Antonovskaya apples - Langue et Littérature Russes Au Lycée de Pontonniers. Read for free book Antonovskaya apples - Bunin Ivan I remember the yield year
Antonovskiy apples. I.A.Bunin
"... I remember early smoking autumn. Augustus was with warm rains ... Then the Babi summer cobweb a lot of the field on the fields ... I remember early, fresh, quiet morning ... I remember the big, the whole golden, snapped and driving the garden, remember the maple alleys, a thin fragrance of foliage foliage and - The smell of Antonovsky apples, the smell of honey and autumn freshness. The air is so clean, it is not at all at all ... and the cool silence of the morning violates only the fusion quack of Drozdov on coral rowanins in more often, the voice of the rods of the refisted in the measures and risks of apples. In the ported garden, the road is visible to the Bolshoi Slash, soaked with straw. " Here you live gardeners who have removed the garden for rent. "In the holidays, the same days near the Shalash is a whole fair, and the red seats fill in the trees." All come for apples. Boys are suitable in white soil shirts and short defects, with white open heads. They go through two, three, finely dealt with bare feet, and touched on the shaggy shepherd, tied to an apple tree. There are a lot of buyers, trade is a boyko, and a caring trades in a long furout and red boots - cheerful.
By night in the weather it becomes very cold and Rosisto. Darmest. And here is still the smell: in the garden - a fire, and firmly pulls the scented smoke of cherry burs.
"" The poorest Antonovka is the fun year. " Rustic affairs are good if Antonovka was groaning: it means that the bread was crushed ... I remember the yield year.
At an early dawn, when the roosters are still screaming and in black wakes horses, open, it happened, a window in a cool garden, filled with a bold fog, through which brightly glitters something in the morning sun ... and run to wash on the pond. The small foliage was almost all shielded from the coastal Lozin, and the bumps are swaying on the turquoise sky. Water under slosices became transparent, ice and as if heavy. "
"The serfdom I did not know and did not see, but I remember, the aunt Anna Hera-Simovna felt him. You drive into the courtyard and immediately feel that it is still quite alive. The manor is small ... stands out the value or, it is better to say, only the blackened human sparkler, from which the last bursshes of the yard are peeking - some dilapidated old men and old women, a declining cook in resignation, similar to Don Quixote. All of them, when entering the courtyard, tighten and low-low low ...
Enjoy the house and first of all you hear the smell of apples, and then others are already the others: the old furniture of the red tree, dried lime color, which from June lies on the windows ... In all rooms - in Lacée, in the hall, in the guest - cool and cool and Diguring: It is because the house is surrounded by a garden, and the top windows of the windows are colored: blue and purple. Everywhere silence and cleanliness, although it seems, chairs, tables with inlays and mirrors in narrow and twisted gold frames have never been drowned. And here hears caddling: the aunt comes out. It is small, but also, like all around, durable. On her shoulders, a big Persian shawl is thrown ... "
"From late September, our gardens and gum are emptied, the weather, as usual, changed cool. The wind on the whole days drenched and tremble trees, rains walked them from morning to night. Sometimes in the evening, a fluttering golden light of the low sun was made between gloomy low clouds; The air was cleaned clean and clear, and the sunlight was dazzlingly glittered between the foliage, between the branches that the latch was moving and worried about the wind. Coldly and brightly shone in the north over heavy lead clouds. And some tricky, who humbled. But how beautiful it was, when clear weather was coming again, transparent and cold days of early October, the farewell holiday of autumn! The preserved foliage will hang on the trees before the first Zazimkov. A black garden will be through a cold turquoise sky and submractive to wait for the winter, recreation in the sunshine. "
"When it happened to sleep hunting, the rest was especially pleasant. You wake up and have been lying in bed for a long time ... I don't rush, you will try in the garden, you will find a chance forgotten cold and wet apple in wet foliage, and for some reason it will seem unusually tasty, not at all like others. Then you will not be for books, - Dedov books in thick leather bindings, with gold asteristers on Safian roots. These smells smell nicely, similar to church church of the book with their yellowed, thick rough paper! Some kind of pleasant sour mold, old spirits ... good and notes on their fields, large and with round soft strokes made by a goose feather ... and will be involuntarily passionate and the book itself. This is the "nobleman-philosopher" ... the story about how "the nobleman-philosopher, having time and the ability to reason what a person's mind can crash, received once a desire to compose the plan of light in the extensive place of his village" ... "
"The smell of Antonovsky apples disappears from the landowners. These days were so recently, and meanwhile it seems to me that since then a little bit of a century has passed. Missed the old men in the races, Anna Gerasimovna died, shot at the Arseny Semyonch ... The kingdom of small-position, impoverished to benishness comes. But it is good and this beggar small life! Here I see myself again in the village, in the downtime. Days are bluish, cloudy. In the morning I sit in the saddle and with one dog, with a gun and with a horn I am leaving V. Pole. The wind is calling and buzzing in a blow of a gun, the wind blows tightly, sometimes with dry snow. I wander around your empty plains ... hungry and keen, I return to twilight in the estate, and it gets so warm and gratifying on the soul, when the lights are filled and pulls out of the estate by the smell of smoke, housing ... Sometimes some kind of The fine neighbor and will take me to himself for a long time ... Good and fine-minded life! "
Bibliography
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"... I remember early smoking autumn. Augustus was with warm rains ... Then the Babi summer cobweb a lot of the field on the fields ... I remember early, fresh, quiet morning ... I remember the big, the whole golden, snapped and driving the garden, remember the maple alleys, a thin fragrance of foliage foliage and - The smell of Antonovsky apples, the smell of honey and autumn freshness. The air is so clean, it is not at all at all ... and the cool silence of the morning violates only the fusion quack of Drozdov on coral rowanins in more often, the voice of the rods of the refisted in the measures and risks of apples. In the ported garden, the road is visible to the Bolshoi Slash, soaked with straw. " Here you live gardeners who have removed the garden for rent. "In the holidays, the same days near the Shalash is a whole fair, and the red seats fill in the trees." All come for apples. Boys are suitable in white soil shirts and short defects, with white open heads. They go through two, three, finely dealt with bare feet, and touched on the shaggy shepherd, tied to an apple tree. There are a lot of buyers, trade is a boyko, and a caring trades in a long furout and red boots - cheerful.
By night in the weather it becomes very cold and Rosisto. Darmest. And here is still the smell: in the garden - a fire, and firmly pulls the scented smoke of cherry burs.
"" The poorest Antonovka is the fun year. " Rustic affairs are good if Antonovka was groaning: it means that the bread was crushed ... I remember the yield year.
At an early dawn, when the roosters are still screaming and in black wakes horses, open, it happened, a window in a cool garden, filled with a bold fog, through which brightly glitters something in the morning sun ... and run to wash on the pond. The small foliage was almost all shielded from the coastal Lozin, and the bumps are swaying on the turquoise sky. Water under slosices became transparent, ice and as if heavy. "
"The serfdom I did not know and did not see, but I remember, the aunt Anna Hera-Simovna felt him. You drive into the courtyard and immediately feel that it is still quite alive. The manor is small ... stands out the value or, it is better to say, only the blackened human sparkler, from which the last bursshes of the yard are peeking - some dilapidated old men and old women, a declining cook in resignation, similar to Don Quixote. All of them, when entering the courtyard, tighten and low-low low ...
