Surikov's poems about winter are so familiar to us that it seems we have always known them. Just born with them. " Here is my village. Here is my home. Here I am rolling in a sledge on a steep mountain ...". These poems are associated with our Motherland. And although many of us were born and raised in large cities, it seems that these lines are close to everyone. Surikov's poems about winter are extremely accurate and sincere.
From the poem "Childhood"
Here is my village;
Here is my home;
Here I am on a sled
Uphill steep;
Here the sled rolled up
And I'm on my side - bang!
head over heels
Downhill, into a snowdrift.
And boy friends
Standing over me
merrily laugh
Over my trouble.
All face and hands
Made me snow...
I'm in a snowdrift grief,
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 a chance to study, but he soon became addicted to reading and began to compose poetry.
From the poem "Winter"
White snow, fluffy
Spinning in the air
And the earth is quiet
Falling, laying down.
And in the morning with snow
The field is white
Like a veil
All dressed him up.
Dark forest with a hat
Covered up wonderful
And fell asleep under her
Strong, unshakable...
God's days are short
The sun shines a little -
Here come the frosts -
And winter has come.
At a certain stage, the Surikovs moved to permanent residence in Moscow. The future poet did not shy away from any work: he worked in a shop, was a bookbinder, compositor. 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"
A pale moon looks from the sky,
Like a steel sickle;
Crackling frost in the village
He walks big.
Over fences, over trees
Hangs up an outfit;
Where it goes, diamonds in the snow
They're on fire.
Hat on the side, wide open
Fur coat on the shoulders;
Frost shines like silver
On his curls.
Ivan Zakharovich Surikov (March 25, 1841) - April 24, 1880) - Russian self-taught poet, representative of the "peasant" direction in Russian literature. Author of the textbook poem "Childhood". Another of his poems, "In the steppe", in folk processing became the most popular song "Steppe and steppe all around." P. I. Tchaikovsky wrote the romance “Whether I was in the field or there was grass” on his poems.
Winter
White snow, fluffy
Spinning in the air
And the earth is quiet
Falling, laying down.
And in the morning with snow
The field turned white
Like a veil
All dressed him up.
Dark forest with a hat
Covered up wonderful
And fell asleep under her
Strong, unshakable...
God's days are short
The sun shines a little
Here come the frosts -
And winter has come.
Laborer-peasant
Pulled out the sled
snowy mountains
The kids are building.
For a long time the peasant
Waiting for winter and cold
And a straw hut
He hid outside.
To the wind in the hut
Didn't get through the cracks
Wouldn't blow snow
Blizzards and blizzards.
He is now calm
All around is covered
And he's not afraid
Evil frost, angry.
In Russian literature of the 19th and 20th centuries, there is such a direction as peasant poetry, bright representatives of which are Sergei Yesenin and Nikolai Nekrasov. Ivan Surikov, whose name is undeservedly forgotten today, can be attributed to the number of authors who sang of rural life in their works. The creative heritage of this poet, who was born into the family of a serf, is small, but many of his works are still well known to readers, as they are distinguished by their simplicity of style, special melody and amazing brightness of images.
Among them, it is worth noting the poem "Winter", written in 1880, shortly before the death of Surikov, who died in poverty, but until the very last moment he did not lose the ability to admire the world around him and found it perfect even despite the fact that fate did not show this author special favor. Nevertheless, the poet never complained about life and was convinced that he had a lucky lot - to be a poet.
The poem "Winter" belongs to the category of landscape lyrics, and its first lines are dedicated to snowfall, which covers the earth with a white and fluffy blanket, transforming the world, making it cleaner and brighter. These lines exude calmness and peace, as well as the anticipation of the holiday, which will surely come already, if only because winter comes into its legal rights. The poet describes her arrival very simply and succinctly - "here the frosts came - and winter has come." However, this simple phrase contains the philosophical wisdom of being, the meaning of which boils down to the fact that we all obey the laws of nature. Therefore, any changes in the surrounding world should be accepted with joy and enjoy every moment of life, which is filled with amazing charm for those who know how to appreciate simple human joys.
Describing the life of the peasants, the poet notes that on a sunny and frosty winter day, they still have enough worries. It is necessary to harness the sleigh and go for firewood, without which it is impossible to survive the cold. At the same time, the villager is preparing for the winter very thoroughly and in advance, he has long covered the outside of the hut with straw to protect his home from the cold. But in a snowy winter, children have one expanse, and in almost every village “children build snow mountains”.
