"A walk through the magical forest" outline of a reading lesson (Grade 4) on the topic. Synopsis of the OD lesson in the preparatory group: Pantry of the wind Lesson of reading Belozers pantry of the wind
Timofey Maksimovich Belozerov was born on December 23, 1929 in the village of Kamyshi, Kurtamyshsky district, Kurgan region, into a large peasant family. Childhood passed in the foothills of Altai, where fate brought the family in the hungry thirties. He lost his mother early, and during the war he ended up first in Omsk, then in the Bolsherechensky village of Staro-Karasuk, being raised by a kind woman, Maria Nikitichna Terentyeva. Here he graduated from the seven-year school and continued his studies in the village of Chernovo.
Further, fate threw Timofey Belozerov to the city of Kalachinsk, where his working biography began. He worked as a simple worker for cleaning the railway tracks, a carpenter, a lumberjack for hire. Here he was constantly accompanied by an unsettled hungry life. Some kind person advised him to enter the Omsk River School. There, he explained, the cadets are on full state support.
The Omsk River School in those years was semi-military. It trained not only river specialists, but also officers for the Navy. Having withstood the competition (12 people per place), Timofey Belozerov became a cadet of the technological department. He graduated from the college in 1952 and left for a naval training in Vladivostok. Then he returned to Omsk and received a referral to the city of Barnaul at the Bobrovsky Shipyard with a diploma in metal cutting technology. As he himself recalled, he worked willingly, he liked the assertive and noisy mechanics, captains, he liked the hard work of the workshop.
In these years, the creative biography of the poet begins. Like a magical miracle, there was a great love for poetry, which arose even in the fertile school time, and with it a further passion for his own writing. The first publication of poems appeared in the magazine "Altai". He was noticed and invited to Novosibirsk to the regional meeting of young writers. The leaders of the seminar, well-known at that time poets Alexander Smerdov and Kazimir Lisovsky, approved of the young poet's experiments in poetry and advised him to write a book for children. Somewhat later, when Belozerov was already living in Omsk, such a book appeared with colorful drawings by the famous Omsk artist K.P. Belova. It was called "On Our River" (1957).
In 1954, Timofey Belozerov was transferred to Omsk to the Directorate of the Lower Irtysh River Shipping Company. He was accepted to the position of a literary employee of the basin newspaper "Soviet Irtysh". Here he had to really plunge into the working life of the rivermen, not only on the river bank, but also on the deck of the ship. However, as the poet himself later admitted, all the same work in the foundry of the Omsk Radio Plant named after. A.S. Popova was more suitable for the acquired profession and liked more. Here T. Belozerov worked for several years, until in 1969 he began permanent creative work - she already gave enough money to support the family. During these creative years, he published books for children one after another: "Spring" (1858), "Forest Violinist" (1960), "Hoots over the River" (1962), "Grow Up the Garden" (1962), "Forest Swing" (1963) and so on.
The accumulated creative experience contributed to admission to the Literary Institute. A.M. Gorky (in absentia), from which he graduated in 1963. Timofei Maksimovich himself recalled the period of study in the only educational institution in the whole country: “Studying at the institute, in this restless “marave”, where the very air seemed to be saturated with literature, endless disputes, reading, analysis of poetry, gave and discovered a lot. I began to look at children's literature as a serious matter. A year earlier, he was accepted as a member of the Writers' Union of the USSR.
In subsequent years, Timofey Belozerov's books for children began to be published annually, and in publishing houses in different cities: in Moscow, Novosibirsk, Sverdlovsk, Kemerovo, Barnaul, Alma-Ata, Kyiv, and even in Bulgaria and the GDR. A friendship began with the great luminaries of children's literature. A positive assessment of his work was expressed in written and oral form: Agniya Barto, Sergey Baruzdin, Yakov Akim, Igor Motyashov, Yuri Korinets, Valentin Berestov, Vladislav Bahrevsky ... The classic of children's literature Elena Blaginina especially admired Belozerov's poems, with whom the poet had a real friendship and active correspondence. With her preface, T. Belozerov's books "Pantry of the Wind" (1970), "Winter-Winter" (1974) were published by the publishing house "Children's Literature".
In the same publishing house, several books of different volumes are published in mass circulation and even in the millions - "Forest Plakunchik" with drawings by the fairy tale artist V. Suteev. (This tale has since been reprinted several times.) The book of poems "Karasik" with a preface by Irina Tokmakova was published in two million copies. In the preface, she wrote: “The poems of Timofey Maksimovich Belozerov are a breath of fresh air, pierced by the sun, smelling of a flowering chamomile meadow” ... Only a real poet with a true sense of nature can see a hare in the first snowflake that fell on a meadow in late autumn, hear the clatter of deer hooves in the noise of a light summer rain, call blue snowdrops Snow Maiden's tears.
The most expensive and favorite book for the poet was "Zhuravkin holiday" (1980) with engravings by the well-known graphic artist Nikolai Kalita in the country and abroad. This book at the International Book Fair in Moscow received a diploma of the 2nd degree for printing.
A lot of drawings for various books by T. Belozerov, published by the publishing house "Children's Literature" and in the Omsk Book Publishing House, were made by the Moscow graphic artist Nikolai Korotkin. In the Omsk Museum. F.M. Dostoevsky, an exhibition of works by this artist was arranged for the works of our fellow countryman.
Children's magazines - "Murzilka", "Kolobok", "Pioneer", "Funny Pictures", "Misha", "Sibiryachok", "Bonfire" - willingly and regularly printed the works of T. Belozerov, and even adult magazines "Siberian Lights", "Ural", "Neva", "Siberian-Far Eastern Land". His poems can be found in many collective collections, almanacs, anthologies, anthologies. Perhaps, reviews, articles, and notes were written for each book by different authors in regional newspapers, especially in Omskaya Pravda, where the poet worked as a literary consultant for about twenty years. Many aspiring writers came to him for advice and support. Some went on to become professional writers.
With the opening of the Omsk book publishing house in 1981, the poet published significant books of poetry: "Snowdrops" (1982), "Swan" (1986), a book of fairy tales "The Dvorovichok" (1989). And in total, in his entire creative life, Timofey Belozerov published 53 books, half of them - in Moscow publishing houses. And posthumously came out already two dozen. The total circulation of the poet's creative heritage is more than 17 million copies.
For services to domestic literature, he was awarded the government awards "For Labor Valor" and "For Valiant Labor. In commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the birth of V.I. Lenin. For the book of poems "Colored Voices", published in 1972 in a deluxe edition, he receives the Omsk Komsomol Prize. A little later, he was awarded the title of "Honored Worker of Culture of the RSFSR."
T.M. died. Belozerov on February 15, 1986 and was buried at the Staro-Vostochny cemetery.
Vladimir Novikov
LIST OF PUBLISHED
On our river.
Omsk book publishing house,
1957, 100,000 thousand copies.
Spring.
Omsk book publishing house, 1958, 200,000 thousand copies.
Forest violinist.
Omsk book publishing house,
1960, 100,000 thousand copies.
Horns over the river.
Novosibirsk bookstore
publishing house, 1961, 100,000 copies.
Horns over the river.
Moscow, Detgiz,
1962, 110,000 copies.
Choose to taste!
Sverdlovsk bookstore
publishing house, 1962, 50,000 copies.
Ogorodny Grow up.
Omsk book publishing house,
1962, 110,000 copies.
Forest swing.
Sverdlovsk bookstore
publishing house, 1963, 100,000 copies.
To my friends.
Omsk book publishing house,
1963, 110,000 copies.
Ogorodny Grow up.
West Siberian
book publishing house,
1964, 110,000 copies.
Toptyzhka.
Sverdlovsk bookstore
publishing house, 1964, 100,000 copies.
The gates have opened!
Sverdlovsk bookstore
publishing house, 1965, 100,000 copies.
Veselki, counting rhymes, riddles,
tongue twisters, fables.
West Siberian
book publishing house,
1965, 50,000 copies.
Cheerful watermelon.
West Siberian
book publishing house, 1966,
100,000 copies
Taiga traffic light.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1968, 300,000 copies.
Horns over the river.
Alma-Ata, "Zhazusy",
1968, 10,000 copies.
Nuts.
Altai book publishing house,
1968, 150,000 copies.
Blue hour.
Moscow,
ed. "Soviet Russia",
1969, 150,000 copies.
Blue hour.
Kemerovo, book publishing house,
1969, 100,000 copies.
Gulenki.
Folk lullabies
songs.
Middle Ural bookstore
publishing house, 1969, 150,000 copies.
Beach on the river.
Novosibirsk,
West Siberian
book publishing house,
1969, 100,000 copies.
Beach on the river.
Moscow, "Kid",
1969, 100,000 thousand copies.
Nameless river.
West Siberian
book publishing house,
1970, 200,000 copies.
Forest Plakunchik.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1970, 300,000 copies.
Between green and blue.
Perm, book publishing house,
1970, 200,000 copies.
Wind pantry.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1970, 100,000 copies.
Forest violinist.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1971, 100,000 copies.
Miracles (riddles, counting rhymes,
Tongue Twisters).
Moscow, "Kid",
1971, 150,000 copies.
Magic staff.
Moscow, "Kid",
1972, 150,000 copies.
Mosquito bun.
Novosibirsk, West Sea
birsk book publishing house,
1973, 150,000 copies.
Forest Plakunchik.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1974, 300,000 copies.
Zimushka-winter.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1974, 100,000 copies.
Ogorodny Grow up.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1976, 300,000 copies.
Magic staff.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1976, 150,000 copies.
Forest poems.
Moscow, Malysh publishing house,
1976, 1,500,000 copies.
Currant bush.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1977, 100,000 copies.
Lark.
Novosibirsk,
West Siberian
book publishing house,
1978, 150,000 copies.
Forest Plakunchik.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1979, 2,100,000 copies.
Horses are galloping
(poems, riddles).
Moscow, "Kid",
1979, 200,000 copies.
Zhuravkin holiday.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1980, 50,000 copies.
Karasik.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1981, 2,000,000 copies.
Fairy tales.
Novosibirsk,
West Siberian
book publishing house,
1981, 200,000 copies.
Where the grass grows thick.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1981, 150,000 copies.
Buka.
Sverdlovsk,
Middle Ural
book publishing house,
1981, 350,000 copies.
Snowdrops.
Omsk book publishing house,
1982, 100,000 copies.
Sweet cranberry.
Omsk book publishing house,
1983, 100,000 copies.
April.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1983, 100,000 copies.
The song is wonderful.
Moscow, Malysh publishing house,
1984, 100,000 copies.
Loaf.
Omsk book publishing house,
1984, 250,000 copies.
Eternal flame.
Moscow, Malysh publishing house,
1985, 300,000 copies.
Forest Plakunchik.
Moscow,
ed. "Children's literature",
1986, 2,000,000 copies.
Swan.
Omsk book publishing house,
1986, 50,000 copies.
Enchanted Grove.
Moscow, Malysh publishing house,
1986, 150,000 copies.
Puzzles.
Moscow, Malysh publishing house,
1987, 500,000 copies.
Pea whistle.
Omsk book publishing house,
1987, 40,000 copies.
Forest Plakunchik.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1988, 2,000,000 copies.
Here is my village.
Omsk book publishing house,
1988, 50,000 copies.
Dvorovichok.
Omsk book publishing house,
1989, 50,000 copies.
Zimushka-winter.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1989, 450,000 copies.
Bayushki (folk cola
white songs and amuse
ki). Omsk book publishing house,
1990, 200,000 copies.
Summer song.
Moscow,
Children's literature,
1990, 100,000 copies.
Zhuravkin holiday.
Moscow, Malysh publishing house,
1990, 500,000 copies.
Song over the backwater.
Omsk book publishing house,
1991, 100,000 copies.
Living gift.
Omsk book publishing house,
1992, 100,000 copies.
River tale.
Omsk book publishing house,
1992, 100,000 copies.
forest violinist
(in Ukrainian),
1992, 87,000 copies.
Starlight (compiler
IN AND. Belozerov).
Omsk, 1997, 999 copies.
Seasons
(compiled by V.I. Belozerov).
Omsk, publishing house
"Dialogue-Siberia",
"Heritage". 1999, 999 copies.
Forest Plakunchik.
Another reissue
in Moscow, 2001
Karasik.