Enjoy the house and first of all you hear the smell of apples, and then others are already the others: the old furniture of the red tree, dried lime color, which from June lies on the windows ... In all rooms - in Lacée, in the hall, in the guest - cool and cool and Diguring: It is because the house is surrounded by a garden, and the top windows of the windows are colored: blue and purple. Everywhere silence and cleanliness, although it seems, chairs, tables with inlays and mirrors in narrow and twisted gold frames have never been drowned. And here hears caddling: the aunt comes out. It is small, but also, like all around, durable. On her shoulders, a big Persian shawl is thrown ... "
"From late September, our gardens and gum are emptied, the weather, as usual, changed cool. The wind on the whole days drenched and tremble trees, rains walked them from morning to night. Sometimes in the evening, a fluttering golden light of the low sun was made between gloomy low clouds; The air was cleaned clean and clear, and the sunlight was dazzlingly glittered between the foliage, between the branches that the latch was moving and worried about the wind. Coldly and brightly shone in the north over heavy lead clouds with a liquid blue sky, and because of these clouds slowly floated the ridges of snow-clouds ... The long, anxious night occurred ... From such a sticking, the garden went almost completely naked, filled with wet leaves And some tricky, who humbled. But how beautiful it was, when clear weather was coming again, transparent and cold days of early October, the farewell holiday of autumn! The preserved foliage will hang on the trees before the first Zazimkov. A black garden will be through a cold turquoise sky and submractive to wait for the winter, recreation in the sunshine. "
"When it happened to sleep hunting, the rest was especially pleasant. You wake up and have been lying in bed for a long time ... I don't rush, you will try in the garden, you will find a chance forgotten cold and wet apple in wet foliage, and for some reason it will seem unusually tasty, not at all like others. Then you will not be for books, - Dedov books in thick leather bindings, with gold asteristers on Safian roots. These smells smell nicely, similar to church church of the book with their yellowed, thick rough paper! Some kind of pleasant sour mold, old spirits ... good and notes on their fields, large and with round soft strokes made by a goose feather ... and will be involuntarily passionate and the book itself. This is the "nobleman-philosopher" ... the story about how "the nobleman-philosopher, having time and the ability to reason what a person's mind can crash, received once a desire to compose the plan of light in the extensive place of his village" ... "
"The smell of Antonovsky apples disappears from the landowners. These days were so recently, and meanwhile it seems to me that since then a little bit of a century has passed. Missed the old men in the races, Anna Gerasimovna died, shot at the Arseny Semyonch ... The kingdom of small-position, impoverished to benishness comes. But it is good and this beggar small life! Here I see myself again in the village, in the downtime. Days are bluish, cloudy. In the morning I sit in the saddle and with one dog, with a gun and with a horn I am leaving V. Pole. The wind is calling and buzzing in a blow of a gun, the wind blows tightly, sometimes with dry snow. I wander around your empty plains ... hungry and keen, I return to twilight in the estate, and it gets so warm and gratifying on the soul, when the lights are filled and pulls out of the estate by the smell of smoke, housing ... Sometimes some kind of The fine neighbor and will take me to himself for a long time ... Good and fine-minded life! "
... I remember early wake up autumn. Augustus was with warm rains, as if we were deliberately dropped out for Seva, with rains at the very time, in the middle of the month, near the holiday of St. Lawrence. And "Autumn and winter are good living, if the water is quiet and the rain on Lavrentia." Then the Babi summer cobwebs a lot of village on the field. This is also a good sign: "There is a lot of stagnicker on Indian summer - the autumn of the poorest" ... I remember early, fresh, quiet morning ... I remember the big, the whole golden, sniffed and drunkard, I remember the maple alleys, the thin fragrance of foliage foliage and the smell Antonovskiy apples, smell of honey and autumn freshness. The air is so clean, it is not at all at all, voices and creaking carts are distributed throughout the garden. This Tarhan, gardeners, hired men and pour apples to send them to the city in the night, - certainly on the night, when it was so nice to lie on the car, look in the starry sky, feel the smell of tar in the fresh air and listen to how carefully sketches In the dark long travel over the big road. A man, sprinkling apples, eats them with a juicy crackle one after one, but such a place - never the tradesman will fail, but also say: - Vali, Eat Has, - nothing to do! On the merging, all honey drink. And the cool silence of the morning violates only the fed quorting of Drozdov on coral rowan in more often the garden, the voice of the rich knock of the refisted in the measures and row of apples. The road to the Bolshoi Shalash, was filled with straw, and the strongest, near whom the worn farm had become far visible. Everywhere it smells like apples, here - especially. The bed is arranged in the hut, there is a single-barre rifle, a green samovar, in the corner - dishes. ROGOZHES, drawers, all sorts of thinned belongings are lying around the chalash, dug out. At noon, a magnificent Kulesh with Salom is boiled on it, in the evening the samovar is heated, and in the garden, between the trees, the long strip of bluish smoke is spread. On the holidays of the same days near the Shalash - a whole fair, and the red seasons fill in the trees. Fucking the Big-eyed Girls in Sundars, very smelling paint, come "Barsky" in their beautiful and coarse, dicar costumes, young old age, pregnant, with a wide sleepy face and important as the Kholmogorsk cow. On her head "horns", - the braids are put on the sides of the top and covered with several scarves, so the head seems huge; Feet, in half boots with horses, stand stupid and firmly; Sleeveless - plina, the curtain is long, and Ponov is black and lite with brick-colored stripes and a wide golden "sampling" with a brick. - Shopping butterfly! - Says a trades about her, shaking his head. - Now they are translated ... And the boys in white disadvantaged shirts and short defects, with white open heads, are all suitable. They go through two, three, finely dealt with bare feet, and touched on the shaggy shepherd, tied to an apple tree. Buy, of course, one, for and buying something on a penny or on an egg, but there are many buyers, trade is a boyko, and a cahhotesman in a long furout and red boots - cheerful. Together with his brother, Kartawa, the chip semi-sidian who lives from his grace, he trades with jokes, additives and sometimes "toupe" on Tula harmonic. And before the evening the people crowds in the garden, it is heard about the shag of laughter and talk, and sometimes the topot of dance ... By night in the weather it becomes very cold and Rosisto. Having hurt on the gum by the rye aroma of the new straw and pokykina, cheerfully go home to the dinner past the garden shaft. Votes on the village or scrolling gate are distributed over the student dawn unusually clear. Darmest. And here is still the smell: in the garden - a fire, and firmly pulls the scented smoke of cherry burs. In the dark, in the depths of the garden - a fabulous picture: accurately in the corner of hell, burning near the barn flames, surrounded by darkness, and someone's black, precisely carved silhouettes from the black tree move around the fire, including gigantic shadows from them go to apple trees . Throughout the tree will fall a black hand in several Arshin, then two legs are drawn - two black columns. And suddenly all this slides from the apple tree - and the shadow will fall across the Alley, from the slag to the very wicket ... Late at night, when lights go out on the village, when the diamond constellation of Stalard is already high in the sky, once again run into the garden. Runs on dry foliage, like a blind, get to the slag. There on the clearing a little lighter, and the Milky Way Behind his head. - Is it you, Barchuk? - quietly oars someone from the darkness. - I. And you do not sleep yet, Nikolay? - We can not sleep. And, should, too late? Won, it seems, the passenger train goes ... Long listens and distinguish the shiver in the ground, the shiver goes into noise, grows, and so, as if already behind the garden, acceleratedly knock out the noisy tact of the wheels: harsh and knocking, the train rushes ... closer, closer, louder and serge .. . And suddenly begins to serve, stuck, accurately flowing into the ground ... - Where do you have a rifle, Nikolay? - But near the box-s. I'll throw it up heavy as scrap, a single-person and shoot with Mahi. The crimson flame with a deafening crash shine to the sky, blinds on a moment and spreads the stars, and the vigorous echo rolls and rolls along the horizon, far and far to get silent in clean and sensitive air. - Wow, great! - will say the trashman. - spend, spend, Barchuk, and then just trouble! Again, the whole duul on the shaft said ... And the black sky is drawn by fireproof stars. For a long time you look at his dark blue depth, crowded with constellations until the earth will float under your feet. Then they will attach and hiding your hands in the sleeve, quickly run by Alley to the house ... How cold, Rosisto and how well live in the world!II.
