Pushkin’s poems - short, lungs, about love, nature, for children: the best selection

A collection of poems by Pushkin for children and adults - for reading, memorizing.

Content

Poems by Alexander Pushkin for memorizing

Poems by Alexander Pushkin for memorizing:

"Zhukovsky"
When, to a dreamy world
Seeking an elevated soul,
You are on your knees lyre
Impatiently hand;
When visions are replaced
In front of you in a magic darkness
And a quick cold of inspiration
Vlas will rise on a chela, -
You are right, you are creating for a few
Not for envious judges,
Not for miserable collectors
Other people's judgments and news,
But for friends, talent are strict,
The sacred truth of friends.
Not everyone will love happiness
Not everyone was born for crowns.
Blessed, who knows voluptuousness
High thoughts and poems!
Who is the pleasure of beautiful
I received the inheritance in the beautiful
And your enthusiasm was ugly
Delight fiery and clear.

"Don"
Shock in the midst of wide fields,
He flows out! .. Hello, Don!
From your sons distant
I bowed to you.

As a famous brother,
The rivers know the quiet Don;
From Araks and Euphrates
I bowed to you.

Leaning away from the evil chase,
Schooling his homeland,
Don horses are already drinking
Arpachi stream.

Prepare, Don Testament,
For rushing riders
Boil juice, sparkling
Your vineyards.

"Shoemaker"
The picture once looked for a shoemaker
And in shoes the error indicated;
Taking a brush immediately, the artist corrected.
Here, amending, the shoemaker continued:
“I think the face is a little crooked ...
Is this breast too much naga? "
Then Apelles interrupted impatiently:
"Judge, my friend, not from the boot!"

I have a friend in mind:
I do not know what the subject he
He was an expert, although he was strict in words,
But the devil brings him to judge the light:
Try it to judge the boots!

"I.I. Pushchin "
My first friend, my friend is invaluable!
And I blessed fate
When my yard is secluded
Small snow brought
Your bell announced.

I pray to the holy providence:
Yes, my voice is your soul
Gives the same comfort,
Yes, he will illuminate the sharpening
A ray of lyceum clear days!

Easy poems by Pushkin for reading

Pushkin’s light poems for reading:

I meet with the Osmeeenth spring ...
I meet with the Osmeeenth spring.
The last time, maybe I'm with you
Thoughtfully listening to the oak noise,
I go with my hand over the lake.
Where are you, the summer of the recent carelessness?
With hopes in the color of the young years,
My dear friend, we enter the New World;
But there the destiny is not assigned to us, not equal,
And we will leave our trace in life.
Your hand of the fortune is wayward
The path is indicated both happy and glorious, -
My path is sad and dark;
And a gentle beauty is given to you,
And you like the brilliant gift of nature,
And a quick mind, and faithful, dear disposition;
You are created for sweet freedom,
For joy, for fame, for fun.
They came, your golden years,
The fire of love is lovely.
Hurry to love and, happy yesterday,
Today, be careful again today;
Amur tells - and tomorrow, if possible,
Again, Mirts is the beauty of a boom ...
Oh, how many tears, I foresee, you are a culprit!
Betrayal friend and windy lover,
Be faithful to everyone - captivate and captivate.

And my destiny ... but cloudy fog
Why should I hide the future?
Alas! I can't live eternal
And happiness is a shadow, forgetting, hug.
My whole life is a sad darkness of bad weather.
Two or three spring, a baby, maybe
I was happy, not understanding happiness;
They passed, but you can forget them.
They passed, and mournful eyes
Looking at the path left forever, -
On a short path strewn with flowers,
Which I have so fun,
I pour tears, I spend a century in vain,
A painful desire for grief.

Your dawn is the dawn of the beautiful spring;
My friend, an autumn dawn.
I knew love, but I did not know hope
He suffered alone, loved in silence.
The crazy dream left the volume of the beliefs,
But I did not forget the gloomy dreams.
The soul is full of involuntary, sad thought;
It seems to me: at the piru life
One with longing I will appear, the guest is gloomy,
I will appear for an hour - and I will die alone.
And the friend of the heart will not come
At the last moment, my languid look close,
And will not come to the hill secluded
The last time he will breathe love!
Will my delay be a desert youth?
Or is happy love alien to me?
I’ll die, not knowing that joy?
Why is life given to me from the gods?
What should I expect? In the ranks of a forgotten warrior,
Among the crowd, a lost singer,
What awards am I worthy in the future
And what happiness will I take the crown?

But what? I'm ashamed! No, murmur - humiliation
No, righteously gods are definite!
Only I can’t know clear days?
Not! And enjoyment is hidden in tears
And in this life there will be comfort to me
My modest gift and happiness of friends.

