The literature of the Soviet era gave us many talented writers. Many of them wrote about the village, about the life of a simple peasant. In this article, we will try to compile a brief retelling of “What Horses Cry About,” a story written by F. A. Abramov.

about the author

In the twentieth century, the so-called village prose became widespread. She told about the fate of the peasants, touched upon problems that until that moment had not been so deeply covered in literature. One of the representatives of this trend was Fedor Alexandrovich Abramov. Before we begin a brief retelling of the story “What Horses Cry About,” it is worth telling about the author of this work himself.

The writer's life was truly difficult. In early childhood, he suffered the loss of his father. A large family was left with one mother. It seemed that they would never be able to get out of poverty. But his mother, a very brave and strong-willed woman, managed to improve her life and, together with her children, moved from the poor to the “middle peasants”.

The boy was able to finish primary school, while quite successfully. In middle and high school, he also unlearned, but later.

With the outbreak of war, he himself asked to go to the front. While participating in the fighting, he was wounded twice. Miraculously survived. He could no longer fight because of his wounds. But the writer did not waste time: he went to study at the Pedagogical Institute. Thus, after the war, he received a philological education and became a true professional in the literary field.

He did not stop there and soon graduated from graduate school with a dissertation.

Undoubtedly, in his works the main theme was the life of the Russian village. He knew firsthand about her. He described all the difficulties of the life of a simple peasant with incredible accuracy. Thanks to his creations, everyone was able to find out what problems worried the Russian peasant at that time.

The protagonist

Let's start a brief retelling of Abramov's "What Horses Cry About" with a description of the narrator himself. Before us is a village peasant who has lived all his life in his native side. He reminisces about his childhood when things were different. We learn that horses in the past were a real treasure in every family. Thanks to their work, the peasants survived in difficult times. Therefore, even as an adult, the main character does not forget these strong animals. Periodically, he goes to the meadow where they graze, and feeds these hard workers with bread. We can characterize our narrator as a good-natured and merciful person.

On one of these trips to the meadow, something unexpected happened. Our hero saw the familiar horse Ryzhukha crying. He wonders: what happened? After all, he takes care of her so carefully: he treats her with bread and even cut her bangs the other day so that they don’t get into her eyes. And then the reader is met with a surprise: the horse begins to speak with the narrator!

redhead

What did the filly say? A brief retelling of "What Horses Cry About" will continue with a description of her dialogue with the main character. The redhead learned from Zabava's old familiar horse that they used to live much better. It turns out that the horses were groomed and cherished. Everyone considered it his duty, first of all, to feed his worker - the horse. The owner himself could starve, but the horse - never. After all, it was they who helped feed the entire peasant family. And after a hard day's work, their pets were met by the whole family, cleaned, fed and watered.

After telling this story to other horses, Redhead was ridiculed. No one believed her, because they had not seen such a life and considered everything that was said a deception. Now everyone is waiting for the truth from the narrator: was there really such a bright time? The answer to this question will be given by a further brief retelling.

Why do horses cry?

The hero could not immediately tell the whole truth. He indulges in memories of his childhood and his beloved Karka. The narrator remembers the times when the symbol of the horse was in every house. A brief retelling of "What Horses Cry About" includes this episode. The first toy, decoration on the roofs, fairy tales - everything was about horses. They were respected and idolized, prayed to them. The horseshoe has long been the main symbol of good luck and success.

Even after returning from the war, the hero did not forget his favorite Karko. What a tragedy for him was the news that his horse is no more! A brief retelling of "What Horses Cry About" is supplemented by information that from that moment on, the author includes a different story in the work. This technique is called a story within a story.

Remembering the dear animal, the hero cannot believe in his death. And the details of his death completely horrify him. It turns out that until the last day of the war, Karko helped to survive and worked hard. But on the day of victory, he was sacrificed as the most goner in order to celebrate the end of the war.

