TO HELP THE FIRST COURSE
NOTEBOOK FOR PRACTICAL WORKS
ON ANALYSIS OF ARTISTIC TEXT
AND LEARNING BY ABOVE AND CLOSE TO THE TEXT
The play "Thunderstorm"
Kuligin's monologues 1
Cruel manners, sir, in our city, cruel! In philistinism, sir, you will see nothing but rudeness and naked poverty. And we, sir, will never get out of this crust! Because honest work will never earn us more than our daily bread. And whoever has money, sir, tries to enslave the poor, so that he can earn even more money from his free labors. Do you know what your uncle, Savel Prokofich, answered the mayor? The peasants came to the mayor to complain that he would not disappoint any of them. The governor began to say to him: “Listen, he says, Savel Prokofich, you can count on the peasants well! Every day they come to me with a complaint! " Your uncle patted the mayor on the shoulder and said: “Is it worth it, your honor, to talk about such trifles with you! I have a lot of people every year; You must understand: I will not pay them extra for a penny per person, but I make thousands of this, so it is good for me! " Here's how, sir! And among themselves, sir, how they live! Trade is undermined by each other, and not so much out of self-interest as out of envy. They are at enmity with each other; they get into their tall mansions drunken clerks, such, sir, clerks that he doesn't even look human, his human guise is hysterical. And those, for a small benevolence, on the heraldic sheets scribble malicious slander on their neighbors. And they will begin with them, sir, judgment and work, and there will be no end to torment. They sue, sue here, but they will go to the province, and there they are already expected and they splash their hands for joy. Soon the tale is told, but not soon the work is done: they lead them, lead them, drag them, drag them; and they are also happy about this dragging, that is what they only need. "I, he says, will spend, and it will be a penny for him." I wanted to portray all this in verse ...
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions posed in writing with a line from the proposed text.
Learn close to the text.
Questions:
1. What could be earned by honest labor?
2. How did rich merchants make money?
3. In what, without embarrassment, is Dikaya admitted to the mayor?
4. What do drunken clerks do when a merchant takes them to his mansion?
Monologue 2
Kuligin: That's what, sir, we have a town! The boulevard is done, not a walk. They walk only on holidays, and then they pretend to be walking, and they themselves go there to show clothes. You will only meet a drunken clerk and trudge home from the tavern. The poor have no time to walk, sir, they have work day and night. And they sleep only three hours a day, But what are the rich doing? Well, what would it seem that they should not walk, not breathe fresh air? So no. All have long gates, sir, prohibitions and dogs are lowered. Do you think they are doing business or praying to God? No, sir. And they do not lock themselves up from thieves, but so that people do not see how they eat their household and tyrannize their family. And what tears are pouring behind these constipations, invisible and inaudible! What can you say, sir! You can judge by yourself. And what, sir, behind these castles is the debauchery of dark and drunkenness! And everything is sewn and covered - no one sees or knows anything, only God sees! You, he says, look at me in people and on the street, but you don't care about my family; for this, he says, I have locks, and locks, and the dogs are angry. The family, he says, is a secret, secret! We know these secrets! From these secrets, sir, he only has fun, and the others howl like a wolf. What's the secret? Who doesn't know him! Robbing orphans, relatives, nephews, stabbing at home so that they would not dare to utter a word about anything that he was doing there. That's the whole secret. Well, God bless them! Do you know, sir, who walks with them? Young guys and girls. So these people steal an hour from sleep, another, and they walk in pairs. Yes, here's a couple.
Complete the following tasks:
Learn close to the text.
Questions:
How do the poor live?
Why do the merchants lock the gates and let the dogs down?
What secret do merchants keep?
"Fathers and Sons"
I.S. Turgenev
Chapter 3
The places they passed through could not be called picturesque. Fields, all fields stretched right up to the sky, now slightly rising, now falling again; here and there small forests could be seen and, dotted with rare and low bushes, ravines curled up, reminding the eye of their own image on the old plans of Catherine's time. There were rivers with open banks, and tiny ponds with thin dams, and villages with low huts under dark, often half-swept roofs, and crooked threshing sheds with wicker walls and yawning collars near deserted gumens, and churches, sometimes brick fallen off in some places with plaster, then wooden with bent crosses and ruined cemeteries. Arkady's heart was squeezing a little. As if on purpose, the peasants met, all worn out, on bad nags; like beggars in rags stood the roadside rakitas with peeled bark and broken off branches; emaciated, rough, as if gnawed, the cows greedily nibbled the grass in the ditches. It seemed that they had just escaped from someone's formidable, deadly claws - and, caused by the pitiful sight of exhausted animals, in the middle of a red spring day, a white ghost of a bleak, endless winter with its blizzards, frosts and snows arose ... “No,” thought Arkady - this is not a rich land, it does not amaze with either contentment or hard work; it is impossible, it is impossible for him to stay like that, transformations are necessary ... but how to execute them, how to start? .. "
Complete the following tasks:
Learn close to the text.
Questions:
What do scattered roofs, threshing sheds with yawning collars, empty threshing floors, churches with fallen plaster and leaning crosses talk about?
What transformations did Russia need on the eve of the abolition of serfdom, in your opinion?
ON. Nekrasov
"Poet and Citizen"
Citizen
Listen: it's a shame!
It's time to get up! You know yourself
What time has come;
In whom the sense of duty has not cooled down,
Who is incorruptibly straight with his heart,
In whom is the gift, strength, accuracy,
Tom should not sleep now ...
