Glorious autumn, frosty nights, clear and quiet. Nikolay Nekrasov - Railway: Verse

24.04.2019

Vanya (in coachman's Armenian jacket).
Dad! who built this road?
Dad (in a coat with a red lining).
Count Pyotr Andreevich Kleinmichel, my dear!

Conversation in the carriage

I

Glorious Autumn! Healthy, vigorous
Air tired strength invigorates;
Fragile ice on the icy river
It lies like melting sugar;

Near the forest, like in a soft bed,
You can get a good night's sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not yet had time to fade,
Yellow and fresh, they lie like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! Frosty nights
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi,
And moss swamps and stumps -

Everything is fine under the moonlight,
Everywhere I recognize my native Rus'...
I fly quickly on cast iron rails,
I think my thoughts...

II

“Good dad! Why the charm?
Should I keep Vanya the smart one?
Will you allow me at moonlight
Show him the truth.

This work, Vanya, was terribly enormous, -
Not enough for one!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is its name.

He leads armies; at sea by ships
Rules; rounds up people in an artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind
Stonemasons, weavers.

It was he who drove the masses of people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle,
Having brought these barren wilds back to life,
They found a coffin for themselves here.

The path is straight: the embankments are narrow,
Columns, rails, bridges.
And on the sides there are all Russian bones...
How many of them! Vanechka, do you know?

Chu! menacing exclamations were heard!
Stomping and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran across the frosty glass...
What's there? Crowd of the dead!

Then they overtake the cast-iron road,
They run in different directions.
Do you hear singing?.. “On this moonlit night
We love to see your work!

We struggled under the heat, under the cold,
With an ever-bent back,
They lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
They were cold and wet and suffered from scurvy.

The literate foremen robbed us,
The authorities flogged me, the need was pressing...
We, God's warriors, have endured everything,
Peaceful children of labor!

Brothers! You are reaping our benefits!
We are destined to rot in the earth...
Do you still remember us poor people kindly?
Or have you forgotten a long time ago?..”

Do not be horrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from Mother Volga, from Oka,
From different ends of the great state -
These are all your brothers - men!

It’s a shame to be timid, to cover yourself with a glove.
You're not little!.. With Russian hair,
You see, he’s standing there, exhausted by fever,
Tall, sick Belarusian:

Bloodless lips, drooping eyelids,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Always standing in knee-deep water
The legs are swollen; tangles in hair;

I'm digging into my chest, which I diligently put on the spade
Day after day I worked hard all my life...
Take a closer look at him, Vanya:
Man earned his bread with difficulty!

I didn’t straighten my hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically with a rusty shovel
It's hammering the frozen ground!

This noble habit of work
It would be a good idea for us to adopt...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect a man.

Don’t be shy for your dear fatherland...
The Russian people have endured enough
He also took out this railway -
He will endure whatever God sends!

Will bear everything - and a wide, clear
He will pave the way for himself with his chest.
It’s just a pity to live in this wonderful time
You won’t have to, neither me nor you.”

III

At this moment the whistle is deafening
He squealed - the crowd of dead people disappeared!
“I saw, dad, I had an amazing dream,”
Vanya said, “five thousand men,”

Representatives of Russian tribes and breeds
Suddenly they appeared - and He told me:
“Here they are, the builders of our road!”
The general laughed!

I was recently in the groans of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw St. Stephen in Vienna,
Well... did the people create all this?

Excuse me for this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a little wild.
Or for you Apollo Belvedere
Worse than a stove pot?

Here are your people - these thermal baths and baths,
A miracle of art - he took everything away! -
“I’m not speaking for you, but for Vanya...”
But the general did not allow him to object:

Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! wild bunch of drunkards!..
However, it’s time to take care of Vanyusha;

You know, the spectacle of death, sadness
It is a sin to disturb a child's heart.
Would you show the child now?
The bright side... -

IV

“I'm glad to show you!
Listen, my dear: fatal works
It’s over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working people

A tight crowd gathered around the office...
They scratched their heads:
Every contractor must stay,
Walking days have become a penny!

The foremen entered everything into the book -
Did you take to the bathhouse, did you lie sick:
“Maybe there is a surplus here now,
Here you go!..” They waved their hand...