Omsk,
Publishing House
"Science", 3000 copies.
TANKER NAMED AFTER THE POET
Omsk has both a street and a library named after the great Russian poet Timofei Maksimovich Belozerov (1929-1986). And now, on the initiative of Omsk writers, primarily Alexander Tokarev and Vladimir and Vladimir Novikov, the ship "Timofey Belozerov" appeared. The event is more than fair, because by the first profession Timofey Maksimovich was a riverman.
- With Timofey Belozerov, we entered the Omsk River School in 1948, - says A.P., a member of the Union of Writers of Russia. Tokarev. - I studied at the navigation department, and he studied at the technological one. After graduation, I worked as a navigator on the Azerbaijan steamer, and he worked at a shipyard in Barnaul. Returning to Omsk for family reasons, Timofey went to work at the editorial office of the Sovetsky Irtysh newspaper. It published his early poems, which he began to write while still in school. When we were in our second year, we formed a literary circle. Belozerov was the oldest among us, and his poems were the most mature. Then he worked as a foundry foreman at a radio factory. At that time, Timofey Belozerov was already a well-known poet, he published his wonderful books.
After his death, when a high relief was erected on the wall of the house where he lived, in memory of him, I said: it would be good to name at least a small boat after him. But it turned out that not a small, but a huge tanker, an oil tanker with a carrying capacity of 2100 tons, a length of 108 and a width of 15 meters ... "
The rally on the occasion of naming the ship after the poet was held on the tanker itself, and it is symbolic that it was on May 24 - the Day of Slavic Literature and Culture, as well as the day of the 100th anniversary of the birth of Mikhail Sholokhov. Rivermen, writers, workers of cultural institutions gathered on the deck of the tanker. The speeches were short, but capacious, and everyone agreed on one thing: the name of Timofey Belozerov must be immortalized!
On the same day, the tanker "Timofey Belozerov" sailed towards the Far North, where the entire navigation will work on the transportation of petroleum products. And many, many people will see the name of the classical poet on its board.
Y. Viskin
A memorial stone to the remarkable Russian poet Timofei Maksimovich Belozerov was erected on Martynov Boulevard. This event is very, very significant for the cultural life of not only our city, but also the cultural life of the country. After all, Timofey Belozerov is a long-recognized classic of Russian literature, without whose name the very concept of "cultural space" is already inconceivable.
It is remarkable that a memorial stone was erected on this street: Belozerov lived here, expressed himself here with a whole kaleidoscope of books! During his lifetime, he published more than 50 collections, which have been and are read with love by entire generations.
Now the number of his books has exceeded the figure of seventy. And it will grow, this process is unstoppable, since Belozerov's legacy already belongs to eternity.
Walking along the alley and stopping at the stone of memory of Timofey Belozerov, you will certainly feel in your soul a touch of the sublime and beautiful, bearing the name - Poetry.
A personal fund has been created in the Kurtamysh Museum of Local Lore
writer Belozerov Timofey Maksimovich,
where manuscripts, correspondence, photographs, documents, publications and personal items are kept.
In the children's library. G.N. Zubov has books by the author.
without mom
In memory of my mother
Arina Trifonovna
The solar frame has already become
The benches are higher and the corners are sharper.
Without you, caring mother,
It was close to the door...
The plane sparkled under the clouds,
The lark fell from a height,
And with your swarthy hands
Roadside flowers smelled.
I went to the river in a dark lowland
On strangers, smoky fires.
The wind blew in my face, then in my back
Drove me from childhood for the time being.
Driven into the unlocked hallway,
In the cellars for a glass of milk,
In steamship holds on my knees
Became under the weight of the bag.
Wind, wind!
broken frames,
Ceilings in shag smoke...
To be on earth without a mother
I don't wish on anyone.
Dogs
Dogs caress me.
Seeing the school ahead
They give me signs with their tails:
“Control smells!
Do not go!
That's the thing - beyond the river! .. "
And I gave up on everything.
I shared a crust of bread
Handed out the leftover sausage...
I have not been in the meadows today, -
Follow me, faithful dogs!
But every dog
wagging his tail,
disappeared
behind the first bush.
The smoke of the ship curls over the deck,
Seagulls fly by, the shores swim.
The further north, the stricter nature -
The sky is silent, the taiga is darker.
Krutoyars smoke with loose sand,
The streams are full of meadow silence.
And now the ancient city of Tara
Tower houses above the pier are visible.
And again bushes, strips of bread,
Bays in the green coolness of the branches...
And suddenly, as if in a fairy tale, the sky filled up
All domes of Tobolsk churches.
With belfry openings,
wide and narrow
With the arrows of the towers, the battlements of the Kremlin, -
Eternally for us -
for Tatars and for Russians -
Holy places and native land.
The weary sun sets over the sea,
The river sighs lazily and sleepily,
And in the sky lightning -
like the feathers of the Firebird,
And the cloud is like a mane
The Humpbacked Horse!
Book list
Belozerov Timofey Maksimovich
Pantry of the wind (poems and fairy tales)
Title: Buy the book "Pantry of the wind (poems and fairy tales)": feed_id: 5296 pattern_id: 2266 book_
"PANTRY OF THE WIND"
Poems and fairy tales (for elementary school age)
I'm sure you'll enjoy reading this book, reader. Why? Because she is full of respect for you, leaving you the right to think, and finish, and generalize.
It is true because the poet is sincere.
It is simple, but it is apparent simplicity - there is a lot of work behind it.
Read this book! You will be glad...
/Elena Blaginina/
Spilled on the feathers of a tit Chilly night blue ... From the hollow
the fox flowed out, The black grouse climbed into the dawn. Above the nest, the magpie lifted its tail like a handle from a frying pan. In the dark, at the bottom of the deep grass
traces. The troublesome aspen tree trembled, The goats came out, pulling reindeer moss... And the proud and happy titmouse Feels at the top.
Summer, summer, fabulous summer! My head is spinning from miracles ... Here in rainbow-colored chain mail Islands emerge from the river! In scales, in the flickering of shells, With an uncovered mane of willows, Fishermen are silently taken away from the courtyards of coastal villages ... On the sands covered with mud, To shallow waters, sharp as swords, Now a goose school will fall, Then, rooks will fall down, bawling. Summer, summer...
With an unfinished song Waiting for rain hot grass. Together with the sun, in the haze of dawn, Islands emerge from the river!
FOREST TALE
I drowned in fragrant herbs... Arms outstretched, in silence, Among the beetles, among the boogers I lie on the twilight day. Powdered with honey pollen, Angrily spit by bees, Through the fading peas I lie, I look at the white light... At my feet The thorn bush rustles, shaking off the heat, And the clouds of recent sadness Float, playing, above me... Then I will go out into the clearing, Bumblebee I’ll shake off the one who fell asleep, And if I become sad again I’ll return And drown in the herbs ...
PATH
The path slipped off the embankment And, at the traffic light behind, Through the forests, hillocks and hollows Winds in the grasses
torn string At the porch, at your doorstep, Behind the fence in the field and in the steppe, You will hear how the road sings, Just step on the path.
UNNAMED RIVER
On the small river I always have fun. flowing,
water flows, sparkles like mica. It rings like a cold stream. In a ravine under the mountain, In the dense green grass She hid herself with her head ... Let the small river, But she has business: She brought coolness for the shepherd, Bathed the titmouse, On the wet shore Played a little With chamomile on the run. And in a hot field far away, Throwing back a rusty leaf, Her crystal water Drunk a tractor driver. The river winds rings, It trembles on pebbles ... It runs into a big river For the name!
The winds tend to the lungwort The ripe winter is bitter... The she-wolf was driven out into the field Together with the brood of the cubs. In the heat, the wolf cub is cowardly, Clumsy, like a crab, And the grasshoppers awake Noisily splash from under their paws. Ahead - sheep paths, Sun, grasses and forests, Behind - iron trampling And human Voices...
I lie on the lawn And look at the sky, In a herd of clouds I find a horse. In a black heap of clouds, In an angry wind, Together with a cloak, I take a lightning-checker. And it's already scary And it's joyful for me To rush into the red sunset On a dashing Steed!
On the mountain - birches and aspens, Leaves are colored with rain. In the hot weather, in the spangles of cobwebs, Vigorous firewood is drying. On the mountain, a hobbled horse Slowly wanders through the clouds And with its tail
just a little more grassy The sun beats on rosy cheeks.
The blue forest is drowning in darkness, Falling asleep until the morning. Tangled horses slumber In the smoke of our fire, Firebrands smolder in the coals, Butterflies go out in the fire. A barrel of potatoes from the ashes Directly into my hands Meets me.
SUMMER NOON
Silence in the garden and in the house, The calf is sleeping by the wattle fence. Near the cellar in the straw Sparrow fuss. Behind the fence Dusty canopy The winds bend, The air is soft, Like lye, Floats From the river...
TO THOSE WHO ARE SICK DEAR
Did you drag cones from the fire Dark, disheveled, evil? Have you seen rivers of gold, Full of living silver? Have you heard the singing of the sand, The coppery silence of the belfries? For those who are forever dearly ill, Here is my bread, And here is my hand.
Above the yellow scree of the cliff An old pine bent, With its bare roots shyly It leads in the wind. On them,
as soon as dawn breaks through And leads the elk to the water, As in the arms of an old nanny, A little warbler chirps In the nest.
ON THE BANK
House with three windows, Pryaslo,
garden. The old path passes through the Ford. There, In the middle of the wild By the river Iset, Glows on the stakes A gray net. The striped buoy dries on the sand, The barefooted guys fawn on the river. In a long-brimmed fur coat, Fedot the buoyer, Listening to "Speedola", Repairs the peremet ...
TO A FRIEND-READER
If I get tired of writing poetry For you, Then I'll become a shepherd In the Russian Glade. "I'll go out in the morning with a horn, I'll break my hat, I'll gird my White shirt with a strap. covet, And the calves at the gate Will sharpen their hooves. ---- "Russian Polyana is a village in the south of the Omsk region.
TOPOLEK PARACHUTIST
Goodbye, foliage, and peace, and comfort, And a reliable roof from thunderstorms! Sliding along the green pendant,
parachute took the poplar seed away. - May bad luck pass you by! There was a rustle in the hot foliage: - Climb into the blue to fall to the ground, To make noise for years In the blue!
I ran hopping Following the wave And at the bottom I saw a colored pebble. In sun freckles, In a red belt, He shone, sparkled On the river sand. Don't take your eyes off this find! What happened suddenly With a pebble on the way? In the hot wind the pebble went out and, flashing in the sun, from the steep
It's raining waddle through the city Noisy and high Like a mile away! Filled with a blue traffic light flasher, Washed away onlookers
from the iron bridge. Dispersed the traders in the bazaars With a shot from a fiery sling, On passers-by, young and old, Decorated cloaks with beads. In the back streets of a gloomy park He pushed aside the gray poplars, And then, under the rainbow arch, Walked Outskirts Into the fields!
I arrived at the dacha, I live among birches. I want - I sit fishing, I want - I catch dragonflies. On the edge of the sun, In the palms of a hammock, I sympathize with the cuckoo, I look at the clouds. Others - to learn lessons, And I'm in a birch forest Under the chatter of magpies I swing In a hammock!
WIND PANTRY
Whatever dragged into the old ravine! The twilight of the night is stored in a ravine, Tight catkins - a gift from a birch, Ivan-tea flowers, cuckoo's tears, Green, yellow rain beads, Partridge feather on a milk mushroom hat. Here, as at the bottom of a chest, early in the morning, Canvases of fog are thrown over by the wind, In the stream, on the blue calico of the waves, The ancient Brooch of the Moon flickers ...
A cloud lies in the sky, Sighs and grumbles, And a small cloud knocks with its hooves. In a puddle, Along a path, On an umbrella of a milk mushroom Knocks, like a deer, With the hooves of the rain!
In a clearing, in the taiga undergrowth, Openly inaccessible to an ax, A mighty cedar, swaying in the skies, Whistling with resinous needles in the wind. In scars, cuts, in mossy cracks, He is dressed in heavy bark armor, Among the burnt birches and fir trees Calls for friends who are no more ...
Wormwood huddles near fences, On the roofs of baths and cellars, Blooms on the slopes of slopes, In ditches,
around the poles. In the grass, crushed by hooves, She stands, and only touch The magical smell of bitter With a bow Drops On the palm.