Wake up: smash the vices boldly ...
It's a shame to sleep with your talent;
Even more ashamed in the time of grief
The beauty of valleys, skies and the sea
And to sing sweet caress ...
The son cannot look calmly
On the mother's grief,
There will be no worthy citizen
To the homeland is cold soul -
He has no bitter reproach ...
Go into the fire for the honor of the fatherland,
For conviction, for love,
Go and perish flawlessly -
You will not die for nothing: the matter is solid,
When blood flows under it ...
What is a citizen?
A worthy son of the Fatherland. -
Oh! We will have merchants, cadets,
Bourgeois, officials, nobles,
Even for us poets are enough,
But we need, we need citizens!
No disgust, no fear
I went to prison and to the place of execution,
I went to courts and hospitals.
I will not repeat what I saw there ...
I swear I honestly hated
I swear I truly loved!
And what? .. hearing my sounds,
Considered them black slander;
I had to fold my hands humbly
Or pay with your head ...
What was to be done? Recklessly
Blame people, blame fate ...
If I saw at least a struggle
Would begin to fight, no matter how difficult,
But ... however, the main problem:
I was young, I was young then!
Slyly life beckoned ahead,
Like seas free streams
And affectionately love promised
My best blessings -
The soul retreated fearfully ...
But no matter how many reasons
I do not hide the bitter truth
And timidly bow my head
At the word: an honest citizen.
That fatal, vain flame
To this day it burns the chest
And I'm glad if someone
Throw a stone at me with contempt.
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line from the text.
2. Memorize all passages.
Questions:
What time does a citizen talk about?
What is the purpose of a poet?
What is a shame to do in a time of grief?
What does the citizen of the poet call for?
Who can be called a citizen?
How does the poet explain his apostasy?
"Who lives well in Russia?"
Yakim Nagoy lives
He works to death
Drinks half to death! .. "-
The peasants laughed
And they told the master
What is the man Yakim.
Yakim, a wretched old man,
Once lived in St. Petersburg,
Yes, I ended up in jail:
With the merchant it took it into his head to compete!
Like a peeled sticky
He returned to his homeland
And he took up the plow.
Since then, thirty years have been fried
On a strip under the sun
Escapes under the harrow
From frequent rain
Lives - fiddles with a plow,
And death will come to Yakimushka -
How a clod of earth will fall off
What's on the plow stuck ...
There was a case with him: a picture
He bought his son,
I hung them on the walls
And himself no less than a boy
He loved to look at them.
God's displeasure came,
The village is on fire -
And Yakimushka had
Over a century accumulated
Thirty-five rubles.
Hurry to take rubles,
And he first pictures
Began to tear from the wall;
Meanwhile his wife
I fiddled with icons
And then the hut collapsed -
So Yakim blundered!
The rubbers merged into a lump,
For that lump they give him
Eleven rubles ...
“Oh brother Yakim! not cheap
The pictures are okay!
But in a new hut
I suppose you hung them? "
Hung up - there are new ones -
Yakim said - and fell silent.
The master looked at the plowman:
The chest is sunken; how depressed
Stomach; at the eyes, at the mouth
Bends like cracks
On dry ground;
And myself to the ground - mother
It looks like: the neck is brown,
Like a layer cut off with a plow,
Brick face
The hand is tree bark,
And the hair is sand.
Complete the following tasks:
Questions:
Why did Yakim Nagoy go to prison?
Why did Yakim save not rubles, but pictures of popular prints during the fire?
Ermil Girin
He had everything he needed
For happiness: and calmness,
Both money and honor,
The honor is enviable, true,
Not bought by any money
Nor by fear: strict truth,
With intelligence and kindness!
Yes, only, I repeat to you,
In vain you pass,
He sits in prison ...-
"How so?"
- And the will of God!
Has any of you heard
How the patrimony rebelled
Landowner Obrubkov,
Frightened province
County Nedykhaniev,
Village Tetanus? ..
How is fire written?
In the newspapers (I read them):
"Remained unknown
The reason is the same here:
Until now, unknown
Not a zemstvo police chief,
No higher government
Not to tetanus themselves
Where did the opportunity come from?
But it turned out to be rubbish.
It took an army.
Tsar himself sent
I spoke to the people,
Then he will try to swear
And shoulders with epaulets
Will rise high
Then he will try
And a chest with royal crosses
In all four directions
Will start to turn.
Yes, the abuse was superfluous here,
And the weasel is incomprehensible:
“The Orthodox peasantry!
Mother Russia! tsar-father! "
And nothing more!
Beaten so enough
They wanted the soldiers
Command: Fell!
Yes to the volost clerk
A happy thought came here,
It is about Yermila Girin
He said to the chief:
- The people will believe Girin,
The people will listen to him ... -
"Call him live!"
Complete the following tasks:
1. Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Questions:
What is needed for happiness?
How did Yermil behave during the patrimony riot, in your opinion, for which he ended up in prison?
Savely, the bogatyr of the Holy Russian
Grandfather lived in a special room,
I disliked families
He did not let me into his corner;
And she was angry, barked,
His "branded, convict"
Cheated his own son.
Savely will not be angry.
Will go to his little light
Reads saints, is baptized,
And suddenly he will say cheerfully:
"Branded, but not a slave!" ...
Had my favorite words
And their grandfather released
A word in an hour.
"The lost ... the lost ..."
“Eh you, Aniki-warriors!
With old people, with women
You just have to fight! "
“To be underdeveloped is an abyss!
