Ivan peasant's son reader's diary. Russian folk tale "Ivan the Peasant's Son and the Miracle Yudo"

Send your good work in the knowledge base is simple. Use the form below

Students, graduate students, young scientists who use the knowledge base in their studies and work will be very grateful to you.

Hosted at http://www.allbest.ru/

MOU "Secondary school No. 24"

city of Podolsk

Moscow region

REPORT

on the topic: "The main motives of Tsvetaeva's creativity"

Smirnova Elena Vladimirovna

11th grade student "G"

Life sends some poets such a fate that, from the very first steps of conscious being, puts them in the most favorable conditions for the development of a natural gift. Such a bright and tragic was the fate of Marina Tsvetaeva, a major and significant poet of the first half of our century. Everything in her personality and in her poetry (for her this is an indissoluble unity) sharply went beyond the traditional ideas, the prevailing literary tastes. This was both the strength and originality of her poetic word. With passionate conviction, she affirmed the life principle proclaimed by her in her early youth: to be only herself, not to depend on time or environment in anything, and it was this principle that later turned into insoluble contradictions in her tragic personal fate.

Marina Tsvetaeva was born on September 26 (October 8), 1892 in Moscow. Marina began writing poetry at the age of six, not only in Russian, but also in French and German. A huge influence on the formation of her character was exerted by her mother, who dreamed of seeing her daughter as a musician.

In 1910, Marina published (at the printing house of A.A. Levenson) with her own money the first collection of poems - "Evening Album". Tsvetaeva at that time was 18 years old, before that her poems had not been published anywhere. Later, she claims that the book appeared "in exchange for a love confession to a person with whom I could not explain myself otherwise." The collection is dedicated to the memory of Maria Bashkirtseva (1858-1884), a talented artist who died early from tuberculosis, whose autobiography made a strong impression on Tsvetaeva. In the same year, Tsvetaeva wrote her first critical article, Magic in Bryusov's Poems.

In 1912, a collection of poems by Marina Tsvetaeva "The Magic Lantern" was published, where the theme of love first appears. In the concept of "love" she invests immensely. In the poem "On the Red Horse" the poetess sacrifices to her highest lover - Genius in the form of a rider on a red horse - all earthly Loves. She throws everything into the fire of creativity, where her life burns:

Firefighters! Soul is on fire!

Love in the work of Tsvetaeva has many faces: friendship, motherhood, indulgence, contempt, jealousy, pride, oblivion - all these are the faces of love. Love at Tsvetaeva is initially doomed to separation. Joy is doomed to pain, happiness to suffering. But she knew how to rejoice in that, albeit short-lived, happiness that fate gave her:

My! - and about what awards.

Paradise - when in the hands, at the mouth -

Life: open joy

Say hello in the morning!

But even in those moments she was not only happy, but also suffered:

They take away cute ships,

The white road leads them away ...

And a groan stands along the whole earth:

"My dear, what have I done to you?"

Nevertheless, Tsvetaeva preferred the misfortune of freedom to the happiness of subordination in love and remained a poet. She was true to herself, to her creativity, because her loyalty is not in submission, but in freedom.

And even the closeness of her soul with the soul of her beloved could not replace her with the love that freedom gave. Tsvetaeva demanded dignity in love and dignity at parting:

creativity Tsvetaeva love poetry

And her tears are water, and blood -

Water - in blood, in tears washed!

Not a mother, but a stepmother - Love:

Don't expect judgment or mercy.

Tsvetaeva, with the power of her work, showed that a woman's loving soul is not only a fragile candle, not only a transparent stream created to reflect a man in it, but also a fire that throws fire from one house to another. All the poetry of Marina Tsvetaeva is a boundless inner world, the world of the soul, creativity, destiny.

In 1913-1915, Tsvetaeva created her "Youth Poems", which were never published. Now most of the works are printed, but the poems are scattered in various collections. It must be said that "Youthful Poems" are full of vitality and strong moral health. They have a lot of sun, air, sea and young happiness.

During the years of the Civil War, a cycle of poems "The Swan Camp" appeared, imbued with sympathy for the white movement. In 1918-1919 Tsvetaeva wrote romantic plays; poems "Egorushka", "Tsar Maiden", "On a Red Horse" were created. As for the revolution of 1917, its understanding was complex and contradictory. The blood shed abundantly in the civil war rejected, repelled M. Tsvetaeva from the revolution:

White was - became red:

Blood stained.

Was red - became white:

Death has won.

The state of loneliness is one of the most characteristic states of Tsvetaeva. In her youth, and then in her youth, she felt loneliness beyond her years, longing for someone's care, longing to be needed by others and acutely suffered from her uselessness. The conflict between everyday life and being, the incompatibility of the heavenly and the earthly, the high chosenness of the poet with his worldly existence gave rise to this state in her. This conflict permeates all her work, acquiring a variety of shades, and in the center of it is Marina Tsvetaeva herself. The lyrical heroine Tsvetaeva is lonely from unfulfilled love or friendship, lonely as a poet who opposes the world, lonely in her worldview and worldview. Creative independence begins with loneliness.

Apprentice hour! But we see and know

Another light for us, the dawn still lit up,

Blessed be the one who follows him

You are the supreme hour of loneliness!

("The Apprentice", 1921)

She went into loneliness, which invariably accompanied her, “for the wanderer is the Spirit and goes alone,” and which was at the same time the greatest suffering and the greatest grace. Grace, because only within yourself can you find freedom.

The freedom needed to create. She was characterized by the desire to create, to create in such a way that “it couldn’t be better”; the thirst to be necessary, indispensable to those who have touched at the moment her creative imagination, her soul. Not finding herself in reality, she retreated into herself, into her Soul. “My whole life is an affair with my own soul,” she said.

Earthly friendship could not melt her loneliness. In the poem "Roland's Horn" (1921), Tsvetaeva gives herself an expressive description: "One of all - for all - against all!"

Sometimes she sees the resolution of the conflict in her own death, while revealing the essence of the internal confrontation between the Poet and the Man. This romantic duality of Tsvetaeva's poetry was born precisely by the conflict between the mundane and the existential. Therefore, not finding harmony in the real world, she turns to the past, where the heroes lived according to the laws of chivalry, honor and courage, or “flies” to sky-high heights, where “the other world is ours.”