FROM frequent change
It happened finally!
I possess Lida
And for my flowing suffering
As a reward of fiery love
Now I’m drowned in delight!
Yesterday, yesterday, a harsh look,
Lidinka’s hopes forever deprived me
And in the heart of young gave rise to
Love of neglected hell!
In despair, in longing, sad and gloomy,
I ran into my solitude;
Duma Duma were born in the mind,
I was nobody, then trembled ...
Suddenly I hear a cute voice ... and I am looking before me
Lid the Lidinka Evening sometimes,
In tears of repentance, with love in the eyes,
With a sullen woeful on pink lips!
“I'm sorry I didn't trust
My dear friend! Your love;
But now I recognized you
And I indulge in mutually. ”
And with your tender words
Suddenly she rushed into my arms
And, the fiery passions are full,
To my lips tangled lips;
The fire of love was burning in her eyes!
In the delights of passionate I merged and trembled,
And Lida pressed
To the trembling chest with trembling hands!

Pushkin Poems - Text

Pushkin poems - Text:

Ballad
What are you, girl, sad,
Silently looked down,
Round dance, one
Did you sit in the corner?
"A birthday girl, friends,
There is nothing to amuse.
I thought in the ballad I
Our happiness is praised.
But our Zhukovsky fell asleep,
Gnedich surged,
Pushkin slipped away with a demon
And Krylov was overeated. "
Here in the living room the table is set -
We’ll sit down as soon as possible
The foam will boil in the glasses,
And we are famous for the ballad;
So she is sweet -
Do you need poets? -
Broughts dried to the bottom,
Let's say: many summer
The one that friends
It’s not too late to love a century!
Many summer are also to us,
Only with her is not rose.

Prince Orange
Thunder raced quite a battle,
The sword was blurred,
And death with a destructive wing
Noise menacingly over the universe!

It happened ... with the eyes of the kings
Europe is a firm world founded;
The shackles overthrow the villain
The can be chopped again.

He saw Moscow in flame -
And the horror of the world was overthrow,
Covered the fallen chapter
Blessed porphyry,

And the blory was surrounded;
Bakers and with a violent sudden
Already erected his shaky throne ...,
And fell torn from the universe.

Everything subsided. Thunder does not rush,
The bloody sword does not shine,
And the abuse
It does not rush menacingly over the universe.

Praise, oh young man!
With the hero of the marvelous Albion
He led the faithful to the last battle
And took revenge for Lilia Bourbon.

The thunder thunder was thundered before him,
Blood shields flowed in the trail;
With a thunderstorm, he flew in a swearing darkness
And he poured the brilliant of fame.

Young blood flowed,
An ulcer of honor shines on it:
Brown, crown him, love!
He was a worthy warrior of revenge.

Broken knight
The last shine behind the forest,
Evening went quietly dawn.
Silent valley is deaf;
A river swirls in a desert fog,
Clouds are lazy by rage,
Between them the moon is gold.
Cast iron armor on the hill lie,
The spear is fragmented, in the glove, the booat,
And the shield under the Shelom Ragovy,
Spurs stuck into a moisturized moss:
Lie motionless, and a month horn
Above them in the Bliste Bloody.
A friend of a strong man bypasses the hill - a horse;
Fire faded in the eyes of the proud,
He is driving a swearing head.
A free hoof beats the valley stone -
And looks at the armor - the horse is true alone
And wildly trembles, and groans.

Get lost in the darkness, the alien goes on,
With hope, he carries timidity in his heart -
Bowing over the road key,
He climbed onto the hill, and into the dull distance
He looks and descends - and ringing steel
Pushes a tired foot.

The alien will pour, chain mail sound.
The bones are knocking menacingly in them,
The shelle rolled on the stones,
A skull was hiding in him ... with a dull sound
Rounded the horse retreat, bracket in the summer on the hill -
He looked ... and bowed his head.

Already a traveler in the darkness wanders in the darkness,
Everything imagines that the bones crunch under the foot,
But the day the day is taken out -
Struggled in scolding on a hill lies,
And the armor is motionless, and the helmet does not knock,
And the horse walks around the deceased.

Short poems by Pushkin

Short poems by Pushkin:

It's time, my friend, it's time! The heart asks for peace ...
It's time, my friend, it's time! The heart asks for rest -
Days are flying for days, and every hour takes away
Part of Genesis, and you and I together
We intend to live, and looking - just die.
There is no happiness in the world, but there is peace and will.
For a long time, the share is dreaming of me -
For a long time, a tired slave, I planned an escape
In the monastery of distant works and clean nons.