Endure is an abyss! .. "
"Why are you, Savelyushka,
Is your name branded, convict? "
I was a convict. -
"You, grandpa?"
- “I, granddaughter!
I'm in the land of the German Vogel
Khristian Khristianovich
Buried alive ... -
“And full! joking, grandfather! "
No, I'm not kidding. Listen! -
And he told me everything.
In pre-Julian times
We were also lordly,
Yes, only no landowners,
No German rulers
We did not know then.
We did not rule the corvee,
We didn't pay the rent,
And so, when it comes to reason,
We will send once in three years. -
"How so, Savelyushka?"
And there were gracious
Times like this.
No wonder there is a proverb
That our side
I've been looking for the devil for three years.
Around the dense forests,
All around the swamps are swampy.
No horseman ride to us,
No one on foot!
Our landlord Shalashnikov
Through animal trails
With his regiment - the military was -
I tried to access us,
Yes, skis turned!
Zemstvo police to us
I missed it for a year, -
Those were the times!
And now - the master is at your side,
Road tablecloth-tablecloth ...
Ugh! take her ashes! ..
We were only worried
Bears ... yes with bears
We managed easily.
With a knife and a spear
I myself am more terrible than a moose,
On reserved paths
I go: "My forest!" - I shout.
Once I was scared.
How stepped on sleepy
Bear in the forest.
And then he did not rush to run,
And so he stuck a spear,
As if on a spit
Chicken - spun
And I did not live for an hour!
Back cracked at that time,
Ached occasionally
While I was young
And she bent over to old age.
Isn't it, Matronushka,
Do I look like ochep 1? -
“You started, so finish it!
Well, you lived - you did not grieve,
What's next, head? "
By time Shalashnikov
I thought of a new thing,
An order comes to us:
"Appear!" We did not appear
Quiet, do not move
In his swamp.
There was a severe drought
The police came in
We are a tribute to her - with honey, fish!
I drove over again
Threatens to straighten out with an escort,
We are animal skins!
And in the third - we are nothing!
Shoe old bast shoes,
Put on torn hats
Skinny Armenians -
And Koryozhina set off! ..
They came ... (In the provincial town
Shalashnikov stood with the regiment.)
"Rent!" - No rent!
The bread is not ugly
The slickers were not caught ... -
"Rent!" - No rent! -
Didn't even talk:
"Hey, change one!" -
And he began to flog us.
Tuga moshnaya Koryozhskaya!
Yes racks and Shalashnikov:
Already the languages \u200b\u200bwere getting in the way
Brains were already shaking
In the little heads - it fights!
Stronger heroic,
Do not whip! .. There is nothing to do!
We shout: wait, give a time!
We ripped open
And the master of "lobanchiks" 2
Half a hat was brought up.
The fighter Shalashnikov has died down!
So and so bitter
Brought us a herbalist
Drank with us myself, went nuts
With the subdued Koryoga:
“Well, thankfully you gave up!
And then - here is God! - I decided
Rip your skin clean ...
I would put on a drum
And presented the shelf!
Ha ha! ha ha! ha ha! ha ha!
(Laughs - glad of the idea):
That would be a drum! "
We go home dejected ...
Two stumpy old men
They laugh ... Ay, ridges!
One hundred ruble papers
Home under the guise
Are intact!
How hard we are beggars -
So they got it off!
I thought then:
“Well, okay! gray devils,
You won't get ahead
Laugh at me!"
And the rest became ashamed
They swore at the church:
“Forward we will not be ashamed,
We will die under the rods! "
Liked the landlord
Koryozhsky lobsters,
What a year - calling ... tearing ...
Shalashnikov tore excellently,
Not so great
Income received:
Weak people gave up
And the strong for the patrimony
They stood well.
I too endured
He kept silent, thought:
"No matter how you take it, son of a dog,
And you can't knock out your whole soul,
Leave something!
How Shalashnikov will accept the tribute,
Let's go - and beyond the outpost
Let's share the profits:
“That there’s no money left!
You are a fool, Shalashnikov! "
And amused herself with the master
Wood in its turn!
Those were proud people!
Now give me a slap -
Correction to the landowner
They're dragging the last penny!
But we lived as merchants ...
Summer is red,
We are waiting for the diploma ... I came ...
And there is a notice in it,
That Mr. Shalashnikov
Killed at Varna.
We did not regret it,
A thought fell on my heart:
"Comes to prosperity
The end of the peasant! "
And exactly: unprecedented
The heir invented the remedy:
He sent a German to us.
Through the dense forests,
Through swampy swamps
Come on foot, rascal!
One as a finger: a cap
Yes a cane, but in a cane
For a supper, a projectile.
And at first he was quiet:
"Pay what you can."
- We can't do anything! -
"I'll notify the master."
- Notify! .. - And so it ended.
He began to live and live;
Ate more fish;
Sits on a river with a fishing rod
Yes, himself is on the nose,
Then on the forehead - bam and bam!
We laughed: - You do not love
Koryozhsky mosquito ...
Do you not love, nemchura? .. -
Rides along the shore
Giggles in a wild voice
As in the bathhouse on the shelf ...
With the guys, with the girls
He made friends, wanders through the forest ...
No wonder he wandered!
“If you cannot pay,
Work! " - What is your
Job? - "Dig in
Grooved desirable
Swamp ... "We dug in ...
"Now cut down the wood ..."
- Oh well! - We chopped,
And nemchura showed
Where to cut.
We look: there is a clearing!
