White snow swirls in the air. Peasant poetry. Analysis of Surikov's poem "Winter". All year round. January
White snow, fluffy
Spinning in the air
And the ground is quiet
Falls, lies down.
And in the morning snow
The field turned white
Like a veil
Everything dressed him.
Dark forest with a hat
Covered up weird
And fell asleep under her
Strong, unstoppable...
God's days are short
The sun shines little, -
Here come the frosts -
And winter has come.
Laborer-peasant
He pulled out the sleigh,
Snowy mountains
The kids are building.
I've been a peasant for a long time
I was waiting for winter and cold,
And a hut with straw
He covered outside.
So that the wind blows into the hut
Didn't get through the cracks
They wouldn't blow snow
Blizzards and blizzards.
He is now at peace -
Everything is covered all around,
And he's not afraid
Angry frost, angry.
Analysis of the poem “Winter” by Surikov
The work of Ivan Zakharovich Surikov “Winter” lyrically and sincerely describes the arrival of the snow season in the world. The lines of this poem contain both a description of the angry frost and, in contrast, the soft comfort of this time of year.
But only at first glance this work describes only winter; in fact, it also contains reflections on the meaning of life - after all, it is completely subordinate to nature, and a description of peasant everyday life, and a feeling of complete calm and harmony with the world around us.
The poem was written in 1880 in the genre of landscape lyricism. The poem has eight stanzas, each containing four lines. It is written in iambic trimeter (two-syllable meter), it has cross rhyme, feminine rhyme (stress on the penultimate syllable).
The work contains many means of artistic expression: epithets (“angry”, “fluffy”, “angry”), personifications (“frosts have come”, “the forest has fallen asleep”), similes - “the field turned white, then a shroud covered it all.”
The line “here the frosts came - and winter has come” contains the idea that our whole life is subject to the laws of nature, therefore people should accept any changes in it with gratitude and great pleasure from every, even insignificant, moment. After all, then every moment of our life will be filled with charm and joy.
“The peasant has been waiting for winter and cold for a long time, and he covered the outside of the hut with straw.” When the poet writes about the life of a peasant, he notes that even on such a calm day he still has a lot of worries - he needs to pull out and harness the sleigh to go for firewood, prepare the hut for the cold by covering it outside with straw, and also have time to look after the children , who are still building snow mountains.
For most of his life, the author himself, Ivan Surikov, lived in the village, and every winter came he was fascinated by how the dark forest was completely covered with a snow cap in just one night and, as if in fact, fell asleep for the whole winter, just as in the morning the entire field It was white from the overnight snowfall, when suddenly the day became shorter and there was less and less sun. That is why he conveyed to the reader the feeling of village life with such ease.
Only a truly talented person, like Ivan Zakharovich, could write about such difficult-to-understand things in such simple words. He is rightfully considered one of the brightest, but at the same time original poets of Russian villages. It was he who was able to bring a dose of romance into the description of rural everyday life, so much so that most readers had a desire to take a walk through a sleeping winter forest, wander through a snow-covered field, listening to the crunch underfoot, build a snow mountain, enjoying the clean, refreshing air.
Surikov's poems about winter are so familiar to us that it seems that we have always known them. We were just born with them. " This is my village. This is my home. Here I am sledding down a steep mountain..." We associate these poems with our Motherland. And although many of us were born and raised in large cities, it feels like these lines are close to everyone. Surikov's poems about winter are extremely accurate and sincere.
From the poem "Childhood"
This is my village;
This is my home;
Here I am sledding
The mountain is steep;
The sled has rolled up
And I'm on my side - bang!
I'm rolling head over heels
Downhill, into a snowdrift.
And boy friends
Standing above me
They laugh merrily
Over my misfortune.
Whole face and hands
Snow covered me...
I'm in grief in a snowdrift,
And the guys laugh!
The poet Ivan Zakharovich Surikov (1841-1880) was born into a family of quitrent serfs. His small homeland is the village of Novoselovo, Yaroslavl province. Ivan Zakharovich did not have the chance to study, but he early became addicted to reading and began to compose poetry.
From the poem "Winter"
White snow, fluffy
Spinning in the air
And the ground is quiet
Falls, lies down.
And in the morning snow
The field turned white
Like a veil
Everything dressed him.
Dark forest with a hat
Covered up weird
And fell asleep under her
Strong, unstoppable...
God's days are short
The sun shines little, -
Here come the frosts -
And winter has come.
At a certain stage, the Surikovs moved to Moscow for permanent residence. The future poet did not disdain any kind of work: he worked in a shop, was a bookbinder, and a typesetter. But it was not possible to get out of poverty. Over time, the name of the self-taught poet Surikov became widely known. He published books and appeared in magazines.