In 1922, her first book "Milestones" was published, consisting of poems written in 1916. In Versts, love for the city on the Neva is sung, they have a lot of space, space, roads, wind, fast-running clouds, sun, moonlit nights.

In May 1922, Tsvetaeva and her daughter Ariadna were allowed to go abroad - to her husband, who, having survived the defeat of Denikin, as a white officer, now became a student at Prague University. The famous "Poem of the Mountain" and "Poem of the End" dedicated to Konstantin Rodzevich were written in the Czech Republic.

Born in Moscow, Tsvetaeva always felt like a child of the city. In the cycle "Poems about Moscow" she wrote:

I kiss you on the chest

Moscow land!

The house was her haven, with it she connected the feeling of the Motherland, Russia - with its history, rebellious heroines, gypsies, churches and, of course, Moscow. In her poems of 1916-1917, she reflected the intensity of passions that raged in Russia, which obscured the beauty of its endless roads, fast-running clouds, crimson sunsets, restless purple dawns (“Tonight I am alone in the night ...”).

Her perception of the revolution was complex, contradictory, but these contradictions reflected the rushing and searching of a significant part of the Russian intelligentsia, which at first welcomed the fall of the tsarist regime, but then recoiled from the revolution at the sight of the blood shed in the civil war.

It was crying, but not malice. Lamentation for the dead, who "plunged" into the world of war, bringing death. In the poem "White sun and low, low clouds ..." Tsvetaeva sympathizes with the misfortunes of her people:

What angered you these gray huts, -

God! - and why shoot so many in the chest?

The train passed, and the soldiers howled, howled,

And dusted, dusted the retreating path ...

Far from her homeland, in exile, she writes poetry, poems based on folklore material, using a fairy tale, an epic, a parable:

I conjure you from gold

From the winged midnight widow,

From swamp evil smoke,

From an old woman walking by...

The symbol of Russia for Tsvetaeva was her favorite mountain ash:

red brush

The rowan lit up.

Leaves were falling.

I was born.

In the poem "Longing for the Motherland!" (1934) she writes:

Every house is alien to me, every temple is empty to me,

And, everything is the same, and everything is one.

But if on the way - a bush

Gets up, especially - mountain ash ...

Tsvetaeva could not but return to Russia, not only because she lived in emigration in terrible poverty, but also because she could not live outside her people, her native language. She did not hope to find "home comfort" for herself, but she was looking for a home for her son and, most importantly, a "home" for her poetry children. And she knew that this house was Russia. She sailed to Russia towards troubles and death. The motherland met her with ironic rejection and evacuation to the Kama town of Yelabuga.

In 1928, the last lifetime collection of the poetess, After Russia, was published in Paris, which included poems from 1922-1925. Later, Tsvetaeva writes about it this way: “My failure in emigration is that I am not an emigrant, that I am in spirit, that is, in air and in scope - there, there, from there ...”

“A poet is an eyewitness of all times in history,” said Tsvetaeva. The poet is a slave of his gift and his time. His relationship with time is tragic. In the poem "Sneaking..." the following assumption-statement is given:

Maybe the best win

Over time and gravity -

Pass so as not to leave a shadow

On the walls...

Maybe a rejection

Take? Get out of the mirrors? ..

“The marriage of a poet with time is a forced marriage,” wrote Tsvetaeva. Not fitting into her time, into the real world, “the world of weights”, “the world of measures”, “where crying is called a runny nose”, she created her own world, her own myth. Her myth is the myth of the Poet. Her poems and articles about poets are always "living about the living." She felt the uniqueness of the personality of poets more sharply than others.

And, standing under the slow snow,

I'll kneel in the snow

And in your holy name

Kiss the evening snow.

A. Akhmatova

We are crowned to be one with you

We trample the earth, that the sky above us is the same!

And the one who is wounded by your mortal fate,

Already immortal, a bed descends on the mortal.

But the image of Pushkin is especially significant in Tsvetaeva's poetry. The main charm of Pushkin for Tsvetaeva is his independence, rebelliousness, ability to resist. In the cycle "Poems to Pushkin" (1931) she says:

All his science

Power. Light - I look:

Pushkin's hand

I chew, not lick.

What are you doing karls

This blue olive

The most free, the most extreme

Forehead forever branded

The meanness of the two-pronged

Gold and middle?

Tsvetaeva feels her kinship with Pushkin, but at the same time remains original. Her very life became a selfless service to her destiny. Acutely feeling her incompatibility with modernity, "writing out of the latitudes", she believed that:

My poems are like precious wines

Your turn will come.

One of the last works of M.I. Tsvetaeva received the poem “You won’t die, people” (May 21, 1939), which adequately completed her career. It sounds like a curse to fascism, glorifies the immortality of peoples fighting for their independence:

Don't die people!

God keeps you!

Heart gave - pomegranate,

Breast gave - granite.

Prosper, people

Solid as a tablet

Hot like a pomegranate

Clear as crystal.

On August 31, 1941, she committed suicide (hanged herself) in the house where she and her son were assigned to stay. Unable to withstand the "abyss of humiliation", she passed away. On the grave of Marina Tsvetaeva there is a plaque with her own poems from the cycle "Nailed ...":

And it's all that flattery and pleading

I begged the happy ones.

And that's all I'll take with me

To the edge of the kissing of the silent ones.

The poetry of Marina Tsvetaeva has entered, burst into our days. At last she found a reader - huge as an ocean: a popular reader, which she lacked so much during her lifetime. Got it forever.

In the history of Russian poetry, Marina Tsvetaeva will always occupy a worthy place. And at the same time, its own - a special place. The real innovation of poetic speech was the natural embodiment in the word of the restless spirit of this green-eyed proud woman, “a laborer and a white hand”, restless in the eternal search for truth.

Listliterature

1. Saakyants L.L. Tsvetaeva Marina Ivanovna // Great Soviet Encyclopedia. -- M.: Soviet Encyclopedia, 1969--1978.

2. Polekhina M.M. “The path of comets is the path of poets”: Marina Tsvetaeva, to the comprehension of the essential. -- Magnitogorsk: Magnitogorsk State University, 2005. -- P. 49.