The hero could not come to his senses for a long time and even looked for his remains. Of course, he couldn't find anything. But this story stuck in his memory for a long time, and it continues our brief retelling of "What Horses Cry About."

bitter ending

The protagonist recalled all this while the other horses were waiting for an answer to their question. And our narrator did not know what to tell them. On the one hand, yes, life was completely different, horses were valued and loved. And now everything has changed. Love and respect for horses has been replaced by soulless technology. A brief retelling of the story "What Horses Cry About" should certainly contain this key point. The car does not need to be spared and fed. Broke - fixed. No spirituality. Now the horses have found a replacement, and they have been forgotten. They are not as needed now as they used to be.

We have come to the point which will conclude with a brief retelling of What Horses Cry About. Not daring to tell the whole truth, the hero makes an indifferent look, as if calming the animals, and jokes that this matter cannot be sorted out without a can.

Outcome

Having fed his interlocutors with bread, he, putting his hands in his pockets, leaves the meadow with a carefree gait. But his behavior is feigned. He could not tell the whole truth, did not want to upset such dear animals to his heart.

A brief retelling of Abramov's "What Horses Cry About" will be incomplete if we do not describe the state of our hero when he left. He felt shame and his own worthlessness. All because he was very upset by such changes in the life of horses, but he could not tell them the whole truth.

Every time, when the narrator descended from the ugor (hill) to the meadow, he seemed to fall back into his distant Childhood - into the world of fragrant herbs, dragonflies, butterflies and, of course, horses that were grazing on a leash, each near its own stake. He often took with him and treated the horses, and if there was no bread, he stopped near them anyway, gently stroked, ruffled their warm velvet lips. The horses worried him, but more often they evoked a feeling of pity and some kind of incomprehensible guilt before them.

Groom Mikolka, always drunk, sometimes he didn’t show up to them for days, and the horses stood hungry, languishing from thirst, suffering from the midge that hovered over them like clouds.

This time, the man did not walk, but ran to the horses, because among them he saw his favorite Ryzhukha, a small, unprepossessing horse, but very hardy and somehow especially clean, neat, with a lively, cheerful character. Usually she joyfully greeted him, but on this day she stood motionless near the stake, petrified, even turned her head away from the treat. The man grabbed her by the bangs, pulled her to him and, shocked, saw ... tears. Big horse tears. "Redhead, Redhead, what's the matter with you?"

And she said that they (horses) had an argument about life, horse life, of course. The redhead said that there was a time when horses were loved and groomed, pitied and cherished.

Her comrades laughed at her. Speaking of this, the filly burst into tears again. The man calmed her down. And here's what she said.

On the far side where she worked (and the labor was hard labor), Ryzhukha went in harness with one old mare, who tried to cheer up her partner with her songs. From these songs, Ryzhukha learned about the times when horses were called nurses, groomed and caressed, fed deliciously, decorated with ribbons. Listening to the songs of Zabava (that was the name of the old horse), her partner forgot about the heat, about the heavy mower she was dragging, about the blows of the evil peasant. Redhead could not believe that it was, a carefree horse's life, on Zabava assured that everything was true in the songs, her mother sang them to her. And my mother heard them from her mother.

When the horses were led out into the meadow. The redhead did not begin to sing the songs of the old mare, but they shouted at her: “What a lie! .. 11e poison our souls. And it's so boring." And now the horse, with hope and prayer, turned to the man: “Tell me, were there times when we, horses, lived well?” The narrator could not stand her direct, honest look, averted his eyes to the side. And then it seemed to him that all the horses were looking at him, waiting for an answer.

It is not known how long this silent torture lasted, but the man was sweating all over. He knew that the old mare was telling the truth. Yes, there were such times, and quite recently, when they breathed a horse, fed her the most delicious piece, or even the last loaf of bread, the whole family met her after work, and how many kind words she listened to, with what love they looked after her, took her to watering, scraping, cleaning.

The horse was a treasure, hope and support of a peasant family.

And what fun during the holidays! How reckless, how beautiful were the Russian festivities on horseback on Maslenitsa. You won't see this anywhere else.