"The poorest Antonovka is the fun year." Rustic affairs are good if Antonovka was groaning: it means that the bread was crushed ... I remember the yield year. At the early dawn, when the roosters are still shouting and the huts will smoke, open, it happened, the window in a cool garden, filled with a scorched fog, through which the morning sun brightly shines, and you will not lose one - you will immediately sneak the horse, and you will beat the horse Wash the pond. The small foliage was almost all shielded from the coastal Lozin, and the bumps are swaying on the turquoise sky. Water under slosices has become transparent, ice and as if heavy. She instantly drives out the night laziness, and, washing and breakfast in human with workers with hot potatoes and black bread with a large raw salt, feel like a slippery skin of the saddle, driving along the hunting. Autumn - the time of the prestial holidays, and the people at this time are pribran, satisfied, the view of the village is not at all that at another time. If the year of the yield and a whole golden city is towering on the gums, and on the river is ringing and sharply, they are very good in the morning, so in the village and not bad. In addition, our evios of a sponic century, since the time of the grandfather, were famous for "wealth." Old men and old women lived in evils very long, - the first sign of a rich village, - and were all high, big and white as Lun. Only you hear, it happened: "Yes, - here Agafya eighty-three godhawschochka!" - or conversations in such a way: - And when will you die, Pankrat? I suppose you will be a hundred years? - How do you like to talk, father? - How old are you, I ask! - But I do not know, s, father. - Yes, Plato Apollonian remember? - How-C, Batyushka, - I obviously remember. - You see now. You mean, no less than a hundred. The old man who stands in front of the Barine stretching, smiles gently and guilty. Well, they say, do, - to blame, healed. And he probably would have grown up, if he had not been laughed in Luka Petrov. I remember his old woman. Everything, it happened, sitting on the bench, on the porch, bent, shaking his head, choking and holding the bench with his hands, "everything thinks about something. "I suppose about my good," they told Baba, because "good" in her chests was, however, a lot. And it seems to do not hear; Slipzato looks somewhere in the distance from under sad raised eyebrows, shakes his head and is exactly so much to remember something. Big was the old woman, all some kind of dark. Panneva - a little more than last century, Chunki - Powynitskiy, neck - yellow and dried, shirt with the canifaceous shoals is always white-white, - "quite at least in the coffin clasi." And near the porch, a big stone lay: herself bought himself on the grave, as well as Savan, is an excellent savan, with angels, with crosses and a prayer printed along the edges. Under the elderly, the courtyards in the races were also the bricks, built by the grandfathers. And the rich men - in Savelia, Ignat, drone - the huts were in two or three connections, because there was no fashion in the races yet. In such families, the bees were drove, proud of the stallion-bitch Sivo-Zheleznoto colors and kept the estate in order. Thick and fat cannons were dark on the gums, Ovin and Riga stood, indoorwise; In the beans and barcakes were iron doors, followed by canvas, strawberries, new serpents, typical giving, measures hinge made by copper hoops. In the gate and on the sledding crosses were burned. And I remember, sometimes it seemed to be an extremely tempting to be a guy. When, it happened, you are walking in the village in the village, everyone thinks about how good to mow, thoroughly, sleep on the gum in osetas, and stand up with the sun, under a thick and musical evil from the village, wash near the barrel and put on a clean disadvantage Shubah, the same ports and uncomplicated boots with boots. If, I thought, to add a healthy and beautiful wife in a festive dress, but a ride to dinner, and then lunch at a bearded testing, lunch with a hot lamb on wooden plates and with sittles, with cellular honey and braga, - so more and wish Impossible! The warehouse of the mid noblest life also in my memory, - very recently, had a lot of common with the warehouse rich man's man life at their own home and rural starrebone well-being. Such, for example, was the manor of the aunt Anna Gerasimovna, who lived from the alignment of the versts in twelve. So far, it happened, you will reach this estate, it's already completely impoverished. With dogs on the conversions, it accounted for a step, and I don't want to hurry, it's so fun in the open field in a sunny and cool day! The terrain is flat, it is visible far. The sky is light and so spacious and deep. The sun sparkles on the side, and the road, rolled after the rains by the carts, grilled and glitters like rails. Around the wide shoals fresh, magnificent green frills. From somewhere there is a hawk in the transparent air and zoked in one place, trembling with sharp wings. And in a clear distance, they run out clearly prominent telegraph poles, and wire, like silver strings, slide along the slope of a clear sky. They are sitting on them, - very black badges on tank paper. I did not know the serfdom and did not see, but I remember, the aunt Anna Gerasimovna felt him. You drive into the courtyard and immediately feel that it is still quite alive. The manor is small, but the whole old, durable, surrounded by centenary birch and slosins. Night buildings are low, but the houses are set, and they are all exactly merged from dark oak logs under the straw roofs. It stands out the value or, it is better to say, only the blackened human sparkle, from which the last Mogican of the yard looks out - some dilapidated old men and old women, a declining chef, similar to Don Quixote. All of them, when entering the courtyard, tighten and low-low low. A gray-haired kucher, heading from a carriage barn to take a horse, still at the shed removes the cap and walks along the entire yard with a naked head. He went to the aunt for the Forer, and now he takes it to dinner, - in winter in the age, and in the summer in a strong, hinge trolley, like those on which priests go. The garden of the aunt was famous for its nestness, nightingales, ruling and apples, and the roof house. He stood at the head of the courtyard, at the garden himself, - the branches of Lip hugged him, - it was small and a squat, but it seemed that he would not be in the century, he was so thoroughly looked from under his unusually high and thick straw roof, blackened and hardened on time. His front facade was always alive for me: exactly the old face looks from under a huge hat with depressions of the eyes, the windows with pearl from the rain and the sun with windows. And on the sides of these eyes there were a porch, - two old large porchs with columns. On the front, they were always sitting on the filled pigeons, meanwhile, as thousands of sparrow rain slept from the roof on the roof ... and cozy he felt the guest in this nest under the turquoise autumn sky! Enjoy the house and first of all you hear the smell of apples, and then others are already the other: old furniture of the red tree, dried lime color, which from June lies on the windows ... in all rooms - in Lacées, in the hall, in the living room - cool and gloomy: It is because the house is surrounded by a garden, and the top windows of the windows are colored: blue and lilac. Everywhere silence and cleanliness, although it seems, chairs, tables with inlays and mirrors in narrow and twisted gold frames have never been drowned. And here hears caddling: the aunt comes out. It is small, but also, like all around, durable. On her shoulders they throw a big Persian shawl. It will come out. It will be important, but welcoming, and now there are treatments about the inheritance for infinite conversations about an old woman: first "Duli", apples, - Antonovskaya, "Bel-Baryn", Borovinka, "Fruil", - and then amazing lunch : All pink boiled hay with peas, stuffed chicken, turkey, marinades and red kvass, - strong and sweet-premilky ... windows in the garden are raised, and from there makes a bodra autumnal cool.III
In recent years, one maintained the forthy landowners - hunting. Formerly, such estates, as the manor, Anna Gerasimovna, were not uncommon. There were also collapsing, but still lived on a wide foot of the manor with a huge estate, with a garden of twenty tents. True, some of these ussers have been preserved until now, but there are no lives in them ... there is no triple, there are no riding "Kyrgyzov", there are no hounds and greyhound dogs, there is no courtyard and there is no owner of the hunter's landlord It seems to be my late shrinity of the seed arseny. From the end of September, our gardens and gum are emptied, the weather, as usual, changed cool. The wind on the whole days drenched and tremble trees, rains walked them from morning to night. Sometimes in the evening, a fluttering golden light of the low sun was made between gloomy low clouds; The air was cleaned clean and clear, and the sunlight was dazzlingly glittered between the foliage, between the branches that the latch was moving and worried about the wind. Coldly and brightly shone in the north over heavy lead clouds, a liquid blue sky, and because of these clouds slowly floated the ridges of snow mountains. You're standing at the window and you think: "Avos, God will give, will work out." But the wind did not get up. He worried the garden, ripped continuously running out of the pipe with a human jet of smoke and rejected the sinister cosma of ash clouds. They fled low and quickly - and soon, exactly smoke, talked the sun. The shine went out, the window was closed into the blue sky, and in the garden became deserted and boring, and again began to sow rain ... First, quietly, carefully, then all the thicker and, finally, turned into a shower with a storm and dark. There was a long, anxious night ... From such a sticking, the garden came out almost completely naked, filled with wet leaves and some kind of crumbling, who was acceptable. But how beautiful it was, when clear weather was coming again, transparent and cold days of early October, the farewell holiday of autumn! The preserved foliage will now hang on the trees before the first Zazimkov. The black garden will be through the cold turquoise sky and submractive waiting for the winter, bearing in the sunlight. And the fields are sharply drawn with fatty and brightly greasy frills frills ... It's time to hunt! And here I see myself in the manor of the seeds of the Semyon, in a big house, in the hall, full of the sun and smoke from the tubes and cigarette. There are many people - all people tanned, with weathered faces, in routines and long boots. Just have just satisfied, painted and excited by noisy conversations about the upcoming hunt, but they do not forget to prevent vodka and after lunch. And on the courtyard the trisbit horn and howling a dog to different voices. Black Borza, Pets of Arseny Semyon, takes off on the table and begins to devour from the dishes of the hare under the sauce. But suddenly he emits a terrible scream and, tipping the plates and glasses, breaks down from the table: Arseny Semyonch, who left the office with arapy and the revolver, suddenly stuns the hall with a shot. The hall is even more filled with smoke, and the Arseny Semyonch stands and laughs. - It is a pity that I missed! - He says, playing his eyes. He is high as height, thin, but broadly and is designed, and the man is a handsome man. He's eyes shine wildly, he is very clever, in a silk raspberry shirt, velvet balls and long boots. After scaring and the dog and guests a shot, he is jokingly, it is important to declare Bariton:It's time, it's time to saddle a nimble don
And the ringing horn per shoulders perhaps! -
And loud says:
- Well, however, there is nothing to lose the golden time! I am still still feeling how greedily and exccoo breathe a young chest with a cold and raw day in the evening, when, it happened, you've been going with a noisy Vatagi of the Arseny Seeds, excited by the music gamase of dogs, thrown in Chernolesie, in some red borgorm or a ratty island, Already one of the name exciting hunter. You go to evil, strong and squat "Kyrgyz", tightly holding back by his reins, and you feel almost together with him. He snorts, asks on trot, loudly rustles with hooves on deep and easy carpets of black creased foliage, and each sound is gulco in empty, cheese and fresh forest. The dog caught somewhere in the distance, she was passionately and plaintively answered another, the third - and suddenly the whole forest was rapid, exactly all the glass, from a stormy and scream. Shot firmly ran down among this gama - and everything was "brewed" and rolled somewhere in the distance. - Take care - and! - screamed someone desperate voice to the whole forest. "A, take care!" - Smoking thought flashes in the head. Gickneu on a horse and, as a breakdown from the chain, you will seek through the forest, nothing already disassembled along the way. Only trees flashed in front of her eyes. Yes, it scans in the face of dirt from under the hoofs of a horse. Pop up from the forest, you will see a lot of dogs on the green, stretching on the ground. Dogs of dogs and even stronger "Kirgiz" in front of the beast, - in the green, strains and stuffing, until finally, you will not pass into another island and do not hide from your eyes together with your eyes Mad lame and moan. Then, the whole wet and trembling from the voltage, besieged the foam, hoarse horse and greedily swallow the ice dampness of the forest valley. The cries of hunters and barking dogs will fall away, and around you are dead silence. The semi-walled terrain forest costs motionless, and it seems that you got into some kind of protected draws. Firmly smells from ravines mushroom damp, overheated leaves and wet woods. And the dampness from ravines is becoming more perceptive, in the forest it cold and darkens ... It's time for the night. But it is difficult to collect dogs after hunting. Horn in the forest is long and hopelessly, shovels, scream, scream and dog screams for a long time ... Finally, already in the dark, Vataga hunters in the estate of some almost unfamiliar bachelor's landowner and fills the entire courtyard's courtyard, which is illuminated Lanterns, candles and lamps, made towards guests from home ... It happened that such a hospitable neighbor hunting lived for several days. At the early morning dawn, on the ice wind and the first wet Zazimka, went to the forest and in the field, and again they were returned again, all in the mud, with the painted persons, having mastered the horse, and the wool of the animated beast was, - and the dross began. In the bright and crowded house very warmly after a whole day in the cold in the field. Everyone goes out of the room into the room in the unbutted clothes randomly drink and eat, noisily passing each other their impressions over the murdered Mother Wolf, who, squeezing his teeth, drowning his eyes, lies with a fluffy tail with a fluffy tail among the hall and paints his pale and already cold Blood Paul. After vodka and eat, you feel such a sweet fatigue, such a naga of young sleep that you hear a speech through the water. The weathered face is burning, but you crush my eyes - the whole earth is sailing under your feet. And when you lie down into bed, in a soft period, somewhere in the corner old room with an extension and lamp, sleep before the eyes of the ghosts of fire-motley dogs, the feeling of racing will be charged, and you will not notice how you will pick up with all these images and Feeling in a sweet and healthy dream, forgetting even that this room was once a prayer old man, whose name is surrounded by gloomy fortress legends, and that he died in this chapel, probably on the same bed. When it happened to sleep, the rest was especially pleasant. You wake up and have been lying in bed for a long time. In the whole house - silence. Hears how gentleman goes around the rooms gardener, melting the ovens, and how the firewood cracks and shoot. Ahead is a whole day of rest in a silent already in the winter manor. In no hurry, we will catch the garden, you will find a randomly forgotten cold and wet apple in wet foliage, and for some reason it will seem unusually tasty, not at all like others. Then you will not be for books, - Dedov books in thick leather bindings, with gold asteristers on Safian roots. These smells smell nicely, similar to church church of the book with their yellowed, thick rough paper! Some kind of pleasant sour mold, old spirits ... Good and notes on their fields, large and with round soft strokes made by a goose pen. We will expand the book and read: "The thought, worthy of ancient and new philosophers, the color of the mind and feeling of heart" ... and will be involuntarily passionate and the book itself. This is the "nobleman-philosopher", the allegory, crowded a hundred years ago, dependence of some "Cavallar of many orders" and printed in the printing house of the order of public charity, - a story about how "nobleman-philosopher, having time and ability to reason, What the mind of a person can crawl, received once a desire to compose the plan of light in the extensive place of his village "... Then you hang up on the" satirical and philosophical essays of Mr. Voltaire "and a long time to get a sweet and manner syllable of translation:" My state trucks! Erasmus composed in the sixth to stop the century praise to foolishness (the mannered pause, - the point with the busy); You order me to exhibit before you mind ... "Then you will move from Ekaterininskaya old to romantic times, to the almanacs, to a centiment, pompous and long novels ... The cuckoo pops up from the clock and mockingly sadly goes over to you in an empty house. And gradually in the heart begins to custody sweet and strange longing ... Here are the "Mystery of Alexis", here "Victor, or Child in the Forest": "Beats midnight! Sacred silence stands for day noise and cheerful songs in the fall. Sleep stretches the gloomy wings over the surface of our hemisphere; He grows darkness and dreams from them ... Dreams ... How often he continues tooccamo suffering a malleable vintage words: rocks and oaks, pale moon and loneliness, ghosts and ghosts, "Erota", Roses and lilies, "leprosy and suquestness of young shaluns", Lily Hand, Lyudmila and Alina ... But magazines with names: Zhukovsky, Batyushkova, Lyceist Pushkin. And with sadness I remember my grandmother, her polona on the keycorder, her Tomny reading of poems from Evgenia Onegin. And the old dreamy life will stand in front of you ... Good girls and women lived once in the noble estates! Their portraits look at me from the wall, the aristocratic-beautiful heads in ancient hairstyles meekly and feminine their long eyelashes on sad and tender eyes ...IV
The smell of Antonovsky apples disappears from landlords. These days were so recently, and meanwhile it seems to me that since then a little bit of a century has passed. Although Anna Gerasimovna died, Anna Gerasimovna died, arseny seeds shot ... The kingdom of small-position, impoverished before the beggar! .. But this nursing life is good! So I see myself again in the village, deep in autumn. Days are bluish, cloudy. In the morning I sit down in the saddle and with one dog, with a gun and with a horn I am leaving in the field. The wind is calling and buzzing in a blow of a gun, the wind blows tightly, sometimes with dry snow. I wander all day on empty plains ... Hungry and keen, I return to twilight in the estate, and it gets so warm and gratifying to the soul, when the lights are filled and pulled out of the estate by the smell of smoke, housing. I remember, we loved in our house at this time to "be helped", not to light fire and lead in a gentlemotion conversation. Entering into the house, I find the winter frames already inserted, and it even more configures me to peaceful winter way. In the Lacée worker, heats the stove, and I, as in childhood, in a squatting near the straw, sharply smelling with winter freshness, and look into the burning stove, then the windows, behind which, blue, sadly dying twilight. Then I go to the human. There is light and crowded: the girls are chopped by cabbage, flashed Sesh, I listen to their fractional, friendly knock and friendly, sad-cheerful village songs ... Sometimes some small -coming neighbor will come to him and takes me to himself ... Good and small -coming life ! The smaller rises early. Having reached firmly, he rises from bed and twists a thick cigarette from the cheap, black tobacco or simply from Machorka. The pale light of the early November morning illuminates a simple, with bare walls of the office, yellow and casual skins of foxes over the bed and a greenastic figure in the sharovar and disabled space, and in the mirror reflected the hollow face of the Tatar warehouse. In a half-walled, warm house dead silence. Over the door in the corridor, old cooking, who lived in the Lordskoe's house is still a girlfriend. This, however, does not prevent Barina hoarsely shout at home: - Lucker! Samovar! Then, putting the boots, thumping a trip on the shoulders and not a fastening gate of the shirt, he goes to the porch. In the locked seams smells a psyche; Lazily reaching the squeal, yawning and smiling, surround his hounds. - Open! - Slowly, indulgent bass says he and through the garden goes to Khumno. Its breasts breathing wide breathing with sharp air dashers and smells of choking overnight, naked garden. Curved and blackened from frost leaves rustle under boots in a birch alley, cut half. Walking on a low gloomy sky, sleeping the frozen tanks on Riga's crest ... Nice will be a day for hunting! And, stopping among the alleys, the barin looks for a long time in the autumn field, on the deserted green Oozimi, for which the calves roam. Two hounds of bitches are racing around his feet, and flooding already behind the garden: jumping over the knocked shocks, he seems to call and asks in the field. But what do you do now with the hounds? The beast is now in the field, on the postproofs, in the Blackotrop, and in the forest it is afraid, because in the forest the wind rustles foliage ... Eh, kabyii! In Riga begins throat. Slowly disagree, hammering drum ham. Lazily pulling the tights, resting his legs along the null circle and swing, go horses in the drive. In the middle of the drive, rotating on the bench, sits the chase and smokes on them alone, always whipped by whip only one brown Merine, who is lazy to all and completely sleeps on the go, the benefit of his eyes are tied. - Well, girls, girls! - Strictly shouts by a powerful feeder, touched into a wide canvas shirt. Girls hurriedly hide the current, run with stretchers, brooms. - With God blessing! - Says the served man, and the first bunch of an old woman, a broken on the sample, with a buzzing and a screech flies into the drum and the disheveled fan is ascended from under it up. And the drum is buzzing everything more insistent, work boils, and soon all the sounds merge into a common pleasant noise of threshing. Barin stands at the gate of Riga and looks like in her darkness red and yellow scarves, hands, rakes, straw, and all this is moving and fussing under the hum of drum and a single cry and whistle of the charter. Hobwithy clouds flies to the goal. Barin stands, the whole bit from him. Often he looks in the field ... Soon the fields will soon be taken, soon it will cover their zasimok ... Zzimok, first snow! There are no greyhounds, not to hunt in November. But winter comes, "work" begins with hounds. And again, as in former times, fine-positions come down to each other, drink for the last money, for all days they disappear in the snow fields. And in the evening, on some deaf farm, the fligeel window is far away in the dark. There, in this small fatel, swim clubs smoke, silent candles burn dimly, the guitar is configured ...The teacher pays attention to the story of Ivan Bunin "Antonovskaya apples", in which the writer describes the whole life of the Russian middle and top classes on the village. In the story "Antonovsky apples" the plot as a whole is a description of the memories of the main character, and in each of the four chapters of the text they are different. So, in the first part, trade is described by trade, famous Antonovsky apples in August, in the second - autumn, noble house, where the main character lived and his relatives. The third describes the hunt, as well as the offensive of winter. The fourth is described the November day of small -coming people.