ON RAFTS
The raft moves leisurely along the sparkling river. Villages, oxbow lakes, bays Swim in the distance. He passes the rifts, goes around the islets. - The raft is coming! - Shout the guys And swim in a race. Climb on the logs and look at the clouds. The raft shakes smoothly Full-flowing river. Steering wheel
pine ham Hangs like a drop of silver. Having taken off their shirts, the raftmen Rest by the fire, Draw water, Make an ear. Brighter, Hotter The sun shines, Midday heat is on the raft. The wind carries the water The smell of resin needles. The clouds are floating somewhere along the smoothed river, jumping from the logs,
guys play tricks on the sand.
Drowning out the bird's chirping, Given to the dawn, Crows share their prey On a steep mountain. Shading your eyes from the sun In broad daylight A heap of night swarms, A heap of crows.
Shores of sandy girdle In thickets of gray willow. The old woman, covered with duckweed, Forever left the river. She took away the elastic current, Steamboats,
rafts... The water, veiled with laziness, is sleeping, Supporting grasses and flowers.
STEPPE KOVIL
Floats, Losing strength in the grass, Flock raised dust. In the steppe, a forgotten grave is kept by a weathered feather grass. In his short-sighted outfit, Whipped by the rain in a thunderstorm, Carries a feather grass To an empty fence A long, dry tear.
RIVER CARRIER
Loaded to the brim with good, The ferry creaks and heels. Collective farms send from the cellars In tight linen bags Carts of onions and mushrooms, Potatoes
for canteens. Bricks are floating to the construction site, Bunches of pine shingles, And next to them are rolls, Ruddy bagels. As soon as the ferry is unloaded, the sheathing creaks again, The plows sparkle with silver, And, having heard the first thunder, He hurries to remove the mooring lines... The river expanse threatens with a wave, But for him, the ferry, This road has long been habitual and familiar.
ON THE SHORE
On the shore, In the forest expanse, Rowan crimson lights. Rook's din on the slope, Running wattle to the river. Buoys of birch beads, Coastal thickets of peace, And by the slope a fair-haired boy, Waving his Hand from a boat.
No buoys, no pool to be seen, Nature is again in fog-mourning... The river mourns, like an affectionate mother, About all the ships broken in a storm. It is deserted and dark on the deck, Horns are buzzing alarmingly and sadly... And now - dawn!
The canvas of fog swayed,
moved
floated! The fog has gone into the carefree taiga, The bright blue sky rejoices... And on the damp sandy shore A strand of Tired Surf turns white.
DANDELION
Why did it become cool for Dandelion in the forest? Because he went bald last night
in the wind!
MORNING ON THE RIVER
Well here in the morning early! In the predawn silence Cranes bow to loads, Slightly swaying on the wave. Birds are circling over the water, Horns are waking up. It smells of fish and wheat, It smells of forest From the river.
Marusenka washed her white feet, Crisped loudly with cold water. The touchy beetles fled away, Lyon over the cliff
shook his beard. Marusenka washed her white feet, Touched the sleepy thyme with her finger. Near the cart, on a quiet road, Mother and father waited for Marusenka.
I'm going, I'm going from the mowing, The autumn night is dark. Wheels are busy in the hay, Arms and back are aching. I'm riding, lying on a cart, a horse
at the bottom. So shami was drawn from the heated oven. White Rays lit up the lane Pryasel.
SEPTEMBER
On the scarlet feathers of a bullfinch, the coolness of September flows. In the dry pine forest the slumber of the pines, Peace emanates from the fields... Our autumn is leaving to the south, Holding on to the string of the Cranes.
On a camomile, as on a ballerina, From afar admires the forest. She has a light hair thrown over her petals. The wind drives the leaves along the path, The grasses wither Autumn is coming. Only a chamomile on an elastic stem Spins, dances and blooms!
RIVER STAR
I, my friends, lit the buoy on an autumn evening. A light flared up brightly And threw back the darkness. On the night of the guard he stood On the wide river, He winked at the steamer Because of the red windows. Like an asterisk
It burns merrily and clearly, The steamboat says: - It's dangerous to go here! It will rain, the wind will beat in the window. The buoy is able to extinguish Only I Yes the sun!
Owls are hooting in the ravine, The expanse of the forest has become quiet... What is the fire talking to the hunter about in the night? Watery, coughing firewood In a black draft. The fire hums, Like a bowstring In a robber's hand. The cedar tree shoots sparks, And in the roar of the fire Then suddenly a child's cry will be heard, Then the neighing of a horse. Then a deep sigh of a gray-haired old man will sound ... Like gunpowder, moss flares up On the branches of dry wood. The bearded stumps are turning white Behind the rods the rakit... Bonfire With the hunter in the night He speaks about life.
Again the road is wide open To autumn rains and winds. In the backwoods,
on the shoals, the sandpiper is sad in the evenings. And, leaving the noise of the mooring, The autumn river hurries To hear the quiet and sad, Farewell voice of Kulik.
RAINY EVENING
In the doorway - a bad weather gray board: Neither look out, nor go out of the gate ... In the damp garden there is green melancholy, And in the rooms - drowsiness and yawning. I wander around the house, like a brownie, Chasing flies, licking jam in the closet; I'm trying to compose a poem, Slightly "drooping my proud head." I sit staring at the hole in the floor, But the rhyme is like a magpie on a stake... And again I wander like clockwork; Like my shadow, my yawn is with me. At the door all the same heavy rain Neither look out, nor go Out of the gate!
Railings tremble. The wind breathes with heat. In the dust, in the sweat of concrete bulls. And day and night, like a factory conveyor, the bridge rumbles
over the abyss of the river. From it slides, trying motors, The flow of cars loaded and empty. And the traffic lights, like controllers, Carefully Examine Them...
AUTUMN LEAVES
So that they would not be burned, Not collected in bags, They rush to the puddles, Lifting their petioles!
Full of autumn sadness Green wave. A yellow bush sways On the shallows it. There are no bathers, No fishermen to be seen, Only a tired boat flashes
and was like that! And she, green, dreams of Childish voices, And the songs of the raftsmen, And in the sun Sails...
Cobwebs settle on empty wires. The news is rushing along the path: - There is warm water in the river! In undried clothes The news rushes barefoot, On her goose skin Tina with clay And sand!
AFTER THE BIRD'S FAREWELL CONCERT
The birds fell silent. Coming out of the spring, Rook rushed after the black rook... At the edge of the forest, between the branches, As if in a club between stools, It became empty, weedy and spacious.
October!.. The trees are waiting for snow, The floods of the rivers have quieted down shut up... I chose a stack for myself for the night Where the night caught me on the way. Like fireflies in a dormant swamp, The stars trembled in the black heights; The earth, chilled in its night flight, In a dream, gently pressed against me. And I, having covered my legs with dry straw, And putting a gun under my head, Warmed myself and soon, little by little, Warmed a huge one - hers ... dark
into dawn!
The wind rushes along the backwater, Pulls white tugs... In swimming trunks, shoes, mittens The walruses warm up. Here, people trembling, An old walrus enters the water, And at the edge of the polynya Members of his entire family. They took off their mittens: - Something cool water .... - What are you! - walrus bass is heard. Just a miracle, how fresh! And with cheerful eyes the old walrus, in the circle of his family, Wrinkles the water of the black polynya with his white mustache...
WINTER MORNING
At night, frost fell on the trees as thick as a finger. Has become a fabulous village And so dear, dear! Silence pours into the fence, Everything is silent, I am also silent; Only one can hear how the Tub is floundering in the well...
Convoy, convoy! Frozen drivers Rattle damp sheepskin mittens. Skids screech. Tit tit, Calling the birds to the winter feast of the forest. Convoy creaks. Snowdrifts - knee-deep Sparkle like the wings of swans. Bumps ironed hay Grabbed By the breath of horses.
Sleeping bear, scaring mice snoring, Thick and gray-haired from jacket. Pulls a greasy paw With a tenacious handful of lips and tongue. Pulls and smacks his lips: "Delicious!" Lazy dew is falling, A strip of milk oats has ripened to a sugar crunch. The moon sleeps in the morning mist, The night watchmen sleep in the village; Only a stream through a berry meadow Rolls,
trembling on the pebbles ... And above all above this,
behind the fog, behind the wall of the green taiga The ringing of birches, the rustling of a snowstorm, the wolf howl of a snowstorm.
IN THE TAIGO VILLAGE
An ancient taiga village, On the gate there is lace carving. Near the school dance cedars, Fluffy whitish forelocks. Bullfinches - flying poppies Blaze, hoarfrost dust. In the snow, fluffy dogs Sleep, moving their eyebrows in their sleep. The smoke is pinned to the chimneys by calm... Silence... And suddenly, breaking off his feet, Slamming the door, he flew out of the school, Like crumbly snow, the bell! Gates and snowdrifts came to life; Next to the baby's sheepskin coat In the dog's mouth, a large-browed dog Rides a knapsack, rustling with straps. Pies with mushrooms are waiting for the boy, Sledges and steep banks... Important cedars wave their forelocks, And the Taiga admires them.
FOX-DANCER
In the log, the Fox mouses And dances and dances: It spins like a peahen, And then it beats the tap dance, Then it rushes to the right, Then it turns to the left. Sniffing holes, Ready to jump. In excitement, even drooling Flowing through the tongue! The dancer breathes often, And in the depths of the holes, Under the curtain of ice, the Mouse Chorus Thunders...
IN THE NATIVE TERRITORY
Coppices and snow Painfully white, Dark blue taiga Fringes the field. A village in the distance In the girdle of a tyna, Animal farm in a birch forest, On the river Plotina. The chirping of magpies, at the porch
straw, And the paternal threshold of the Old House.
SNOWDROPS
The Snow Maiden cried, seeing off the winter. Sadness followed her, A stranger to everyone in the forest. Where she walked and cried, Touching the birches, Snowdrops of the Snow Maiden's Tears grew.
The river is warm in the sun. Rustling, breaking, ice floes. Their spongy sides In the sand and clods of clay. To the North, to the Ob, they hurry, Losing wet snow, Like a herd of polar bear cubs, Pushing and diving. It's cramped in here, it's hot. Look: they are shiny with sweat. They quarreled again. Traffic jam at the turn! There is a duty boat "Thunder" with the current to help. With a clawed paw - a hook Separates them strictly. And now the river has cleared, Pictures are changing: Clouds are floating, swaying Where ice floes dived.
BIRD SPRING
Summer, summer, hello summer! In the grove the orioles are screaming... In the black nests The noses of the Rooks have bloomed in yellow!
BLUE HOUR
Blue clouds float in succession, Blue rocks glisten above the water. Blue, in the sleepy twilight, the taiga makes a deafening noise, blocking the shores. Fish at the bottom seem blue, Blue birds scurry about in silence.
Yuri Gagarin
The boy climbs a birch, Climbing into a black thunderstorm. The boy climbs a birch The comrades below are silent. The top is shaken by explosions With the warmth of the charged foliage, Cold gusts of rain Tear off the cap from the head... The boy climbs on the birch, Squinting his blue eyes, And the Gloomy Thunderstorm Grumbles at him like an old woman from the cart.
SPRING FALSE
Streams flow Down the street Awakened by warmth. Two girls on a perch carry scrap metal. Two girls-girlfriends Carry to the school yard A bucket on a rusty shackle And a boat motor. Their fingers were pulled away, their shoulders were twisted ... And now,
like the wind
The boys are in a hurry to meet! Whirlwinds And light, They run racing. With a run Between the girls Grisha successfully jumped, And Misha made a face: - Is it possible to Raise your perch A little Higher? Too high from the edges, In the middle - just right! Hold on, I am now! R-r-az!!! The boys are addicted, The motor with a bucket is swinging ... And the girls? And the girls are standing and smiling!
Our Five-Storied House Plays the Trumpet Brave Icicles Hang On the Lip. From morning until late at night, with streams of water, he thunders with all his urine, trumpets in every way!
WHAT IS LIKE WHAT
There is a birch, green, Like a spring day, it rustles. And here is the pine. Her bark is red like summertime. And this is a willow
willow, Like an autumn night, whiny. And here is a vigorous, fresh stump Short, like a Winter Day.