As the clearing was cleared,
To the crossbar swamp
He ordered to carry it around.
Well, in a word: we caught ourselves,
How did you make the road,
That the German caught us!
I went to town as a couple!
We look, lucky from the city
Boxes, mattresses;
From where it came from
The German has barefoot
Children and wife.
Brought bread and salt with the police chief
And with other zemstvo power,
The yard is full of guests!
And then hard labor came
Koryozhsky peasant -
Ravaged to the bone!
And tore ... like Shalashnikov himself!
Yes, he was simple; will pounce
With all the military strength,
Just think: kill!
And money sun, will fall off,
Neither give nor take bloated
There's a tick in a dog's ear.
The German has a dead grip:
Until it lets you in the world
Doesn't go away, sucks! -
"How did you tolerate, grandfather?"
Therefore, we endured
That we are heroes.
That is the Russian heroism.
Do you think, Matronushka,
A man is not a hero?
And his life is not warlike,
And death is not written to him
In battle - but a hero!
Hands are twisted with chains,
Iron feet are forged,
Back ... dense forests
We walked along it - we broke.
And the chest? Elijah the prophet
It rattles on it - rolls
On a chariot of fire ...
The hero endures everything!
And bends, but does not break,
Does not break, does not fall ...
Isn't he a hero? "
“You're kidding jokes, grandpa! -
I said. - Such and such
A mighty hero,
Tea, mice will seize! "
I don't know, Matryonushka.
While the craving is terrible
He raised something,
Yes, he went into the ground up to his chest
With a strain! On his face
Not tears - blood flows!
I don't know, I won't think of
What will happen? God knows!
And about myself I will say:
How the winter blizzards howled,
How old bones ached
I was lying on the stove;
I lay down and thought:
Where are you, strength, going?
What did you come in handy for? -
Under the rods, under the sticks
On the little things left! -
"And what about the German, grandfather?"
And no matter how the German ruled.
Yes our axes
They lay there - for the time being!
We endured for eighteen years.
Built a German factory
He ordered to dig a well.
We were digging with nine
We worked until half a day,
We want to have breakfast.
A German arrives: "Just that? .."
And he started us in his own way
Take your time, cut.
We stood hungry
And the German scolded us
Yes, the ground is wet in the hole
I kicked it around.
There was already a good pit ...
Happened I am easy
Pushed him with my shoulder
Then another pushed him,
And the third ... We are bored ...
Two steps to the pit ...
We didn't say a word
We did not look at each other
In the eyes ... and the whole crowd
Khristian Khristianovich
Pushed carefully
Everything to the pit ... everything to the edge ...
And the German fell into a hole,
Shouts: “Rope! stairs! "
We are with nine shovels
They answered him.
"Give it!" - I dropped the word, -
Under the word Russian people
They work in a friendly manner.
“Give it! give it! " So they gave it
That the pit did not seem to exist -
Leveled to the ground!
Then we looked at each other ... -
Grandfather stopped.
"What next?"
- Further: rubbish!
A tavern ... a prison in Bui-city.
There I learned to read and write
Until we decided.
The solution came out: hard labor
And the whips beforehand;
Not ripped out - anointed,
Bad shit there!
Then ... I fled from hard labor ...
Caught! not stroked
And then on the head.
Factory bosses
They are famous throughout Siberia -
The dog was eaten to tear.
Yes, Shalashnikov told us
It hurts - I didn't frown
From factory shit.
That master was - he knew how to flog!
He made me skin like that
That has been worn for a hundred years.
And life was not easy.
Twenty years of strict hard labor,
Twenty years of settlement.
I saved up money
According to the Tsar's manifesto
I got back to my homeland,
I attached this gorenka
And I've been living here for a long time.
As long as there was money
Loved grandfather, cared for,
Now they spit in the eyes!
Eh, you, Aniki-warriors!
With old people, with women
You only have to fight ...
Savely's advice to his granddaughter Matryona Timofeevna
High god, far away king ... -
"There is no need: I'll get there!"
Oh! What are you? what are you, granddaughter? ..
Be patient, multi-handed!
Be patient, long-suffering!
We cannot find the truth -.
"But why, grandfather?"
You are a serf woman! -
Savelyushka said.
I thought for a long time, bitterly ...
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Questions:
What was his son's name and what did he answer to this?
What were Savely's favorite Words?
Why did he go to hard labor?
Grigory Dobrosklonov
In the midst of the world
For a free heart
There are two ways.
Weigh the proud strength.
Suspension of solid will:
Which way to go?
One spacious -
The road is torn,
The passion of a slave
It is huge
To temptation greedy
There is a crowd.
About sincere life
About a lofty goal
The thought is ridiculous there.
Eternal boils there.
Inhuman
Enmity-war
For perishable goods ...
There are captive souls
Full of sin.
Looks shiny
Life is deadening there
Good deaf.
The other is tight
Road, honest
They walk along it
Only strong souls
Loving,
To fight, to work
For the neglected.
For the oppressed -
Multiply their circle
Go to the humiliated
Go to the offended -
And be their friend!
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Memorize the passage.
Questions:
Which way is Grigory Dobrosklonov going?