Simple rural life is described in this work with restraint and unpretentiousness. The main thing for the peasants is to take care of their home, stock up on firewood and food, hay for livestock and warm clothes. This time of the year is quite calm for the villagers, and they have time to pay attention to their meager household, to prepare for the upcoming sowing season, on which the well-being of the whole family depends. However, winter, even for a rural resident, is not without romance. And Ivan Surikov, who spent most of his life in the countryside, never ceases to be amazed at the beauty of the “dark forest”, which in one night acquired a luxurious and lush hat of snow, white fields and short days, which are replaced by long winter evenings filled with a special charm. It is so simple and artless to write about complex things only for a truly gifted person who knows how to appreciate beauty and selflessly loves his native nature, appreciates peasant life and has a very subtle poetic nature. Therefore, it is not surprising that Ivan Surikov is considered one of the most striking and original poets of the Russian village, who was able to breathe romance into the usual way of rural life and present it in such a way that every reader would like to slide down a high snowy mountain on the outskirts of the village or wander through the sleeping forest , listening to the creak of snowdrifts and inhaling the frosty tart air.
White snow, fluffy
Spinning in the air
And the earth is quiet
Falling, laying down.And in the morning with snow
The field turned white
Like a veil
All dressed him up.Dark forest with a hat
Covered up wonderful
And fell asleep under her
Strong, unshakable...God's days are short
The sun shines a little
Here come the frosts -
And winter has come.Laborer-peasant
Pulled out the sled
snowy mountains
The kids are building.For a long time the peasant
Waiting for winter and cold
And a straw hut
He hid outside.To the wind in the hut
Didn't get through the cracks
Wouldn't blow snow
Blizzards and blizzards.He is now calm
All around is covered
And he's not afraid
Evil frost, angry.
Analysis of Surikov's poem "Winter"
In Russian literature of the 19th and 20th centuries, there is such a direction as peasant poetry, bright representatives of which are Sergei Yesenin and Nikolai Nekrasov. Ivan Surikov, whose name is undeservedly forgotten today, can be attributed to the number of authors who sang of rural life in their works. The creative heritage of this poet, who was born into the family of a serf, is small, but many of his works are still well known to readers, as they are distinguished by their simplicity of style, special melody and amazing brightness of images.
Among them, it is worth noting the poem "Winter", written in 1880, shortly before the death of Surikov, who died in poverty, but until the very last moment he did not lose the ability to admire the world around him and found it perfect even despite the fact that fate did not show this author special favor. Nevertheless, the poet never complained about life and was convinced that he had a lucky lot - to be a poet.
The poem "Winter" belongs to the category of landscape lyrics, and its first lines are dedicated to snowfall, which covers the earth with a white and fluffy blanket, transforming the world, making it cleaner and brighter. These lines exude calmness and peace, as well as the anticipation of the holiday, which will surely come already, if only because winter comes into its legal rights. The poet describes her arrival very simply and succinctly - "here the frosts came - and winter has come." However, this simple phrase contains the philosophical wisdom of being, the meaning of which boils down to the fact that we all obey the laws of nature. Therefore, any changes in the surrounding world should be accepted with joy and enjoy every moment of life, which is filled with amazing charm for those who know how to appreciate simple human joys.
Describing the life of the peasants, the poet notes that on a sunny and frosty winter day, they still have enough worries. It is necessary to harness the sleigh and go for firewood, without which it is impossible to survive the cold. At the same time, the villager is preparing for the winter very thoroughly and in advance, he has long covered the outside of the hut with straw to protect his home from the cold. But for children in the snowy winter it is expanse, and in almost every village "children build snow mountains."
Simple rural life is described in this work with restraint and unpretentiousness.. The main thing for the peasants is to take care of their home, stock up on firewood and food, hay for livestock and warm clothes. This time of the year is quite calm for the villagers, and they have time to pay attention to their meager household, to prepare for the upcoming sowing season, on which the well-being of the whole family depends. However, winter, even for a rural resident, is not without romance. And Ivan Surikov, who spent most of his life in the countryside, never ceases to be amazed at the beauty of the “dark forest”, which in one night acquired a luxurious and lush hat of snow, white fields and short days, which are replaced by long winter evenings filled with a special charm. It is so simple and artless to write about complex things only for a truly gifted person who knows how to appreciate beauty and selflessly loves his native nature, appreciates peasant life and has a very subtle poetic nature. Therefore, it is not surprising that Ivan Surikov is considered one of the most striking and original poets of the Russian village, who was able to breathe romance into the usual way of rural life and present it in such a way that every reader would like to slide down a high snowy mountain on the outskirts of the village or wander through the sleeping forest , listening to the creak of snowdrifts and inhaling the frosty tart air.
Poems about winter for children
In this selection of winter poems for children of the middle group of kindergarten you will find works by the 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 a beautiful 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 of four and five years old, and those marked with an asterisk are recommended for memorization.