In memory of my mother
Arina Trifonovna
The solar frame has already become, The benches are higher, and the corners are sharper. Without you, caring mother, It immediately became close to the door ... The plane sparkled under the clouds, The lark fell from a height, And roadside flowers smelled of your swarthy hands. I went to the river
into the dark lowland To strange, smoky fires. The wind blew in my face, then in the back, Drove me from childhood for the time being. He drove into the unlocked passage, In the cellars - for a glass of milk, In the steamship holds
Knelt down under the weight of the bag. Wind, wind!
Knocked-out frames, Ceilings in shag smoke ... To be on the ground without a mother I do not wish anyone.
What do winter winds rest against, Pushing passers-by, shaking gardens? - What are the winter winds? Of course, in the polar ice! - And the summer ones, moving the white sailboat, In the fishing gear buzzing? What are the summer winds? - And in the sun, and in the walls of rain! What about autumn winds? - In stacks of straw, In damp wattle fences, in shoals of cranes! - And the spring ones? - In the plows and in the green fields!
WELL, GOODBYE!
Well, goodbye! - I'll say important to a friend, Going into the trailer car. And, blinking as if in fright, From the window I stare at the platform. I will look at the bags, At the backs of sweaty heads - point-blank. - Well, goodbye! - my friend from the platform
say Vaughn is already a green traffic light. - Where's the green one? Not green at all! You, - I will say, - take a better look! But the wagons will angrily twitch, It pinches, stammers in the chest ... Blurry faces will float, Suitcases,
white trays. It will sink for a long time under the eyelashes The far wave of the Raised Hand...
GRANDMA IN THE WINDOW
In the son's apartment, Alone and sad, A gray-haired old woman Sits by the window. She would go For wheat to the barn, Yes, nearby From the rolls The store is cracking. I would spin yarn From white linen, But who needs it Today?
But it was! .. Light a lamp in the hut And with your fingers
fuck! You turn the spindle... And now And there is nothing to take in your hands. What do they tell Kukishi to people? No stove to heat, No water to bring ... - Oh, Lord,
whispers the old woman, I'm sorry! ..
I'll run away from home at random To the fishermen, to the hunters in the taiga! I'll run away and not even cry... But if I cry, I'll also run away! I'll run away from my mother's cry, From her tired face, From my sister, with her wild hair, I'll run away from my drunken father. I'll run away from affectionate neighbors, From tearful old women - forever I'll run away to the taiga to shoot bears, Put a net on the lakes! I will live in a tent in the wild, On a winter night I will freeze by the fire, I will be full of stale bread and salt, I will drink water from a black bucket. And then, huge, bearded, I will put the gun at the porch, And the father, with a guilty smile, Will kiss the runaway son.
Ermak was walking with a fighting squad, Tearing up the centuries-old silence. And his squad was squeezed into a spring by a wide gray-haired Irtysh. Mail was reflected in the water, Spears, helmets, bony faces, And plows sailed to the North, Like a flock of heavy birds. Russia marginal! The edge is gloomy! The splash of the wave Yes, the flight of the wing... Ermakov's thoughts about you, For you, every stroke of the oar. The oarsmen's hands are heavy, The Red Yar cavalry reared, The bows of the Tartars, not yet broken, are throwing red-hot death. Russia marginal! The edge is gloomy! The severity of forged chain mail ... Kuchum's tent staggered From the birch Wings of the plow! ... Ermak is sleeping, Not forgotten by the news, Russian fairy-tale hero. And Reclaimed Siberia lies at his head.
CITY ON THE IRTYSH
Whilst away hunting for a century, A man came to a deserted place. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, He dropped his light luggage, Under his arms - two rivers, Space, grace! The big-headed ax rattled in the pine forest, The sharp-topped fence girded the hut. Pulled over the birches Satisfied smoke... But one person Could not stay! And the stubborn message went along the aisles: - There is a place for a fortress! There is a place for the city! Like fingers in a fist, Balalaika's people gathered, nuts At the new gates. In the bazaar - carts, Cuts of brocade. Above the fire shed Versta towers. Lights of lanterns swayed over the river, Blocks are similar, ropes, Cast-iron anchors ... ... A measured age floated On the steps of the porch, People in the knot of two rivers Tied their Hearts!
Grandma Malania! Affectionate speech. Jam in tueski, Oven with shanezhki, Grandmother Malanya! Chipped walnut, Sledge, mittens, White, White Snow!
COUNTERS
1. On a May evening To Pestrushka On pancakes Girlfriends came: Three laying hens, Three kloktushki. How many chickens are in the hut?
2. Badger-grandmother Baked pancakes. She treated two grandchildren to Two pugnacious badgers, And the grandchildren did not eat, With a roar, Saucers Knock!
3. From zero And to zero Can't go Without a crutch, Can't get there Without a horse, Without a twisted Cheesecake Sweet, Without a rifle With a bayonet, Without a koshka With an irradiation, Without a silk Whip, Without a crooked Twig, Without balls And a bell Do not drive off From the porch!
4. From the snowstorm the breeze twisted the silver lace and on it brought the white-maned blizzard to the taiga!
TONGUE TWISTERS
1. Why is the Mastak fat man Unpacking the Backpack!
2. The vobla hit the Volga, the Volga voble washed the salt. Vobla in the Volga came to life, Vobla Volga swam!
FIFTY
1. You are a boy, I am a girl. There lived a hare At the fox cub. Trembling under the snags, He ran away from the fox!
2. White-fronted foal, catch up with me Try!
3. The old man grew his turnip, And then, half asleep, For a holey patch, he sold it to a pig!
FABRICATIONS
1. Yesterday I went on foot for firewood, Grass turned green under the snow. I did not bring a whole cart of firewood from the forest And I rubbed my frostbitten nose in the heat!
2. I saw a snowdrop in the autumn forest, Where a hare was dragging a fox along the edge And a wolf was sneaking after a hunter... I heard the hunter chattering his teeth, I heard him "Help!" shouted And laughed out loud with fear!
1. Then she Bakes pancakes, Then she shows Dreams.
(Russian oven)
2. He climbed onto the table From under the bench, Looked around On the stand, Wagged with a flexible tail, Licked the folds from his tie.
(Electric iron)
3. In a woolen glade, a thin-legged dancer is dancing. From under a steel shoe, a Stitch is crawling out.
(Sewing machine)
4. There is an iron With a smoked pipe, Wrinkles and folds Leads.
(Steamboat)
5. In the taiga, Where the wind groans, We walk all day; On porcelain palms We carry Light For the villages.
(High voltage transmission line)
6. First in the field, behind the fishing line, He stood as a tall fat man, Then he climbed under the shed, Then he disappeared in the barn.
(A stack of hay)
7. In a quiet house,
on a branch, Children took shelter from the rain. They sit in cramped burners, They look from under the shutters.
(Pine nuts)
8. He stands pensive In a yellow crown, Freckles darken On a round face.
(Sunflower)
9. Who runs along the mountain slopes, Chatters with himself And hides his blue tail in the thick green grass?
10. White curls Cheerful lambs. They follow the rain into the woods On the lake they go, But as soon as they step on the sand They sigh And fall.
FOREST PLUCK
Lena walked through the forest, stumbled,
fell And to the grandfather Plakunchik I got to visit.
The hut creaked amiably through the door, In the corner on the tub A frog was dozing. Flowed behind the stove The voice of a cricket From the cracks of a dry log. On the bench of Grey-haired, like a harrier, an old man Lena saw through her tears ... The plakunchik pulled out the Colored little army jacket, He squeezed his gray beard into a fist And with a sad smile he said: - Let's go! If you cry, then cry together! I won’t offend you, I’m already leading the Weeping path, I’ll show you ... And how could you stumble? He looked at Lena with concern. Let's go if you can! And Lena went, picking up her basket At the threshold.
Forest path Mushrooms and cloudberries, In a thoughtful spruce forest The path turned. The plakunchik on it Slowly minces, Habitually dusts with bast shoes. On the cap of his Bell is a Snowdrop with three petals. Silence in the forest. Only firs creak Yes, squirrels on the branches gossip. - Look! Magpies scream in the nest. The hare jumps to Plakunchik! Flashed like a ball, Lump of the tail, And here is the hare Somersault
from the bush! - Plakunchik, Plakunchik, I beat off my paws, I ran from the aspen forest into the slush! At night, a badger stepped on my mustache, It hurts me And I want to cry! And Lena thought: "I'm not alone!", Looking at the hare with a sigh. - Cry with him, Plakunchik! She said. It's bad for him, the poor man! And I’ll wait, I’ll sit on a stump, I’ll string a cloudberry on a thread. A weeping hare Stroked his hand, Pressed his cheek against his cold nose And only ran his hand over his eyes Tears jumped They had a mustache ... Woke up in the grass Dancers-mosquitoes, Frogs and toads - in the lakes, The young beavers sang in the stream, The mice responded In the burrows: - In the grove, At the edge, In the field And in the pit "Crying And laughing is bad for one!
Forest path Mushrooms and cloudberries, A path dived into the bear's raspberries. The breeze stirs the foliage lazily, Scrapes in it, Like a mouse... In the grass
under a bush Bear cub whines He ate raspberries half asleep. He looks at the berries, But he doesn’t take it in his mouth, Angrily rubs his eyes Naughty.
And Lena sighed: - After all, I'm not alone! And she quietly stepped aside. Cry with him, Plakunchik! She said. Cry, help the little bear! And I'll wait, I'll sit on a stump, I'll string cloudberries on a thread.
whimpered, whimpered And then He shook his beard Yes, how he roared ... The bear cub blinked And then, silently, He licked off a tear with a tear. He smacked his lips, Sniffling and rumbling, And joyfully to his mother He asked a screech!
Forest path Mushrooms and cloudberries, Unkind, gloomy The path has become. The weeper runs barefoot along it, Rustles behind his back with his bast shoes. Anxiously, his bell rings Snowdrop with three petals ... A rook screamed from its nest On the slope
ravine: - Well, where do you go? There was a misfortune Such that it is hard to say! The tit hollow was ruined by the marten, The tit will not cry out the grief The tit will die! You must help her ASAP! - Hurry! The oak groaned. - Hurry! There were voices of bullfinches And from above, And from the left, And from the right. Crossbills showed the way to the weeper, And he ran,
pushing the bushes aside, Over hummocks, dry and rotten, Through pits, over boughs and grasses. beard to him
on his shoulder skidded, He runs and sees an empty hollow...
frequent beads of tears On the cheeks and breast of a tit... And somewhere in the bushes It sounded: - Feel! - Feel! - called to one another in the grasses, Let's help her build a nest! - Sweet! Twist! The oak grove rustled ... And Lena sighed: - What am I waiting for? It's better to go alone Slowly I'll go. The grasshopper chirped Under the hat of the mushroom, The cuckoo cuckooed in the distance. And the first warm drop of rain fell on the dusty ground... And everything blossomed, sparkled around And the forest, and the path, And the river, and the meadow.
---- "Ryam is a moss swamp.
FOG IN THE BACKPACK
In the morning, a DECEIT came to the forest, In a backpack Brought FOG, And at the bottom of Pockets of Little Fogs. He unleashed the DECEIT Rucksack And said to the FOG: - To be Everything is wrong! So that not without deception! Gave a click to the Fog Little Tricksters. And fun went into the forest! Like a blind man, Echo wanders. Who And what You can’t make out: Hedgehog Looks like a hazel grouse. Elk On a Nosed Tree, Spruce On a Winged Monster. The Hare will not take it into account: Who is the Hare or the Wolf? The fox wandered into the ravine, And in the ravine Everything is not so: Everything is kind of This Doesn't look like this. Beavers will not find in the forest Neither a dam nor a hole. Here, Ready to Roar, The Bear Climbed Up the Tree: No roads, No lairs, Only Pines - rhinos! A little fox ran into the hole, and a little mouse sits in the hole! In fear Squirrel From the hollow Barely took her legs! The cuckoo, the owl has no tail, no head. Take a closer look At the cuckoo Lynx ears At the crown. Again you look No foliage, No cuckoo, No owl... Smiling DECEPTION: - Well done, Old Man FOG! Well done, Mists Young Deceivers! And now it's time to backpack! Well, of course, Not for that, I won’t offend: Ladies For donuts, Ladies For tea, Worked Get everyone By deceit!