At the end of the lesson, the teacher emphasizes that the story of Ivan Bunin "Antonovsky apples" is an expression of deep and poetic love for your country.
Topic: Russian literature of the late XIX - early XX centuries.
Lesson:Ivan Bunin. "Antonovskaya apples", "Village"
A characteristic feature of early prosaic creativity I. Bunin is the presence of a lyrical plot, in which events are not important, but impressions, associations, a special elegic attitude. It is known that I.A. Bunin began his way in the literature as a poet and, as a rule, did not clearly distinguished the poetic and prosaic creativity, often used in prose separate images taken from their own lyrics. In this regard, in his work, it is bright reflection such characteristic of the literature of the 20th century, as a stych.
The story "Antonovskaya apples" as a whole can be viewed as a poem in prose. It is shown a brief and incredibly poetic time - the Indian summer, when Elegy meditation is made by themselves in the shower. A poetic soul of the author, a man of a thin, educated, deeply loving life of his native nature is guessed behind the detailed landscape sketch. People's wisdom is close to him, as he often refers to the signs: "Autumn and winter live well, if the Water is quiet and the rain on Lavrentia."
The motive of death strengthens the experiences of the lyrical hero. However, a wonderful moment remains in memory.
Beauty and death, love and separation - these are eternal themes, personal and enlightened expression in poetry.
The genre was determined in different ways, and the end-to-end topic is a flow of time.
The story begins and ends with ellipsis. This means that nothing begins in it and nothing ends. A man's life is finite, but life is infinite.
The story is divided into 4 fragments, each of them has its own theme and their own intonation.
So know and love nature, as Bunin knows, - few people can. Thanks to this love, the poet looks around and far away, and the colorful and auditory impressions of his rich. The world of him is most advantageous by the world of visual and auditory impressions and related experiences.
Noble nests cherished alleys. These words from the poem of K. Balmont "Memory of Turgenev" How it is impossible to give the mood of the story "Antonovskiy apples". Apparently, it is not by chance that on the pages of one of its first stories, the date of the creation of which is extremely symbolic, I.A. Bunin recreates the world of Russian manor. It is in it, according to the thought of the writer, the past and present, the history of the cultural of the Golden Age and its fate at the turn of centuries, the family traditions of the noble family and individual human life are united. Sauce about lentimaling not only of this story, but also numerous poems, such as "High White Hall, where black piano ...", "in the living room through the garden and dust curtains ...", "Quiet night late month came out ... " However, the leitmotif of the decline and destruction is overcome in them "not the topic of exemption from the past, and on against, the poem of this past living in the memory of culture ... The poem of the Bunin on the manor is characteristic of painting and at the same time inspired emotionality, hill and poetry of feelings. The manor becomes for a lyrical hero an integral part of his individual life and at the same time the sign of the birthplace, the roots of the kind "(L. Ershov).
The first thing that pay attention to when reading the story is on the lack of a plot in the usual understanding, i.e. Absence of event dynamics. The first words of the work "... I remember the early wake of autumn." Immerse us into the world of the hero's memories, and the plot begins to develop as a chain of sensations associated with them. The smell of Antonovsky apples, which wakes up the most different associations in the soul. Smells change - the life itself changes, but the change of her gender is transferred to the writer as a change of personal sensations of the hero, the change of his worldview. The whole earth is fettered. But we understand that it is universal happiness. This is a children's perception of happiness.
Pay attention to the paintings of autumn, data in different chapters through the perception of the hero.
In the first chapter, we are talking about strong emotions: "In the dark, in the depths of the garden - a fabulous picture: exactly in the corner of hell, the groove flames the bugger flame, surrounded by darkness, and whose black, exactly carved silhouettes from the black tree move around the fire, between Those how the giant shadows go to the apple trees. " How well live in the world!
In the second chapter, the tone is already consistent, we are talking about the people who transfers the lifestyle, the epic mood: "The small foliage was almost all shielded from the coastal Lozin, and the bumps are swaying on the turquoise sky. The water under the slosices became transparent, Ice and as if heavy ... When, it was, you're going to be sunny in the village, everyone thinks about what is good to mow, thorough, sleep on the gum in osetas, and stand up with the sun in the holiday ... ".
Fig. 2. Illustration to the story I. A. Bunin "Antonovsky apples" ()
Time goes in a circle, as if nothing happens. The author transfers his heroes thoughts.
Bunin formulates the idea of \u200b\u200bthe epic. Thoughts about the village. The idyllic intonation is approved, but the author for contrast mentions fastened right.
In the third chapter, we are talking about the period of flourishing of the local culture. Late fall. Pictures of nature "The wind on the whole day dies and tremble trees, rains walked them from the morning to night ... The wind did not get up. He worried the garden, ripped continuously running from the pipe a human jet of smoke and rejected the sinister cosmas ash clouds. They fled low and quickly - and soon, exactly smoke, talked the sun. The shine went out, the window was closed into the blue sky, and in the garden it became deserted and boring, and more often began to sow rain ... ".
And in the fourth chapter: "Blue days, cloudy ... All day I wander around empty plains ..." .. Lonely wanderings on the winter forest. Quiet sadness.
Description of the autumn is transmitted by a storytellor through the flowering and sound perception. The autumn landscape from the head to the chapter is changing: the paints are blurred, it becomes less than sunlight. Essentially, the story describes autumn not one year, and several, and it is constantly emphasized in the text: "I remember the yield year"; "These were so recently, and then it seems that it has passed a little more than a century."
Pictures - memories arise in the consciousness of the narrator and create an illusion of action. However, the narrator himself dwells as if in different age advocates: from head to chapter, he seems to be older and looks at the world by the eyes of a child, a teenager and a young man, and even the eyes of a man who overwhelmed a mature age. But the time as if it was not imperative above it, and it flows in the story somehow very strange. On the one hand, it seems to be going forward, but in the memories of the story all the time turns back. All events occurring in the past are perceived and experienced to them as a rapid, developing in his eyes. Such relativity of time is one of the damn damn.
I.A. Bunin incredibly roads national flavor. With what thoroughness, for example, it describes the festive spirit of the garden fair. The creation of a figure of people from the people is striking by a high degree of individualization. What is only one important, like a Kholmogorsk cow, young old age or a martial, smart semi-sididian playing on Tula harmonica.
For detailed reconstitution of the atmosphere of early autumn in the Yablleva Garden I.A. Bunin widely uses whole ranges of artistic definitions: "I remember early, fresh, quiet morning ... I remember the big, the whole golden, dying and drunk garden, remember the maple alleys, a thin fragrance of foliage foliage ..." to fully, relievably reflect the surrounding atmosphere, Transmit every sound (creaking cart, quorted drosses, cracking apples eaten by men) and aroma (smell of Antonovsky apples, honey and autumn freshness).
The smell of apples is a repetitive detail of the story. I.A. Bunin describes a garden with Antonovsky apples at different times of the day. At the same time, the evening landscape turns out to be no poorer than the morning. It decorates the diamond constellation of Stalar, the Milky Way, whiting above his head, falling stars.
Libraries keep the memory of ancestors.
The central theme of the story is the topic of the ruin of noble nests. The author writes with pain that the smell of Antonovsky apples disappears, there is a folding link to the eyelids. The admissance of the past, which leaving an email tonality into the work. Separate details emphasize the bunin social aspect of relations between people. This is evidenced by vocabulary ("Tradann", "Barchuk"). Despite an elegic tonality in the story there are optimistic notes. "How cold, Rosisto and how to live well in the world!" - emphasizes I.A. Bunin. The story is manifested by the idealization of the image of the people characteristic of the writer. He especially close to the author on holidays, when all the cockpit and satisfied. "Old people and old women lived in evils very long, - the first sign of a rich village, and were all high, big and white as Lun. Only you hear, it happened: "Yes, - here Agafya eighty-three godhawschochka!" - So through the dialogues, I.A. Bunin has his admiration for simple rustic life. The author poets the everyday values: work on earth, clean shirt and lunch with hot lamb on wooden plates.