2. Which road is it and what kind of people are following it?
A.P. Chekhov
"The Cherry Orchard"
Trofimov's monologues 1
Humanity is moving forward, improving its strength. Everything that is inaccessible to him now will someday become close, understandable, only now he has to work, help with all his might those who are looking for the truth. So far, very few people work here in Russia. The overwhelming majority of the intelligentsia that I know is not looking for anything, is not doing anything, and is not yet capable of work. They call themselves the intelligentsia, they say "you" about the servants, they treat the peasants like animals, they study badly, they don't read anything seriously, they do absolutely nothing, they just talk about the sciences, they understand little about art. Everyone is serious, everyone has strict faces, everyone talks only about important things, philosophizes, and meanwhile, in front of everyone, the workers eat disgustingly, sleep without pillows, thirty, forty in one room, everywhere there are bugs, stench, dampness, moral uncleanness ... And, obviously, all good conversations we have in order to avert the eyes of ourselves and others. Show me where we have a nursery, about which they talk so much and often, where are the reading rooms? They only write about them in novels, but in reality they are not at all. There is only dirt, vulgarity, Asiatic ... I am afraid and do not like very serious faces, I am afraid of serious conversations. We'd better keep quiet.
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Learn close to text.
Questions:
What needed to be done to make the future close?
How does Trofimov assess the Russian intelligentsia at the beginning of the 20th century?
Monologue 2
All Russia is our garden. The earth is great and beautiful, there are many wonderful places on it. Think, Anya, your grandfather, great-grandfather and all your ancestors were serf-owners who owned living souls, and really, from every cherry in the garden, from every leaf, from every trunk, human beings do not look at you, can you really not hear voices ... Owning living souls - after all, it has reborn all of you who lived before and are living now, so that your mother, you, uncle, no longer notice that you are living on debt, at someone else's expense, at the expense of those people whom you do not let go beyond the front ... We are behind for at least two hundred years, we still have absolutely nothing, there is no definite attitude to the past, we only philosophize, complain about melancholy or drink vodka. After all, it is so clear that in order to start living in the present, we must first redeem our past, put an end to it, and it can only be redeemed by suffering, only by extraordinary, continuous labor. Understand this, Anya.
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Learn close to text.
Questions:
How can you atone for the sins of the past?
Can Ranevskaya and Gaev be the owners of Russia-cherry orchard, prove it.
V. Bryusov
"Job"
The only happiness is work
In the fields, at the machine, at the table, -
Working up to a hot sweat
Work without an extra bill, -
Hours of hard work!
Follow the plow steadily
Calculate the strokes of the scythe
Bow to the horse's girth
Until they shine over the meadow
Evening Dew Diamonds
At the factory in the noise of a hundred-bell
Cars and wheels and belts
Fill in with an unyielding face
Your day, in line with a million,
Working, successive days!
Or, bent over a white page, -
What the heart dictates, write;
Let the sky light up with a day, -
Take it out all night in a string
Cherished thoughts of the soul!
The sown bread will be dispersed
Around the world; from the humming machines
The life-giving stream will flow;
Printed Thought Will Respond
Deep in countless minds
Work! Invisible, wonderful
Work, like sowing, will sprout:
What will become of the fruits is unknown,
But blissfully, with the moisture of heaven,
Every labor will fall on the people!
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Memorize.
Questions:
What's going on in countless minds?
What is the happiness of the earth?
K. Balmont
"Verbosity"
There is a tired tenderness in Russian nature,
The silent pain of a hidden sadness
The hopelessness of grief, the voicelessness, the vastness,
Cold heights, far away.
Come at dawn to the slope of the slope, -
Coolness smokes over the chilly river,
The bulk of the frozen pine forest turns black,
And the heart hurts so much, and the heart is so glad.
Immobile reeds. The sedge does not tremble.
Deep silence. The verbosity of peace.
The meadows run far, far away.
In everything, fatigue is deaf, dumb.
Enter at sunset like fresh waves
Into the cool wilderness of the village garden, -
The trees are so dark, strange, silent
And the heart is so sad, and the heart is not happy.
As if the soul asked for what it wanted,
And they hurt her unfairly.
And my heart forgave, but my heart froze,
And cries, and cries, and cries involuntarily.
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Memorize.
Questions:
What is the heart crying about?
How do you understand the word "wordlessness"?
"Russia"
Again, like in golden years
Three worn out straps *,
And painted knitting needles stuck
In loose ruts ...
Russia, impoverished Russia,
I have your gray huts,
Your wind songs to me, -
Like the first tears of love!
I don't know how to feel sorry for you
And I carry my cross with care ...
What sorcerer you want
Give back the robber beauty!
Let it lure and deceive, -
You will not be lost, you will not perish,
And only care will cloud
Your beautiful features ...
Well? One more concern -
The river is noisier with one tear
And you are still the same - a forest, but a field,
Yes, the dress is patterned up to the eyebrows ...
And the impossible is possible
The road is long and easy
When the road shines in the distance
Instant glance from under the handkerchief
When it rings with grief
Deaf song of the driver! ..
* harness - part of a horse harness
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Memorize.
Questions:
With what does the poet compare his love for Russia?
What does he think about the future of Russia?
Poem "12"
Chapter 12
... They walk in the distance with a sovereign step ...
Who else is there? Come out!
This is the wind with a red flag
Played out ahead ...
Ahead is a cold snowdrift,
Who's in the snow - come out ...! -
Only the beggar dog is hungry
Waddles behind ...
Get off you, you mangy,
I'll tickle with a bayonet!
The old world is like a lousy dog
Fail - I will beat!
Gritting teeth - the wolf is hungry -
The tail is between his legs - does not lag behind -
A cold dog is a rootless dog ...
Hey, who's coming?
Who is there waving the red flag?
Look closely, what a darkness!
Who walks there at a quick pace,
Burying behind all the houses?