3. Marina Tsvetaeva. Poems about Moscow, 1916

4. Zubova L.V. The language of Marina Tsvetaeva's poetry.

5. Dictionary of the poetic language of Marina Tsvetaeva: In 4 volumes (6 books) Comp. I. Yu. Belyakova, I.P. Olovyannikova, O.G. Revzina. -- M.: House-Museum of Marina Tsvetaeva, 1996--2004

6. Evtushenko E.A. Poems cannot be homeless... An article about the work of M. Tsvetaeva (Russian) // Marina Tsvetaeva. Poems. Poems. Dramatic works. -- M.: Fiction, 1990.

7. Maksimova T.Yu. Russian Literature: A large educational guide for schoolchildren and students entering universities. -- M.: Bustard, 2001.

Hosted on Allbest.ru

...

Love is a sacred theme in the lyrics of Marina Tsvetaeva

Another sacred theme of Tsvetaeva's lyrics is the theme of love. I don’t know another poetess who would write about her feelings like that.

From seduction to disappointment - such is the "love cross" of Tsvetaeva's heroine; passions and characters were revealed in verse, the images of living people were completely destroyed in his mind. The only person whose image, neither in life nor in poetry, was not only not destroyed, but did not fade at all, was Sergey Efron. "I wrote on a slate board ..." - this is the name of the poem dedicated to her husband. In it, Tsvetaeva declares her love: the fourfold repetition of the word "love" speaks of the desire for this feeling, of joy, of happiness:

And finally, for everyone to know! -

What do you love! love! love! love! -

Painted with a heavenly rainbow.

The earth is not enough for her, she needs the sky, so that it hears and knows about her love. In the last lines of the poem, Tsvetaeva vows to perpetuate her husband's name:

Unsold by me! - Inside the ring!

You will survive on the tablets.

The poet is always an addicted nature, the poet, loving, forgets about everything in the world, except for the person whom he has chosen as his half. Marina Tsvetaeva herself created a loved one, created him the way she wanted to wear and broke when this person could not withstand her onslaught of feelings, tension in relationships, the state of "always being on the crest of a wave." We know that Tsvetaeva is not easy in relations with people, this is her essence, her condition. She gave herself to love all, without a trace, without looking back. In the poem of the cycle "N. N. V." "Prigvozhzhdena", dedicated to Vysheslavtsev, a graphic artist, an interesting person, an apotheosis of unheard-of love, grandiose, not afraid of death is given. Almost every line here sounds like a formula:

Nailed to the pillory

I'll still say that I love you.

... You will not understand - my words are small! -

How little pillory I have!

(Nailed, 1920)

No conflict can be equal to this love, for which the heroine will give up everything:

What if the banner was entrusted to me by the regiment,

And suddenly you appeared before my eyes -

With another in hand - petrified like a pillar,

My hand would release the banner...

Tsvetaeva's heroine is ready to die for love; to be a beggar, she is not afraid to lose blood, because even in an unearthly life - in the land of "silent kisses" - she will love her chosen one.

Tsvetaeva contrasts the love of a mother for her son and the love of a woman for a man, believing that even a mother is not able to love her child as much as a woman loves a man, and therefore the mother is ready to “die” for her son, and she is “to die”.

When in earthly, ordinary life a woman loves a man, she tries to be proud, even if it is very difficult for her, not to humiliate herself, not to sink to the point where it would be unpleasant for the man himself to be around.

"Correct" the last part - "Lower than your feet, Lower than herbs", she did not sink, she did not lose her pride (what pride - when you love ?!) because she was nailed by the hand of her beloved - "a birch in a meadow." She is not afraid of gossip and condemnation: "And not the roar of the crowds - That the pigeons coo early in the morning ..."

The third part of this poem differs from the first two: it has six couplets, of which the first and last stanzas sound like a hymn of love. A hymn to Tsvetaeva's love, for every woman in love is capable of "to be - or not to be", for her if "to be" - then with love, beloved, if "not to be" - then not to be at all:

You wanted it. - So. - Hallelujah.

I kiss the hand that hits me.

... In the thunder of the cathedral - in order to beat to death! -

You, white lightning soared scourge!

(Nailed, 1920)

Lightning - it kills, it is instantaneous, but to die at the hands of a loved one, apparently, for Tsvetaeva's heroine is happiness, which is why there is an exclamation mark at the end of the line.

Tsvetaeva dedicated a few words to her husband Sergei Efron. Great human devotion and admiration is expressed in the poem "I proudly wear his ring!"

He is thin with the first subtlety of the branches.

His eyes are - beautifully - useless! -

Under the wings of open eyebrows -

Two abysses...

(To Sergei Efron, 1920)

Just a boy - he was in his eighteenth year - he was a year younger than Marina. Tall, thin, a little dark. With a beautiful, thin and spiritual face, on which huge bright eyes beamed, shone, sad:

Has huge eyes

The colors of the sea...

(To Sergei Efron, 1920)

Family, "Efron's" eyes - the same were the sisters of Serezha, and then the daughter of Tsvetaeva. "A stranger enters the room, you see these eyes and you already know - this is Efron," said one artist who knew them all in Koktebel.

Maybe it all started with a Koktebel pebble? A lot of semi-precious stones lurked on the Koktebel beaches, dug up, collected, proud of each other with their finds. Be that as it may, in reality, Tsvetaeva connected her meeting with Seryozha with a Koktebel pebble.

"1911. I'm shorn after measles. I'm lying on the shore, digging, Voloshin Max is digging next to me.

Max, I'll only marry someone from across the coast who can guess what my favorite stone is.

Marina! (Max's insinuating voice) - lovers, as you may already know, become stupid. And when the one you love brings you (in the sweetest voice) ... a cobblestone, you will sincerely believe that this is your favorite stone!

... With a pebble - it came true, because S.Ya. Efron ... almost on the first day of our acquaintance opened and handed it to me - the greatest rarity! - ... a carnelian bead, which is with me to this day. "

Marina and Serezha found each other instantly and forever. Their meeting was what Tsvetaeva's soul longed for: heroism, romance, sacrifice, high feelings. And - Seryozha himself: so beautiful, young, pure, so drawn to her as to the only thing that can bind him to life.

