Lamb - a carpet of beautiful leaves and delicate flowers. Zabolotsky Nikolai - evening on the ocean

A very interesting poem by N. Zabolotsky "Evening on the Oka". It grabs attention by the name itself. It's about the beauty of nature. Who likes to be in nature on summer evenings, because the evening is the most interesting time of the day, when nature takes a break from daytime labors, when the sun, sinking below the horizon, makes the world especially mysterious, when there is a whole palette of colors in the sky ...

The introductory part of the poem talks about how beautiful and diverse the landscape is, only this beauty “is not open to everyone and even
not visible to every artist. Nature will give “genuine joy” and happiness only to those who are able to understand it, feel their spiritual kinship with it, becoming at some point not just an artist, but a creator: a poet, sculptor, musician, painter...

Evening on the Oka

In the charm of the Russian landscape
There is genuine joy, but it
Not open to everyone and even
Not every artist is visible.
Busy with work in the morning
The labor of the forests, the cares of the fields,
Nature looks as if reluctantly
On us uncharmed people.
And only when behind the dark thicket of the forest
The evening ray will mysteriously shine,
Ordinary dense veil
With her beauty instantly fall.
The forests lowered into the water will sigh,
And, as if through transparent glass,
The whole breast of the river will lean against the sky
And it will light up wet and light.
From the white towers of the cloudy world
Fire will descend, and in that gentle fire,
As if under the hands of a jeweler,
Through shadows will lie in the depths.
And the clearer the details become
objects located around
The more immense are the distances
River meadows, backwaters and bends.
The whole world is burning, transparent and spiritual,
Now he's really good.
And you, rejoicing, a lot of curiosities
You can recognize it in its living features.

Read by V. Tokarev

Nikolai Alekseevich Zabolotsky was born (April 24) May 7, 1903 in Kazan in the family of an agronomist. Nicholas spent his childhood years in the village of Sernur in the Vyatka province, not far from the city of Urzhum. After graduating from a real school in Urzhum in 1920, Zabolotsky enters Moscow University at once in two faculties - philological and medical. The literary life of Moscow captures the poet. He is fond of imitating either Blok or Yesenin. From 1921 to 1925 Zabolotsky studied at the Pedagogical Institute. Herzen in Leningrad. During the years of study, he became close to a group of young authors, "Oberiuts" ("Association of Real Art"). All members of this association were characterized by elements of alogism, absurdity, grotesque, these moments were not purely formal devices, but expressed, and in a peculiar way, the conflict nature of the world order. Participation in this group helps the poet find his way. His first book of poems, Columns, was published in 1926. This book was a resounding and even scandalous success. Readers were literally stunned by the poetics of the grotesque and tongue-tied, rhythm and meter disturbances, shocking prosaisms, frank non-literary style. In 1938, he was repressed on false charges and sent to work as a builder in the Far East, in the Altai Territory, Karaganda. In the 1930s and 1940s, Zabolotsky wrote Metamorphoses, Forest Lake, Morning, etc. In 1946, Zabolotsky returned to Moscow. Works on translations of Georgian poets, visits Georgia. In the 1950s, the poems "Ugly Girl", "Old Actress" and others were published, which made his name widely known. In 1957 he visited Italy. Zabolotsky was fond of painting by Filonov, Chagall, Brueghel. The ability to see the world through the eyes of an artist remained with the poet for life. In 1955, Zabolotsky had his first heart attack, and on October 14, 1958, his ailing heart stopped forever.

AUTUMNATTARUSE

Clear morning is not hot
Meadow running light.
Slowly stretches barge
Down on Oka.

Some words willy-nilly
All you repeat contract.
Where- then bells in field
Weak are ringing.

AT field are ringing? On the meadow whether?
They are going whether on the threshing?
Eyes on the moment dropped in
AT whose- then destiny.

Blue distance between pines,
dialect and hum on the threshing floor...
And smiling autumn
Our spring.

A life opened up, but all same
Oh, golden days!
how far away they. God!
God, as far away!

(M. Tsvetaeva)

Blue hills near Moscow...

Blue hills near Moscow
In the air, a little warm - dust and tar.
I sleep all day, I laugh all day - I must
I'm recovering from winter.

I go home as quietly as possible:
Unwritten poems - no pity!
The clatter of wheels and roasted almonds
I love all the quatrains.

My head is empty,
Because the heart is too full!
My days are like little waves
At which I look from the bridge.

Someone's eyes are too tender
In the gentle air barely warmed...
I already get sick in the summer
Barely recovered from the winter.

I feel the silver waters of the Oki,
Forest birch silver tongue.

In the lilac shade, blooming like a chamomile,
Tarusa sleeps like an amber dream.
Ignatovskaya mountain behind the aunt's barn
Red-green I see a break.