Spring, spring, time for love ...
Spring, spring, time for love,
How hard it is for me to be your phenomenon
What a languid excitement
In my soul, in my blood ...
How alien to the heart of pleasure ...
Everything that rejoices and shines,
It leads boredom and languor.
Give me a blizzard and a blizzard
And winter long darkness of nights.

Two feelings are wildly close to us ...
Two feelings are wildly close to us -
In them, the heart gains food -
Love for a native ashes,
Love for fatherly coffins.
Life -giving shrine!
The earth was dead without them,
Like a desert
And as an altar without a deity.

Friends (gods are still given to you ...)
The gods are still given to you
Golden days, golden nights,
And languid virgins are fixed
Attentive eyes are on you.
Play, sing, Oh friends!
Fast a fleeting evening;
And your joy is careless
I smile through tears.

To the portrait of Zhukovsky
His poems captivating sweetness
The envious distance will pass for centuries,
And, heed them, he will breathe out of glory youth,
Silent sadness will be comforted
And the frisky will think about joy.

Bird
In a foreign land I am sacredly
The native custom of antiquity:
I release a bird
With a bright holiday of spring.
I became available to comfort;
For what to me to murmure to God,
When at least one creature
I could give freedom!

Night
My voice is both affectionate and languid
The late silence of the night is dark.
Near my bed is a sad candle
Burns; My poems merging and murmuring
They flow, streams of love, flow, full of you.
In the darkness, your eyes shine before me,
They smile at me, and I hear sounds:
My friend, my gentle friend ... love ... yours ... yours! ..

If life deceives you ...
If life deceives you
Do not be sad, do not be angry!
On the day of despondency, humble yourself:
The day of fun, believe, will come.
The heart lives in the future;
The present is dull:
Everything is instantly, everything will pass;
What will pass, it will be cute.

The gift is in vain, the gift is random,
Life, why are you given to me?
Or why fate a secret
Are you convicted of execution?
Who is hostile to me
He called out of insignificance,
I filled my soul with passion
Did the mind excited a doubt?
There is no goal in front of me:
The heart is empty, the mind was celebrated,
And languishes me longing
A one -sounding life is noise.

Portrait
With his flaming soul,
With their stormy passions,
About the wife of the North, between you
She is sometimes
And past all the conditions of light
Strives until the loss of strength
Like a lawless comet
In a circle of calculated luminaries.

Pushkin poems for children

Pushkin poems for children:

Virgin
Crushing about gloomy cliffs,
The shafts are noisy and foam
And the eagles shout at me,
And the boron grumbled,
And shine in the middle
The tops of the mountains.
Ottol broke once a collapse,
And with a heavy roar fell,
And all the gear between the rocks
Blocked,
And Terek Mighty Val
Stopped.
Suddenly, he was exhausted and Strarev,
O Terek, you interrupted your roar;
But the rear waves are stubborn anger
Snow punch ...
You flooded, chopped
Your gap.
And for a long time broken
Lying in a pile,
And Terek ran an evil under him
And dust of water
And irrigated foam irrigated
Ice vault.
And the Wide path went along it:
And the horse rode, and was entailled,
And led his camel
Steppe merchant,
Where only Eol rushes now,
Heaven is a tenant.

CAUCASUS
Caucasus for me. One in the embroidery
I stand above the snow at the edge of the rapids;
Eagle, with a distant, rising the top,
It soars motionless with me on a par.
Setter I see birth streams
And the first formidable collapses
Here, the clouds humbly go under me;
Through them, overthrown, waterfalls are noisy;
Under them, the cliffs are naked community;
There is below the moss skinny, the shrub is dry;
And there are already groves, green canopies,
Where the birds chirp, where deer jumped.
And there people nest in the mountains,
And the sheep crawl along the evil prolays,
And the shepherd descends to the funny valleys,
Where Aragva rushes in shady brags,
And the poor rider lurks into the gorge,
Where the Terek plays in fierce fun;
Plays and howls like a young beast,
Envious food from an iron cell;
And fights against the shore in the enmity useless,
And licks the cliffs with a hungry wave ...
Relax! There is neither food to him, nor reflections:
The thunderstorms are crowded with dumb communities.