“Everything was transformed, like in a fairy tale. Men and boys were transformed… horses were transformed. Oh, gulyushki, oh, dear ones! Don't let up! Amuse your brave heart! .. Colorful, patterned arcs danced like rainbows in the frosty air ... and bells, bells - the delight of the Russian soul.

The first toy of the peasant son was a wooden horse, his mother sang about a sivka-burka, a horseshoe - a symbol of happiness - met every porch in the village. "Everything is a horse, everything is from a horse: the whole life of a peasant, from birth to death."

Is it any wonder that because of the horse, because of the mare, passions boiled up in the first collective farm years. At the stables they crowded from morning till night, each looked closely at his horse, scolded the grooms for negligence. After all, men have been fed from horses all their lives.

The narrator recalls how long ago, even before the war, he could not calmly pass by his Karka, who, like the sun, illuminated the whole life of their large family. In forty-seven he returned to the village. Hunger, destruction, desolation. And Karko immediately came to mind.

The old groom answered him that Kark was no longer there. He gave his soul to God in the most. We should have celebrated this day. With what? And when Karko dragged himself out of the forest with his cart, heavy logs fell on him from above, from a pile ...

In every person lives, probably, Pushkin's prince Oleg: having once again arrived in the village, the narrator decided to find the remains of his beloved horse. This is where the logging took place. Desolation, thickets of nettles. He did not find any remains.

... Redhead and other horses still looked at him with hope and prayer. It seemed that the whole meadow was filled with horse eyes. Everyone, both the living and those who had not been there for a long time, questioned the man.

And he had to let go on themselves reckless prowess: "Well, well, stop being sour! .. Let's better gnaw bread while it gnaws." Avoiding looking into Ryzhukha's eyes, he gave her a piece of bread prepared in advance, and dressed the other horses. With reckless recklessness, he raised his hand theatrically: “Pockel!” And what could he answer these poor fellows? To say that the old mare did not invent anything, that horses had happy times? He didn't see anything around. I waited for them to start nibbling bread, cutting the grass with the usual crunch of a horse. But there was no sound from the meadow.

And the man realized that he did what- something irreparable, terrible, that he deceived these unfortunate nags, that he and Redhead would never have more sincere trust. And heavy horse anguish fell upon him, bent him to the ground ...

Every time the narrator descended from the village extremity to the meadow, he seemed to find himself in the world of his distant childhood - in the world of herbs, dragonflies, butterflies and, of course, horses. He often took bread with him and fed the horses, and if there was no bread with him, he would still stop near them, pat them on the back, stroke them, or even just talk to them.

Horses evoked in him, a village dweller, the most contradictory feelings - from excitement and joy to pity and even guilt before them. The groom Mikolka sometimes did not show up to them day and night, and around the stake to which each horse was tied, not only the grass - the turf was gnawed. The poor animals were constantly languishing, they were pestered by midges.

The life of the poor was not easy, so no one could indifferently pass by them.

And this time the man ran to the horses. I saw my favorite Clara, or Ryzhukha, as he called her easily.

This horse was from the breed of mesenok, medium-sized animals, hardy and very unpretentious. At four or five years old, her back was already knocked down, her belly noticeably sagged and her veins began to swell. Nevertheless, she favorably stood out among her relatives in that she retained her cheerful character. Usually, when she saw her acquaintance, she made a welcoming circle of joy around the peg to which she was tied.

But something happened to her today. When a person appeared, she stood motionless, as if petrified. He thought that the filly had either fallen ill or had forgotten him while working on the distant hayfield. He began to break off bread for her from a large loaf, and she turned her head away.

The man pulled the horse towards him by the thick bangs and saw large tears in the eyes of the animal. The man calmed her down. I started asking what happened. The redhead said that they horses had an argument about horse life. Here is what she said.

At a distant hayfield, she met an old mare, with whom she rode in the same mower. When they were completely unbearable, Zabava cheered her up with her songs. The redhead said she had never heard anything like it before. These songs said that in former times horses were called breadwinners, groomed and caressed, decorated with ribbons. The redhead asked Zabava if she was comforting her. The neighbor answered that she heard these songs from her mother, and she heard them from hers.