Do not elude the view of the author and socio-class disagreements. It is not by chance that an old man Pankrat stands in front of the Barine stretching, to blame and smiles gently. It is in this work that I.A. Bunin is an important idea for him that the warehouse of the middle noble life was close to the peasant. The author-narrator is directly confessed that the serfdom did not know and did not see, but felt him, remembering how the former yard was bowed to the gentlemen.
The social aspect is emphasized in the interior of the house. Lacée, Human, Hall, Living Room - All of these names indicate an understanding by the author of class contradictions in society. However, at the same time, the story is present and admiring the sophisticated noble life. The writer, for example, emphasizes the arcstocratic-beautiful heads in ancient hairstyles, with portraits omitting their long eyelashes on sad and tender eyes.
Thus, the story I.A. Bunin "Antonovskiy apples" of roads to the reader in that it embodies the beauty of the native nature, the paintings of Russian life and learn to love Russia as much as her stunning depth of the lyric expression of patriotic experiences Russian writer.
Additionally
The idea of \u200b\u200bthe story "Village" originated at the Bunin as a result of the impact on the events of 1905 and how it was displayed in the Russian village. This led to the fact that the lyric and master of thin and tender poetry Bunin had to portray what was happening in the village in a strict style and a purely objective manner.
Only, he could reach the worm and already, it would seem that, unbounded hearts of people who ignore what thousands of disadvantaged people are experiencing. At the same time, Bunin does not just draw a severe picture of reality, he reveals the identity of people who were key figures of this picture.
Therefore, the story of the "village" is considered primarily a psychological novel, as Bunin pays a lot of attention to the deep portraits of people, their feelings, experiences, thoughts.
In order to portray it the most skillful, the Bunin helps his artistic expressiveness, which is concluded in his rustic lyrics dedicated to the beauty of nature and the amazing sensations that she causes from a person.
Thoroughly described by the bunin life and the daily existence of peasants and detailed images of people indicate the main idea of \u200b\u200bthe story.
The writer pursues the goal is not easy to realistically show reality, but also to bring the reader to the logical thought of the future of the Russian people and in particular - about the fate of the Russian village and those people who devote all their lives to her.
And it is here that there is so close Bunin lyricism, it gently sounds in the tonality of the entire narrative, in those amazing paintings of nature, which the writer pays so much attention in the bright and complex feelings of the heroes and their heartfelt words.
The two main characters of the story - the brothers of Krasov - representing carefully thoughtful images, the opposite of which helps the writer fully outline the picture of reality.
Kuzma, self-taught poet, clearly close to the very Personality of Bunin, in his actions and thoughts feels a personal attitude of the writer to what is happening and its assessment.
On the example of Kuzma, the author shows the features of the new folk psyche, Kuzma himself thinks that the Russian people are lazy and wild that the causes of such cruel life of the peasants consist not only in difficult circumstances, but also in their own ideas and psychology.
In contrast to the self-taught poet, Bunin makes the image of his brother of Tikhon egoistically and calculating. Gradually, he gives his capital, and on his way to well-being and power, does not stop before.
But despite the path chosen by him, he still feels emptiness and despair, which are directly related to the look into the future of his homeland, drawing pictures of an even more destructive revolution.
On the example of the main and secondary heroes, Bunin reveals the acute social contradictions in front of readers, in which Russian reality lies.
Those who are rustic "rioters" are stupid and empty people who have grown in Blessau and Roughness, and their protest is just a ridiculous attempt to change something. But they are unable to change their own consciousness and psychology, which is still the braid and hopelessness remains.
The psychological story of Ivan Alekseevich Bunin "Village" is recognized as one of the most prominent and truthful works of Russian literature of the 20th century.
It is in this story that the writer begins to disclose the talent of a realistic prose, while the diversity of his artistic techniques for displaying the simple peasant life of Russia is closely echoes the topics and the artistic expressiveness of his lyrics.
The main "village" serves a sober, merciless realism in his truth, with the help of which Bunin reveals a full-fledged picture of peasant life before readers.
Bibliography
1. Chalmaev V.A., Zinin S.A. Russian literature of the twentieth century.: Textbook for grade 11: in 2 hours - 5th ed. - M.: Ltd. 2TID "Russian Word - RS", 2008.
2. Agenosov V.V. . Russian literature 20th century. Methodical manual M. "Drop", 2002
3. Russian literature of the 20th century. Tutorial for applicants to universities M. Uch. Center "Moscow Lyceum", 1995.
4. Wiktionary.
additional literature
Edition I. Bunin: Sob. cit. at 9 tt. M., 1965-1967; Cathedral cit. at 6 tt. M., 1996-1997; Literature "Russian writers in Moscow". Collection. Reisside. Cost. L. P. Bykovtsheva. M., 1977, 860s "Russian writers. Bibliographic dictionary. " M., 1990.
Essays of Russian literature of the late 19th - early 20th centuries. The stateism of fiction. M., 1952.
I. A. Bunin. "Stories". M., 1955 I. A. Bunin. "Antonovsky apples. Tale and stories "Children's literature. M., 1981 "The history of Russian literature of the late 19th - early 20th century" Higher School. M., 1984.
Audiobnig « Antonovskaya apples "().
Bunin Ivan Alekseevich
Antonovskaya apples
Ivan Alekseevich Bunin
Antonovskaya apples
... I remember early wake up autumn. Augustus was with warm rains, as if we were deliberately dropped out for Seva, with rains at the very time, in the middle of the month, near the holiday of St. Lawrence. And "Autumn and winter are good living, if the water is quiet and the rain on Lavrentia." Then the Babi summer cobwebs a lot of village on the field. This is also a good sign: "There are a lot of stupid on Indian Summer - the autumn of the core" ... I remember early, fresh, quiet morning ... I remember the big, the whole golden, snoring and drunkard, I remember the maple alley, a thin fragrance of foliage foliage and the smell of Antonovsky apples, smell Honey and autumn freshness. The air is so clean, it is not at all at all, voices and creaking carts are distributed throughout the garden.
This Tarhan, gardeners, hired men and pour apples to send them to the city in the night, - certainly on the night, when it was so nice to lie on the car, look in the starry sky, feel the smell of tar in the fresh air and listen to how carefully sketches In the dark long travel over the big road. A man, sprinkling apples, eats them with a juicy crackle one after one, but such a place - never the tradesman will fail, but also say:
- Vali, Eat Has, - nothing to do! On the merging, all honey drink.
And the cool silence of the morning violates only the fed quorting of Drozdov on coral rowan in more often the garden, the voice of the rich knock of the refisted in the measures and row of apples. The road to the Bolshoi Shalash, was filled with straw, and the strongest, near whom the worn farm had become far visible. Everywhere it smells like apples, here - especially. The bed is arranged in the hut, there is a single-barre rifle, a green samovar, in the corner - dishes. ROGOZHES, drawers, all sorts of thinned belongings are lying around the chalash, dug out. At noon, a magnificent Kulesh with Salom is boiled on it, in the evening the samovar is heated, and in the garden, between the trees, the long strip of bluish smoke is spread. On the holidays of the days, Kolo Shalasha is a whole fair, and the red seals fill up behind the trees. Fucking the Big-eyed Girls in Sundars, very smelling paint, come "Barsky" in their beautiful and coarse, dicar costumes, young old age, pregnant, with a wide sleepy face and important as the Kholmogorsk cow. On her head "horns", - the braids are put on the sides of the top and covered with several scarves, so the head seems huge; Feet, in half boots with horses, stand stupid and firmly; Sleeveless - Plisovoy, Long Curtain, and Ponune-Calcularly Lilk with Brick Color Stripes and Called on Podol Wide Golden "Sinky" ...
- Shopping butterfly! - Says a trades about her, shaking his head. - Now they are translated ...
And the boys in white disadvantaged shirts and short defects, with white open heads, are all suitable. They go through two, three, finely dealt with bare feet, and touched on the shaggy shepherd, tied to an apple tree. Buy, of course, one, for and buying something on a penny or on an egg, but there are many buyers, trade is a boyko, and a cahhotesman in a long furout and red boots - cheerful. Together with his brother, Kartawa, the chip semi-sidian who lives from his grace, he trades with jokes, additives and sometimes "toupe" on Tula harmonic. And before the evening the people crowds in the garden, it is heard about the shag of laughter and talk, and sometimes the topot of dance ...
By night in the weather it becomes very cold and Rosisto. Having hurt on the gum by the rye aroma of the new straw and pokykina, cheerfully go home to the dinner past the garden shaft. Votes on the village or scrolling gate are distributed over the student dawn unusually clear. Darmest. And here is still the smell: in the garden - a fire, and firmly pulls the scented smoke of cherry burs. In the dark, in the depths of the garden - a taking picture: accurately in the corner of hell, burning near the barn flame, surrounded by darkness, and someone's black, precisely carved silhouettes from the black tree move around the fire, including gigantic shadows from them go on apple trees . Throughout the tree will fall a black hand in several Arshin, then two legs are drawn - two black columns. And suddenly all this slides from the apple tree - and the shadow will fall across the Alley, from the slag to the very wicket ...