HORSE
(From "Songs of the Western Slavs")
“What are you laughing, my horse is zealous,
That you lowered your neck,
Do not shake the mane
Do you nibble your?
Ali I don't need you?
Ali eat oats?
Ali harvesting is not red?
Al reeds are not silk,
Not silver horseshoes
The stirrups are not angry? "
The sad horse answers:
“That's why I was looking at
That I hear a distant clatter,
Trumpet sound and arrow singing;
That's why I laugh that in the field
I don’t have long for a long time
Live in red and in the chole
Bright harness flaunt;
What soon the enemy is harsh
I will take my whole
And silver horseshoes
He will retire with my light legs;
That's why my spirit is aching,
What is a chaprac
He will cover you with your skin
I am sweating sides. "

To Siberia
In the depths of Siberian ores
Keep proud patience
Your mournful work will not be lost
And the thoughts are high aspiration.
Unfortunately faithful sister,
Hope in a gloomy dungeon
Will wake up cheerfulness and fun,
The desired time will come:
Love and friendship before you
They will reach the gloomy gates,
Like your hard labor holes
My free voice comes.
The fetters will fall heavy,
Dungeons collapse - and freedom
He will take you joyfully at the entrance,
And the brothers will give you a sword.

Anchar
In the desert stunted and stingy,
On soil, hot heat,
Anchar, like a formidable sentry,
Standing - one in the whole universe.
The nature of the thirsty steppes
He gave rise to anger on the day of anger
And the greens of the dead branches
And I drove the roots with poison.
Poison capture through his bark,
By noon melted from the heat,
And freezes the invetor
Thick transparent resin.
Bird does not fly to him
And the tiger is unit: only the vihor is black
He will run to the tree of death -
And rushing away, already cordial.
And if the cloud irrigates,
Wandering, its dense leaf,
From his branches, it is to poison
Rain flows in the fuel sand.
But man is man
He sent an imperious look to Anchar,
And he obediently flow on the way
And by the morning he returned with poison.
He brought mortal resin
Yes, a branch with wilted sheets,
And sweat on a pale
Streamed with cold streams;
Brought - and weakened and lay down
Under the set of hut on the basts,
And the poor slave at the feet died
Invincible lord.
And the king flooded with that poison
Their obedient arrows
And with them he sent death
To the neighbors in foreign limits.

Echo
Is the beast roaring in the forest deaf,
Whether the horn trumpets, whether thunder thunders,
Does the Virgin sing behind the hill -
To every sound
Your response in the air is empty
You will give birth to suddenly.
You will recover the roar of Gromov,
And the voice of storms and shafts,
And the scream of rural shepherds -
And you are slamming the answer;
You have no review ...
And you, poet!

Pushkin's lyrics - poems

Pushkin's lyrics - poems:

Long verse "To Natalia"
So I learned to know
What kind of bird is a cupid;
The heart of a passionate captivated;
I admit - and I'm in love!
Time flew by happiness
How, love without knowing the burden,
I lived and sang
As in the theater and at balls,
On guels Il in Voksalah
With a light marshmallow flew;
How, laughing in spite of Amur,
I wrote a caricature
To the amiable female floor;
But in vain I laughed
Finally he got caught
Yourself, alas! crazy.
Laughs, liberties - all under the shop,
I am resigned from the Catsu,
And now I am a feast!
Pretty priestess of Tali
I saw the charms of Natalia,
And already in the heart - Cupid,
So, Natalia! I admit
I'm full of
For the first time, I'm ashamed
In love with female charms.
All day, no matter how much I will,
Only I am busy with you;
The night will come - and only you
I see in an empty dream
I see in a light robe
Like dear with me;
Timidly, sweet breath,
White chest fluctuations,
The snow overshadowed with white,
And the half -bribe of the eyes,
Modest marriage of silent night -
My spirit is delighted! ..
I'm alone in the gazebo with her
I see ... Virgin Lily,
I tremble, languish, Nemea ...
And woke up ... I see darkness
A lonely bed!
I emit a deep sigh,
Lazy sleep, languid
Fires off on the wings.
Passion becomes stronger,
And, loving, tagging,
I am weakening every hour.
Everything to strive for something to strive for something
And what? - none of us
The ladies will not say aloud,
And so that Syak will smear.
I will explain in a sophistication.

All lovers wish
And what they do not know;
This property of them is marvel!
Wrapped in a hoodie,
With a grip cap
I would like Filimon
In the evening, like a shadow everywhere,
Taking the Anyuta tender hand,
Explain the love of flour,
Speak: She is mine!
I would like to
You tried me
Hold on a tile gaze.
Ile with a gray guardian
Light, cute rosina,
The old stepson fate,
In Epanche and with a wig,
Bold with a fiery hand
Snow, I will fill the chest ...
I would like ... yes with a foot
Do not step over the sea
And, at least by ears in love,
But with you separated,
I am deprived of all hope.