In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Thick, squat, red as copper,
A contractor is traveling along the line on holiday,
He goes to see his work.

The idle people part decorously...
The merchant wipes the sweat from his face
And he says, putting his hands on his hips:
“Okay... nothing... well done!.. well done!..

With God, now go home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to the workers
AND - I give away the arrears!..

Someone shouted “hurray”. Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer... Lo and behold:
The foremen rolled the barrel singing...
Even the lazy man could not resist!

The people unharnessed the horses - and the purchase price
Shouting “Hurray!” he rushed along the road...
It seems difficult to see a more gratifying picture
Shall I draw, general?..”

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
Fragile ice on a chilly river
It lies like melting sugar;

Near the forest, like in a soft bed,
You can get a good night's sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not yet faded,
Yellow and fresh, they lie like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! Frosty nights
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi,
And moss swamps and stumps -
Everything is fine under the moonlight,
Everywhere I recognize my native Rus'...
I fly quickly on cast iron rails,
I think my thoughts...

Analysis of the poem “Glorious Autumn” by Nekrasov

N. Nekrasov was convinced that the real calling of the poet is to protect the interests common people, a description of his troubles and sufferings, criticism of the unfair situation of the Russian peasantry. Therefore, in his work there are rarely pure lyrical works. But individual landscape sketches confirm Nekrasov’s enormous poetic skill. A small fragment from which the work begins “ Railway"(1864), can be separated into a separate whole poem "Glorious Autumn".

The poet describes the landscape that opens before his eyes from the window of the carriage. A fast-moving picture autumn forest makes him delighted. The lyrical hero regrets that he is watching her from the side and cannot breathe “vigorous air” and “sleep” on a carpet of fallen leaves.

Nekrasov was very fond of using figurative comparisons. In this poem, he compares the ice on the river with “melting sugar”, the leaves with “ soft bed" He considers “peace and space” to be one of the main advantages of the surrounding nature. The endlessly changing forests, plains, and rivers are rarely disturbed by human sounds. This benign surrounding picture evokes in the soul lyrical hero peace and quiet bliss.

The invasion of railway transport can be considered a blasphemy against virgin nature, in which “there is no ugliness.” Nekrasov gradually leads the reader to the idea that the construction of the railway upset the fragile natural balance. In beautiful and clean world human suffering and grief rudely invaded.

Remaining an ardent patriot of his land, the poet concludes: “I recognize my native Rus' everywhere.” For Nekrasov, it was very important to emphasize his national identity. He could not abstractly admire nature as a whole, making sure to point out its connection with the long-suffering Russian people. It is the surrounding beauty and harmony that leads the author to deep thoughts about the fate of those people who inhabit this land. He is especially outraged by the sharp contradiction between perfect nature and the plight of the Russian peasantry.

“Glorious Autumn” is a magnificent example of Nekrasov’s landscape lyrics. Even without paying much attention to this genre, the poet, in a fit of inspiration, could create surprisingly heartfelt and deeply lyrical poems.

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
Fragile ice on a chilly river
It lies like melting sugar;

Near the forest, like in a soft bed,
You can get a good night's sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not yet faded,
Yellow and fresh, they lie like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! Frosty nights
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi,
And moss swamps and stumps -

Everything is fine under the moonlight,
Everywhere I recognize my native Rus'...
I fly quickly on cast iron rails,
I think my thoughts...

Good dad! Why the charm?
Should I keep Vanya the smart one?
You will allow me in the moonlight
Show him the truth.

This work, Vanya, was terribly enormous
Not enough for one!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is its name.

He leads armies; at sea by ships
Rules; rounds up people in an artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind
Stonemasons, weavers.

It was he who drove the masses of people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle,
Having brought these barren wilds back to life,
They found a coffin for themselves here.

The path is straight: the embankments are narrow,
Columns, rails, bridges.
And on the sides there are all Russian bones...
How many of them! Vanechka, do you know?

Chu! menacing exclamations were heard!
Stomping and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran across the frosty glass...
What's there? Crowd of the dead!

Then they overtake the cast-iron road,
They run in different directions.
Do you hear singing?.. “On this moonlit night
We love to see your work!

We struggled under the heat, under the cold,
With an ever-bent back,
They lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
They were cold and wet and suffered from scurvy.