Late at night, when lights go out on the village, when the diamond constellation of Stalard is already high in the sky, once again run into the garden.
Runs on dry foliage, like a blind, get to the slag. There on the clearing a little lighter, and the Milky Way Behind his head.
- Is it you, Barchuk? - quietly oars someone from the darkness.
- I. And you do not sleep yet, Nikolay?
- We can not sleep. And, should, too late? Won, it seems, the passenger train goes ...
Long listens and distinguish the trembling in the ground, the shiver goes into noise, grows, and so, as if already behind the garden, it is rapidly knocking down a noisy wheelbarrow: Rodding and knocking, the train rushes ... closer, closer, all louder and serge ... and suddenly starts Eat, sick, accurately leaving the ground ...
- Where do you have a rifle, Nikolay?
- But near the box-s.
- Wow, great! - will say the trashman. - spend, spend, Barchuk, and then just trouble! Again, the whole duul on the shaft said ...
Unusual picture
In the sky, there was a wide dark rift and from there a rich, in the summer warm water, our quiet, peaceful river immediately began to swell and flush. Coming out of the banks, she poured a meadow, a field of green oats, gold already rye, white blooming buckwheat and came to the gardens.
Admiring an extraordinary spectacle, I walked along the coast. Before my hearing, the one-step weak peak was coming; I listened and here I saw a tiny hole left for once a cow hoof. In the hole, having rushing in the ball, the tiny creatures of the magnitude from the moles, helpless, like all the cubs.
I wanted to know whose young it was, and I began to look around. Because of the tops of alder, she looked at me with his black beads. Having met my eyes with me, she quickly floasts to the side, but the invisible connection with the cow kokytz kept her, as on a thread.
It was possible to assume that the mother when the water was poured into Nora, managed to drag the young on a dry place. Most likely, the hoofs was not the first shelter. But all the previous ones also poured water as a foul in a quarter of an hour and this is a student, with a puddle at the bottom of Kopytz.
The exhaust was kept on the water of meters two from me, which is incredible for this extremely cautious, a huge animal. It was heroism, it was self-sacrifice from the mother. I finally left not to interfere with the mother to save my children.
Task 5. Examine from this text all that is a retreat from the theme of the essay.
Home duty
I got up on this day early, because today we are on duty at school. The morning was solar, clear. Only in some places in the sky visited white light clouds.
Breakfast, I quickly collected books and notebooks, folded all accessories in the portfolio and, having fun, went to school. On the way to school, I met with my two classmates. We talked a little and then all went to school together.
At eight hours, all the guys gathered on the line. On the linear director and our class teacher said how we were duty yesterday and what we should do today. After the line, everything went through their designated posts. But here he pokeled the cheerful song bell. Silence came at school.
Our first lesson is history. In the lesson, we learned a lot of interesting about the life of the ancient Greeks. What a pity that the lesson goes only forty minutes! So he ended. And again on duty.
On the third floor, the guys from the 5th grade started the game in the salting. We had to calm them down, but we didn't work out without duty teacher. We were not angry with the guys. After all, we ourselves pumped when they are not duddering at school.
The second lesson we have English.
In the third lesson, we wrote a dictation. The dictation was difficult, and we made a lot of mistakes.
After the third lesson, a big change. I want to run in the buffet, but you can not leave from the appointed post.
Then we had a mathematics, and the fifth lesson geography. We learned more and more about nature, about rivers, waterfalls, thresholds. This is such an interesting subject, and the lesson goes so fast.
After the lessons, I went to school and checked cleaning classes.
Task 6. Read the text. Make up his plan. Adjunct details in detail one of the points of the Plan (optional).
Lake Yashen
Among the sands of Turkmenistan lies an amazing lake Yashen. What would neither speak scientists, this lake is still a mystery of nature. In its type of lake is as unusual, as well as the water contained in it. Yashenan looks like a horseshoe, one half of which contains fresh water, the other is salty. Fresh water is very cold. It seems that it is specially cooled to quench the thirst for a tired traveler.
All the lakes of Turkmenistan dry in the hot summer, but Yaszhan is abounding with excellent water, and it is as much in the lake, as in other times of the year. It is assumed that a good wizard serves the underground sea of \u200b\u200bfresh water. During the time that there is a lake, there are many legends about him.
One of them tells about the good Wanderer who regretted people, drove perfumes from the lake and despicably water. (From the "popular encyclopedia of rivers and lakes").
Task 7. Find the text description of the early autumn in the morning (rainy autumn day). Write it down.
Autumn in the village
... I remember early wake up autumn. Augustus was with warm rains, as if she was deliberately dropped out for Seva, - with rains at the very time, in the middle of the month, near the holiday of St. Lawrence ...
I remember early, fresh, quiet morning ... I remember the big, the whole golden, snapped and drunkard, I remember the maple alleys, a thin fragrance of false foliage and the smell of Antonovsky apples, the smell of honey and autumn freshness. The air is so clean, it is not at all at all, voices and creaking carts are distributed throughout the garden.
The road to the Bolshoi Slash, the straw and the strongest, was far visible in the gardens of the garden, the worn farm in the summer. Everywhere it smells like apples, here - especially. The bed is arranged in the hut, there is a single-barre rifle, a green samovar, in the corner - dishes. Rogodhi, drawers, all sorts of thinned belongings are lying around: Earth stove dug out. At noon, a magnificent Kulesh with Salom is boiled on it, in the evening the samovar is heated, and in the garden, between the trees, the long strip of bluish smoke is spread.
"The poorest Antonovka is the fun year." Rustic affairs are good if Antonovka was groaning: it means that the bread was crushed ... I remember the yield year.
At the early dawn, when the roosters are still shouting and the huts will smoke, open, it happened, the window in a cool garden, filled with a scorched fog, through which the morning sun brightly shines, and you will not lose one - you will immediately sneak the horse, and you will beat the horse Wash the pond. The small foliage was almost all shielded from the coastal Lozin, and the bumps are swaying on the turquoise sky. She instantly drives out the night laziness, and, washing and breakfast in human with workers with hot potatoes and black bread with a large raw salt, feel like a slippery skin of the saddle, driving along the hunting.
Autumn - the time of the prestial holidays, and the people at this time are pribran, satisfied, the view of the village is not at all that at another time. If the year of the yield and a whole golden city is tested on the gum, and the river is ringing and sharply, and in the mornings of Geese and in the village and not bad. In addition, our evios of a sponic century, since the time of the grandfather, were famous for "wealth." Old men and old women lived in the races very long ago - the first sign of a rich village, and were all high, big and white as Lun.
From the end of September, all gardens, Gumna allowed, the weather, as usual, changed cool. The wind on the whole days drenched and tremble trees, rains walked them from morning to night. Sometimes in the evening between gloomy and low clouds, the trembling color of the low sun was made in the west; The air was cleaned clean and clear, and the sunlight was dazzlingly glittered between the foliage, between the branches that the latch was moving and worried about the wind. Coldly and brightly shone in the north over heavy lead clouds, a liquid blue sky, and because of these clouds slowly floated the ridges of snow mountains. You're standing at the window and you think: "Avos, God will give, will work out." But the wind did not get up. He worried the garden, ripped continuously running out of the pipe with a human jet of smoke and rejected the sinister cosma of ash clouds. They fled low and quickly and soon, exactly smoke, talked the sun. The shine went out, the window was closed into the blue sky, and in the garden became deserted and boring, and again began to sow rain ... First, quietly, carefully, then all the thicker and, finally, turned into a shower with a storm and dark. There was a long, alarming night ... (I. Bunin).
1.3 tasks with information disadvantage
Task 1. Insert the missed synonyms.
Sunny bear
Solded to the village of Bear. A little frown - ... here is like here. They decided to catch the hunters ...: They brought the trap, honey cooled, the grains were poured. And ... I ate everything and there was such a thing!
The key to the exercise
Solded to the village of Bear. Slightly frowns - Kosolapoy here is like here. We decided the hunters to catch the beast: they brought the trap, honey cooled, the grains poured. And the bear ate everything and was such!
Task 2. Restore the text.
Potash fertilizers
First, falling into the cells of plant organisms, they contribute to ________. This allows plants to maintain normal livelihoods with a temporary disadvantage of moisture in the soil.
Secondly, the presence of potassium contributes to ________. Potassium is also necessary for education ________. Plants are ill mainly with a lack of potassium. On the leaves appear ________, and also stops ________.
The key to the exercise
Potash salts play a very important role in the life of plants.
First, falling into the cells of plant organisms, they contribute to the retention of water in the protoplasm. This allows plants to maintain normal livelihoods with a temporary disadvantage of moisture in the soil.