But, Natalia! you do not know,
Who is your tender celebration
You don't understand yet
Why doesn't he dare
And hope? - Natalia!
Listen to me more:

I am not the owner of a Seral
Not arap, I am not a Turk.
For the courteous Chinese,
Rude American
You can't read me
Do not imagine and am a naughty
With a cap on the hair,
With a mug, beer of the braid,
And with a civilian in the teeth.
Do not imagine a cavalry guard
In the helmet, with a long broadsword.
I do not like the fuel thunder:
Sword, saber, halberd
Do not pull my hand
For the Adams sins.
- Who are you, a talker in love? -
Take a look at the walls of the sublime,
Where the silence is eternal darkness;
Take a look at the windows fenced
There are lit up on the lamps there ...
Know, Natalia - I ... monk.

Enjoyment
In captive boring fits
Barly developed life color,
Stealthily flows away,
And her trace is the sorrow of the trace.
From a minutes of insensitive birth
To a gentle youthful years
I don't know all pleasure
And there is no happiness in a languid heart.

From the threshold of life in a distance
I looked impatiently:
“There, there,” I dreamed, “pleasure!”
But I flew for a ghost.
Golden wings developing,
Magic delicate beauty
Love was young
And flew before me.

I followed ... but the goals are distant
But the purpose of the sweet did not achieve! ..
When it is overlapping
Will happiness come a quick moment?
When will he ignite
Lamp dull young days
And my gloomy path will illuminate
My companion smile?

Month
Why are you leaving the cloud,
Solitary moon
And on pillows, through the windows,
Do you bring dull shine?
The pashant of its cloudy
You wake sad dreams
Love in vain suffering
And strict my mind
Slightly euthanized desires.
Fly away, memories!
Roll up, unhappy love!
No one to visit that night again
When a calm radiance
Your mysterious rays
Through the dark curtain penetrated
And pale, pale illuminated
Beautiful my mistress.
Mail, minutes, you flew
Then such a quick alley?
And shadows lungs
Before the unexpected dawn?
Why are you, a month, rolled away
And in the sky light drowned?
Why did the morning beam flashed?
Why did I say goodbye to cute?

Burned letter
Goodbye, a letter of love! Goodbye: she ordered.
How long I hesitated! how long I didn't want
Hand to betray all my joys! ..
But full, an hour has come. Gori, a letter of love.
I am ready; My soul does not heed.
Already the flame of your greedy sheets accepts ...
A minute! .. Flashed! Burning - light smoke
Visiting, is lost with my prayer.
Already a rocked rose -losing impression,
The melted wax boils ... About the providence!
It happened! The dark sheets turned off;
On the light puple, their treasured features
White ... my chest was shy. Cute ashes
The poor thing is poor in my dull fate,
Stay with me on a woeful chest ...

Love for all ages
Love for all ages;
But young, virgin hearts
Her impulses are beneficial,
Like storms of spring fields:
In the rain of passions, they will fresh
And they are updated and ripen -
And life that can give
And a magnificent color and a sweet fruit.
But in age late and barren,
At the turn of our years,
The dead trace is sad:
So the storms of autumn is cold
A meadow is turned into a swamp
And expose the forest around.

My friend
My friend, I have forgotten traces of past years
And my rebellious flow.
Do not ask me about what is not,
What was given to me in sadness and in pleasure,
What I loved, what changed me.
Let me eat joy not quite;
But you, innocent! You are born for happiness.
Believe him carelessly, Flying a moment catch:
Your soul is alive for friendship, for love,
For kisses of voluptuousness;
Your soul is pure; Sending is alien to her;
Light, like a clear day, a infant conscience.
Why do you have to listen to madness and passions
An unintelligent story?
She will involuntarily outrages your quiet mind;
You will pour tears, you will shudder with your heart;
The gullible soul will fly away,
And you are my love ... Perhaps you will be horrified.
Perhaps forever ... no, my dear,
I'm afraid of the last pleasures.
Do not demand dangerous revelations from me:
Today I love, today I am happy.

School poems by Pushkin

Pushkin's school poems:

Friends
No, I'm not a flatterer when the king
I am the praise of the free:
I boldly express my feelings
I say the language of the heart.
I just fell in love with him:
He is cheerful, honestly rules us;
He suddenly revived Russia
War, hopes, labors.
Oh no, even though youth is in full swing in it,
But the sovereign spirit is not cruel in it:
To the one who is clearly punished,
He secretly creates mercy.
My life flowed into the expulsion,
I powered with cute separation,
But he is a royal hand to me
Prost - and I am with you again.
He honored the inspiration in me
He freed my thought,
And I, in heart tender,
I can't sing praises?
I am a flatterer! No, brothers, a flatterer Lukava:
He will give a grief on the king,
He is from his sovereign rights
Only mercy will limit one.
He will say: despise the people,
The wilderness of nature is gentle voice,
He will say: Enlightenment Fruit -
Debauchery and some spirit of rebellious!
Trouble to the country where a slave and a flatterer
Some are close to the throne
And the chosen singer
Silent, taking the eyes of the Dole.