At the beginning of the journey, Marina was eager to fashion her hero in the image created by her imagination. She projects on Seryozha a glimpse of the glory of the young generals - the heroes of 1812, the ancient chivalry; she is not just convinced of his high destiny - she is demanding. It seems that her early poems, addressed to Seryozha, are imperious, Tsvetaeva seeks, as it were, to curse fate: so be it!

I defiantly wear his ring

Yes, in Eternity - a wife, not on paper. -

His overly narrow face

Like a sword...

Tsvetaeva begins a poem in which she draws a romantic portrait of Seryozha and thinks about the future. Each stanza of it is a step leading up to a pedestal - or a scaffold? - last lines:

In his face, I am faithful to chivalry.

To all of you who lived and died without fear! -

Such - in fateful times -

They compose stanzas - and go to the chopping block.

(To Sergei Efron, 1920)

She still could not imagine that the "fatal times" were just around the corner. There is no doubt that I felt like an older, adult next to this young man. Having fallen in love with Seryozha, recently a teenager herself, Marina took upon herself his pain and responsibility for his fate. She took him by the hand and led him through life. But if she herself was out of politics, then Efron went to fight on the side of the White Army, although, according to the logic of family tradition, it was more natural for Sergei Efron to be in the ranks of the "Reds". But here the mixed origin of Efron intervened in the turn of Fate. After all, he was not only half Jewish - he was Orthodox. How did Tsvetaeva slip the word "tragically"?

Tragically merged in his face

Two ancient blood...

(To Sergei Efron, 1920)

Why - tragically? Did he himself feel the duality of his position as a half-breed and suffer from it? And didn't it make the word "Russia", "my Russia" sound more painful?

The tragedy of the situation lies in the fact that the choice he made was not final. He was thrown from side to side: the White Army, the departure from volunteerism, the feeling of his "guilt" before the new Russia ... In the meantime, in the summer of 1911, the future was painted as a happy fairy tale. With Tsvetaeva there was a huge life change: a man appeared - a loved one! who needed her. Therefore, the poem ends with a stanza that sounds almost like a formula:

In his face, I am faithful to chivalry.

Like any poet, the theme of love could not bypass the work of Tsvetaeva. Love for her is the strongest feeling on earth. Her heroine is not afraid to boldly speak about her feelings, she is not afraid of the shame associated with a declaration of love. Marina Tsvetaeva dedicated a few lines to her husband, Sergei Efron. The height to which Tsvetaeva raised in her husband's poems could only be sustained by an impeccable person. She did not address any other real person with such exactingness - except perhaps to herself, she did not raise anyone so high. From seduction to disappointment - such is the "love cross" of Tsvetaeva's heroine.

The popularity of Marina Tsvetaeva's poetry today

The study of M. Tsvetaeva's work is just beginning. A significant part of her archive, located in TsGALI, was closed by order of her daughter. In addition, there is no access to white notebooks of works of art and, thus, the entire Tsvetaeva archive will be open to researchers in the future.

Since 1965, the works of Marina Tsvetaeva - and poetry, and prose, and translations - have become the property of the widest reader. Tsvetaeva prints many magazines, collections and almanacs are published; constantly, year after year, books come out. The total circulation of Tsvetaeva's publications has long since crossed over half a million. This is how the work of Marina Tsvetaeva returned "home", which "lives and will live for the glory of her country."

If songs in famous films are sung to the words of Tsvetaeva, and these songs have become popular, then this, probably, is popular recognition. "In order to become a people's poet, you need to let the whole people sing through you," wrote Tsvetaeva. Famous composers - D. Shostakovich, B. Tchaikovsky, M. Tariverdiev wrote and write music to her words; it is very difficult to list all the poets who dedicated poems to Tsvetaeva - A. Akhmatova, P. Antokolsky, A. Voznesensky ... In the city of Alexandrov, the summer "Tsvetaevsky holidays of poetry" are held.

Even now, it is still difficult to explain in a few words the significance of Marina Tsvetaeva for Russian poetry and for all of us. You cannot fit it into the framework of a literary movement, within the boundaries of a historical period of time. It is unusually original, difficult to grasp and always stands apart. But according to the wise word of Goethe, a personal, subjective, "single case transforms the general interest and poetry precisely because the poet spoke about it." Moreover, we add, such a poet as Tsvetaeva ...

Diverse with irresistible power - for all ages and tastes. The reader, who has entered the poetic world of Marina Tsvetaeva, cannot remain calm, impassive, she makes her live an interesting inner life: admire, resent, argue, love, charge with great energy, at the same time ordering her to spend it.

On the occasion of the 90th anniversary of the birth of Tsvetaeva, a questionnaire was distributed among the figures of literature and art. The main questions here were two: "How do you feel about Tsvetaeva's work?" and "What attracts you the most in Tsvetaeva's personality?"

I would like to quote O. Vaceties, the national poet of Latvia: “Tsvetaeva is a star of the first magnitude. The blasphemy of blasphemy is to treat the star as a source of light ... Stars are anxiety that stirs the spiritual world of a person, an impulse and purification of thoughts about infinity, which is incomprehensible to us ... This and much more - my Tsvetaeva ... Poetry is not a job, not a craft, but a spiritual state, and the only way of existence ... The saturation of Tsvetaeva's images - the capacity of the line and brevity - all the qualities that are required in poetry not by the past, but by ours - the 21st century. saw Marina Tsvetaeva, recognized her as necessary and called her ... Tsvetaeva came confidently. Her hour called her. Her real hour. Now you can see - in what and how much she was ahead. Then ... "

Marina Tsvetaeva

You have the right, turning out your pocket,

To say: search, rummage, rummage.

I don't care what the fog is full of.

Any true story is like a morning in March...

I don't care whose conversation

Catching, floating from nowhere.

Any true story is like a spring yard,

When he is shrouded in mist.

I don't care what style

I am destined to cut dresses with me.

Any true story will be estimated as a dream,

The poet is caulked in her.

Wrapping up in many sleeves,

It moves like smoke

From the holes of the fatal era

In another impassable dead end.

He will break out, smoking, from the gap

Fates, flattened into a cake,

And the grandchildren will say, as about peat:

Such and such an era is burning.