Winter*
I. Surikov
White snow fluffy
Spinning in the air
And the earth is quiet
Falling, laying down.
And in the morning with snow
The field is white
Like a veil
All dressed him up.
Dark forest - what a hat
Covered up wonderful
And fell asleep under her
Strong, unshakable...
God's days are short
The sun shines a little
Here come the frosts -
And winter has come.
Enchantress Winter ... *
F. Tyutchev
Enchantress Winter
Bewitched, the forest stands,
And under the snowy fringe,
Motionless, dumb
He shines with a wonderful life.
And he stands, bewitched,
Not dead and not alive -
Magically enchanted by sleep
All entangled, all bound
Light chain down…
Is the winter sun mosque
On him his ray oblique -
Nothing trembles in it
He will flare up and shine
Dazzling beauty.
First snow
Ya Akim
morning cat
Brought on paws
First snow!
First snow!
He has
Taste and smell
First snow!
First snow!
He's spinning
Light,
New,
The guys over their heads
He managed
Down scarf
spread out
On the pavement
He turns white
Along the fence
I crouched on the lantern, -
So, soon
Very soon
The sleigh will fly
From the hills
So it will be possible
Again
build a fortress
In the yard!
By ski*
A. Vvedensky
The whole earth is covered in snow
I'm skiing
You run after me.
Well in the forest in winter:
The sky is bright blue
Spruces, pines in hoarfrost,
Snow sparkles underfoot.
Hey guys, who's behind us?
Winter morning*
A. Pushkin
... Evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry,
In the cloudy sky, a haze hovered;
The moon is like a pale spot
Turned yellow through the gloomy clouds,
And you sat sad -
And now ... look out the window:
Under blue skies
splendid carpets,
Shining in the sun, the snow lies;
The transparent forest alone turns black,
And the spruce turns green through the frost,
And the river under the ice glitters ...
chrysanthemums
I. Bunin
On the window, silver from hoarfrost,
Like chrysanthemums have blossomed.
In the upper glasses - the sky is bright blue
And stuck in the snow dust.
The sun rises, cheerful from the cold,
The window shines golden.
The morning is quiet, joyful and young,
Everything is covered in white snow.
And all morning bright and clean
I will see the colors in the sky
And until noon they will be silver
Chrysanthemums on my window.
A blizzard sweeps...
S. Yesenin
Snowstorm sweeps
White path.
Wants in soft snows
Drown.
The wind fell asleep
On a way:
Don't drive through the forest
Neither pass.
Here is the north, catching up the clouds *
A. Pushkin
Here is the north, catching up the clouds,
He breathed, howled - and here she is
The magical winter is coming.
Came, crumbled; shreds
Hung on the branches of oaks;
She lay down with wavy carpets
Among the fields, around the hills;
A shore with a motionless river
Leveled with a plump veil,
Frost flashed. And we are glad
Leprosy mother winter.
Blanket
A. Corinthian
- For what, dear,
Does it snow in winter?
- Out of it nature
The blanket is weaving!
- A blanket, mom?
Why is it?!
- Without him in the ground would
It became cold!..
- And to whom, dear,
Looking for warmth in it?!
- For those who have to
winter winter:
little seeds,
grains of bread,
To the roots of blades of grass
Grasses and flowers!..
winter song
3. Alexandrova
white lawn,
Warm sweatshirt.
I'll run skiing -
You catch me!
Bullfinches on the birches
Brighter than the dawn
blue tits,
Snow for gloves!
white track,
Wait a bit.
Someone walks behind a bush
Bunny or cat?
If the cat walks - so be it!
If the hare - do not be afraid!
If a wolf with a bear -
Let's not go further!
Winter night in the village
I. Nikitin
fun shines
Moon over the village;
White snow sparkles
Blue light.
moon beams
God's temple is doused;
Cross under the clouds
Like a candle burning.
Empty, lonely
Sleepy village;
Blizzards deep
Huts skidded.
Silence is mute
In the empty streets
And no barking is heard
Guard dogs.
Childhood (excerpt)
I. Surikov
Here is my village;
Here is my home;
Here I am on a sled
Uphill steep;
Here the sled rolled up
And I'm on my side - clap!
head over heels
Downhill, into a snowdrift.
And boy friends
Standing over me
merrily laugh
Over my trouble.
All face and hands
Made me snow...
I'm in a snowdrift grief,
And the guys laugh! ..
Winter road*
A. Pushkin
Through the wavy mists
The moon is creeping
To sad glades
She pours a sad light.
On the winter road, boring
Troika greyhound runs
Bell is monophonic
Tiring noise.
Something is heard native
In the coachman's long songs:
That revelry is remote,
That heartache...