At the beginning of my life, I remember school ...
At the beginning of my life, I remember school;
There were a lot of children there, there were many children;
Uneven and frisky family;
Humble, dressed wretched,
But the appearance of a magnificent wife
She kept stored on the school strictly.
It is surrounded by our crowd,
A pleasant, sweet voice, it happened
She talks with babies.
Her brow I remember a bedspread
And the eyes are bright, like heaven,
But I delved into her conversations.
I was embarrassed by a strict beauty
Her brow, calm lips and eyes,
And the full shrines of the word.
Aging her advice and reproaches,
I interpreted to myself
The understandable meaning of true conversations.
And often I fanned furtively
To the magnificent darkness of someone else's garden,
Under the arch, artificial porphyry rocks.
There, my shadows of coolness were inexhaustible;
I betrayed my young mind to dreams,
And it was idly to think that I had a joy.
I loved light waters and leaves noise,
And white in the shade of the treasures of idols,
And in the faces their seal of motionless thoughts.
Everything is marble compasses and lira,
Swords and scrolls in marble hands,
On the chapters of the laurel, on the shoulders of Porphyry -
Everything was blocked by a sweet certain fear
My heart; And tears of inspiration,
At the sight of them, they were born before our eyes.
The other two wonderful creatures
I attracted me with magical beauty:
These were two demons of depiction.
One (Delphic idol) face by young -
Was angry, full of pride in terrible,
And he breathed all the power of unearthly.
Another wife -like, voluptuous,
Doubtful and false ideal -
The magic demon is a false, beautiful,
I forgot myself before them;
A young heart was beating in the chest - cold
He ran for me and Kudri lifted.
Unknown pleasure dark hunger
I tormented me. Dwear and laziness
I was constrained - I was in vain young.
Among the youths I am silent all day
The sullen wandered - all the idols of the garden
A shadow was thrown into my soul.

To a friend of a poet
Arist! And you are in the crowd of Parnassus ministers!
You want to saddle stubborn Pegasus;
You are in a hurry to hurry behind the laurels,
And with strict criticism, you boldly enter the battle!
Arist, believe me, leave a pen, ink,
Forget streams, forests, dull graves,
Do not dust in cold songs;
In order not to fly off the mountain, rather go down!
Enough without you poets and will be;
They will be printed - and the whole world will forget.
Perhaps now, moving away from the noise
And with a stupid muza, connecting forever,
Under the canopy of a peaceful minerwine of the egid
The other father of the second Tilemachid is hidden.
Fearing the fate of meaningless singers,
We killing a huge poems!
Descendants of late tribute to poets are fair;
There is a laurel on Pinda, but there is nettle there.
Fear of impurities! - What if Apollo,
Hearing that you climbed Helicon,
With a contempt, shaking his curly head,
Will your genius reward - with a saving losa?
But what? You frown and answer;
“Perhaps,” you tell me, “do not waste unnecessary words;
When I decide, I am not retreating,
And know, my lot fell, I am choosing a lyre.
Let him judge about me how the whole world wants,
Angride, scream, scold, - and I am a poet. "

Arist, not the poet who knows how to splash rhymes
And, hide with feathers, does not spare the papers.
Good verses are not so easy to write,
How to win the French Wittgenstein.
Meanwhile, Dmitriev, Derzhavin, Lomonosov.
The singers are immortal, and the honor, and the glory of the dews,
They nourish their common mind and teach us together,
How many books die, barely born!
Creativity loud Rifmatova, count
With heavy bibrus, they rot at Glazunov;
No one will remember them, he will not read nonsense,
And Feubov on them curses Print.

Suppose that, on Pinde climbed happily,
You can call the poet rightly:
Everyone will be read with you then.
But do you imagine that the river is already flowing to you
For the fact that you are a poet, myriad wealth,
That you already take the state of the state,
In the iron chests, you burd out chervonets
And, lying on the side, you eat and sleep?
Not so, a dear friend, writers are rich;
The fate was given to them neither the marble of the chamber,
The chests are stuffed with pure gold:
Laughter underground, high attics -
Here their palaces are magnificent, the halls are magnificent.
Poets - they praise everything, nourish - only magazines;
The wheel rolls past their fortune;
Nagus was born and steps into the coffin of Russo;
Camoens shares with poor bed;
Kostrov in the attic is unknown,
With the hands of alien grave, he is devoted to:
Their life is a number of sorrows, Gremyah, Glory is a dream.