When Redhead tried to tell the rest of the horses about this, she was ridiculed. She looked hopefully at the man and asked if the old mare had deceived her.

The interlocutor could not stand the horse's direct gaze and averted his eyes to the side. It seemed to him that inquisitive horse eyes were looking at him from all sides.

It is not known how long this silent torture continued. But the man was sweating from head to toe.

No, the old mare did not deceive. There were times when a horse was breathed and lived, it was fed the last piece, and even the last loaf of bread. We, they say, somehow. And what happened in the evenings, when the accumulated horse returned home! The whole family greeted her with love and looked after her. And how many times during the night the owners got up to see their treasure!

After all, without a horse, nowhere - neither in the field, nor in the forest. Yes, and do not walk without it properly. After all, Russian festivities on horseback on Maslenitsa have nothing to compare with.

The peasant's son's first toy is a wooden horse. The horse looked at the child from the roof of his native house, his mother told about him and sang about him, with his horse he decorated the spinning wheel of his betrothed, he prayed to him. And a horseshoe - a sign of happiness - met each porch. And what passions boiled around the horse in the first collective farm years!

But what can we say about the peasants, if the narrator, even as a university student, could not indifferently pass by Kar-ka, the breadwinner of his family. In the forty-seventh year, the student returned to the village. Everywhere there was hunger, desolation, in the houses they wept for those who did not return from the war, and he, as soon as he saw the first horse, immediately remembered his Karka.

The old groom answered that Karka was no more, he gave his soul to God on the forest front. After all, not only people fought in this war, but also horses.

Pushkin's prophetic Oleg probably lives in each of us. So the man who told this story was trying to find the remains of his horse, being in those places where logging was going on during the war.

But there was no lumber station for a long time, and dense thickets of Ivan-chai grew on the site of the pit, and of course, the search did not give results ...

... The redhead continued to look at the man with hope, together with her all the other horses looked with hope and prayer. material from the site

And the man took on a reckless prowess and said that it was enough to turn sour and stuff his head with all sorts of nonsense. It is better to gnaw bread while it gnaws. Following this, he threw a piece of bread near Ryzhukha, dressed the rest of the horses, said some nonsense and went home.

What else could he answer these poor fellows? To say that the old mare did not deceive and the horses really had happy times?

He crossed the lake and went out to the old boundary, which always delighted him with its herbs. But now the man did not see anything. All his hearing was turned back. The man hoped that he would hear the usual crunch and crunch of grass in the meadow. But not the slightest sound came from there.

And the man realized that he had done something irreparable. He deceived Redhead and all those unfortunate nags. He will never again have those sincere and trusting relations with Redhead that he had until now.

And heavy horse anguish fell upon him. Soon he himself seemed to himself an absurd, obsolete creature from the same horse breed.

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Fedor Abramov is a great Soviet prose writer, one of the best writers of his time. His works penetrate into the very depths of the soul, telling about the hardships and sorrows of life in the Russian hinterland. The story “What Horses Cry About” was written by Abramov in 1973, in which he talks from the height of his years about how the role of the horse in village life has changed. The writer endows horses with the ability to speak humanly in order to give them the opportunity to express all the pain that they feel because of the neglect of people. But quite recently there were times when a horse was a real treasure of a peasant family, one might say, a full member of it.

Sad reflections on the life of horses

The story is told in the first person. The author tells with pleasure how when he gets to his native village, plunging into the smells of meadow grasses and hearing the sound of dragonfly wings, he seems to be in childhood again. And this is a difficult, but at the same time fertile time in the life of the protagonist, which is inextricably linked with horses. And now, having already become quite an adult, he, still trembling, grabs a loaf of bread in his hands and runs into the lowland, where the collective farm horses graze. The anticipation of communicating with them causes a storm of emotions in the narrator. Firstly, admiration for the beauty of these smart and noble animals, and secondly, a nagging feeling of pity and guilt, because the horses do not receive decent care on the collective farm. Groom Mikolka is a drunkard who may not show up at his workplace for days. And as a result, the horses stand on a meadow trampled to blackness, languishing with thirst, midges and midges. That is why the author runs to them with all his might, as soon as he finds himself in his native village, in order to somehow brighten up the difficult horse's lot with his caress and gifts.