IGNATO'S FEARS
The village of Goosebumps turns black on the hill, Here they don’t wear hats, but only caps. Ignat lived calmly in Goosebumps, And it’s necessary - a neighbor called to hunt! They go through the forest, pass the swamps, Tired, wet - that's what the hunt is for! Hungry, angry go and go, But they can't find a big beast. Every step in the forest grew darker, The mossy beards of the stumps flickered, And Ignat began to stumble And silently look around...
When a stray bear met them, Having closed half the sky, sniffed, growled, Whining and scolding the taiga night, Ignat, frightened, Rushed away. He ran, and the pines rustled, Yes, shots thundered from behind ...
The next morning they call him back to the taiga, And he says: - I'm sick, I can't! One day Ignat was going to mowing, In a purse he carried food for a week. He is walking, tall - everything is the head! Finds a clearing - waist-deep grass. Ignat unhurriedly rolled up his sleeves And just repulsed and sharpened his Lithuanian coat, When suddenly he became timid in a forest clearing Barking a puppy behind him... Not daring to move his hand on the move, He walked along the grass, as if on thin ice. Then, finding himself on the road, Ignat Long-legged rushed off!
In winter, Ignat's cow died without hay and shelter.
In the village the trotters are ringing with bells, Ignat went out into the street on holidays. An accordion hangs on Ignat's shoulder, Stretches furs - a fire blazes! Ignat shook himself, began to play and sang And he hears: the snow creaked behind his back So insinuatingly, So carefully, What made Ignat anxious The harmonica sagged and his voice fell ... - That's it! - Ignat whispers. He tore his pants on a high fence And out of the gate - not a step since then!
Recently I wandered into the village Goosebumps, Where hats are not in fashion, but only caps. I saw a brave cheerful people, I looked at Ignat through the crack of the gate. I will always remember this picture: A hefty, overgrown kid is sitting, Sitting on the porch in his yard, Tied to the house, Like a dog to a kennel!
FAREWELL, ROBOT!
fairy tale play
CHARACTERS _Vladik_ _Robot_ _Nadya_ _Vanya_ _Pashka Lezhebokin_ _Baba Yaga_ _Professor_ _Collective Farm Fitter_ _Wolf_ _Fox_ _Cat_ _1st Squirrel_ _2nd Squirrel_ _Bear_ _Hares_ _Magpies_ _Crow_
PICTURE ONE / In the depths of the scene - a wall of dense forest. At the edge of the forest is a hut on chicken legs. Behind the dilapidated fence, a small courtyard is visible, overgrown with wolfberries and thistles. Next to the gate is a bench. Above it, a brand new blue mailbox is nailed to a tree. From somewhere far away comes the cheerful music of a sports march and the announcer's words: "... And-and again! Stand up straight, hands above your head ..." The rising wind carries the music, a magpie chirping and a crow's cawing are heard. _Baba Yaga_ appears on the stage with a bundle of brushwood. /
Baba Yaga_ / dropping brushwood and sitting on a bench /. Dog life! Carry water, heat the stove... Ugh!
My poker burned
A cobweb glistens in a rusty mortar...
No Baba Yaga
I'm an orphan
Orphan! /Appear _Wolf_ and _Fox_./
Wolf._ Why are you upset, Stupa Pomyalovna? What are you complaining about?
Baba Yaga._ And don't ask, grey! No meat for you, no bones! Life goes to waste, that's what!
Crow._ Kar-r! Ashes! R-rahom!
Baba Yaga._ Get lost, you old firebrand! /_Crow_ flies away./
Etta spent half a day on the highway - begging drivers for kerosene for a lamp. They cackle, idols: we won’t give it, they say, you’ll burn the taiga, or you’ll explode!
Wolf._ Trouble, godfather, trouble! There is no rest. Everyone picks something, searches, cuts ... / Embittered. / So they roam around the taiga! Back and forth, back and forth! All would be eaten alive! /Clangs his teeth./
Fox._ Eat them, how! /Everyone thinks./ /Behind the hedge, low above the ground, a _Crow_ flies by and sits on a tree, not far from the mailbox. The fox wags its tail and watches it, raising its muzzle./
Baba Yaga._ Well, what are you staring at? Catch partridges, but don't worry about it!
Lisa._ I won't bury myself. I look, what is it with you, godfather, in a box it turns white ... Cheese?
Baba Yaga._ No way, a letter? /Takes out a bunch of keys and picks up the key.../ Indeed a letter! The stamp is urban, but the hand is familiar ... / Reads. / "Hello, my sister Stupa Light Pomyalovna! I live in the city, I live well, quietly, and I work as an elevator operator in a big stone house ... Somehow you toil there? Alive whether?" /Sobbing./ Alive, alive... Something light came out of her eyes... Read it, redhead.
Lisa._ "My work is not hard: I'll press the button and again knit sweaters and socks by the knitting needles. The people here are more and more prominent. They wear fur coats ..." / Fox stammers. / I can't figure it out, read it, gray!
Wolf._ "... foxes wear fur coats ..." / Babe Yaga. / Read it for yourself - it's not clear!
Baba Yaga._ "... bear and wolf breaths. And recently, one professor, an old man, brought from somewhere to his grandson an iron nanny - nicknamed Robot. He does not ask for food or drink, but knows and does everything as it is. Books reads, cooks food, even their dog - Triba - leads for a walk. I wish you had such a breadwinner-assistant in your old age, sister! linden blossom..." / Baba Yaga crumples the letter and for a minute, rolling her eyes, is silent. / And what if...
Lisa._ What if...
Wolf._ What if...
Fox._ And what if... it is stolen?
Baba Yaga._ Shh!
Crow._ Kar-r! Theft! Theft!
Baba Yaga_ /swings crutch at Crow/. Shut up! / Fox and Wolf. / On this occasion, it’s not a pity to treat you! / Knocks with a crutch on the ground. / My faithful servants, quick feet, cheerful faces! Serve fragrant honey, nourishing, oily food! /The old gloomy _Cat_ appears./
Cat._ Look what you want! Smelly honey! Oily food! That's all there is. Nate! /Puts down a jug and throws a dry bone./ /Wolf and Fox grab the bone, pull it out from each other, fight. Baba Yaga separates them with a stick, knocks with a bone. /
Baba Yaga._ Hush, cursed! / Animals pacify. / Drink here and sing. /Dreamy./ Oh, and life will soon be with us!
Wolf_ /drinks from the pot, and twitches him/. Well, honey! Eyes popping out and jaws cramping, as if kicked in the ear with a hoof...
Fox._ Come on, grey, come on! /Drinks, shakes his head and begins to slowly fall off the bench./ /Wolf holds her. Embracing, the Wolf and the Fox howl and whine./
The reeds rustled, the trees bent,
And you and I went to the chicken coop,
But there they came across a watchman
And they barely took their legs! /starting to dance./
Soon we will live
clover
Cheese and meat with wine
Drinking...
Baba Yaga_ / standing behind the Wolf and the Fox, makes a spell /.
Raschikaldy-Chikaldy,
I'll splash water on you
I'll bewitch, I'll bewitch, / with arrangement /
In the fire victims
I'll dress up! / A whirlwind rises on the stage. Trees are humming, wolf howling and fox barking can be heard./
Crow._ Kar! Karr-aul! Krr-azha! Krr-azha!
/Curtain/
PICTURE TWO / Sunny summer morning. Outdoor terrace of a wooden cottage. To the left by the window on a cot lies _Vladik._ At the table with a book in his hands sits the robot _Zheleson_. Through the window one can see the _Professor_ gathering gooseberries in the garden. /
Robot._ "Nouns are words that answer the question who is it? what is it? and designate objects, for example: sister, brother, child ..." Remember? /Vladik is silent./ Vladyka! As you wish, but sleeping during classes is not allowed! And so get up! /Vladik does not respond. The robot is silent for a second, flashing its signal lamp.../ According to instruction number four, paragraph twelve, I have to turn on the network of influence... /Vladik jumps up, rubs his eyes./
Vladik._ Zheleson, have you connected the network of influence again?
I lit smart lamps inside myself!
Work and obey me, my friend!
I read letters at the speed of light,
I can be a floor polisher and a nanny.
One million one hundred and four answers
Stored in my electronic brain! So, "nouns are words that answer the question who is it? what is it? and designate objects, for example: sister, brother, child ..."
Vladik_ / repeating /. "Nouns are words that answer the question who is it? what is it? and designate objects, for example: sister, brother, child ..."
Robot._ According to the schedule drawn up for the students left for the fall, let's move on to the repetition of verbs ...
Professor_ /entering the terrace with a plate of gooseberries/. Well, how are you doing? Here you are, Vladik, berries. Help yourself!
Vladik_ / pushing away the plate, capriciously /. I do not want! And you, grandfather, have fun, right? Eat berries, sunbathe, swim, right?
Robot._ According to the leave instructions...
Vladik_ /turning off the robot/. Okay, shut up!
Professor_ /including the robot/. Who deserved what, dear grandson, who deserved what! And you can’t behave like that with Zheleson. Clear?
Vladik._ Quite. /Selects a bigger berry./
Professor._ That's great!
Vladik._ Who cares.
Professor_ /alarmed/. That is? What do you mean by that?
Vladik._ And then.
Robot._ This phrase, except for the phrase itself, does not contain anything.
Professor._ Wait, Ironson. It seems to me that these words contain deceit ...
Vladik._ No. Just a rejection.
Professor._ Refusal? From what? However, I guess. You refuse to dig worms for tomorrow's fishing?
Vladik._ Yeah. And drink milk at night.
Professor._ Well, if there is such a danger...
Robot._ In case of danger, it is necessary to find out the degree of danger and its probability.
Professor_ /Vladik/. Are you sure you're not going to change your mind?
Vladik_ /sincerely/. But Zheleson already tortured me! In the morning - Russian, in the evening - English! You would like that! /Whining./ Others sunbathe, go for nuts, for berries, and I teach everything, teach!
Professor_ /sighing/. Yes, but others must have been working for a year... I don't want to offend you, but, sorry, your systematic absenteeism, your laziness - it's all just awful! I have to demand discipline from Zheleson and strict observance of the schedule in classes with you. /Zheleson./ Do you hear, my dear?
Robot._ I can reproduce all your instructions orally and in writing, observing punctuation marks ...
Professor._ That's great! /Vladik./ Do not be angry, my friend, understand: I have to do all this for you!
Vladik_ /crying/. If only my poor mother were alive...
Professor_ /thoughtfully walking along the terrace/. Good. Yes, but... /Decidedly./ Jeleson!
Robot._ Professor, I'm listening to you!
Professor._ I'm canceling classes until... tomorrow morning!
Vladik_ / throwing himself on the Professor's neck /. Grandfather! Hooray!
Professor._ Well, it will, it will! Rest, and I'll go lie down for half an hour. /_Professor_ leaves. Vlad takes out a pistol and fires bone balls at Zheleson. Disguised _Baba Yaga_, _Wolf_ and _Fox_ appear at the doors of the terrace./
Vladik_ / noticing those who came /. Who do you want?
Baba Yaga /bewildered/. We... we... /Looks at the Fox./
Fox._ We are passers-by, passers-by ...
Wolf._ We are passers-by, passers-by ...
Baba Yaga._ Fire victims. We went to drink some water.
Vladik._ Water? Do you want milk?
Fox._ You can have milk.
Wolf._ You can have milk.
Vladik_ /robot/. Jeleson, get the milk. /_Zheleson_ leaves./ Yes, you sit down, sit down! Tired, perhaps? /Wolf./ Look how gray your face is!
Lisa._ Thank you, we will stand!
Wolf._ Thank you, we'll stand!
Vladik._ Well, as you wish. /Babe-Yage./ Are you from here, granny?
Baba Yaga._ Local, dear, local! Count, I've been living in these parts for a hundred years.
Vladik._ And where are you going?
Baba Yaga._ This is a secret, child, a secret ...
Vladik._ Yes, well? What's the secret?
Baba Yaga_ / in a whisper, looking around /. We are looking for treasures.
Vladik_ /turning to a whisper/. What clades?
Fox._ Royal coins...
Wolf._ Royal coins ...
Fox._ Tatar sabers...
Wolf._ Tatar sabers...
Vladik._ Sabers, coins? How are you looking for them?
Baba Yaga._ With this magic staff. /Knocks his cane./ He leads us to where the treasures are buried. Bring, knock three times, dig and your money.
