
At any moment I want to be only with You!
And if it ever happens,
That fate will separate us from you
Like a bird in a tight cage I will beat,
And every Russian here will understand me!
© E. Kislyakov

Motherland!
hills, copses,
Meadows and fields -
native, green
Our land.
The land where I made
Your first step
Where did you ever go out
To the fork in the road.
And I realized that it
expanse of fields -
Particle of the great
My fatherland.
© G. Ladonshchikov

Our Motherland!
And beautiful and rich
Our Motherland, guys.
Long drive from the capital
To any border.
Everything around is own, dear:
Mountains, steppes and forests:
rivers sparkling blue,
Blue skies.
Every city
dear to the heart,
Every rural house is expensive.
Everything in battles is once taken
And strengthened by labor!
© G. Ladonshchikov

Hello my homeland! In the morning the sun rises
Calls us to the street.
I leave the house:
- Hello, my street!
I sing in silence
The birds sing to me.
Herbs whisper to me on the way:
- Hurry, my friend, grow up!
I answer the herbs
I answer the wind
I answer the sun
- Hello, my Motherland!
© V. Orlov

What is our Motherland!
An apple tree blooms over a quiet river.
Gardens, thinking, stand.
What a beautiful motherland
She herself is like a marvelous garden!
The river plays with rifts,
In it the fish is all made of silver,
What a rich motherland
Do not count her goodness!
The wave runs slowly
The expanse of fields caresses the eye.
What a happy motherland
And this happiness is everything for us!
© V. Bokov

Motherland
If they say the word "homeland",
Immediately comes to mind
Old house, currants in the garden,
Thick poplar at the gate,
By the river there is a shy birch
And chamomile...
And others will probably remember
Your native Moscow courtyard.
In the puddles the first boats
Where there was a skating rink recently,
And a big neighboring factory
A loud, joyful horn.
Or the steppe is red from poppies,
Golden whole...
Homeland is different
But everyone has one!
© Z. Aleksandrova

Hey
Hello, my native land,
With your dark forests
With your great river
And boundless fields!
Hello, dear people,
Hero of labor tireless,
In the middle of winter and in the summer heat!
Hello, my native land!
© S. Drozhzhin

Motherland
Touching the three great oceans,
She lies, spreading the cities,
Covered with a network of meridians,
Invincible, wide, proud.
But at the hour when the last grenade
Already in your hand
And in a short moment it is necessary to remember at once
All that we have left in the distance,
You remember not a big country,
What did you travel and find out
Do you remember your homeland - such,
Which one did you see when you were a child?
A piece of land, crouched against three birches,
A long road behind the woods
A river with a creaky ferry.
Sandy shore with low willows.
This is where we were lucky to be born
Where for life, until death, we found
That handful of earth that is good.
To see in it signs of the whole earth.
Yes. You can survive in the heat, in a thunderstorm, in frost,
Yes, you can be hungry and cold
Go to death ... But these three birches
You can't give it to anyone while you're alive.
© K. Simonov

About the Motherland, only about the Motherland
What is this song of weeping birches about,
A melody full of light and tears?
About the Motherland, only about the Motherland.
What is beyond the cold granite borders
Longing for birds flying away for the winter?
About the Motherland, only about the Motherland.
In moments of sadness, in times of adversity
Who will take care of us and who will save us?
Motherland, only Motherland.
Whom in the bitter cold we need to warm
And in hard days we should regret?
Motherland, dear Motherland.
When we leave for interstellar flight
What is our earthly heart singing about?
About the Motherland, only about the Motherland.
We live in the name of kindness and love,
And the best songs are yours and mine -
About the motherland, only about the motherland ...
Under the scorching sun and in the snow dust
And my thoughts, and my prayers -
About the Motherland, only about the Motherland.
© R. Gamzatov

Where does the Motherland begin?
Where does the Motherland begin?
With smiles and tears of mothers;
From the path, the guys passed,
From home to school doors.
From birch trees standing for centuries
On the hill in the father's land,
Desire to touch with hands
my beloved land.
Where does our Fatherland end?
Look - you will not see the borders,
In the fields the horizon moves apart
With a flash of distant lightning.
And at night in her blue seas
A wave cradles the stars.
There is no edge-end in Russia;
Boundless, like a song, she is.
So what are you. Motherland?
Fields in the copses of dawn.
Everything seems to be very familiar
And look - and the heart burns.
And it seems: you can run
Fly up without fear of heights
And a blue star from the sky
Get it for your native country.
© K. Ibryaev