Boris Pasternak 1929

List of used literature

1. Agenosov V.V. Textbook for general educational institutions. - Moscow, Bustard, 1997

2. Bikkulova I.A., Obernihena G.A. The study of the poetry of the "Silver Age" at school. Guidelines. - M., Bustard, 1994

3. Kudrova I. Lyrical prose of M. Tsvetaeva. - "Star", 1982, No. 10

4. Saakyants A.M. Tsvetaeva. Page of life and creativity. M., 1986

5. Tsvetaeva M. Selected works. - M., "Science and technology", 1984

6. Tsvetaeva M. Letters, M., "New World", 1969, No. 4

7. Tsvetaeva A. Memories; - M., "Soviet writer", 1984

8. Schweitzer V. Life and life of Marina Tsvetaeva - M., joint venture, "Interprint", 1922.

A. Mikhailov. Poetic Springs of Russia. Saratov, Volga book publishing house, 1990, p. 249.

Yearbook of the Manuscript Department of the Pushkin House for 1975. L., Nauka, 1977.

M. Tsvetaeva. Letter to Anna Teskova. Prague, 1969

K. Paustovsky

Saakasyants A. Marina Tsvetaeva. Pages of life and creativity (1910-1922). M., "Soviet Writer", 1986, p. 346-347

In a certain kingdom, in a certain state, there lived an old man and an old woman, and they had three sons. The youngest was called Ivanushka. They lived - they did not grieve, they worked - they were not lazy. But then the evil news came: a terrible miracle, a filthy Yudo, attacked their kingdom. The older brothers decided to go fight him, and Ivanushka also asked. The old man and the old woman did not hold them back, but equipped everyone on the road. The brothers walked for a long time across the scorched, devastated land, but they did not meet anyone except a sick old woman: everyone was killed by a miracle Yudo.

Finally, the brothers came to the Smorodina River to the viburnum bridge, where they decided to fight the filthy monster. They agreed to take turns guarding the viburnum bridge every night and wait for the miracle Yudo. On the first night, the older brother went to the bridge, but soon fell asleep. A little after midnight, Ivanushka took his damask sword and went to the river. Seeing that his older brother was snoring under a bush, Ivanushka did not wake him up. Suddenly, a terrible noise was heard, water boiled - this is a miracle Yudo leaving with six heads. Ivanushka rushed to him - and a battle ensued. They fought for a long time, but nevertheless the peasant son of his enemy defeated: he chopped off three heads and threw them into the river, and hid three under the bridge.

The same thing happened on the second night: the middle brother slept, and Ivanushka fought with a monster with nine heads.

And, finally, on the third night, Ivanushka himself went to guard the viburnum bridge. Soon a twelve-headed miracle Yudo filthy appeared. The battle went on for a long time. Ivanushka feels that it is difficult for him to win this time: instead of cut heads, new ones grow at the miracle-yuda. Then Ivanushka began to throw mittens into the hut, to call the brothers for help. But the brothers are not in a hurry, they are sleeping. Then he threw his hat - the brothers came running and together they defeated the miracle Yudo.

The older brothers wanted to rest after the battle, but Ivanushka, saying that he had lost his scarf, again went to the Smorodina River. He crossed to the other side, quietly approached the house where the monsters lived, and began to listen to what the mother and wives of the miracle people were conspiring about. And they decided to kill the brothers. The eldest said that she would turn on the heat and become a well. And when the brothers want to get drunk, they will burst from the first sip. The second wife came up with the idea of becoming an apple tree with poisoned apples.

The third is a soft carpet that will turn into fire as soon as someone lies on it. And the mother decided to swallow them all.

Ivan listened to all this and returned to his brothers. They set off on the return journey. Along the way they met a well, an apple tree, and a soft carpet. But Ivanushka did not let his brothers touch them. So Ivan returned safely with his brothers to his father and mother. And they began to live, live and make good.

The plot of this work is probably familiar to readers from childhood. Someone read a book, others retold in their own words before going to bed. Since the Russian folk tale does not have an author, there are several plot options. Let's imagine one of them.

The narrative begins with the traditional "in a certain kingdom, in a certain state", as well as "once upon a time". So, a family lived in one village: father, mother and three sons, the youngest of whom was called Ivan. From day to day they were engaged in hard peasant labor, they sowed, plowed, harvested.

After some time, there was a rumor that an ominous miracle Yudo had attacked their native land. The eldest and middle son immediately went on a campaign against the filthy monster, and the youngest Ivanushka, due to his youth, had to stay at home with his parents. However, Ivan did not want to sit behind other people's backs and was eager to fight himself. I had to bless him for military work.

The brothers were on their way. On the way, they met an elderly wanderer who asked where they were going. The brothers told about the trouble that befell their homeland. The Stranger listened to them and answered that the monster could not be dealt with without damask swords. And where to get them, he will tell you: you need to go straight, without turning, and reach a tall mountain with a very deep cave. A formidable weapon will be found in the cave. The brothers obeyed the old man and obtained swords.

Then they reached a devastated village. There was no one left in it, except for one ancient old woman lying on the stove. She told the heroes that the miracle Yudo attacked the village because of the Smorodina River, burned the houses and destroyed the inhabitants. Only she was lucky to survive.

The brothers stayed overnight in the surviving old woman's house, and at dawn they moved on. Soon they were at the Smorodina River, at the Kalinov Bridge. They see: human bones are lying on the shore, the earth is watered with blood, there is a lonely hut by the bridge. The bogatyrs settled down in it, and before that they agreed among themselves to carry out watch in turn every night, so as not to miss the villain and prevent him from crossing to this shore.

The elder brother was the first to guard. He wandered along the coast, saw nothing dangerous, fell under a bush and fell asleep. And Ivanushka, meanwhile, cannot close his eyes. He foresaw something was wrong, and therefore grabbed the sword and moved to the river. He saw a sleeping sentinel, but did not dare to disturb him.

After some time, the water in the river began to seethe, and it seemed that a miracle Yudo with six heads was riding a horse. It had just reached the middle of the bridge, and suddenly its horse stumbled. Ivan jumped out of the ambush and rushed at the enemy. He cut off two heads of the monster, it begged to give rest. But Ivan chopped off the rest, buried the heads under the bridge, drowned the body in the water. He returned to the hut and lay down to rest. The older brother came in the morning, they began to ask him if he had seen anything. The watchman began to assure that no one was there.