From the poem "Frost"
The pale moon looks from the sky,
Like a steel sickle;
The village is bitterly cold
He walks big himself.
Over fences, over trees
Hangs up an outfit;
Where it goes, there are diamonds in the snow
They are burning in the wake.
Hat on one side, wide open
Fur coat on the shoulders;
Frost shines like silver
On his curls.
Poems about winter for children
In this selection of winter poems for children in the middle group of kindergarten you will find works by classics of Russian literature, A. S. Pushkin, N. A. Nekrasov, F. I. Tyutchev, I. A. Bunin, I. Z. Surikov and other domestic poets.
Poems about a cold winter morning, poems about the beauty of winter, poems about a winter road, poems about the beauty of winter nature, poems about winter fun, poems about the first snow. All poems are selected for preschoolers aged four and five years, and those marked with an asterisk are recommended for memorization.
Winter*
I. Surikov
White fluffy snow
Spinning in the air
And the ground is quiet
Falls, lies down.
And in the morning snow
The field turned white
Like a veil
Everything dressed him.
Dark forest - what a hat
Covered up weird
And fell asleep under her
Strong, unstoppable...
God's days are short
The sun shines little
Here come the frosts -
And winter has come.
Enchantress Winter...*
F. Tyutchev
Enchantress in Winter
Bewitched, the forest stands,
And under the snow fringe,
motionless, mute,
He shines with a wonderful life.
And he stands, bewitched,
Not dead and not alive -
Enchanted by a magical dream,
All entangled, all shackled
Light chain down...
Is the winter sun shining?
On him your ray with a scythe -
Nothing will tremble in him,
It will all flare up and sparkle
Dazzling beauty.
First snow
Y. Akim
Morning cat
Brought on his paws
First snow!
First snow!
He has
Taste and smell
First snow!
First snow!
He's spinning
Easy,
New,
Over the guys' heads
He managed
Down scarf
Spread
On the pavement
He turns white
Along the fence
Took a nap on the lantern, -
So, soon
Very soon
The sled will fly
From the hills,
So it will be possible
Again
Build a fortress
In the yard!
On skis*
A. Vvedensky
The whole earth is covered in snow,
I'm skiing
You're running after me.
Good in the forest in winter:
The sky is bright blue
Spruce, pine trees in frost,
The snow sparkles underfoot.
Hey guys, who's behind us?
Winter morning*
A. Pushkin
...In the evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry,
There was darkness in the cloudy sky;
The moon is like a pale spot
Through the dark clouds it turned yellow,
And you sat sad -
And now... look out the window:
Under blue skies
Magnificent carpets,
Glistening in the sun, the snow lies;
The transparent forest alone turns black,
And the spruce turns green through the frost,
And the river glitters under the ice...
Chrysanthemums
I. Bunin
On a window silver with frost,
It was as if the chrysanthemums were blooming.
In the upper windows - the sky is bright blue
And getting stuck in the snow dust.
The sun rises, cheerful from the cold,
The window glows golden.
The morning is quiet, joyful and young,
Everything is covered in white snow.
And all the mornings are bright and clean
I will see colors above,
And until noon they will be silver
Chrysanthemums on my window.
The snowstorm is sweeping...
S. Yesenin
Blizzard sweeps away
White way.
Wants in soft snows
Drown.
The playful wind fell asleep
On the way:
Or drive through the forest,
Neither pass.
Here is the north, the clouds are catching up*
A. Pushkin
Here is the north, the clouds are catching up,
He breathed, howled - and here she is
The winter sorceress is coming.
She came and fell apart; shreds
Hanged on the branches of oak trees;
Lay down in wavy carpets
Among the fields, around the hills;
Brega with a still river
She leveled it with a plump veil,
Frost flashed. And we are glad
To the pranks of Mother Winter.
Blanket
A. Korinfsky
- For what, dear,
Does it snow in winter?
- From it nature
The blanket is being woven!
- Blanket, mom?..
Why is it?!.
- Without him, the earth would
It's getting cold!..
- And to whom, dear,
Looking for warmth in it?!.
- To those who have to
Winterize:
To the little seeds,
grains of bread,
The roots of the blades of grass
Cereals and flowers!..
Winter song
3. Alexandrova
White lawn,
Warm sweatshirt.
I'll go skiing -
Catch me!
Bullfinches on birch trees
Brighter than the morning dawn
blue tits,
Snow for the mittens!
White carpet,
Wait a little.
Someone is walking behind a bush
Hare or cat?
If the cat walks - let it!
If it's a hare, I'm not afraid!
If a wolf and a bear -
We won't go any further!