You seem to have thought a little now.
“Well, you say,“ judging by everyone is so strict,
Sortering everything like a new Juvenal,
You interpreted about poetry with me;
And he himself, quarreling with the Parnassian sisters,
Did you come here to preach here?
What happened to you? Are you in mind or not? "
Arist, without distant words, here is my answer to you.

In the village, I remember, with the laity of simple ones,
Priest elderly and with gray curls,
In the world with neighbors, in honor, contentment of lived
And the first sage has long been known for everyone.
Once, having drained bottles and glasses,
From the wedding, in the evening, he walked a little drunk;
The men came to meet him.
“Listen, father,” said the lads, “
Instruct us sinners - you are forbidden to drink
You always command everyone to be sober,
And we believe you: what is it today ... "
“Listen,” the priest said to the peasants, “
How I teach you in the church, so you do it,
Live well, but do not imitate me. ”

And the same thing came to answer;
I did not want to at all justify myself:
Happy who, not feeling hunting,
Spends a quiet age without grief, without care,
The magazines do not graze with his odes,
And he does not sit on the impromptoms of the week!
He does not like to walk in heights of Parnassus,
Not looking for pure muses, not an ardent pegas,
Ramakov does not fear him with a pen in his hand;
Calm, he is cheerful. Arist, he is not PIT.

But full to reason - I'm afraid to bother you
And torture you with a satirical pen.
Now, my dear friend, I gave you advice.
Will you leave the pier, will you be silent or not? ..
Think about everything and choose any:
To be glorious - good, calm - better twice.

Memories of Tsarskoye Selo
Embarrassed with memories,
Performed by sweet longing,
Gardens are beautiful, under the dusk your sacred
I come in with a drooping head.
So the ladies of the Bible, the crazy Wenter,
To a drop, exhausting the repentance of the violet,
Seeing at last the native abode,
He druked the head of the head.

In the heat of the rage of transients,
In a barren whirlwind,
Oh, I have grown a lot of treasures I have heart
For inaccessible dreams,
And for a long time I wandered, and often, weary,
Gritting grief, anticipating troubles,
I thought about you, blessed limit,
I imagined these gardens.

I imagine a happy day
When the lyceum arose in the middle of you
And I hear our games I am again playful noise
And I see a family of friends again.
Again with a gentle youth, then ardent, then lazy,
Dreaming vague in my chest,
Wandering around meadows, silent at the groves,
I forget the poet.

And I see me before me
Days of past proud traces.
Still performed by the great wife,
Her favorite gardens
Are inhabited by hazards, gates,
Pillars, towers, idols of the gods
And glory marble and copper praises
Yekaterininsky eagles.

The ghosts of the heroes sit down
The pillars dedicated to them,
Look: here is the hero, the shy of the warrants,
Perun of the Kagul coast.
Here, here is the mighty leader of the midnight flag,
Before who the seas were a fire and swam and flew.
Here is his faithful brother, the hero of the archipelago,
Here is Navarinsky Hannibal.

Among the holy memories
I have grown here since childhood,
But dull, meanwhile, a stream of folk battle
He was ramptated and murmured.
The homeland hugged bloody care
Russia has moved, and they fly past us
And horse clouds, bradatai infantry,
And a light row.

The young warriors looked enviously,
We caught greedy, we scolded a long -range sound,
And, indignant, we cursed our childhood,
And the bonds of strict sciences.

And many did not come. With the sound of a song of new
The glorious in the fields of Borodin rested,
At the Kulm altitudes, in the forests of Lithuania harsh,
Near Montmartre.

Pushkin's poems about love

Pushkin’s poems about love:

Gorgeous
All of her harmony, everything is marvelous,
Higher than the world and passions;
She rests bashfully
In the glory of his solemn;
She looks around herself:
She has no rivals, there are no friends;
Our beauties of our pale circle
It disappears in her shine.

Wherever you hurried
At least for a love date,
Whatever the heart was in the heart
You are a secret dream -
But, getting together with her, embarrassed, you
Suddenly you stop involuntarily
The reverence is ruined
Before the shrine of beauty.

Confession
I love you, - even though I am furious
Although this is work and shame in vain,
And in this stupidity of the unfortunate
At your feet I confess!
I can’t face it and not in years ...
It's time for me to be smarter!
But I will find out by all signs
Love disease in my soul:
I am bored without you - I'm yawning;
I am sad with you - I endure;
And, no urine, I wish, I wish
My angel, how I love you!
When I hear from the living room
Your light step, or dress noise,
Il voice is virgin, innocent,
I suddenly lose my whole mind.
You will smile - I have an joy;
You will turn away - I am longing;
For the day of torment - award
I am your pale hand.
When diligently behind the hoop
You sit, bending casually,
Eyes and curls lowering, -
I am in touch, silently, gently
I admire you like a child! ..
Do you tell you my misfortune
My jealous sadness
When to walk, sometimes in bad weather,
Are you gathering in the distance?
And your tears alone
And speeches in the corner together,
And traveling to Opochka,
And piano in the evening? ..
Alina! Pressure me.
I do not dare to demand love.
Perhaps for my sins,
My angel, I don't stand love!
But pretend! This look
Everything can express so wonderful!
Ah, it’s not difficult to deceive me! ..
I myself am glad to be deceived!