Anyway, I'll get you
You better surrender to me alive!
Hey comrade, it will be bad
Come out, let's start shooting!
Fuck-tah-tah! - And only an echo
Responsive in homes ...
Only a blizzard with a long laugh
It floods in the snow ...
Fuck-tah-tah!
Fuck-tah-tah ...
... So they walk with a sovereign step,
Behind is a hungry dog
Ahead - with a bloody flag,
And invisible behind the blizzard
And unharmed from the bullet
With a gentle gait,
Snowy pearl,
In a white corolla of roses -
Ahead is Jesus Christ.
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Memorize.
Questions:
How do you understand the words "sovereign step"?
What does Jesus Christ bless the 12 Red Guards for?
N. Gumilev
"Sixth Sense"
Lovely wine in love with us
And the good bread that sits in the oven for us,
And the woman who was given
At first, exhausted, we enjoy.
But what do we do with the pink dawn
Over chilling skies
Where is the silence and unearthly peace,
What do we do with immortal poetry?
Neither eat, nor drink, nor kiss.
The moment runs uncontrollably
And we break our hands, but again
Condemned to go all by, by.
Like a boy, forgetting his games,
Sometimes he watches the girl's bathing
And, knowing nothing about love,
All are tortured with a mysterious desire.
As once in overgrown horsetails
Roared from the consciousness of powerlessness
Slippery creature, feeling on your shoulders
Wings that have not yet appeared;
So, century after century - how soon, Lord?
Under the scalpel of nature and art,
Our spirit screams, flesh is exhausted,
Giving birth to an organ for the sixth sense.
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Memorize.
Questions:
1. What feeling does the poet call the sixth?
"Me and you"
Yes, I know I'm not your match
I came from another country
And I don't like the guitar
A savage melody in zurna.
Not in halls and salons,
Dark dresses and jackets -
I read poetry to dragons
Waterfalls and clouds.
I love - like an Arab in the desert
Falls to the water and drinks
Not the knights in the picture
That looks at the stars and waits.
And I will not die in bed
With a notary and a doctor,
And in some wild crack,
Drowned in thick ivy
To enter not in everything open,
Protestant, tidied up paradise
And where the robber, the tax collector
And the harlot will shout: get up!
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Memorize.
Questions:
1. Why does a poet read his poems not in salons, halls, but to waterfalls, clouds and dragons?
2. How do you understand the poet's desire to die?
B. Pasternak
In everything I want to reach
To the very essence.
At work, in search of a way
In a heartfelt confusion.
Until the essence of the days passed,
Until their cause,
To the foundations, to the roots,
To the core.
All the while grabbing the thread
destinies, events,
Live, think, feel, love,
Make it open.
Oh if only I could
Although in part,
I would write eight lines
About the properties of passion.
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Memorize.
Questions:
1. What does the poet call the essence?
It's ugly to be famous.
This is not what raises up.
No need to start an archive
Shake over the manuscripts.
The purpose of creativity is self-giving,
Not hype, not success.
Shameful, meaning nothing
Be a parable on everyone's lips.
But we must live without imposture,
So live so in the end
To attract the love of space
Hear the future call.
And you have to leave spaces
In fate, and not among papers,
Places and chapters of a whole life
Striking out in the margin.
And plunge into the unknown
And hide your steps in it,
How the countryside hides in the fog
When you can't see anything in it.
Others on the live track
Will go your way by an inch of an inch,
But defeat by victory
You yourself must not distinguish.
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Memorize.
Questions:
What, according to the poet, is the purpose of creativity?
How should you live?
I.A. Bunin
"Mothers"
I remember the bedroom and the lamp
Toys, warm crib
"Guardian angel over you!"
Sometimes the nanny undresses
And scolds in a half-whisper,
And sweet dream, fogging eyes,
Leans me to her shoulder.
You cross, kiss
Remind me that he is with me
And you will charm with faith in happiness ...
I remember the night, the warmth of the crib
A lamp in the dusk of a corner
And the shadows from the chains of the lamp ...
Weren't you an angel?
Complete the following tasks:
Answer the questions in writing with a line of text.
Memorize.
Questions:
What words does the poet remember from childhood?
Who was his mother to him?
"Word"
Tombs, mummies and bones are silent, -
Life is given only to a word:
From the ancient darkness, on the world churchyard,
Kuligin. Cruel manners, sir, in our city, cruel! In philistinism, sir, you will see nothing but rudeness and naked poverty. And we, sir, will never get out of this crust! Because honest work will never earn us more than our daily bread. And whoever has money, sir, is trying to enslave the poor so that he can earn even more money from his labors. Do you know what your uncle, Savel Prokofich, answered the mayor? The peasants came to the mayor to complain that he would not disappoint any of them. The governor began to tell him: “Listen, he says, Savel Prokofich, you can count on the peasants well! Every day they come to me with a complaint! " Your uncle patted the mayor on the shoulder, and he said: “Is it worth it, your honor, we should talk about such trifles! I have a lot of people a year; You must understand: I will not pay them a penny per person, but I make thousands of this, so it is good for me! " Here's how, sir! And among themselves, sir, how they live! Trade is undermined by each other, and not so much out of self-interest as out of envy. They are at enmity with each other; they get into their tall mansions of drunken clerks, such, sir, clerks that he doesn't even look human, his human guise is hysterical. And those, for a small benevolence, on the heraldic sheets scribble malicious slander on their neighbors. And they will begin with them, sir, judgment and work, and there will be no end to torment. They sue, sue here, but they will go to the province, and there they are already expected and they splash their hands with joy. Soon the tale will tell itself, but it will not be done soon; lead them, lead them, drag them, drag them; and they are also happy about this dragging, that is what they only need. "I, he says, will spend, and it will be a penny for him." I wanted to portray all this in verse ...