The literate foremen robbed us,
The authorities flogged me, the need was pressing...
We, God's warriors, have endured everything,
Peaceful children of labor!

Brothers! You are reaping our benefits!
We are destined to rot in the earth...
Do you still remember us poor people kindly?
Or have you forgotten a long time ago?..”

Do not be horrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from Mother Volga, from Oka,
From different ends of the great state -
These are all your brothers - men!

It's a shame to be timid, to cover yourself with a glove,
You're not little!.. With Russian hair,
You see, he’s standing there, exhausted by fever,
Tall sick Belarusian:

Bloodless lips, drooping eyelids,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Always standing in knee-deep water
The legs are swollen; tangles in hair;

I'm digging into my chest, which I diligently put on the spade
Day after day I worked hard all my life...
Take a closer look at him, Vanya:
Man earned his bread with difficulty!

I didn’t straighten my hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically with a rusty shovel
It's hammering the frozen ground!

This noble habit of work
It would be a good idea for us to adopt...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect a man.

Don’t be shy for your dear fatherland...
The Russian people have endured enough
He also took out this railway -
He will endure whatever God sends!

Will bear everything - and a wide, clear
He will pave the way for himself with his chest.
It’s just a pity to live in this wonderful time
You won’t have to, neither me nor you.

At this moment the whistle is deafening
He squealed - the crowd of dead people disappeared!
“I saw, dad, I had an amazing dream,”
Vanya said, “five thousand men,”

Representatives of Russian tribes and breeds
Suddenly they appeared - and he said to me:
“Here they are - the builders of our road!..”
The general laughed!

“I was recently within the walls of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw St. Stephen in Vienna,
Well... did the people create all this?

Excuse me for this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a little wild.
Or for you Apollo Belvedere
Worse than a stove pot?

Here are your people - these thermal baths and baths,
It’s a miracle of art - he took everything away!” -
“I’m not speaking for you, but for Vanya...”
But the general did not allow him to object:

"Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! wild bunch of drunkards!..
However, it’s time to take care of Vanyusha;

You know, the spectacle of death, sadness
It is a sin to disturb a child's heart.
Would you show the child now?
The bright side..."

Glad to show you!
Listen, my dear: fatal works
It’s over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working people

A tight crowd gathered around the office...
They scratched their heads:
Every contractor must stay,
Walking days have become a penny!

The foremen entered everything into the book -
Did you take to the bathhouse, did you lie sick:
“Maybe there is a surplus here now,
Here you go!..” They waved their hand...

In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Thick, squat, red as copper,
A contractor is traveling along the line on holiday,
He goes to see his work.

The idle people part decorously...
The merchant wipes the sweat from his face
And he says, putting his hands on his hips:
“Okay... nothing... well done!.. well done!..

With God, now go home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to the workers
And - I give you the arrears!..”

Someone shouted “hurray”. Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer... Lo and behold:
The foremen rolled the barrel singing...
Even the lazy man could not resist!

The people unharnessed the horses - and the purchase price
With a shout of “Hurray!” rushed along the road...
It seems difficult to see a more gratifying picture
Shall I draw, general?..

“Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous..." (excerpt from the poem "Railroad")

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous

The air invigorates tired forces;

Fragile ice on a chilly river

It lies like melting sugar;

Near the forest, like in a soft bed,

You can get a good night's sleep - peace and space!

The leaves have not yet faded,

Yellow and fresh, they lie like a carpet...

Glorious autumn! Frosty nights

Clear, quiet days...

From the book Russian Soviet science fiction novel author

The Road of a Hundred Parsecs New names and directions. "Far" topics - new stage science. Man and machine. Cybernetic story by A. Dneprov. Philosophical and fantastic story by G. Gore. Union of “myths” and “numbers”. “Anti” fictional short story by I. Varshavsky. Fantastic

From the book A book for people like me by Fry Max

The road to nowhere Alexander Greene, a man who spent most of his short life balancing between two worlds - the “fulfilled” and the “unfulfilled” - by an unkind irony of fate, entered the history of Russian literature as the author " Scarlet Sails", his only novel, which

From the book Russian poets second half of the 19th century century author Orlitsky Yuri Borisovich

The road The distant moon shines dimly through the fog, And the snowy meadow lies sadly. White from the frost, birch trees with bare branches stretch in rows along the path. The troika rushes dashingly, The bell rings, My coachman hums quietly, sleepily. I'm in a wagon, I'm driving and I'm bored: I'm bored

From the book Domestic science fiction literature (1917-1991). Book one. Science fiction is a special kind of art author Britikov Anatoly Fedorovich

Road Deaf steppe - the road is far away, Around me the wind worries the field, In the distance there is fog - I feel sad involuntarily, And a secret melancholy takes over me. No matter how the horses run, it seems to me that they run lazily. In the eyes it’s the same thing - Everything is steppe and steppe, behind the field there’s a field again - “Why, coachman, don’t you sing?