Favorite Redhead

On that day, he ran towards the grazing animals especially quickly, because he saw among them his favorite - a horse named Clara, which he called Redhead to himself.

This mare was not of any special breed, and the hard working life had already left its mark on her: her back under the saddle was knocked down, her belly sagged, and the veins in her groin began to swell. But there was not in her that stupid doom that our hero saw in the eyes of other animals. The redhead still retained her valiant cheerful disposition and cheerful character.

When she saw her human friend, she usually neighed loudly in greeting and made a “greeting circle of joy.”

horse tears

But that time it was different. Seeing our hero, Ryzhukha expressed absolutely no emotions - she continued to stand motionless. The man was worried that his pet was sick or had forgotten him because she spent two weeks in a distant hayfield. He began to convulsively break off a huge piece of bread from a loaf for a treat, turned his horse's muzzle in himself and was dumbfounded, because he saw huge horse tears in Red's eyes.

Redhead's conversation with the hero of the story

Our hero involuntarily began to ask the horse what had happened to her, to which she unexpectedly began to answer him in a human voice.

The redhead told her friend that she had a dispute with other horses about the life of a horse. And it all started with the fact that, being on a distant mowing, she met the old mare Zabava. That mare knew a lot of songs about old times, about how well horses lived then. She sang these songs to Ryzhukha when it became completely unbearable to work.

Moreover, the old horse claimed that everything said in those songs was true, that they were passed down in her horse family from generation to generation. And so, having returned to her native places, Ryzhukha began to sing those songs to her comrades, which greatly irritated their souls. They shouted at her, demanded to be quiet, complained that they were already sick of it, and without her songs. Now the filly turned to the person she trusted, she asked if what the old Fun sang about was true. Is it true that the life of horses was completely different in the old days. The author could not stand the honest questioning look of the horse, he averted his eyes and reminisced.

Memories of the past

Indeed, what was sung about in horse songs was true, moreover, it was not so long ago. Our hero reflects that he lived on earth for half a century, and even in his memory the attitude towards horses was not at all what it is now. He recalls with pain in his soul how the whole family used to run out to meet a horse coming from the field, that the best piece of bread in the family was given to the horse, how they washed it, watered it, scraped it, how they got up at night in the barn, to check how it was there, how decorated with ribbons for the holiday. And there was no greater treasure in a peasant family than a horse. It was impossible in those days without a horse to go to the field, or to the forest, or to a holiday. As a person who has seen a lot in his life, the author claims that he has not seen anything more beautiful than Russian Maslenitsa festivities on horseback.

Bitterness from difficult thoughts

With bitterness, our hero recalls a horse named Karko, next to whom he grew up. The animal was the main breadwinner and support of a large orphaned family. Fate divorced a man and his horse, a war began, each of them had its own battlefield. The writer urges not to forget about the contribution that horses made to the victory over fascism. He himself came to his homeland only in 1947 and immediately rushed to look for his horse, but found out that he was gone on the very Victory Day. Comparing himself with Prophetic Oleg, he recalls how he was looking for a place where the remains of Kark were buried, but he did not find it ...

Meanwhile, while our hero was reminiscing, Redhead continued to look at him with a pleading look in her eyes, like other horses. At that moment, the man felt that there was nothing around him at all except deep horse eyes, questioning him from eternity. But suddenly he started up, put on a relaxed air and advised the horses not to bother their heads with all sorts of nonsense, but simply to gnaw bread while there is such an opportunity. After that, trying not to look Ryzhukha in the eyes, he threw the slices of bread on the ground and moved with a cheeky gait towards the river. It was hard for a man in his soul, he was not pleased with the lush vegetation of his native places. He sincerely hoped that now he would hear the familiar crunch of grass behind him, a quiet puff, and everything would be as before. But behind him there was only an oppressive silence.