Vladik._ And where is the revolver buried or the rifle, can he point out?
Baba Yaga._ Maybe, baby, maybe!
Vladik._ And the mammoth tusk?
Baba Yaga._ And mammoth tusk too.
Vladik._ And where are there a lot of worms, maybe?
Baba Yaga._ Maybe, maybe!
Fox._ He can do anything!
Wolf._ He can do anything ...
Vladik._ That's great! / A _robot_ enters with a glass in his hands. / Zheleson, you heard - they are looking for treasures! Here with this wand. /Takes a stick from Baba Yaga./ This is a stick, so a stick. I would like this. / Wolf, Fox and Baba Yaga take turns drinking milk, clanging their teeth on the pot. /
Baba Yaga_ /taking the stick from Vladik/. Thank you, good people, we'll go.
Vladik._ Grandmother, and grandmother, could you ...
Baba Yaga._ What, dear?
Vladik._ Let me play your wand until tomorrow.
Baba Yaga._ No, I can’t!
Vladik._ And to sell?
Baba Yaga._ No.
Fox._ Why should we sell her, boy, when she is looking for coins for us?
Wolf._ Tatar sabers...
Vladik._ And to exchange?
Baba Yaga._ Well, if you give something worthwhile, you might think ...
Vladik_ /robot/. Zheleson, bring some snacks!
Vladik._ Here are four pieces, one hundred meters each! Want to?
Baba Yaga._ No, son, I don’t want to!
Vladik._ And if ... and if I give the robot in addition? Agree?
Fox._ Agree, agree!
Wolf._ Agree!
Baba Yaga._ Agree! /Having realized it./ I don't know what to do...
Vladik._ Well, grandmother, well, pretty ... Agree!
Baba Yaga._ Well, all right... Take it! /Gives the staff to Vladik./
Vladik_ /robot/. Zheleson, go with this grandmother!
Robot._ The program does not provide for such an action ...
Vladik._ That's good. Go!
Robot._ Listen! /Picks up the fishing rods, leaves, singing./
I am an iron robot, I am an iron robot
Baba Yaga._ Goodbye, son, goodbye!
Fox._ Goodbye!
Wolf._ Goodbye! /They leave, singing along to the robot./
Be kind, be kind
Work and obey us, my friend!
Vladik_ /twisting the staff in his hands/. Here it is, my lifesaver! All swords are mine! All revolvers are mine! Fuck-tah! By horses! Fight! Hooray! /Running, twirling his cane above his head./ /Enter _Professor_./
Professor._ Why are you so excited, my friend?
Vladik_ / twirls his cane in front of him /. See?
Professor._ Yes, I see. And what is so special about this stick?
Vladik._ Oh, you don't understand! Yes, she's magical!
Professor_ /picks up a staff/. Ordinary birch stick, no more! Where did you get it from?
Vladik_ /taking the staff from his grandfather and admiring it/. I traded with an old woman, a passer-by, for a robot.
Professor_ /grabbing his head/. What have you done, you wicked boy! What have you done!
Vladik._ Yes, well, he, your robot, is tired! And I will do it myself!
Professor_ /after recovering a little/. Vladik, tell me, was the robot turned on in its working position?
Vladik._ I don’t remember, I think it was. And what?
Professor._ And the network of influence was turned on? After all, in this case, you will have to obey him from a distance ... I hope you understand? / These words hit Vlad like thunder. The staff falls from his hands./
Vlad / in horror /. I forgot to turn it on! Je-le-dream! /Runs away./
Professor._ Poor, stupid boy! Or maybe it's all for the best?
/Curtain/
PICTURE THREE /Autumn. On the stage - the same edge as in the first picture. Instead of a hut on chicken legs - a log cabin of a large new house. At the back of the courtyard is a smithy with open doors. The fire is visible, the sound of hammers is heard. In the center of the yard is a tall sawing machine for sawing logs. At the bench sit, resting, _Wolf_, _Fox_. To the left of them is a manual grindstone./
Wolf._ Enough, redhead, wallow, get up!
Fox._ My strength is gone. Paws tremble, dryness in the mouth.
Wolf._ Okay, don't pretend.
Lisa_ /getting up/. Oh ho ho! They changed the cuckoo for a hawk. /Saws./ /From the smithy, heading to the winepress, they come out with an ax in their hands _robot_ and _Baba-Yaga_./
Baba Yaga._ The hatchet came out noble! /Turns the sharpener handle, sings./
Oh you turn around
My grindstone
me work
Got cute! /Babe Yaga sings along with the Wolf, then the Fox./
Drank, drank
For the barn
We are home to ourselves
We build ourselves
We put the oven
From bricks.
We want to build
Through the stream! / The animals get carried away, sing and dance. Appears _Cat_ in a chef's hat, in an apron. /
Cat_ /takes a balalaika, plays "Kamarinskaya"/. Oh, you, cat's son, Kamarinsky peasant! ..
Crow._ Kar-r! Karr! How good! And no kr-rage!
1st squirrel_ / jumping off a branch, to a friend /. How fun it is here! Come here, don't be afraid!
2nd squirrel._ Will the Fox eat me?
1st squirrel._ No! She has long been eating only semolina and vegetables! And the wolf too! Let's go! / Squirrels approach animals, sing and dance. Dancing, _hares_, _Bear_ enter the fence. /
Cat_ / looks at the clock and hits a piece of rail /. Dinner! Dinner! Everyone dine! / The bear drags the table, the squirrels cover it with a tablecloth. The cat brings food. While the table is being laid, Baba Yaga, the Wolf and the Fox are sitting on a log and talking. A robot with an ax in his hands stands by the grindstone./
Baba Yaga_ / Wolf /. So I look at everything and think: how we used to live, well, it’s just ashamed to remember! /Embarrassed./ And they were cunning...
Wolf_ / looking at the Fox /. And they stole...
Fox_ / looking at the Wolf /. And they cut...
Baba Yaga._ And they went tattered and hungry. Now this is how we live!
Cat_ /setting the table/. Help yourself, you squirrels-burners, with nuts! And you, bunnies - good boys, cabbage. You, bear neighbor, minnows! /Wolf and Fox go to the table./
Baba Yaga_ /robot/. Jeleson, come sit with us.
Robot_ /blinking lamps/. Discharging batteries. Discharging batteries. You need to connect to a network with a voltage of one hundred and twenty-five volts. Be kind, be kind... / Zheleson's lamps go out, the ax falls out of his hands. The robot freezes./
Baba Yaga_ / in horror /. Dear, what's wrong with you? Holy, holy! Animal kids, what a disaster!
Crow._ Kar-r! Karr! The robot is dead! Kar!
Squirrels._ How - died?
Wolf_ /dropping a spoon on the table/. How did he die?
Fox._ How - died?
Bear._ Here are those r-times! /The animals get up from the table and slowly approach the robot. You can hear a cuckoo calling somewhere far away in the forest./
Baba Yaga._ What will it be now? Fathers! /Wails./ On whom have you left us, miserable, our breadwinner, bright-eyed sun? On whom did he throw his restless orphans! How we took care of you...
Wolf_ / howling Baba Yaga /. And from dampness, and from rust ...
Lisa._ ... they lubricated with oil ...
Baba Yaga._ ...filtered solid oil! / The animals stand with their heads bowed low. The squirrels whimper. The bear wipes his eyes with his paws./
Fox._ Whom did you lose. Eh!
Wolf._ Whom did you lose. Eh! /Cries./
Baba Yaga_ /viewers/. Sometimes we finish work, light a lamp, and he reads books to us: native literature, English ... And the hard worker was a passion! What have I lived for a century, without hitting a finger on a finger, but with it I have become! I can do everything: forge, and turn the whetstone... It used to be that you want to be lazy, but your hands do it, they do it! Eh! Yes, what to say! /Cries./
Wolf._ And take me? It used to be that you roam the forest with your tail between your legs, it’s dark in your head, your belly is empty, and such anger at everyone that frost on the skin! Sit down and howl from evil! And now there is peace in my soul and such kindness that I would kiss everyone.
Fox_ /nodding at the Wolf/. Because he became such that we have a very rare specialty with him - sawing boards. They invite you to the collective farm, they invite you to the state farm! And everywhere honor, everywhere respect! And that's it, our beloved teacher... /Crying./
Baba Yaga._ We will bury him in a glass coffin, among four pines, on Krasny Yar ...
Fox._ We hang the coffin on steel chains ...
Baba Yaga._ Will be visible to everyone, our sun! / Harshly. / Hey you, magpies, long-tailed rattles! Collect all the birds and animals of the taiga! On the Red Yar! Let's give Zheleson the last honors! /A magpie chirping is heard./
/Curtain/
PICTURE FOUR / The same as in the second picture. Morning. With a book in his hand, _Vladik_ is sleeping on the couch. The _Professor_ is sitting next to him./
Professor_ /taking a book out of Vladik's hands/. Sleep, poor thing. Hands in abrasions, calluses. Now he will be drawn to the smithy, then to the carpenters ... How thin you are, my orphan! If this continues, I won't be able to take it! /Professor gets up and excitedly walks around the terrace./ It is necessary to take urgent, drastic measures! By all means, I must find Jeleson and switch him! Let's hit the road! Even to hell in the teeth! On the search! Right now! Immediately! / Disappears at the door of the room. He returns with a backpack, carefully takes out Baba Yaga's stick from under the cot and, taking it with him, leaves. / /Nadya appears at the door with a bundle in her hand. Vlad wakes up./
Nadia._ Hello, Vladik!
Vladik._ Hello! What do you have?
Nadia._ Clock. /Unfolds the bundle./ For some reason they have become. And the cuckoo doesn't crow at all. Soon to school, and they broke down.
Vladik._ Come on! /Disassembles the watch./ So, interesting. Ah, here it is, obviously. Now your cuckoo will cuckle. "Be kind, be kind to work and obey me, my friend..." / Hangs a clock on the wall. The cuckoo is cuckooing./
Nadia_ /clapping her hands/. Cuckoo, cuckoo! Thanks, Vladik!
Vladik._ Not worth it. /Begins to squat, do exercises./ /The collective farm _Fitter_ enters with an accordion./
Fitter._ Hello, Danila-master!
Vladik._ Hello.
Fitter._ Here he brought an accordion. Two keys are stuck. Not a game, but a disorder! Look! /Plays./ Maybe you can fix it?
Vladik._ Let's try. /Corrects./
Fitter._ Well done! Oh, and young girls will dance today! /Plays the harmonica, leaves./
Nadia._ And how is it with you, Vladik, everything turns out like this?
Vladik._ I don't know! Out of habit, I guess. You know: the robot influences me!
Nadia_ /dreamy/. That's how it would be for me.
Vladik._ You're a girl, you don't have to!
Nadia._ Yeah, not necessarily! If you know, I want to know everything! It's so interesting! Say interesting?
Vladik_ /laughing/. I'll say it's interesting! You know?
Nadia._ What?
Vladik._ Let's go to the Irtysh, let's swim?
Nadia._ Come on, Vladka! /Nadya goes to the wall to take off her watch. _Vanya_ runs onto the terrace./
Vanya._ Hello!
Vladik._ Did something break with you too?
Vanya._ Nothing broke for me! Now I saw your grandfather. With Pashka Lezhebokin. He told me to tell you that they went to look for Zheleson! And I'm with them! /Tries to run away./
Vladik_ /holds him/. Stop! Wait! What else did he say, do you remember?
Vanya._ Well, that Zheleson tortured you, that you are an orphan and all in corns. He wants to cut it off from you, that's what!
Vladik._ Wait! You are my friend?
Vanya._ Friend! And what?
Vladik._ It is necessary that they do not find Zheleson!
Vanya._ Why is that?
Vladik_ / Nadia /. Did I fix your watch?
Nadia._ Corrected!
Vladik_ / Vanya /. Did you get a boat motor?
Vanya._ Let me go!
Vladik_ / Nadia /. Could you do it?
Nadia._ No!
Vladik_ / Vanya /. And you?
Vanya._ I don't know...
Vladik_ /proudly/. And I can! I can do anything and everything! And I love it! And if the robot is turned off... Do you understand? I can't do anything! Nothing!
Vanya._ And it's true... What should we do?
Nadia._ We must catch up with grandfather and tell him ... something. Explain! Or say that the robot was found ... somewhere!