From the book Science fiction is a special kind of art author Britikov Anatoly Fedorovich

The Road of a Hundred Parsecs New names and directions. “Far” topics are a new stage of science. Man and machine. Cybernetic story by A. Dneprov. Philosophical and fantastic story by G. Gore. Union of “myths” and “numbers”. “Anti” fictional short story by I. Varshavsky. Fantastic

From the book Thought Armed with Rhymes [Poetic anthology on the history of Russian verse] author Kholshevnikov Vladislav Evgenievich

The Road of a Hundred Parsecs New names and directions. "Far" topics are a new stage of science. Man and machine. Cybernetic story by A. Dneprov. Philosophical and fantastic story by G. Gore. Union of "myths" and "numbers". "Anti" science fiction short story by I. Varshavsky. Fantastic

From the book Leskov's Necklace author Anninsky Lev Alexandrovich

From the book Fairytale Roots science fiction author Neyolov Evgeniy Mikhailovich

From the book Messenger, or the Life of Daniil Andeev: a biographical story in twelve parts author Romanov Boris Nikolaevich

Path-road It is known that the image of a road is one of the universal, “eternal” images of folklore and literature. “The importance of the chronotope of the road in literature is enormous,” emphasizes M. M. Bakhtin, “a rare work is done without any variations of the road motif.”

From the book Merciful Road author Sorgenfrey Wilhelm Alexandrovich

From the book In Disputes about Russia: A. N. Ostrovsky author Moskvina Tatyana Vladimirovna

II. MERCY ROAD to Alexander Blok...I have this in mind for you that you left your first love. Rev. St. John Remembers the advancing month Everything that happened and passed, But in the soul, obediently melting, Empty, ringing and light. Above the ground - a snowy blizzard, In the heart - slow

From the book Russian Literature and Medicine: Body, Prescriptions, Social Practice [Collection of Articles] author Borisova Irina

Healthy - sick Ostrovsky wrote forty-seven original plays and had a record number of children for a great Russian writer (ten; four, from Agafya Ivanovna, died early). Exceptional and again universal fertility. “You are our hero,” he will write

From the book Universal Reader. 3rd grade author Team of authors

Silvia Sasse “Imaginary and Healthy”: Nikolai Evreinov’s theater therapy in the context of theatrical aesthetics

From the book Essays on the History of English Poetry. Poets of the Renaissance. [Volume 1] author Kruzhkov Grigory Mikhailovich

A little man with a fingernail (excerpt from the poem “Peasant Children”) Once, in the cold winter season, I came out of the forest; it was bitterly cold. I see a horse slowly ascending the mountain, carrying a cart of brushwood. And, walking importantly, in decorous calm, a peasant leads the horse by the bridle.

From the author's book

“It shines merrily...” (excerpt from the poem “ winter night in the village") The moon shines merrily over the village; White snow sparkles with a blue light. The temple of God is bathed in the rays of the moon; The cross under the clouds burns like a candle. Empty, lonely Sleepy village; The huts were swept deep by the blizzards. Silence

From the author's book

The third road The path of Tom the sleepwalker is a flight from the world of reality. Love and madness are just separating parts of that multi-stage rocket, with the help of which he breaks the bonds of gravity, breaks away from misfortunes and worries. Tom in the ballad is the leader of the army of violent

"Railway"

Vanya (in a coachman's jacket).
Dad! who built this road?
Papa (in a coat with a red lining),
Count Pyotr Andreevich Kleinmichel, my dear!
Conversation in the carriage

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
Fragile ice on the icy river
It lies like melting sugar;

Near the forest, like in a soft bed,
You can get a good night's sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not yet had time to fade,
Yellow and fresh, they lie like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! Frosty nights
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi,
And moss swamps and stumps -

Everything is fine under the moonlight,
Everywhere I recognize my native Rus'...
I fly quickly on cast iron rails,
I think my thoughts...