Secondly, the presence of potassium contributes to the formation of starch, sugar, proteins, fats and other substances in cells. Potassium is also necessary for the formation of tubers in root. Plants are ill mainly with a lack of potassium. Red dots appear on the leaves, and the branching of plants is stopped.
Consequently, potassium is necessary for the life of our greenery friends.
Task 3. Restore the text. Choose stylistically corresponding to the content of the word passing.
When dad ... still small, ... a lot .... He learned ... in four years and ... I did not want anything .... While others ... jumped, ran, ... in different interesting ..., small dad ... and read. Finally ... worried grandfather and ... They decided that ... the time to read ... they ... he is books and ... read only ... an hour a day. But ... it did not help, and small ... I don't care ... From morning to ... Your legitimate ... Hours he ..., Sitting in sight. ... he hid. ... hid under ... and read under the bed, ... in the attic and read .... He went on ... and read on the haymaker. ... it was especially ... and smelled fresh ....
The key to the exercise
When dad was still small, he read a lot. He learned to read in four years and did not want to do anything else. While other children jumped, ran, played different interesting games, Little dad read and read. Finally, it was disturbed by the grandfather and grandmother. They decided that all the time was harmful. They ceased to give him books and allowed to read only three hours a day. But it did not help, and the little dad read everything from morning to evening. He read her legitimate three hours, sitting in sight. Then he hid. He hid under the bed and read under the bed, hid in the attic and read there. He went to the Senov and read on the haymaker. It was especially pleasant and smelled of fresh hay. (Raskin).
Task 4. Complete the text involved in revolutions or single genthes.
I ... looked at the sea, an unexpected, indescribable feeling overwhelmed me. I saw the warm blue of the sea, ______ The face of a girl who, looking around, entered the water, a guy on a rescue boat with strong tanned hands, ______, shore, _____, and it was all so gently and clearly lit and so much was around kindness and peace, What am I measured from happiness.
The key to the exercise
I ... looked at the sea, an unexpected, indescribable feeling overwhelmed me. I saw the warm blue of the sea, illuminated by the setting sun, the laugh of the girl's face, who, looking around, was in the water, a guy on a rescue boat with strong tanned hands, resting on the messengers, the shore, dirty by people, and it was all so gently and clearly lit and So much was around kindness and peace, that I froze from happiness. (Iskander).
Task 5. Based on the initial proposals of paragraphs, try to restore the text from which they are taken. Casting the text restored. Fully text is contained in the textbook (Krestomatia) in literature.
P. 1 of 4.
I.
... I remember early wake up autumn. Augustus was with warm rains, as if we were specimen to fall out for Seva, - with rains at the very time, in the middle of the month, near the holiday of St. Lawrence. And "Autumn and winter are good living, if the water is quiet and the rain on Lavrentia." Then the Babi summer cobwebs a lot of village on the field. This is also a good sign: "There are a lot of stupid on Indian Summer - the autumn of the core" ... I remember early, fresh, quiet morning ... I remember the big, the whole golden, snoring and drunkard, I remember the maple alley, a thin fragrance of foliage foliage and the smell of Antonovsky apples, smell Honey and autumn freshness. The air is so clean, it is not at all at all, voices and creaking carts are distributed throughout the garden. This Tarhan, gardeners, hired men and pour apples to send them to the city in the night, - certainly on the night, when it was so nice to lie on the car, look in the starry sky, feel the smell of tar in the fresh air and listen to how carefully sketches In the dark long travel over the big road. A man, sprinkling apples, eats them with a juicy crackle one after one, but such a place - never the tradesman will fail, but also say:
- Vali, Eat Has, - nothing to do! On the merging, all honey drink.
And the cool silence of the morning violates only the fed quorting of Drozdov on coral rowan in more often the garden, the voice of the rich knock of the refisted in the measures and row of apples. The road to the Bolshoi Shalash, was filled with straw, and the strongest, near whom the worn farm had become far visible. Everywhere it smells like apples, here - especially. The bed is arranged in the hut, there is a single-barre rifle, a green samovar, in the corner - dishes. ROGOZHES, drawers, all sorts of thinned belongings are lying around the chalash, dug out. At noon, a magnificent Kulesh with Salom is boiled on it, in the evening the samovar is heated, and in the garden, between the trees, the long strip of bluish smoke is spread. On the holidays of the same days near the Shalash - a whole fair, and the red seasons fill in the trees. Fucking the Big-eyed Girls in Sundars, very smelling paint, come "Barsky" in their beautiful and coarse, dicar costumes, young old age, pregnant, with a wide sleepy face and important as the Kholmogorsk cow. On her head "horns", - the braids are put on the sides of the top and covered with several scarves, so the head seems huge; Feet, in half boots with horses, stand stupid and firmly; Sleeveless - Plisovoy, Long Curtain, and Palene - Black and Lilk with brick-colored stripes and closed on a long golden "sampling" ...
- Shopping butterfly! - Says a trades about her, shaking his head. - Now they are translated ...
And the boys in white disadvantaged shirts and short defects, with white open heads, are all suitable. They go through two, three, finely dealt with bare feet, and touched on the shaggy shepherd, tied to an apple tree. Buy, of course, one, for and buying something on a penny or on an egg, but there are many buyers, trade is a boyko, and a cahhotesman in a long furout and red boots - cheerful. Together with his brother, Kartawa, the chip semi-sidian who lives from his grace, he trades with jokes, additives and sometimes "toupe" on Tula harmonic. And before the evening the people crowds in the garden, it is heard about the shag of laughter and talk, and sometimes the topot of dance ...
By night in the weather it becomes very cold and Rosisto. Having hurt on the gum by the rye aroma of the new straw and pokykina, cheerfully go home to the dinner past the garden shaft. Votes on the village or scrolling gate are distributed over the student dawn unusually clear. Darmest. And here is still the smell: in the garden - a fire, and firmly pulls the scented smoke of cherry burs. In the dark, in the depths of the garden, - a fabulous picture: accurately in the corner of hell, flames near the grocery flame, surrounded by darkness, and someone's black, precisely carved silhouettes from the black tree move around the fire, including the gigantic shadows from them Apple trees. Throughout the tree will fall a black hand in several Arshin, then two legs are drawn - two black columns. And suddenly all this slides from the apple tree - and the shadow will fall across the Alley, from the slag to the very wicket ...
Later at night, when lights are treated in the village, when the diamond seven-skinned Schozhar is already shining in the sky, once again run into the garden. Runs on dry foliage, like a blind, get to the slag.
There on the clearing a little lighter, and the Milky Way Behind his head.
- Is it you, Barchuk? - quietly oars someone from the darkness.
- I. And you do not sleep yet, Nikolai?
- We can not sleep. And, should, it's too late? Won, it seems, the passenger train goes ...
Long listens and distinguish the tremor in the ground. The shiver goes into noise, it grows, and here, as if already behind the garden, they accelerately knock out the noisy tact of the wheels: raging and knocking, the train is closer ... closer, closer, all louder and serge ... And suddenly begins to serve, stuck, accurately leaving the land ...
- Where do you have a rifle, Nikolay?
- But near the box-s.
I'll throw it up heavy as scrap, a single-person and shoot with Mahi. The crimson flame with a deafening crash shine to the sky, blinds on a moment and spreads the stars, and the vigorous echo rolls and rolls along the horizon, far and far to get silent in clean and sensitive air.
- Wow, great! - will say the trashman. - spend, spend, Barchuk, and then just trouble! Again, the whole duul on the shaft said ...
And the black sky is drawn by fireproof stars. For a long time you look at his dark blue depth, crowded with constellations until the earth will float under your feet. Then they will attach and hiding your hands in the sleeve, quickly run by Alley to the house ... How cold, Rosisto and how well live in the world!
II.
"The poorest Antonovka is the fun year." Rustic affairs are good if Antonovka was groaning: it means that the bread was crushed ... I remember the yield year.
At the early dawn, when the roosters are still shouting and the huts will smoke, open, it happened, the window in a cool garden, filled with a scorched fog, through which the morning sun brightly shines, and you will not lose one - you will immediately sneak the horse, and you will beat the horse Wash the pond. The small foliage was almost all shielded from the coastal Lozin, and the bumps are swaying on the turquoise sky. Water under slosices has become transparent, ice and as if heavy. She instantly drives out the night laziness, and, washing and breakfast in human with workers with hot potatoes and black bread with a large raw salt, feel like a slippery skin of the saddle, driving along the hunting. Autumn - the time of the prestial holidays, and the people at this time are pribran, satisfied, the view of the village is not at all that at another time. If the year of the yield and a whole golden city is towering on the gums, and on the river is ringing and sharply, they are very good in the morning, so in the village and not bad. In addition, our evios of a sponic century, since the time of the grandfather, were famous for "wealth." Old men and old women lived in evils very long, - the first sign of a rich village, - and were all high, big and white as Lun. Only hear happened: "Yes, - here is Agafya eighty-three godaochka scold!" - Or conversations in such a kind.