Vladik._ How did you say - found?
Nadia._ Well, yes!
Vladik._ Invented! Hooray! Listen! /The guys whisper, and then laugh together./
Nadia._ Well, I went!
Vanya._ Look, don't get lost!
Nadia._ No! And you hurry up! /Runs away/
Vladik._ Everything will be all right! /They go into the room./
/Curtain/
PICTURE FIVE / Taiga. _Professor_ and _Pashka Lezhebokin_ make their way through deadwood to a small clearing./
Pashka_ /singing/.
I love to nap on the stove!
Well, if I don't doze off,
Reclining on the porch
I love husking seeds!
But it's so sad
I spit husk...
I'm not that lazy
I'm not that bad!
Professor._ Now, Pashenka, let's have a rest. Do you see the meadow?
Pashka._ I don’t see anything - sticks and branches alone! The last button on my pants came off! Where is she? /Looks, holding his pants with both hands./ Grandfather, grandfather!
Professor._ What, Pashenka?
Pashka._ Do you seem to have a magic stick? Let me look for my buttons.
Professor._ Take it, my dear, try it, look, / Pashka sits on the ground, knocks with his cane. /
Pashka._ Also magical for me! /Throws the stick and looks again./ But there is one! /Returns to the Professor, looking around./ Well, wilderness!
Professor._ Yes, not crowded. Now we will make a fire with you, we will indulge in some tea. Go, Pasha, pick up brushwood.
Pashka._ How can I pick it up, grandfather, when should I keep my pants on?
Professor_ / rummaging in a backpack /. Here is a needle and thread for you, sew your own button. I'll pick it up myself.
Pashka_ /singing/.
I'm not that lazy
I'm not so bad! .. Where can I sew it? Here or here? I'll sew it here. /Sews on./ Oh! Ah! Uh! /The frightened _Professor_ comes running./
Professor._ What's the matter with you, Pasha? Did the snake bite?
Pashka._ What a snake! I'm sewing on a button, don't you see?
Professor._ So you're sewing it to your stomach, stupid!
Pashka._ This needle is so crooked!
Professor._ Give me, my dear, I'll try. /Sewing./ Done!
Pashka._ Something is not fastened!
Professor._ Yes, well?
Pashka._ Here are those "yes"! Where there is a loop, there is a button!
Professor._ And we will cut a new loop. Like this.
Pashka._ Well, the loop is wider than the pocket!
Professor._ Nothing, it won't fall out of the big one! Let's light the fire. Have you ever lit a fire?
Pashka._ No, I was lying more and more on the stove.
Professor._ Hm, what a clumsy brother you are! It's so simple. Here, break the brushwood. /Pashka holds a twig in his hands and begins to break it over his head./ Well, you have a head, Pasha...excellent!
Pashka._ Yes, the head is what you need! /breaks brushwood, sings./
I'm not that lazy
I'm not that bad!
Professor_ / putting brushwood in a pile, lights a match /. Now get on your knees and blow! /The pashka blows, the fire goes out./
Pashka._ Extinguished...
Professor._ You blew very hard, Pasha. Even brushwood moved. You blow quieter. /Lights a match./ Come on! /The match goes out./
Pashka._ It went out again ...
Professor._ Oddly enough, but true. Come on, Pasha, let's stand against each other and blow together. / Pashka lights a match after a match, but they go out. Hares are watching Pashka from behind the trees and rolling with laughter. Squirrels laugh on the branches./
Crow_ /from the tree/. Ka-r-r! What a shame-r! Carr!
Professor_ /laughing/. Yes, with a fire, and therefore tea, we, presumably, will not succeed. Well, let's eat canned food. Can you open cans?
Pashka._ No, I can’t!
Professor._ Well! .. / Puts canned food in a backpack, takes out crackers. / Let's eat a cracker with you! / Breadcrumbs gnaw. _Nadya_ comes out into the clearing with a basket. /
Nadya_ / noticing the Professor and Pashka /. Hello grandpa! Hello Lezhebokin!
Professor._ Hello, granddaughter!
Pashka._ Hello.
Nadya._ And I go and hear - cracking. Let me see, I think. And you eat crackers.
Pashka._ Let's eat. Did you get berries?
Nadia._ Bones. Help yourself!
Professor._ Thank you. We actually already drank tea, ate canned food. But, I think, berries, Pasha, will not hurt us?
Pashka._ They won't hurt! /Are eating./
Nadya._ The bones are now red!
Professor._ Yes? But we didn't get anything!
Nadia._ Do you also pick berries?
Pashka_ /important/. No matter how! Berries!
Professor_ /sighing/. We are looking for Zheleson, Nadya, Zheleson. Yes, I thought here over tea that it’s better, perhaps, not to look for him! Unless... /Looks at Pashka./ And even that is unlikely!..
Nadia._ Are you looking for a robot? /Laughs./ So he was found!
Professor_ /indifferently/. Is it?
Nadia._ I saw him today at your dacha.
Pashka._ Well! And we're sitting here... hungry!
Professor._ So the robot is at home?
Nadia._ At home.
Crow._ Kar-r! The robot is dead! Died! Karr! /Flies away./
Professor._ What did she say?
Pashka._ She said - the robot died.
Professor._ Strange, strange! /Ponders./
Nadia._ Yes, you do not listen to her, grandfather. Let's go home!
Professor._ Yes, yes! Of course! /Tie up his backpack./ It is quite possible that he could run out of battery... that is, die.
Nadia._ Grandpa, what are you talking about?
Professor._ Yes, nothing. I try to understand the truth, the truth! /Leave..
/Curtain./
PICTURE SIX / The same as in the second and fourth scenes. In front of _Vladik_ there is a _robot_./
Vladik_ /admiring the robot/. Everything is okay. Jeleson!
Robot._ Listen, Vladyka!
Vladik._ Take the Russian language textbook from the shelf and bring it!
Robot._ Listen! /Brings./
Vladik /throwing the book on the table/. So good! Jeleson! You and I repeat Russian, and I fall asleep. What should you do?
Robot._ According to instruction number four, paragraph twelve, I must turn on the network of influence.
I am an iron robot, I am an iron robot
I lit smart lamps inside myself ...
Be kind, be kind
Learn to obey me, my friend!
Vladik._ That's right, well done! Now get some rest. / Approaches the robot and begins to unscrew its head. Vanya's sweaty face appears in place of the unscrewed head of the robot./
Vanya._ Phew, it's hot! Maybe I should get out?
Vladik._ No, sit there. Will they suddenly come?
Vanya._ We found someone to send - Nadya! She won't find them!
Vladik._ Find it! Be patient a little!
Vanya._ Give me some water, or something. /Sneezes./
Vladik._ Now! /Brings./ /Vanya drinks water, _Nadya_ runs in./
Nadia._ They're coming, they're coming! What if he doesn't even have a head?
Vladik_ /puts a ladle in her hands/. Will now be. /Screws his head./ /Professor and Pashka enter./
Professor._ Here we are at home! Hello Vladik! Hello Jeleson! Are you back?
Robot._ Hello Professor! I returned!
Vladik._ Hello, grandfather!
Professor_ /Vladik, nodding at the robot/. Don't you think he's gotten a little shorter?
Vladik_ /shrugs/. No, it's the same.
Nadia._ What are you, grandfather! He is so similar! Just like a real one!
Professor_ /hiding a grin/. Jeleson!
Robot._ Listen to you, Professor!
Robot._ Yes, just a little. /Sneezes./
Professor._ Be healthy, Zheleson!
Robot._ Thank you.
Professor._ And now, Jeleson, sing my favorite song to celebrate. Sit down, friends, listen!
Robot_ / clearing his throat /.
"The storm roared, the rain roared,
Lightning flashed in the darkness.
And the thunder roared incessantly,
And the winds raged in the wilds."
Professor._ No, Zheleson, not this one!
Robot._ Now I'll sing another one. /Sings./
"Apple and pear trees blossomed,
Mists floated over the river.
Katyusha went ashore,
To the high bank, to the steep one."
Professor._ Wait, wait, my dear. You forgot everything!
Vladik._ He probably has a runny nose.
Robot._ Now I remember. /Sings./
"Once upon a time with my grandmother
Gray goat.
That's how, that's how
Gray goat". / The robot dances. _Baba Yaga_, _Fox_, _Wolf_ and _Crow_ appear at the door./
"Granny goat
I loved it very much.
That's how, that's how
I loved it very much!" /Sniffles, breathes heavily and stops./
Baba Yaga_ /Amazingly approaching the robot/. Jeleson, killer whale, are you alive?
Robot_ /backing away/. Alive, grandmother, alive.
Baba Yaga._ Well, didn't you recognize me or what?
Robot._ I see it for the first time!
Baba Yaga_ /contritely/. Memory, then, lost lying down.
Vladik._ What are you talking about, grandmother?
Baba Yaga._ Forgive me, good people! I'm sorry boy! I deceived you with a staff. Yes, apparently, for deceit and punished. Didn't save Zheleson. A week after he's gone, he's dead! /Looking at the robot./ Or not dead...
Vladik_ /joyfully/. A week you say?
Baba Yaga._ Count from last Friday.
Vladik_ /dancing/. "Once upon a time, my grandmother had a gray goat ..." And Zheleson, grandmother, we will revive! These are the hands. /Unscrews the robot's head./
Baba Yaga_ /backing away/. Fuck me! Chur!
Crow._ Kar! Like this? Kar!
Vanya._ Very simple!
Wolf_ / Fox /. This is not for you to cut boards!
Fox._ We know it, master!
Baba Yaga_ / looking at Vanya with apprehension /. I heard, father, are you leaving with your grandson?
Professor._ Yes, the holidays are ending. Time to go home.
Baba Yaga._ Maybe you could give a letter to my sister, your elevator operator? And a package from me?
Professor._ Poluyage Pomyalovna?
Baba Yaga._ To her, killer whale, to her!
Professor._ Well, it's possible!
Baba Yaga._ Thank you! For the summer, welcome to visit!
Professor_ /cautiously/. Where is this?
Wolf._ Cutting boards ...
Fox_ / Wolf /. You just have to drink! Shut up! /Professor./ To our labor colony!
Baba Yaga_ / embarrassed /. We opened the colony for all sorts of parasites...
Fox._ Leshih, water ...
Wolf._ Leshih, water ...
Professor._ That's how! Well, what are they doing, your parasites?
Lisa._ And who than ...
Wolf._ And who than!
Baba Yaga._ Water leeches are caught ... medicinal. The fish are smoked. And who came up with the idea? All he, Zheleson, our clear sun ... / Cries /.
Vladik._ Don't cry, granny, let's revive our Zheleson!
Professor._ And let's leave him for the winter in the countryside... Open canned food for Pasha Lezhebokin. What about Pasha?
Pashka._ Well, if canned food ... then it's possible.
Vanya._ So we will have a robot in our village?
Professor._ It will, Vanya, it will!
Nadia._ That's great! / Fooling around, walks with Baba Yaga around the stage. / I'll take him by the arm - and to the cinema! And to meet the clumsy: "Hello, Nadia! Hello, robot! Hello, robot!"
Vladik_ /thoughtfully/. Goodbye robot! / From the street comes the playing of an accordion. Enter _Fitter_./
Fitter._ "Yes, there will be light!" - said the fitter and revived Zheleson! /Vladik./ Quite a favor, so to speak! I beg! /Enter _Zheleson_./
Zheleson_ /sings/. "I read letters at the speed of light..." / General animation. Everyone surrounds the robot./
Professor._ Well, hello, sleeping hero!
Zheleson._ Hello, Professor! /Hugs the guys, greets Baba Yaga, hits the Fox and the Wolf on the shoulder./
Fitter_ /viewers/. I'm walking along the line, suddenly - stop: robot! Exactly like Zheleson, only sleeping. And on the chest socket - one hundred and twenty-five volts. Well, me and...
Professor_ / hugging the guys /. What are you happy? Oh, my friends, you are wonderful!
Now we will get acquainted with a poem by the famous poet Timofey Maksimovich Belozerov.
But first, let's remember his biography.
Timofei Maksimovich Belozerovwas born in 1929 in Siberia into a large peasant family.