Anastasia Tsvetaeva. Foreign land. 1941. Dallag

***

Blue shadows creep in;
The day is gone. It's dark in the west.
In this sadness, in this desolation,
What is the earth, what is the sky, everything is one.

In the glades, on the dusty lane -
Nobody nettle grace.
Only on road tracks
The age of the century can be guessed.

I will go to the fences and houses,
To the fishermen sleeping over the river
To the old willows that are overflowing
Proud, human longing.

I pass the forest, go around the ravines
And running, swirling thick dust,
Down to the river, so that in motionless moisture
Do not see - guess yourself.

There, pitted with unsteady circles,
Grabbing a broken branch
It hangs in space, upside down
Turned like a negative

But in the eyes, in the furrowed skin,
In each drop with a rainbow border
Randomly I distinguish nevertheless
The age of the century, my eternal age.

Late 1950s Arkady STEINBERG

In the charm of the Russian landscape
There is genuine joy, but it
Not open to everyone and even
Not every artist is visible.
:::::::::::::
And only when behind the dark thicket of the forest
The evening ray will mysteriously shine,
Ordinary dense veil
From her beauties instantly fall.
:::::::::::::
The forests lowered into the water will sigh,
And, as if through transparent glass,
The whole breast of the river will lean against the sky
And it will light up wet and light.
::::::::::::..
And the clearer the details become
objects located around
The more immense are the distances
River meadows, backwaters and bends.

Nikolay Zabolotsky

City of Tarusa

Cozy, peaceful town;
Above the dove eye,
Far from the hustle and bustle of the earth
He breathes blissful peace.

He is all huddled in the hills,
The keys are babbling on the lowlands,
And dilapidated gray houses
And in the middle - an old cathedral

And the bell tower, like a candle.
In the gardens the rooks are screaming, screaming,
The monotonous cry of a rook ...
Below a wide semicircle
Oki sparkling surface.

And there, beyond the shoals, beyond the meadow,
Forests countless army
Crowding along the coastal mountains
And gently sinks in a gentle haze ...
What expanse and grace!

Here is Shitikov, always alive,
Always cheerful, inspirational,
With your talented hand
Tarusu writes incomparably
In foggy haze and snow
And in bright sunshine.

His solemn willows,
Eyes of a blue twist,
The depth of the surrounding distances -
Everything touches the soul to the bottom.

There is a cemetery among the birches
On the shore, above the mountain slope,
Grave on the edge - in it Musatov
Reposed, filled with secret dreams.
The world is unsolved, rich
He took with him forever...

Here is a frisky Tarusyanka jet,
Burle, sparkle on the stones,
And the bright river enchants
Enticing coolness to yourself.

Here are the piles of the forgotten mill,
Wheels overgrown with grass
Around the shady willows
Bent the branches over the water.

Driftwood, stones, dark pool ...
And a lot of pink flowers
Blossoms along the steep bank
Among the wild thickets of bushes.

The horn screams lingeringly, sharply
And, stirring up the bosom of the waters,
Smoke, hissing, with a seething splash,
The white steamer set sail.

Another minute - turn
He completely closed it...
And again there is silence.
The hot sands are silent.

The forest distance turns blue meekly.
And the sandpipers gently cry.
A boat floats with fragrant hay,
Disturbing mirror of the river.

A.V. Cheltsov 1924

Spring

Who yearns for the beauty of nature,
Who wants to rest their soul
I advise you in Tarusa
Live three weeks in the spring.

V.A.Kaspari 1925

Here I see the Oka River,
I stand on its shore.
She is beautiful and sweet
She is thoughtful and kind.

Walking along the river bank
You will see a lot of beauty.
You will see a small town
You will see Tarusa in all its glory:

Her landscape, her expanses,
Her high shores.
And you will carry through the years
All the charms of her then.

Priymak Sofia 7"B" school №1262

... Tarusa has its own glory ... Perhaps, nowhere near Moscow there were places so typical and touchingly Russian in their landscape ... Not without reason, since the end of the 19th century, Tarusa became a city of artists ...

K.G. Paustovsky

No matter how much I had to travel around different countries and across our country, I never met, never saw such a wonderful place dear to my heart as Tarusa.

Svyatoslav Richter

"... The places around Tarusa are truly charming, they are immersed in the purest light air... Tarusa should have been declared a nature reserve long ago..."