By the second night, the middle brother went to guard. He, too, did not notice anything dangerous and fell asleep. Ivan understood that it was too early to calm down. He hid again under the bridge - and for sure - after a while, a miracle Yudo drives up to Smorodina, only about nine heads. Ivan entered into battle with him. It was harder for him, but he coped with this evil spirits, cut off the heads and put them under the bridge. The next morning, the middle brother, like the elder, declared that the night had passed quietly. Then Ivan led them both to the river and showed them the heads hidden under the bridge. The brothers were ashamed.

It was the turn to serve the younger. He warned the brothers that the battle would be terrible, and therefore asked them not to fall asleep, to listen to the sounds. And when he calls them, come to his aid.

Ivan began to wait for the miracle Yudo at the bridge. And again, towards the middle of the night, it appeared, only with twelve heads. The brave hero grappled with him, but the forces were unequal. As soon as Ivan cuts off the head of the monster, it picks it up, puts it back, strikes a finger - and the head grows. The filthy young man is oppressing, the young man guessed that it would be difficult for him alone to deal with the monster. He threw his mitten towards the hut. But the brothers fell asleep like a dead man and heard nothing. Ivan continued the fight. I got the hang of cutting off several heads in one fell swoop, but in vain. Have time to grow heads from the fiery finger. Ivan threw the second mitten. Broke through the roof, but again did not wake the brothers. Ivan managed to cut down his opponent nine heads at once. However, this did not help either, again the monster puts them in place, and they grow.

Only after Ivan threw down his hat, and almost destroyed the hut to pieces, did the brothers wake up and come to the rescue. Ivan managed to cut off the monster's fiery finger, and then cut off all the heads.

But it was too early to rejoice. The next morning, Ivan quietly crept up to the Miracle Yuda Palace and overheard the conversation of his wives and their mother. They agreed to take revenge on the brothers.

The first wife promised to turn into a well, make her thirsty and kill her brothers with poisoned water. If this does not help, the second wife decided to turn into an apple tree and poison the heroes with fruits. If the heroes do not succumb to these tricks, the third wife will set up a trap - she will pretend to be a carpet with soft pillows, and when the brothers lie down, they will burn in the fire. The old mother assured that if nothing helped, then she would turn into a huge pig and swallow her brothers.

The brothers went to their father's house. It suddenly became unbearably hot. By the way, there was a well on the way. The elder and the middle decided to drink water, but Ivanushka began to chop the well with a sword. Miracle Yuda's first wife died, and the heat disappeared. Let's move on, we're hungry. They saw an apple tree, but the younger brother cut it down too. There was no second wife. In the same way, Ivan chopped up the carpet, and when a huge pig rushed at them, the quick-witted young man threw a bag of salt into her mouth. The monster stopped, and in the meantime the heroes galloped in different directions. While the pig was wondering who to chase after, Ivan crept up, lifted her up, and threw her to the ground. She crumbled. So the victory over the filthy evil spirits was won.

Share on social networks!

A tale of three brothers who defend their native land from a monster. Unlike other folk tales, here the younger brother Ivan was by no means stupid. He approached the task very valiantly and wisely, so he was able to defeat the evil Yudo miracle.

Fairy tale Ivan the peasant son and the miracle Yudo download:

Fairy tale Ivan the Peasant's Son and the Miracle Yudo read

In a certain kingdom, in a certain state, there lived an old man and an old woman, and they had three sons. The youngest was called Ivanushka. They lived - they were not lazy, they worked all day, they plowed arable land and sowed bread.

The news suddenly spread in that kingdom-state: the filthy miracle Yudo was going to attack their land, exterminate all the people, burn the towns and villages with fire. The old man and the old woman were tormented, they were grieving. And their sons console them:

Do not grieve, father and mother, we will go to the miracle Yudo, we will fight him to the death. And in order not to yearn for you alone, let Ivanushka stay with you: he is still very young to go to battle.

No, - says Ivan, - it doesn’t suit me to stay at home and wait for you, I’ll go and fight with a miracle!

The old man and the old woman did not stop and dissuade Ivanushka, and they equipped all three sons on their way. The brothers took damask swords, took knapsacks with bread and salt, sat on good horses and rode off.

They drove and drove and came to a village. They look - there is not a single living soul around, everything is burnt, broken, there is one small hut, barely holding on. The brothers entered the hut. An old woman lies on the stove and groans.

Hello, grandmother, the brothers say.

Hello good fellows! Where are you on your way?

We are going, grandmother, to the Smorodina River, to the Kalinov Bridge. We want to fight with a miracle Yud, not to allow it to our land.

Oh, well done, they got down to business! After all, he, the villain, ruined everyone, plundered, betrayed a fierce death. Nearby kingdoms - at least a rolling ball. And started coming here. In this direction, only I remained alone: it is clear that I am a miracle, and I am not fit for food.

The brothers spent the night with the old woman, got up early in the morning and set off again on the road.

They drive up to the Smorodina River itself, to the Kalinov Bridge. Human bones lie all over the shore.

The brothers found an empty hut and decided to stay in it.

Well, brothers, - says Ivan, - we drove into an alien side, we need to listen to everything and look closely. Let's go on patrol one by one, so that the miracle Yudo does not pass through the Kalinov bridge.

On the first night, the older brother went on patrol. He walked along the bank, looked at the Smorodina River - everything was quiet, no one could be seen, nothing could be heard. He lay down under a willow bush and fell sound asleep, snoring loudly.

And Ivan lies in a hut, he can’t fall asleep in any way. He does not sleep, he does not doze off. As the time went past midnight, he took his damask sword and went to the Smorodina River. Looks - under a bush the elder brother is sleeping, snoring with all his might. Ivan did not wake him up, hid under the Kalinov bridge, stands, guards the crossing.

Suddenly, the waters were agitated on the river, the eagles screamed on the oaks - a miracle Yudo with six heads leaves. He rode out into the middle of the Kalinov Bridge - the horse stumbled under him, the black raven on his shoulder started up, and behind him the black dog bristled.

Says the six-headed miracle Yudo:

What are you, my horse, stumbled? Why, black raven, startled? Why, black dog, bristled? Or do you sense that Ivan is a peasant's son here? So he was not yet born, and if he was born, he did not fit into the battle. I'll put him on one hand, slam the other - it will only get wet!