Timofey lost his mother early, during the Great Patriotic War his father died. He was adopted by Maria Terentyeva. At the age of 12 he moved to Omsk, where he got a job. Shoemaker, carpenter apprenticeá and an artist, he cleared railway tracks from snow. After the war, at the age of 23, he graduated from the Omsk River School.
It was during these years, longing for the rivers, the Siberian taiga, that he began to write poems, which were first published in local newspapers and magazines, then began to be published as separate books. By the time Belozerov graduated from the Literary Institute, he was already the author of several poetry collections. The poet devoted all his work mainly to children.
T. Belozerov's poems were published in the children's magazines Murzilka, Kolobok, Pioneer, Bonfire.
These books, so different, are united in one, the most important thing - love and devotion to the land where the poet was born and raised. These are such books as: “On Our River”, “A Living Gift”, “Lark”, “Wonderful Song”, “Winter-Winter” and others.
And now we will check how carefully you listened.
Tell me, at what age did Timofey start working?
For what reason was the boy, at the age of 12, forced to start working?
Where were Belozerov's poems published?
Name examples of books written by Timofey Belozerov.
- Open the textbook on the sixteenth page, find Timofey Belozerov's poem "The pantry of the wind." First I will read it, and then one of you. Close your eyes, listen carefully to the poem, you need to imagine the picture that the author describes.
Whatever dragged into the old ravine!
Stored in a ravine night twilight,
Tight earrings - a gift from a birch,
Ivan-tea flowers, cuckoo tears,
Green, yellow beads of rain,
Partridge feather on a mushroom hat.
Here, as at the bottom of the chest, early in the morning
Wind-thrown canvases of fog,
In the stream, on the blue chintz of the waves,
Flickering vintage
Brooch
Moon...
So, what picture did you imagine after listening to the poem?
Guys, look at the title of the poem - "Pantry of the wind." How do you understand it?
Where does the wind carry its treasures?
- What does the poet compare the old ravine to?
Vocabulary work.
Guys, in the poem we came across such words as "twilight", "Ivan-tea", "cuckoo's tears", "rain beads", "early morning", "canvas", "chintz". Let's find out what they mean.
Twilight - Weak lighting, almost complete absence of light.
Blooming Sally - A large herbaceous plant with purple-pink flowers. The name of the plant is associated with an ancient legend. In a village near Petersburg, there lived a young guy named Ivan, who liked to walk through the fields. And he liked to wear red shirts. And the villagers compared the color of his shirt with the flowers of the plant.And once the flowers got into a pot of boiling water, and the broth turned out to be pleasant and refreshing. And so they began in that village, to make a healing drink from the leaves and flowers of Ivan-tea.
cuckoo tears is a herbaceous medicinal perennial plant. Name "Cuckoo's Tears" - associated with the legend of a cuckoo that wept over a plant and left its tears on the flowers in the form of spots.
What do you think, "rain beads", what is it?
Why are they green and yellow?
Early in the morning - early in the morning.
canvases - thick canvases. So, in the poem, “canvas of fog” is a thick morning fog.
chintz This is a lightweight cotton fabric.
- And now the poem “The Pantry of the Wind” will expressively read ...
Guys, let's go to the forest clearing and get acquainted with the tale of Valentin Dmitrievich Berestov.
Let's get acquainted with the biography of the poet.
Valentin Dmitrievich Berestov
Born in 1928 near Kaluga in the family of a history teacher.
“When I was four years old, an extremely important event happened in my life: I learned to read. It was very helpful. After all, it was then that our children's literature was created ... I remember how I stood at the gate and waited for the postman to come with a fresh issue of children's magazines ... Since then, I have forever fallen in love with children's literature and children's writers, ”recalled Berestov.
The literary activity of the writer began like this. “At the age of 14, I plucked up the courage and showed my poems to Korney Chukovsky. This meeting became decisive in my future life. Friendship with Samuil Marshak and Alexei Tolstoy played an important role in the development of Berestov as a writer.
In addition to literature, the poet was fond of history, traveled a lot.
Among the works for children, the most famous are collections of poems and fairy tales: “About the car”, “Merry Summer”, “How to find a path”, “Pictures in puddles”, “What is cutest” and so on, in the writer’s work there are stories “I am invited to Mars”, “There will be no adventure”, “Sword in a golden scabbard”, “Stone grains”, as well as stories, essays and translations.
What poets helped Berestov in his literary activity?
Name, poems and stories by Valentin Berestov.
Read the riddle on the screen and try to guess it.
I grow like a worm, I eat a leaf.
I wrap myself, then I fall asleep.
I don’t eat, I don’t look, I lie motionless.
But suddenly I come to life, I leave my house.
Synopsis of the GCD in the preschool educational institution for children 6-7 years old "Pantry of the wind".
Educational area- cognitive development.Synopsis of educational activities in the preparatory group "Pantry of the wind."
Target: introducing children to the formation of wind.Learning tasks: study the properties of the wind using poetic texts; explain to children where the wind comes from, using games, experiments, speech exercises, fairy tales, tasks; use the TRIZ technique (wind is good or bad). Introduce its properties. To teach in the process of observation and conversation to draw conclusions and conclusions.
Development tasks: develop curiosity.
Educational tasks: follow the rules of the game.
Materials and equipment: multimedia equipment; basin with water, paper boats; fan, candle, snake (a circle cut in a spiral and suspended on a thread).
The course of educational activities:
Educator. Today, guys, we will talk about the wind, get to know it better and understand that the wind, even cold, is also wonderful.
Tell me, do you have a pantry in your dacha, at home, in your apartment? Why do people need a pantry? (Old things are stored there, winter things are put there in the summer, and summer things in the winter, stocks for the winter are stored there, which are made by grandmother and mother.)
Educator. I wonder what is stored in the pantry by the wind? What can he put in there? Why does he need it? And where can be the pantry of the wind? Let's think, let's dream together with you. Once the poet Timofei Belozerov looked into one such storeroom of the wind and found there ... guess what? And here's what.
(An image of a ravine appears on the screen of the multimedia equipment.)
What is not dragged into the old ravine!
Stored in a ravine night twilight,
Tight earrings - a gift of birch,
Ivan-tea flowers, cuckoo tears,
Green, yellow rain beads,
Partridge feather on a mushroom hat.
Here, as at the bottom of the chest, early in the morning
The canvases of fog are thrown over by the wind,
In the stream, on the blue chintz of the waves
An old brooch of the moon flickers ...
Educator. What did the poet see in the pantry by the wind? What would you like to give to the wind and put in its pantry? (Children reason, fantasize.)
Educator. Guys, today we will find out where the wind comes from. I suggest you play with boats.
Experience-game "Ships".
(The teacher brings a basin of water into the group and paper boats previously made with the children.) Come closer and lower your boats into the water and blow on them.
Educator. Why did the ships sail? (The breeze pushes them.) Where did the breeze come from? (We exhaled air.)
(The teacher suggests organizing competitions for boats. Which boat will swim to the other side faster (it is better to take a square basin.) Boats for this game can also be made from a walnut shell with a sail on a toothpick shelf attached with plasticine.)
The wind blows on the sea
And the boat is urging;
He runs in waves
On swollen sails.
(A.S. Pushkin)
Educator. Well done, they played very well with the boats. And now we are waiting for the next experiment.
Experience - the game "Fan".
Educator. I suggest you make a fan out of strips of paper. Take each sheet of paper on your table and fold it like an accordion. This is how your fan turned out. Now wave your fan in front of your face.
Educator. What did you feel? What is the fan for? (In hot weather, a fan gives us a breeze that cools us and helps us.)
Educator. Wave each with your fan over a basin of water. What happens in a basin of water? Where did the waves come from? (From the wind.)
Fan riddle.
The wind blows - I do not blow,
He blows, I don't.
But then when I blow
The wind is blowing on me.
(Fan)
Educator. Well done and we are waiting for the next stage.
Experience-game "Where does the wind come from?"
(The teacher brings a candle and a snake. It is very easy to make a snake: a circle is taken from thin paper and cut in a spiral, then the resulting blank is hung on a thread. Lights a candle and invites the children to blow on it.)
Educator. Why did the flame deflect? (The wind's blowing.)
(The teacher places the snake over the candle flame.)
Educator. What's going on with the snake? (She starts spinning.) Why is she spinning? (Because warm air goes up and lifts the snake.)
Why does the wind blow in different directions? (It turns out that at the top the air comes out of the room to the outside. It is warm air. It goes outside. And the cold air is heavier and it is downstairs. It enters the room from the street. This is how the “wind” in the room is obtained. But this is how wind is obtained in nature .)
Conclusion: wind is the movement of air. Warm moves up and cold moves down, and they tend to switch places.
Educator. And now listen carefully to the reasoning, or an informative story for children about the wind by the great Russian writer Leo Tolstoy “Why is there a wind (reasoning)”.
Fish live in water, but humans live in the air. The fish cannot hear or see the water until the fish themselves move, or until the water moves.
But as soon as we run, we hear the air - we blow in the face; and sometimes you can hear when we run, how the air whistles in our ears. When we open the door to the warm upper room, the wind always blows from below from the courtyard into the upper room, and from above it blows from the upper room into the courtyard.
When someone walks around the room or waves a dress, we say: “he makes the wind”, and when the stove is heated, the wind always blows into it. When the wind blows in the yard, it blows for whole days and nights, sometimes in one direction, sometimes in the other. This happens because somewhere on earth the air gets very hot, and in another place it cools down - then the wind starts, and a cold spirit comes from below, and a warm one from above, just like from the courtyard to the hut. And until then it blows until it warms up where it was cold, and cools down where it was hot.
Educator. This is how children were introduced to the wind in the 19th century. And you guys know that the wind can work! It turns out that the wind is a hard worker: it helps the mills spin, carries the seeds of plants, sweeps the streets, brings smells and sounds to us, helps a parachute, a kite fly ...
Wind, breeze, breeze...
Why are you a roar in the world?
Better sweep the streets
Or windmills circles!
Look - languishing in bags
Golden wheat.
The wind blows day and night
He wants to help the miller.
All the grain will become flour
Flour will flow like a river.
Bake us out of flour
Buns, buns, pies.
(Y.Akim)
Finger gymnastics "Wind and mill".
Mill, mill, Children clearly pronounce the words, gradually accelerating the rhythm.
Grinds flour, grinds, Children make rotational movements with their hands in front of their chest.
Grinding, grinding, grinding…
There is no wind, the mill has stopped.
Again the wind blew, the mill whirled. We twist our hands very quickly under the fast pronunciation of words.
Grinding, grinding, grinding… Fingers clenched into a fist, knocking fists.
The wind blew harder.
We grinded flour Hands to the sides - these are huge bags!
Those are big bags!
From flour, from flour. Palms open, clap one hand about another - bake
We baked pies! "pies".
Educator. We know that the wind, like humans, has an important job to do. What does he do when he takes a break from his work? Where does he sleep? What does he love? Here, listen to a poem about the wind and its favorite pastimes.
The wind blew from the south to the north,
Sweeping dust from the road
The clover swayed on the field
And combed the feather grass.
leafing through the blades of grass,
All noted, all taken into account,
All the goats on the path,
All grasshoppers and bees.
Tousled the bushes and immediately
For the buzz and hum
Took and gadfly on the water
He angrily blew off the reeds.
Waves passed along the river,
The float, jokingly, shook,
Get on the boat between us
Woke up and fell asleep.
(M.Pridvorov)
Educator. And another poem about the wind will tell us how to see the wind and hear it. (The wind creaks the window frame, pushes the window, rustles the papers, plays the turntable.)
I saw how the breeze
To us flew to the light!
He creaked the window frame,
Quietly pushed the window,
Played with my Panama
Woke up and fell asleep.
He slept quietly
Slept calmly
Didn't spin, didn't interfere
Sat down on the windowsill
Slightly rustled paper
Twisted in the corner with a turntable
And lay down behind a pillow.
I saw everything. Only the wind
Apparently he didn't notice me.
(G. Lagdzyn)
Educator. And now I suggest you play the word game "Pick a word." (The teacher asks the children questions, and the children answer.)
- What can the wind do? (Make noise, buzz, rustle, howl, raise, swoop, etc.)
Guys, the wind can do a lot. Can it harm a person? (Yes, it destroys houses, breaks trees, rips off a hat, throws dust or snow in the eyes, and overturns cars.)
- How does the wind help us? (Inflates the sails, turns the wings of the mill.)
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