Winter*
Ya Kupala
So recently to us in the window
The sun shone every day.
And now the time has come -
A blizzard took a walk in the field.
Ran away with a ringing song,
She covered everything like a diaper,
Fluffed with snow fluff -
It became empty everywhere, deaf.
The river does not ring with a wave
Under the clothes of ice;
The forest is quiet, looks sad,
Birds are not heard troublesome.
Neater than fashionable parquet ... *
A. Pushkin
Neater than fashionable parquet,
The river shines, dressed in ice;
Boys joyful people
Skates cut the ice loudly;
On red paws a goose is heavy,
Having thought to swim in the bosom of the waters,
He steps carefully on the ice.
Slides and falls; happy
Flickering, winding the first snow,
Stars falling on the shore.
Snowflakes
A. Usachev
The hedgehog looks at the snowflakes.
“This,” he thinks, “hedgehogs ...
White, prickly
And besides, they are volatile.
Spider on a cobweb
He also looks at snowflakes:
"Look how brave
These flies are white!”
The hare looks at the snowflakes:
"It's rabbit fluff...
It can be seen that the hare is all in fluff -
He scratches his fur coat at the top.
The boy looks at the snowflakes:
"Maybe it's a joke?.."
He won't understand why
Very fun for him.
Snowflakes
S. Kozlov
Behind the window - a blizzard,
Behind the window - darkness,
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,
Bare shoulder.
Teddy bear
Sleeping in your corner
And half an ear listens
Blizzard outside the window.
old, gray-haired,
With an ice stick
The blizzard hobbles
Babo Yaga.
And the snowflakes are spinning
They don't care at all! -
In light dresses with lace,
Bare shoulder.
thin legs -
soft boots,
White slipper -
Ringing heel.
Bullfinches
A. Prokofiev
Run out quickly
Look at the snowmen.
Arrived, arrived
The flock was met by blizzards!
A Frost-Red Nose
He brought them rowanberries.
Well sweetened
Late winter evening
Bright scarlet bunches.
Snowball*
N. Nekrasov
Snow flutters, spins,
It's white outside.
And the puddles turned
In cold glass
Where the finches sang in summer
Today - look! -
Like pink apples
On the branches of snowmen.
The snow is cut by skis,
Like chalk, creaky and dry.
And the red cat catches
Funny white flies.
Cautious Snow
V. Stepanov
midnight snow,
He's not in a hurry.
He walks slowly
But knows the snow
What's the same
He will fall somewhere.
And the slower it is
Chagall
The more careful
The softer into the dark
Fell
And U.S-
Didn't wake up.
snow woman
A. Brodsky
We are the snowman
Blinded to glory.
For glory, for glory
For your own amusement.
On us she is black
Looks with eyes
As if laughing
Two coals.
Although worth it
Our woman with a broom
But don't let it show
She is evil to you.
Bucket instead of a hat
We gave her...
With a snowman
The game is more fun.
Snowman
T. Petukhova
Our favorite snowman
Head completely drooped:
The hare carried away into the forest at night
He has a carrot nose!
Don't worry, snowman
We will help in a moment in trouble,
We'll give you a new nose
The nose is good, the nose is spruce!
Winter
V. Stepanov
White path, white.
Winter has come. Winter has come.
I wear a white hat
I breathe white air
My eyelashes are white
Coat and mittens, -
Do not distinguish me in the cold
Among the whitening birches.
Freeze. And a squirrel in silence
Suddenly he jumps into my arms.
Winter on the edge
I. Gurina
At a small, at the Christmas tree
Green needles.
Fragrant, fluffy,
Silver from the snow!
For a cowardly bunny
A cone has fallen from the tree!
He runs along the path
The tail and back flicker.
A fox roams beside
And proud of his tail.
On a high snowy slope
Elk horned, as in the crown!
On green branches
hoarfrost bleached
Like scarlet beads
Bullfinches are small.
The edge is flooded with sun,
Squirrel, red girlfriend,
Came to visit the Christmas tree
Yes, I brought nuts.
All year round. January
S. Marshak
Opening the calendar
January begins.
In January, in January
Lots of snow in the yard.
Snow - on the roof, on the porch.
The sun is in the blue sky.
Stoves are heated in our house,
Smoke rises into the sky.
I know what to think
A. Barto
I know what to think
No more winter
So that instead of high snowdrifts
Green hills all around.
I look into the glass
Green colour,
And immediately winter
Turns into summer.
Winter
E. Rusakov
Until March, the ponds are chained,
But how warm are the houses!
Wraps gardens in snowdrifts
Careful winter.
Snow falls from birches
In drowsy silence.
Summer frost paintings
Draws on the window.
