A little man with a fingernail (an excerpt from the poem "Peasant Children") Once, in the cold winter season, I came out of the forest; there was severe frost. I look, a horse is slowly rising up the mountain, carrying a cart of brushwood. And, marching importantly, in serenity, The horse is led by the bridle by a peasant

“It shines merrily ...” (an excerpt from the poem “ Winter night in the village”) The Moon is merrily shining over the village; White snow sparkles with a blue light. Month rays of God doused temple; The cross under the clouds, Like a candle, burns. Empty, lonely Sleepy village; Blizzards deep Izba skidded. Silence

The third road Way of Tom the sleepwalker is flying away from the world of reality. Love, madness are just separating parts of that multi-stage rocket, with the help of which he breaks the bonds of earthly gravity, breaks away from misfortunes and worries. Tom in the ballad is the leader of the violent army

We offer you beautiful autumn poems by N. Nekrasov. Each of us from childhood knows well Nekrasov's poems about autumn while others read them to their children and grandchildren. These poems are included in school curriculum for different classes.
Short Nekrasov help not only to develop speech and memory, but also to get acquainted with beautiful time year autumn.

Nikolai Nekrasov - Autumn

Before - a village holiday,
Today - autumn is hungry;
There is no end to women's sadness,
Not for beer and wine.
Since Sunday, the mail is delirious
Our Orthodox people
On Saturdays he goes to the city,
Walks, asks, learns:
Who is killed, who is wounded in the summer,
Who is missing, who is found?
For some infirmaries
Were the survivors taken away?
Is it so creepy! vault of heaven
Dark at noon, as in the night;
Do not sit in a cramped house,
Do not lay on the stove.
Satisfied, warmed up, thank God,
Just to sleep! No you don't sleep
So it pulls on the road
You won't get away with anything.
And the striker is dear to us!
So they carry a lot of crippled
What is behind them on the hillock,
How do the wagons go by?
Human moans
Clearly heard at dawn.

Nikolai Nekrasov - Verse Glorious Autumn

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
The ice is fragile on the icy river
As if melting sugar lies;

Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not faded yet,
Yellow and fresh lie like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! frosty nights,
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi
And moss swamps, and stumps -

All is well under the moonlight
Everywhere I recognize my dear Russia ...
I quickly fly along cast-iron rails,
I think my mind...

Nikolay Nekrasov - Uncompressed band

Late fall. The rooks flew away
The forest is bare, the fields are empty,

Only one strip is not compressed ...
sad thought she suggests.

It seems that the ears whisper to each other:
"It's boring for us to listen to the autumn blizzard,

It's boring to bend down to the ground,
Fat grains bathed in dust!

We are being ruined by the villages every night
Every flying gluttonous bird,

The hare tramples us, and the storm beats us...
Where is our plowman? what else is waiting for?

Or are we born worse than others?
Or unfriendly blossomed-eared?

Not! we are no worse than others - and for a long time
Grain has been poured and ripened in us.

Not for the same he plowed and sowed
So that the autumn wind will dispel us? .. "

The wind brings them a sad answer:
- Your plowman has no urine.

He knew why he plowed and sowed,
Yes, he started the work beyond his strength.

Poor poor fellow - does not eat or drink,
The worm sucks his sick heart,

The hands that brought these furrows,
They dried up to a chip, hung like whips.

Like on a plow, leaning on your hand,
The plowman thoughtfully walked in a lane.

ON THE. Nekrasov: “Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous air invigorates tired forces "...

It's the beginning of September now.
Autumn comes into its own, quietly creeps up and penetrates the city squares, streets and parks. This is especially felt in the morning.
You go outside and see the first fallen yellow leaves under your feet. Of course, already from mid-August they begin to turn yellow with golden gray on the trees, especially on birches, but everyone thinks that this is not true, because it is still summer in the yard. And now you look and understand: yes, autumn has come.
I don't know why but I fell in love morning walks and even jogging. Now I enjoy autumn melancholy, which gives me strength and energy more than summer. Paradox)))
There was one verse that I really like, though it is about August. Its meaning is that when you live in a village, you notice all the signs and changes in nature. The city is oppressive, and apparently that's why you want to run away from it. And autumn strengthens this desire.
E. Bondareva
He will still pass through the steppe groves,
Berries will taste in the forest,
Responds to good songs,
He will drink ripe dew from the leaves.
He will get lost in the fields, forgotten
And fall asleep like a child sound sleep.
Get up in the morning - and do not stop looking
In the bins covered with grain.
Simply, without a special mark,
August appeared in the yard.
In the city they would not have noticed him,
If it were not for the leaf in the calendar.

So I live in a large metropolis, I don’t notice anything and already long years I dream of getting out longer to nature, to the forest, to the field, to the lake, to take a walk in quiet solitude, to think about life, to heal wounds, to stop and look around.

Many people, not only me, now want to sit alone with nature, be silent, look at her, and she would look at you.

But the words of Paustovsky about autumn, listen carefully!

Paustovsky "Distant years"
“It was already September. Twilight was approaching. Whoever has not seen the Kyiv autumn will never understand the tender charms of these hours.
The first star is lit in the sky. Autumn lush gardens silently wait for the night, knowing that the stars will surely fall to the ground and the gardens will catch these stars, like in a hammock, in the thick of their foliage and lower them to the ground so carefully that no one in the city will even wake up and know about it. »

A month ago, my husband and I turned off the Internet, and all August I did not know how to fill the information space.

I read newspapers, magazines in the evenings, and then I discovered the most curious thing for myself - in Okey (a chain of stores) there is a rack at the entrance where you can take any book you like or leave your own, which is no longer needed. And thanks to such a book circulation, I touched those books that in other circumstances would never have fallen into my hands. Not because they are not my format, but simply on the Internet there are so many things that make your eyes run wide, which is no longer up to Soviet old books.