Ivan, the peasant son, came out from under the bridge and said:

Don't brag, you filthy miracle! Without shooting a clear falcon, it's too early to pluck feathers. Without recognizing a good fellow, there is nothing to blaspheme him. Come on, it's better to try strength; whoever overcomes, he will boast.

So they came together, drew level, and hit so hard that the earth groaned all around.

Miracle Yudu was not lucky: Ivan, a peasant son, knocked down three of his heads with one swing.

Stop, Ivan is a peasant's son! - shouts miracle Yudo. - Give me a break!

What a rest! You, miracle Yudo, have three heads, and I have one! This is how you will have one head, then we will rest.

Again they converged, again hit.

Ivan, the peasant's son, cut off the last three heads of the Miracle Yuda. After that, he cut the body into small pieces and threw it into the Smorodina River, and folded the bridge under the viburnum six heads. He himself returned to the hut.

In the morning the elder brother comes. Ivan asks him:

Well, didn't you see something?

No, brothers, not even a fly flew past me.

Ivan didn't say a word to him.

The next night the middle brother went on patrol. He looked like, looked around, looked around and calmed down. I climbed into the bushes and fell asleep.

Ivan did not rely on him either. As the time went past midnight, he immediately equipped himself, took his sharp sword and went to the Smorodina River. He hid under the Kalinov bridge and began to guard.

Suddenly, the waters on the river were agitated, the eagles screamed on the oaks - the nine-headed miracle Yudo leaves. As soon as he entered the Kalinov bridge, the horse stumbled under it, the black raven on his shoulder started up, the black dog bristled behind him ... The miracle of the horse is on the sides, the crow is on the feathers, the dog is on the ears!

What are you, my horse, stumbled? Why, black raven, startled? Why, black dog, bristled? Or do you sense that Ivan is a peasant's son here? So he was not yet born, and if he was born, he didn’t fit into battle: I’ll kill him with one finger!

Ivan jumped out - a peasant son from under the Kalinov bridge:

Wait, miracle Yudo, do not boast, first get down to business! It is not yet known who will take it.

As soon as Ivan waved his damask sword once or twice, he knocked off six heads from the miracle-yud. And the miracle Yudo hit, drove the earth into the cheese on Ivan’s knee. Ivan, the peasant son, grabbed a handful of earth and threw it right in the eyes of his adversary. While the miracle Yudo was rubbing and cleaning his eyes, Ivan cut off the rest of his heads as well. Then he took the torso, cut it into small pieces and threw it into the Smorodina River, and folded the nine heads under the viburnum. He himself returned to the hut, lay down and fell asleep.

In the morning the middle brother comes.

Well, - Ivan asks, - didn't you see anything during the night?

No, not a single fly flew near me, not a single mosquito squeaked nearby.

Well, if so, come with me, dear brothers, I will show you both a mosquito and a fly!

Ivan brought the brothers under the Kalinov bridge, showed them the miracle Yudov's heads.

Here, - he says, - what flies and mosquitoes fly here at night! You do not fight, but lie at home on the stove.

The brothers were ashamed.

Sleep, - they say, - knocked down ...

On the third night, Ivan himself was about to go on patrol.

“I,” he says, “I’m going to a terrible battle, but you, brothers, don’t sleep all night, listen: when you hear my whistle, release my horse and hurry to help me yourself.

Ivan came - a peasant son to the Smorodina River, stands under the viburnum bridge, waiting.

As soon as the time went past midnight, the damp earth swayed, the waters in the river stirred, the violent winds howled, the eagles screamed on the oaks ... The twelve-headed miracle Yudo leaves. All twelve heads are whistling, all twelve are bursting with fire and flames. The horse of a miracle-yuda with twelve wings, the horse's hair is copper, the tail and mane are iron. As soon as the miracle Yudo drove onto the Kalinov bridge - the horse stumbled under it, the black raven on his shoulder started up, the black dog bristled behind him. Miracle Yudo of a horse with a whip on the sides, a crow - on feathers, a dog - on the ears!

What are you, my horse, stumbled? Why, black raven, startled? Why, black dog, bristled? Or do you sense that Ivan is a peasant's son here? So he was not yet born, and if he was born, he didn’t fit into the battle: I’ll just blow - he won’t be left as dust!

Ivan, the peasant son, came out from under the Kalinov bridge:

Wait to boast: how not to be disgraced!

It's you, Ivan - the peasant's son! Why did you come?

Look at you, enemy force, try your fortress.

Where do you want to try my fortress! You are a fly in front of me.

Ivan, the peasant son of a miracle, answers:

I came neither to tell you fairy tales, nor to listen to yours. I came to fight to the death, to save good people from you, damned!

Ivan swung his sharp sword and cut off three heads of the miracle-yuda. Chudo-Yudo picked up these heads, scribbled at them with his fiery finger - and immediately all the heads grew back, as if they had not fallen from their shoulders.

Ivan, the peasant son, had a bad time: the miracle Yudo stuns him with a whistle, burns and burns him with fire, showers him with sparks, drives the earth knee-deep into cheese. And he laughs:

Don't you want to rest, get better, Ivan is a peasant's son?

What a vacation! In our opinion - beat, cut, do not take care of yourself! Ivan says.

He whistled, barked, threw his right mitten into the hut where the brothers remained. The mitten has broken all the glass in the windows, but the brothers are asleep, they hear nothing.

Ivan gathered his strength, swung again, stronger than before, and cut down six heads of the miracle-yud.

Chudo-Yudo picked up his heads, drew a fiery finger - and again all the heads were in place. He rushed here at Ivan, beat him to the waist in the damp earth.

Ivan sees - things are bad. He took off his left mitten, launched into the hut. The mitten broke through the roof, but the brothers are still sleeping, they don’t hear anything.

For the third time, Ivan swung - the peasant's son even stronger and cut down nine heads of the miracle. Miracle Yudo picked them up, drew them with a fiery finger - the heads grew back again. He rushed at Ivan and drove him into the ground up to his shoulders.

Ivan took off his hat and threw it into the hut. From that blow, the hut staggered, almost rolled over the logs.

Just then the brothers woke up, they heard - Ivanov's horse neighs loudly and breaks from the chains.