Winter night in the village
I. Nikitin
Cheerfully shines
A month over the village;
White snow sparkles
Blue light.
Moon's rays
God's temple is doused;
Cross under the clouds
Like a candle, it burns.
Empty, lonely
Sleepy village;
Blizzards deep
The huts were swept away.
Silence is silent
In the empty streets,
And you can't hear the barking
Watchdogs.
Childhood (excerpt)
I. Surikov
This is my village;
This is my home;
Here I am sledding
The mountain is steep;
Here the sled has rolled up,
And I'm on my side - bang!
I'm rolling head over heels
Downhill, into a snowdrift.
And boy friends
Standing above me
They laugh merrily
Over my misfortune.
All face and hands
Snow covered me...
I'm in grief in a snowdrift,
And the guys laugh!..
Winter road*
A. Pushkin
Through the wavy mists
The moon creeps in
To the sad meadows
She sheds a sad light.
On the winter, boring road
Three greyhounds are running,
Single bell
It rattles tiresomely.
Something sounds familiar
In the coachman's long songs:
That reckless revelry
That's heartbreak...
Winter*
Ya Kupala
So recently at our window
The sun was shining every day.
And now the time has come -
There was a blizzard in the field.
She ran away with a ringing song,
She covered everything like a diaper,
Fluffed with snow fluff -
It became empty and deaf everywhere.
The river does not ring with waves
Under icy clothes;
The forest is silent, looks sad,
No fussing birds are heard.
Neater than fashionable parquet...*
A. Pushkin
Neater than fashionable parquet,
The river shines, covered in ice;
Boys are a joyful people
Skates cut the ice noisily;
The goose is heavy on red legs,
Having decided to sail across the bosom of the waters,
Steps carefully onto the ice.
Slips and falls; funny
The first snow flashes and curls,
Stars falling on the shore.
Snowflakes
A. Usachev
The hedgehog looks at the snowflakes.
“These,” he thinks, “are hedgehogs...
White, spiny
And besides, they are volatile.”
Spider on a web
He also looks at the snowflakes:
“Look how brave
These flies are white!
The hare looks at the snowflakes:
“These are hare fluffs...
Apparently the hare is covered in fluff -
He's scratching his fur coat upstairs."
A boy looks at snowflakes:
“Perhaps these are funny things?..”
He won't understand why
He's having a lot of fun.
Snowflakes
S. Kozlov
There's a blizzard outside the window,
There is darkness outside the window,
Looking at each other
They sleep in the snow at home.
And the snowflakes are spinning -
They don't care at all! -
In light dresses with lace,
With a bare shoulder.
Teddy bear
Sleeping in his corner
And listens with half an ear
Blizzard outside the window.
Old, gray-haired,
With an ice stick
Blizzard hobbles
Baba Yaga.
And the snowflakes are spinning -
They don't care at all! -
In light dresses with lace,
With a bare shoulder.
Thin legs -
Soft boots,
White shoe -
Sounding heel.
Bullfinches
A. Prokofiev
Run out quickly
Look at bullfinches.
They arrived, they arrived,
The flock was greeted by snowstorms!
And Frost is the Red Nose
I brought them rowan trees.
Well sweetened
Late winter evening
Bright scarlet clusters.
Snowball*
N. Nekrasov
The snowball is fluttering, spinning,
It's white outside.
And puddles turned
In cold glass.
Where the finches sang in summer,
Today - look! –
Like pink apples
There are bullfinches on the branches.
The snow is cut up by skis,
Like chalk, creaky and dry.
And the red cat catches
Cheerful white flies.
Cautious snow
V. Stepanov
Midnight snow
He's in no hurry.
He walks slowly
But the snow knows
What's all the same
He will fall somewhere.
And the slower he is
Chagall,
The more careful you were
The softer in the dark
Fell
And us-
Didn't wake me up.
Snow woman
A. Brodsky
We are the snow woman
They sculpted it to perfection.
For glory, for glory,
Just for fun.
On us it's black
Looks with his eyes
It's like he's laughing
Two coals.
It's worth it though
Our woman with a broom,
But don't let it seem
She's mean to you.
Bucket instead of a hat
We gave her...
With a snow woman
The game is more fun.
Snowman
T. Petukhova
Our favorite snowman
His head completely drooped:
The hare carried it into the forest at night
He has a carrot nose!
Don't be sad, snowman,
We will help you in trouble instantly,
We'll give you a new nose,
The nose is good, the nose is spruce!
Winter
V. Stepanov
The road is white, white.
Winter has come. Winter has come.
I wear a white hat
I breathe white air
My eyelashes are white
Coat and mittens, -
Can't tell me apart in the cold
Among the white birches.