I took a book to Oka "You and me"(library of a young family 1988). Such a somewhat naive book for newlyweds, about love, about family life.

(Paustovsky and Prishvin are two Russian classics that we studied at school. They wrote a lot about nature).

So, at first I skimmed through these letters, then I stopped and read aloud.

Paustovsky left for inspiration in the wilderness, in Ryazan region, or rather in Solotcha. And now he writes wonderful letters to his beloved Tatyana. About how he loves her more than life, etc.

I look at the date - May 1945 ... It would seem that these letters should be filled military theme, the triumph of victory, but there is no hint ... One love, one feeling internal state souls. Somewhere I read a phrase a couple of years ago that in Leningrad there lived a couple in love who did not notice the Blockade. Maybe a real Leningrad blockade resident will not like this statement, but it seems to me very capacious.

“Four o'clock in the morning, dead silence, only the clock is knocking ... On September 24, in the evening, I left for Solotcha. I didn't want to stay in Moscow. I wanted loneliness - deaf, complete.

I got it beyond measure. I live alone in an empty, abandoned house... Endless cold nights... And all the nights, for some reason, Sologub's verses never come out of my memory: “Not a single thing is visible in the field. Someone calls: “Help!” What can I do? I myself am poor, I myself am mortally tired - how can I help?... The garden outside the windows is already falling with rain, but there are still some small touching flowers. Here is one of them. And autumn leaves. It's not sentimental at all. You don't have our autumn there... It's three o'clock in the morning. Darkness, wind. I went out into the garden, it was deaf, scary, only huge stars in the black sky and fallen leaves rustling underfoot.

In my opinion, leaving the city and staying on such an “island” with yourself is wonderful!

“On the third day I sent you a second telegram. Then I went to the meadows behind the old riverbed of the Oka, to the so-called "Island". (For God's sake, don't stop reading the letter in this place - it will be interesting later.) The island is huge, it is surrounded on all sides by water - the Oka and its old channel. It was the sun, a blue day, frost lay in the shade. And since I kept thinking about one dear woman who is now so far away, I wandered until dusk. In the evening, I approached the old riverbed and saw that there was no bridge, it was flooded and water was rapidly flowing a meter above it. Then only I found out that on the Oka, in connection with the end of navigation, all the locks were opened and the usual one began here late autumn the second flood of the Oka. The water was rising before my eyes, I was alone on the island, it was far from Solotchi. It got dark, clouds overtook, the wind broke, and thick snow began to fall. And there was not a single haystack near. And it was dog cold. And I realized that I got into a very bad story. And I thought about you all the time. Fortunately, I had matches, I hardly made a fire, he was noticed from afar in the evening from the other side, and a red-haired peasant Lyukhin came for me on a canoe in the darkness and storm. He told me: “This is a trump card that I noticed you, otherwise the whole island will be flooded by morning.”

In the morning I looked out of the windows of the mezzanine - on the site of the island, the gray Oka water went in waves, and in hindsight I became scared. How can you not think about the strangeness of life.

How quiveringly he spoke of his third wife Tatyana: " Tenderness, my only person, I swear by my life that such love (without boasting) has not yet been in the world. It was not and will not be, all the rest of love is nonsense and nonsense. Let your heart beat calmly and happily, my heart! We will all be happy, everyone! I know and believe... "Probably only in nature such inspired thoughts, stories, images are born. It is difficult to concentrate and write anything in the city.

Often I replace trips out of town with a good book (because leaving the city is much harder than taking a book off the shelf). But now, while your little daughter is not particularly revered. Therefore, looking back, I want to remember what kind of books I liked, so that later someday I would re-read them with my daughters.

First of all, I remember Leonid Andreev's short story "Kusaka" in the fall. I read it as a child and it touched my heart. It seems to me that it is useful for children to read this, it helps them form pity and compassion for our smaller brothers.

( A dog living in an empty dacha sees only bad things from people all his life. The owners are coming to the cottage. The dog gets used to them, but in the autumn they leave, leaving her alone again).

Platonov’s story “The Cow” seems to me just as autumnal, but this is a completely hopeless story, so I won’t talk about it here. I just think it should be read sometime as a classic. At school, it seems in the 7th grade, we went through Platonov and this story shocked me.

And of course, autumn is Prishvin and my favorite “Pantry of the Sun”. About two independent brother and sister. My brother got into a swamp and almost died, but everything ended well.

While looking for an illustration, I found wonderful picture Rakhmanova Inessa "Pantry of the sun".

Prishvin has a lot short stories according to the seasons, in particular about autumn.

“Short stories about the nature of the autumn season by Prishvin Mikhail Mikhailovich in the form of notes convey that touching mood of romance and pleasant sadness that hovers in nature in autumn. First yellow leaves beautiful time golden autumn and the onset of cold weather, the events through which autumn nature, lovingly described in lines by a writer of Russian nature.

Vitaly Bianchi, Garin-Mikhailovsky and many others also wrote about nature.

Of course, the autumn mood is conveyed to me in Astafiev's prose, but there are fewer lyrics and more adventure.

Particularly colorful pictures of nature in the film "Taiga Tale" (based on the work of Astafiev). Akimka comes to nature, to spend the winter in a small house, and there lies a dying city girl. Akimka got her out, but it took more than one month. And there are no medicines and help around ... mother taiga ...

In any case, autumn is a time of dreams, you want more warmth and love. “The colder and more hopeless the darkness outside, the more comfortable the warm soft light in the apartment seems. And if summer is the time to run away from home pipe dreams, then late fall- Time to go back. © Al Quotion