They rushed to the stable, lowered the horse, and after him they themselves ran to help Ivan.

Ivanov's horse came running, began to beat the miracle Yudo with his hooves. The miracle Yudo whistled, hissed, began to shower the horse with sparks ... And Ivan, the peasant son, meanwhile got out of the ground, got used to it and cut off the fiery finger of the miracle Yudu. After that, let's chop off his heads, knocked down everything to the last, cut his body into small parts and threw everything into the Smorodina River.

The brothers are here.

Oh you sleepy! Ivan says. - Because of your sleep, I almost paid with my head.

His brothers brought him to the hut, washed him, fed him, gave him drink and put him to bed.

Early in the morning, Ivan got up, began to dress and put on shoes.

Where are you up so early? the brothers say. - I would rest after such a massacre.

No, - Ivan answers, - I don’t have time to rest: I’ll go to the Smorodina River to look for my scarf - I dropped it.

Hunt for you! the brothers say. - Let's go to the city - buy a new one.

No, I need one!

Ivan went to the Smorodina River, crossed to the other side across the Kalinov bridge and crept to the miraculous Yudov stone chambers. He went to the open window and began to listen to see if they were plotting something else. He looks - three miraculous wives and a mother, an old snake, are sitting in the wards. They sit and talk.

Elder says:

I will take revenge on Ivan - the peasant son for my husband! I’ll get ahead of myself when he and his brothers return home, I’ll turn on the heat, and I myself will turn into a well. They want to drink water and burst from the first sip!

This is a good one you came up with! says the old snake.

The second said:

And I will run ahead and turn into an apple tree. They want to eat an apple - then they will be torn into small pieces!

And you thought well! says the old snake.

And I, - says the third, - will let them sleep and slumber, and I myself will run ahead and turn into a soft carpet with silk pillows. If the brothers want to lie down, rest, then they will be burned by fire!

The snake answers her:

And you have a good idea! Well, my dear daughters-in-law, if you do not destroy them, then tomorrow I myself will catch up with them and swallow all three.

Ivan, the peasant son, listened to all this and returned to his brothers.

Well, did you find your handkerchief? the brothers ask.

And it was worth the time!

It's worth it, brothers!

After that, the brothers gathered and went home.

They go through the steppes, they go through the meadows. And the day is so hot that there is no patience, the thirst is exhausted. The brothers are watching - there is a well, a silver ladle floats in the well. They say to Ivan:

Come on, brother, let's stop, drink cold water and water the horses.

It is not known what kind of water is in that well, - Ivan answers. - Maybe rotten and dirty.

He jumped off his good horse, began to chop and chop this well with a sword. The well howled, roared in a bad voice. Suddenly a fog came down, the heat subsided, and I didn’t want to drink.

You see, brothers, what water was in the well! Ivan says.

How long, how short - they saw an apple tree. Ripe and ruddy apples hang on it.

The brothers jumped off their horses, they wanted to tear the apples, and Ivan, the peasant's son, ran ahead and let's chop and chop the apple tree with a sword. The apple tree howled, screamed ...

Do you see, brothers, what kind of apple tree is this? Tasteless apples!

They rode and rode and got very tired. They look - there is a soft carpet on the field, and down pillows on it.

Lie down on this carpet, rest a little! the brothers say.

No, brothers, it will not be soft to lie on this carpet! Ivan answers.

The brothers were angry with him:

What kind of pointer are you to us: that is impossible, the other is impossible!

Ivan did not say a word in response, took off his sash and threw it on the carpet. The sash burst into flames - nothing remained in place.

That would be the same with you! Ivan says to his brothers.

He went up to the carpet and let's cut the carpet and pillows into small shreds with a sword. Chopped up, scattered to the sides and says:

In vain you, brothers, grumbled at me! After all, the well, and the apple tree, and this carpet - all were miraculous wives. They wanted to destroy us, but they did not succeed: they all died themselves!

How much, how little, they drove - suddenly the sky darkened, the wind howled, buzzed: the old snake itself flies behind them. She opened her mouth from heaven to earth - she wants to swallow Ivan and his brothers. Then the good fellows, don't be bad, pulled out of their knapsacks a pood of salt from their travel bags and threw it into the snake's mouth.

The snake was delighted - she thought that Ivan, the peasant son with his brothers, was captured. She stopped and began to chew salt. And as I tried it, I realized that these were not good fellows, and again rushed off in pursuit.

Ivan sees that the trouble is imminent - he let his horse run at full speed, and the brothers followed him. Jumping, jumping, jumping, jumping...

They look - there is a forge, and twelve blacksmiths work in that forge.

Blacksmiths, blacksmiths, - says Ivan, - let us into your forge!

The blacksmiths let the brothers in, behind them they closed the forge with twelve iron doors, with twelve forged locks.

A snake flew up to the forge and shouted:

Blacksmiths, blacksmiths, give me Ivan - a peasant son with brothers! And the blacksmiths answered her:

Run your tongue through twelve iron doors, and then you'll take it!

The snake began to lick the iron doors. Licked, licked, licked, licked - licked eleven doors. There is only one door left...

Tired snake, sat down to rest.

Then Ivan - the peasant's son jumped out of the forge, picked up the snake and hit it on the damp ground with all his might. It crumbled into small dust, and the wind scattered that dust in all directions. Since then, all miracles and snakes in that region have hatched, people began to live without fear.

And Ivan, a peasant son with his brothers, returned home, to his father, to his mother, and they began to live and live, to plow the field and collect bread.

Portal for the student. Self-training

Ivan peasant's son reader's diary. Russian folk tale "Ivan the Peasant's Son and the Miracle Yudo"

Send your good work in the knowledge base is simple. Use the form below

Similar Documents

Love is a sacred theme in the lyrics of Marina Tsvetaeva

The popularity of Marina Tsvetaeva's poetry today

List of used literature

Fairy tale Ivan the Peasant's Son and the Miracle Yudo read

Portal for the student. Self-training

Send your good work in the knowledge base is simple. Use the form below

Similar Documents

Love is a sacred theme in the lyrics of Marina Tsvetaeva

The popularity of Marina Tsvetaeva's poetry today

List of used literature

Fairy tale Ivan the Peasant's Son and the Miracle Yudo read

RELATED ARTICLES