Russian great playwright A.N. Ostrovsky wrote a huge number of plays. But one of them is considered the best and simply the pinnacle of his work. This is the play "The Thunderstorm". The heroes of this work, Katerina and Kuligina, also gained particular popularity.
Kuligin's monologue "The Thunderstorm" Ostrovsky
Kuligin. And you will never get used to it, sir.
Boris. From what?
Kuligin. Cruel manners, sir, in our city, cruel! In philistinism, sir, you will see nothing but rudeness and naked poverty. And we, sir, will never get out of this crust! Because honest work will never earn us more than our daily bread. And whoever has money, sir, is trying to enslave the poor so that he can earn even more money from his labors. Do you know what your uncle, Savel Prokofich, answered the mayor? The peasants came to the mayor to complain that he would not disappoint any of them. The governor began to say to him: “Listen, he says, Savel Prokofich, you can count on the peasants well! Every day they come to me with a complaint! " Your uncle patted the mayor on the shoulder, and he said: “Is it worth it, your honor, to talk to you about such trifles! I have a lot of people every year; You must understand: I will not pay them a penny per person, but I make thousands of this, so it is good for me! " Here's how, sir! And among themselves, sir, how they live! Trade is undermined by each other, and not so much out of self-interest as out of envy. They are at enmity with each other; they get into their tall mansions of drunken clerks, such, sir, clerks that he doesn't even look human, his human guise is hysterical. And those, for a small benevolence, on the heraldic sheets scribble malicious slander on their neighbors. And they will begin with them, sir, judgment and work, and there will be no end to torment. They sue, sue here, but they will go to the province, and there they are already expected and they splash their hands for joy. Soon the tale will tell itself, but it will not be done soon; lead them, lead them, drag them, drag them; and they are also happy about this dragging, that is what they only need. "I, he says, will spend it, and it will be a penny for him." I wanted to portray all this in verse ...
"The Thunderstorm" A.N. Ostrovsky - Kuligin's Monologue
This is what a town we have, sir! The boulevard is done, not a walk. They walk only on holidays, and then they pretend to be walking, and they themselves go there to show clothes. You will only meet a drunken clerk and trudge home from the tavern. The poor have no time to walk, sir, they have day and night care. And they sleep only three hours a day. And what are the rich doing? Well, what would it seem that they should not walk, not breathe fresh air? So no. All have long gates, sir, locked and the dogs lowered. Do you think they are doing business, or are they praying to God? No, sir! And they do not shut themselves up from thieves, but so that people do not see how they eat their household and tyrannize their family. And what tears are pouring behind these constipations, invisible and inaudible! What can you say, sir! You can judge by yourself. And what, sir, behind these castles is the debauchery of dark and drunkenness! And everything is sewn and covered - no one sees or knows anything, only God sees! You, he says, look at me in people and on the street; and you don't care about my family; for this, he says, I have locks, and locks, and the dogs are angry. The family, he says, is a secret, secret! We know these secrets! From these secrets, sir, he only has fun, and the others howl like a wolf. What's the secret? Who doesn't know him! To rob orphans, relatives, nephews, to beat up home so that they would not dare to utter a word about anything that he was doing there. That's the whole secret. Well, God bless them! Do you know, sir, who walks with us? Young guys and girls. So these people steal an hour or two from sleep, and they walk in pairs. Here's a couple!
Popular monologue of Katerina from Ostrovsky's "Thunderstorm"
Why don't people fly?
I say, why do people not fly like birds? Sometimes it seems to me that I am a bird. When you stand on a mountain, you are drawn to fly! So I would have scattered, raised my hands and flew ... There is nothing to try now?! ... And how frisky I was! Was I that way! I lived without grieving about anything, like a bird in the wild. Mamma doted on me, she dressed me up like a doll, did not force me to work; I do what I want. Do you know how I lived in girls? I used to get up early; If in the summer, I'll go to the spring, wash, bring some water with me and that's it, I'll water all the flowers in the house. I had many, many flowers. And what dreams I dreamed, what dreams! Or golden temples, or some extraordinary gardens, and everyone is singing invisible voices, and it smells of cypress, and the mountains and trees seem to be not the same as usual, but as they are written on images. And the fact that I fly, I fly through the air. And now sometimes I dream, but rarely, and not that ... Oh, something bad is happening to me, some kind of miracle! This has never happened to me. Something in me is so extraordinary. As if I'm starting to live again, or ... I really don't know. Such fear on me, such and such fear on me! It’s as if I’m standing over an abyss and someone is pushing me there, but I have nothing to hold on to ... Some kind of dream creeps into my head. And I will not leave her anywhere. I will think - I will not collect thoughts in any way, I will pray - I will not pray in any way. I babble words with my tongue, but it’s not at all the same in my mind: it’s as if the evil one was whispering in my ears, but everything about such things is bad. And then it seems to me that I will become ashamed of myself. What happened with me? I can't sleep, I still dream of a whisper of some kind: someone speaks to me so kindly, as if a dove is cooing. I do not dream, as before, of heavenly trees and mountains, but as if someone is hugging me so hotly and hotly and leading me somewhere, and I follow him, I go ...