K.G. Paustovsky

“The forests all around are burning with an autumn fire. In the mornings, the floodplain of the Oka is filled with blue fog, and then nothing is visible from above, only the tops of the hills stand above the foggy river as red and red islands. Sometimes the distances become cloudy and disappear - the smallest rain begins to fall, and each sheet is dressed with a water film. Then the forest becomes even crimson and juicier, even thicker in tones, as in an old varnished painting ... Grass, fir trees and bushes are woven with cobwebs, and chocolate oak leaves rattle like tin under boots. The tugboats on the Oka are shouting, beacons are lit up in the evenings, tractors are buzzing along the slopes of the hills, and such lovely artistic places are all around - Aleksin, Tarusa, Polenovo, rest houses are all around and such a soft, gentle autumn, even though time is already moving towards mid-October ... "

Y.Kazakov

“One of the unknown, but really great places in our nature is located just ten kilometers from the log house where I live every summer,” writes Konstantin Georgievich, “... That great place that I want to talk about is called modestly, as and many magnificent places in Russia: Ilyinsky pool. For me, this name sounds no worse than Bezhin Meadow or Golden Ples near Kineshma... Such places fill us with spiritual lightness and reverence for the beauty of their land, for Russian beauty...

Believe me, I have seen a lot of expanses under any latitudes, but I have never seen such a rich distance as in the Ilyinsky pool, and probably never will.

This place, by its charm and the radiance of simple wildflowers, evokes in the soul a state of the deepest peace and at the same time a strange desire - if you are destined to die, then only here, on this weak sunny breeze, among this tall grass ...

Every time, going on long trips, I always came to the Ilyinsky pool. I simply could not leave without saying goodbye to him, to the familiar willows, to these all-Russian fields ... No! A person cannot live without a homeland, just as one cannot live without a heart.

K.G. Paustovsky

“At the beginning of the 20th century, Tarusa was a charming town (2000 inhabitants) on the banks of the Oka and the Taruska River flowing into it, among beautiful nature almost untouched by civilization ... Tarusa was good! Nature, that is, rivers, forests and meadows, directly approached Tarusa and somehow imperceptibly passed into its green streets with small wooden houses. There were several stone merchant houses only in the center, and the school house and the walls of the former prison on the hill. There were no paved streets, except for the center. Tarusa was all buried in apple orchards. You approach Tarusa by boat or from the Tula coast - even though the city is on the palm of your hand, you can hardly see it because of the garden greenery, only the lighthouses can see the cathedral and the church on Voskresenskaya Gorka. And in the spring, when apple trees bloom, Tarusa flaunts like a bride in a wedding dress.

V. Vatagin

“I will not exchange Central Russia for the most famous and stunning beauties of the globe. I would give all the elegance of the Gulf of Naples with its feast of colors for a willow bush wet from the rain on the sandy shore of the Oka.

K.G. Paustovsky

“I've already lost count of the films I've been in. Many of them have been forgotten, and among the most memorable and most beloved are memories of working on True Friends.

Why? But, believe it or not, the river played a major role in this. The river has brought poetry into our everyday work. The river rallied and made friends with us, the participants in this film.

Early mornings and quiet evenings on the river - what peace they brought with them! And how they taught us to admire the beauty of our native land, how many good thoughts wandered in our heads when our raft slowly floated downstream, and we looked at the wonderful shores that opened before us. Those were good days! And I am convinced that this is possible not only in the film.

Boris Chirkov, actor who starred in the film "True Friends"

Razg. Express. Quite understandable; obviously. Our situation is clearer than ever, in the clutches of the rebels, in the casemates(D. Furmanov. Mutiny).

• - the point of the visual axis at a distance from which the objects in question are clearly projected onto the light-sensitive apparatus of the retina at the maximum accommodation voltage ...

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• - the point of the visual axis, remote to the greatest distance from which the images of the objects under consideration are clearly projected onto the light-sensitive layer of the retina with maximum relaxation of accommodation ...

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• - an indicator of the functional state of c. n. s., which is the ratio of the total duration of periods of separate vision of two points under the conditions of the threshold value of the angle of their distinction to everything ...

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• - not clear / e, compare ...

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• - to sound, etc.; be accomplished, etc.; what to be, to become Unexpectedly, suddenly ...

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• - not clearer adv. qualities. Being the same or less clear...

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• - Razg. Express. Unexpectedly, suddenly. The misfortune crept up to her unexpectedly, struck like one nondescript April day, and precisely at such a moment when nothing of the kind could be expected ...
• - Razg. Express. Unexpectedly, suddenly. The trouble crept up to her unexpectedly, struck like a bolt from the blue on one nondescript April day, and precisely at such a moment when nothing like this could be expected ...

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• - Shuttle-iron. 1. Unfold About unexpected news, misfortune. F 1, 129; BTS, 229. 2. Jarg. school Call to class. VMN 2003, 39. 3. Jarg. school Test. ShP, 2002. 4. Jarg. stud. Exam session. Maksimov, 97...

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• - adverb, number of synonyms: 1 without a rudder and without sails ...

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• - adj., number of synonyms: 3

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• - light blue, sky blue, azure, sky blue, sky blue, sky, azure, sky blue, ...

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"Clearer than clear" in books

Chapter VI. Who sees the essence of art more clearly: the artist or the philosopher?