Good dad! Why the charm?
Should I keep Vanya the smart one?
You will allow me in the moonlight
Show him the truth.

This work, Vanya, was terribly enormous
Not enough for one!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is its name.

He leads armies; at sea by ships
Rules; rounds up people in an artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind
Stonemasons, weavers.

It was he who drove the masses of people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle,
Having brought these barren wilds back to life,
They found a coffin for themselves here.

The path is straight: the embankments are narrow,
Columns, rails, bridges.
And on the sides there are all Russian bones...
How many of them! Vanechka, do you know?

Chu! menacing exclamations were heard!
Stomping and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran across the frosty glass...
What's there? Crowd of the dead!

Then they overtake the cast-iron road,
They run in different directions.
Do you hear singing?.. "On this moonlit night
We love to see your work!

We struggled under the heat, under the cold,
With an ever-bent back,
They lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
They were cold and wet and suffered from scurvy.

The literate foremen robbed us,
The authorities flogged me, the need was pressing...
We, God's warriors, have endured everything,
Peaceful children of labor!

Brothers! You are reaping our benefits!
We are destined to rot in the earth...
Do you still remember us poor people kindly?
Or have you forgotten a long time ago?..”

Do not be horrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from Mother Volga, from Oka,
From different ends of the great state -
These are all your brothers - men!

It's a shame to be timid, to cover yourself with a glove,
You're not little!.. With Russian hair,
You see, he’s standing there, exhausted by fever,
Tall sick Belarusian:

Bloodless lips, drooping eyelids,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Always standing in knee-deep water
The legs are swollen; tangles in hair;

I'm digging into my chest, which I diligently put on the spade
Day after day I worked hard all my life...
Take a closer look at him, Vanya:
Man earned his bread with difficulty!

I didn’t straighten my hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically with a rusty shovel
It's hammering the frozen ground!

This noble habit of work
It would be a good idea for us to adopt...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect a man.

Don’t be shy for your dear fatherland...
The Russian people have endured enough
He also took out this railway -
He will endure whatever God sends!

Will bear everything - and a wide, clear
He will pave the way for himself with his chest.
It’s just a pity to live in this wonderful time
You won't have to - neither me nor you.

At this moment the whistle is deafening
He squealed - the crowd of dead people disappeared!
“I saw, dad, I had an amazing dream,”
Vanya said, “five thousand men,”

Representatives of Russian tribes and breeds
Suddenly they appeared - and he said to me:
“Here they are - the builders of our road!..”
The general laughed!

"I was recently within the walls of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw St. Stephen in Vienna,
Well... did the people create all this?

Excuse me for this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a little wild.
Or for you Apollo Belvedere
Worse than a stove pot?

Here are your people - these thermal baths and baths,
It’s a miracle of art - he took everything away!”
“I’m not speaking for you, but for Vanya...”
But the general did not allow him to object:

"Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! wild bunch of drunkards!..
However, it’s time to take care of Vanyusha;

You know, the spectacle of death, sadness
It is a sin to disturb a child's heart.
Would you show the child now?
The bright side..."

Glad to show you!
Listen, my dear: fatal works
It’s over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working people

A tight crowd gathered around the office...
They scratched their heads:
Every contractor must stay,
Walking days have become a penny!

The foremen entered everything into the book -
Did you take to the bathhouse, did you lie sick:
"Maybe there is a surplus here now,
Yes, here you go!.." They waved their hand...

In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Thick, squat, red as copper,
A contractor is traveling along the line on holiday,
He goes to see his work.

The idle people part decorously...
The merchant wipes the sweat from his face
And he says, putting his hands on his hips:
“Okay... nothing... well done!.. well done!..

With God, now go home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to the workers
And - I give the arrears!..”

Someone shouted “hurray”. Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer... Lo and behold:
The foremen rolled the barrel singing...
Even the lazy man could not resist!

The people unharnessed the horses - and the purchase price
With a shout of "Hurray!" rushed along the road...
It seems difficult to see a more gratifying picture
Shall I draw, general?..