I'll freeze. And the squirrel in silence
Suddenly he jumps into my arms.
Winter on the edge
I. Gurina
At the little Christmas tree
Green needles.
Fragrant, fluffy,
Silver from the snow!
For a cowardly bunny
A cone fell from the tree!
He runs along the path,
The tail and back flash.
A fox wanders nearby
And he is proud of his tail.
On a high snowy slope
Elk horned, as if wearing a crown!
On green branches,
Frosted bleached
Like scarlet beads
Small bullfinches.
The edge is flooded with sunshine,
Squirrel, red girlfriend,
I came to visit the Christmas tree,
Yes, I brought nuts.
All year round. January
S. Marshak
Open the calendar -
January begins.
In January, in January
There is a lot of snow in the yard.
Snow - on the roof, on the porch.
The sun is in the blue sky.
The stoves are heated in our house,
Smoke rises into the sky in a column.
I know what I need to come up with
A. Barto
I know what I need to come up with
So that there is no more winter,
So that instead of high snowdrifts
The hills were green all around.
I look into the glass
Green color,
And immediately it’s winter
Turns into summer.
Winter
E. Rusakov
The ponds are closed until March,
But how warm the houses are!
The gardens are covered in snowdrifts
Winter is caring.
Snow is falling from the birches
In drowsy silence.
Pictures of summer frost
Draws on the window.
We offer you beautiful winter poems by Ivan Surikov. Each of us knows well from childhood poems by Ivan Surikov about winter, and someone reads them to their children and grandchildren. These works are included in the school curriculum for different grades.
Short by Ivan Surikov They help not only to develop speech and memory, but also to get acquainted with the beautiful season of winter.
Poem by Zim Surikov
White snow, fluffy
Spinning in the air
And the ground is quiet
Falls, lies down.
And in the morning snow
The field turned white
Like a veil
Everything dressed him.
Dark forest with a hat
Covered up weird
And fell asleep under her
Strong, unstoppable...
God's days are short
The sun shines little
Here come the frosts -
And winter has come.
Laborer-peasant
He pulled out the sleigh,
Snowy mountains
The kids are building.
I've been a peasant for a long time
I was waiting for winter and cold,
And a hut with straw
He covered outside.
So that the wind blows into the hut
Didn't get through the cracks
They wouldn't blow snow
Blizzards and blizzards.
He is now at peace -
Everything is covered all around,
And he's not afraid
Angry frost, angry.
Poem Childhood by I. Surikov
This is my village;
This is my home;
Here I am sledding
The mountain is steep;
Here the sled has rolled up,
And I'm on my side - bang!
I'm rolling head over heels
Downhill, into a snowdrift.
And boy friends
Standing above me
They laugh merrily
Over my misfortune.
Whole face and hands
Snow covered me...
I'm in grief in a snowdrift,
And the guys laugh!
But meanwhile the village
The sun has been around for a long time;
A blizzard has risen,
The sky is dark.
You'll be chilled all over,
You can't bend your arms
And go home quietly,
You wander reluctantly.
An old fur coat
Throw it off your shoulders;
Climb onto the stove
Gray-haired to grandma.
And you sit, not a word...
Everything is quiet all around;
Just hear it howling
Blizzard outside the window.
In the corner, bent over,
Grandfather weaves bast shoes;
Mother at the spinning wheel
Silently the flax spins.
Illuminated the hut
Light of light;
The winter evening lasts
Lasts endlessly...
And I'll start at grandma's
I ask for tales;
And grandma will start for me
Tales to tell:
Like Ivan Tsarevich
He caught the firebird;
How can he get a bride?
The gray wolf got it.
I'm listening to a fairy tale,
The heart just dies;
And the chimney is angry
The evil wind sings.
I'll snuggle up to the old lady.
Quiet speech murmurs,
And my eyes are strong
A sweet dream will come close.
And in my dreams I dream
Wonderful lands.
And Ivan Tsarevich -
It's like me.
Here in front of me
The wonderful garden is blooming;
There's a big one in that garden
The tree is growing.
Golden cage
Hanging on a branch;
There's a bird in this cage
It's like the heat is burning.
Jumping in that cage
Sings merrily;
Bright, wonderful light
The whole garden is drenched.
So I snuck up on her
And grab the cage!
And I wanted out of the garden
Run with the bird.
But that was not the case!
There was a noise, a ringing;
The guards came running
Into the garden from all sides.
My hands were twisted
And they lead me...
And, trembling with fear,
I wake up.
Already in the hut, in the window,
The sun is looking out;
In front of the grandmother icon
He is praying and standing.
You flowed merrily
Children's years!
You weren't overshadowed
Grief and trouble.