And at that moment, the author began to realize that he had done something irreparable - he forever lost the trust of Redhead and all those unfortunate old nags that surrounded her. And the more he thought about it, the more he felt that he himself was already turning into an absurd creature from the past, which had outlived its age.

Shukshin's short stories about people, their characters and destinies, about life and the world always amaze with the depth of thoughts about the purpose of a person, about the meaning of life. He knows how to simply and unobtrusively reveal to us the beauty of the world, to show spiritual beauty in the simplest person.

A young urban artist decided to paint a portrait of an old man, a resident of a Siberian village. Every evening, the “ancient old man” went “to the banks of the swift river Katun” and looked at the sun. For two evenings the girl painted the old man, but on the third day she did not come.

He died. That's the whole plot of V. M. Shukshin's story "The Sun, the Old Man and the Girl." The heroes do not have names, and this already has a deep philosophical meaning. In the title of the story, the heroes are on a par with "a star named the Sun",

“And God created two great luminaries, a large luminary, to rule the day, and a smaller luminary, to rule the night, and the stars ... And God saw that it was good.” The sun is part of God's creation, part of the world, nature, and it is good, beautiful, like the whole world created by God. The sun is one - the only one, just like the old man who lived the only life, just like the girl who is just beginning to live.

This is a story about the beauty of the world and a person who is aware of this beauty.

“The sun touched the peaks of Altai and began to slowly sink into a distant blue world,” this is how the author describes the nature that the old man admired every day. The sunset and the fading of the day in the girl’s thoughts about the life of the old man are perceived as events of the same order, as “something difficult, something big, significant:“ The sun - it also just rises and just sets ... But is it really simple? It seems that the old man's life was the simplest, the most ordinary: he worked as a carpenter, lost four sons in the war, two remained. But the old man says that he lived well, "just right", it's a sin to complain. In his words, the girl feels a strange calmness and peace. Perhaps this is the beauty of the old man - in his attitude to life. To the girl's question, is it possible to draw him, the old man replies that he is ugly now. But the young artist objects: “No, you are beautiful, grandfather.” What beauty did the artist see in the eighty-year-old man? The portrait of the "grandfather" emphasizes his old age, decrepitude. “Hands were in my lap, brown, dry, terribly wrinkled. The face is also wrinkled, the eyes are moist and dull. The neck is thin, the head is small, gray-haired. Sharp shoulder blades stick out under a blue cotton shirt. Before us is a portrait of a worker who lived a hard life, but did not lose his love for the world.

At the end of the story, the girl learns that the old man has been blind for 10 years. The blind old man remembers the beauty of the world, feels it and talks about it with the girl. He notices that the sun is big, that the water near that shore has even added blood, talks about what kind of pebbles are: “all white, it’s already translucent, but inside there are some specks”, “testicle and testicle - you can’t tell”, “on a magpie egg similar to specks on the sides", "like starlings - blue, also with a mountain ash like that." Do sighted people see this beauty? Are they happy with her? The old man's son always comes home tired, dissatisfied with everything. The bride is also always unhappy. The house is dreary, silence reigns. Misunderstanding awaits a girl in a distant beloved city. A friend, a talented, real artist, will certainly be angry: “Wrinkles again! Everyone knows that Siberia has a harsh climate and people work hard there. What's next? What?.."

This meeting with the old man was very important for the girl, became a stage on the way of her growing up, on the way of searching for the meaning of life: “Now she felt some deeper meaning and mystery of human life.”

The world is wonderful. A person who feels the beauty of the earthly world is beautiful. This is the idea of ​​V. Shukshin's story “The sun, the old man and the girl.

So, the story reveals the following problems:

1) The problem of human beauty;

2) The problem of man's relationship to nature;

3) The problem of the beauty of the world;

4) The problem of the meaning of life;

5) The problem of the appointment of a person;

6) The problem of attitude to life;

7) The problem of maintaining love for life;

8) The problem of misunderstanding between people;

9) The problem of growing up, the formation of personality;

10) The problem of finding the meaning of life;

11) The problem of the appointment of art;

12) The problem of the role of chance in human life.