Reply from human-Tigr [active]
Original:
Kuligin. And you will never get used to it, sir.
Boris. From what?
Kuligin. Cruel manners, sir, in our city, cruel! In philistinism, sir, you will see nothing but rudeness and naked poverty. And we, sir, will never get out of this crust! Because honest work will never earn us more than our daily bread. And whoever has money, sir, is trying to enslave the poor so that he can earn even more money from his labors. Do you know what your uncle, Savel Prokofich, answered the mayor? The peasants came to the mayor to complain that he would not disappoint any of them. The governor began to say to him: “Listen, he says, Savel Prokofich, you can count on the peasants well! Every day they come to me with a complaint! "Your uncle patted the mayor on the shoulder, and he said:" Is it worth it, your honor, to talk to you about such trifles! I have a lot of people every year; You must understand: I will not pay them a penny per person, but I make thousands of this, so it is good for me! "That's how, sir! And among themselves, sir, how they live! Trade is undermined by each other, and not so much out of self-interest as out of envy. They are at enmity with each other; they get into their tall mansions of drunken clerks, such, sir, clerks that he doesn't even look human, his human guise is hysterical. And those to them, for a little benevolence, on the heraldic sheets scribbled malicious slander on their neighbors. And they will begin with them, sir, judgment and work, and there will be no end to torment. They sue and sue here, but they will go to the province, and there they are already waiting for them and splashing their hands with joy. Soon the tale will tell itself, but it will not be done soon; lead them, lead them, drag them, drag them; and they are also happy about this dragging, that is what they only need. "I, he says, will spend it, and it will be a penny for him." I wanted to portray all this in verse ...
Answer from Alex Klesherov[newbie]
Log (5x + 19) base 2 -5 \u003d
Answer from Liudmila Sharukhia[guru]
This is what a town we have, sir! The boulevard is done, not a walk. They walk only on holidays, and then they pretend to be walking, and they themselves go there to show clothes. You will only meet a drunken clerk and trudge home from the tavern. The poor have no time to walk, sir, they have day and night care. And they sleep only three hours a day. And what are the rich doing? Well, what would it seem that they should not walk, not breathe fresh air? So no. All have long gates, sir, locked and the dogs lowered. Do you think they are doing business, or are they praying to God? No, sir! And they do not lock themselves up from thieves, but so that people do not see how they eat their household and tyrannize their family. And what tears are pouring behind these constipations, invisible and inaudible! What can you say, sir! You can judge by yourself. And what, sir, behind these castles is the debauchery of dark and drunkenness! And everything is sewn and covered - no one sees or knows anything, only God sees! You, he says, look at me in people and on the street; and you don't care about my family; for this, he says, I have locks, and locks, and the dogs are angry. The family, he says, is a secret, secret! We know these secrets! From these secrets, sir, he only has fun, and the others howl like a wolf. What's the secret? Who doesn't know him! To rob orphans, relatives, nephews, to beat up home so that they would not dare to utter a word about anything that he was doing there. That's the whole secret. Well, God bless them! Do you know, sir, who walks with us? Young guys and girls. So these people steal an hour or two from sleep, and they walk in pairs. Here's a couple!
Life in small towns tends to be challenging. First of all, they are indicated by the fact that most people know each other very well, in this case it is very difficult to observe the rules of personal life, as a rule, events of any importance become a reason for public discussion. The second difficulty lies in the fact that life in such towns is devoid of diverse events - the discussion of gossip and their speculation is the main form of entertainment.
Kuligin's monologue:
“Cruel manners, sir, are cruel in our city! In philistinism, sir, you will see nothing but rudeness and naked poverty. And we, sir, will never get out of this crust! Because honest work will never earn us more than our daily bread. And whoever has money, sir, is trying to enslave the poor so that he can earn even more money from his labors. Do you know what your uncle, Savel Prokofich, answered the mayor? The peasants came to the mayor to complain that he would not disappoint any of them.
The governor began to say to him: “Listen, he says, Savel Prokofich, you count on the peasants well! Every day they come to me with a complaint! " Your uncle patted the mayor on the shoulder, and he said: “Is it worth it, your honor, to talk to you about such trifles! I have a lot of people a year; You must understand: I will not pay them a penny per person, but I make thousands of this, so it is good for me! "
Here's how, sir! And among themselves, sir, how they live! Trade is undermined by each other, and not so much out of self-interest as out of envy. They are at enmity with each other; they get into their tall mansions of drunken clerks, such, sir, clerks that he doesn't even look human, his human guise is hysterical.
And those, for a small benevolence, on the heraldic sheets scribble malicious slander on their neighbors. And they will begin with them, sir, judgment and work, and there will be no end to torment. They sue, sue here, but they will go to the province, and there they are already expected and they splash their hands with joy. Soon the tale will tell itself, but it will not be done soon; lead them, lead them, drag them, drag them; and they are also happy about this dragging, that is what they only need. "I, he says, will spend, and it will be a penny for him." I wanted to portray all this in verse ... "
We suggest that you familiarize yourself with the characteristics of Katerina in the play "The Thunderstorm" by Ostrovsky.
Outcome: The city of Kalinov, in which the main events take place, has a twofold nature - on the one hand, the natural landscape adjusts to a positive perception and mood of visitors, but the true state of affairs is far from this truth. The residents of Kalinov are deprived of tolerance and humanity. And therefore, life in this city is complex and specific. The description of the nature of the city is in sharp contrast to the essence of its inhabitants. Greed and love for squabbles nullify all natural beauty.