I loved you: love still, maybe ...
I loved you: love is still, maybe
In my soul, it was not completely faded;
But let it no longer bother you;
I do not want to sad you anything.
I loved you silently, hopeless
Either timid, then tormenting jealousy;
I loved you so sincerely, so gentle,
How do you give you a loved one to be different.

The less we love a woman ...
The less we love a woman,
All the easier you like me
And all the more or rather we destroy it
In the middle of seductive networks.
Debauchery, it happened, cold -blooded
The science was famous for the love
A pipe about himself everywhere
And enjoying not loving.
But this important fun
Worthy of old monkeys
Floody grandfather's dormers:
Laylasov dilapidated fame
With glory red heels
And majestic wigs.

Tatyana's letter to Onegin (excerpt from the novel "Eugene Onegin")

I write to you - why is it more?
What else can I say?
Now, I know, in your will
Punish me with a contempt.
But you, to my unfortunate share
At least keeping a drop of pity,
You will not leave me.
At first I wanted to be silent;
Believe me: my shame
You have never learned
When would I have hope
At least rarely, at least a week
In our village, see you
To just hear your speeches,
You say the word, and then
Think about everything about one thing
Both day and night until a new meeting.
But, they say, you are unleasant;
In the wilderness, in the village everything is bored with you,
And we ... we will not shine with anything,
Although you are happy to be innocent.

Why did you visit us?
In the wilderness of a forgotten village
I never knew you
I did not know the bitter torment.
Souls of inexperienced excitement
Having humbled it over time (who knows?),
I would find a friend in my heart,
There would be a faithful spouse
And a virtuous mother.

Another! .. No, no one in the world
I would not give my heart!
Then the advice is destined for the council ...
That will of the sky: I am yours;
My whole life was a guarantee
Visiting the faithful with you;
I know you are sent to me by God,
You are my keeper to the coffin ...
You were in dreams,
Invisible, you were so sweet to me
Your wonderful look languished me,
In your shower, your voice was heard
For a long time ... no, it was not a dream!
You entered a little, I instantly found out
All was stupefied, dusted
And in my thoughts I said: here he is!
Isn't it true? I heard you:
You spoke to me in silence
When I helped poor
Or delighted with a prayer
The longing of an exciting soul?
And in this very moment
Isn't you a sweet vision,
In transparent darkness flashed,
Did he quietly cling to the head of the head?
Not you, with joy and love,
Did you whisper the words of hope?
Who are you, my angel Lee Keeper,
Or an insidious temptation:
Allow my doubts.
Perhaps this is all empty,
Deception of an inexperienced soul!
And completely different ...
But so be it! My fate
From now on I give you
I lute tears before you
I beg you with your protection ...
Imagine: I'm alone here,
Nobody understands me,
My mind is exhausted,
And in silence I have to die.
I'm waiting for you: a single gaze
Release the hopes of the heart
Il sleep heavy interruption,
Alas, well -deserved reproach!

I finish! It’s scary to count ...
I freeze with shame and fear ...
But my honor is guaranteed,
And boldly entrust it to her ...

To her
Elvina, dear friend, come, give me a hand,
I am Vyanu, stop a difficult dream of sleep;
Say ... I will see, for a long separation
Am I condemned?
Will it never look at each other?
Or are my days covered with eternal darkness?
You will never find us in the morning
In the arms of love?

Elvina! Why in the hours of the deep night
I can't hug you with enthusiasm
The eyes are full of eyes to a sweet striving
And tremble with passion?
And in the joy of dumb, in the bliss of pleasure
Your whisper is sweet and quiet groan to put,
And quietly in the modest darkness for the bliss of awakening
To fall asleep near Mila?

Winter poems by Pushkin

Winter poems by Pushkin:

Winter road
Through wavy fogs
The moon is making his way
On sad glades
She pours lightly light.
On the road of winter, boring
Three greyhound runs,
The bell is single -sounding
Tiresly thunder.
Something is heard a native
In the long songs of the coachman:
Then the remote is remote,
That heart anguish ...
No fire, no black hut ...
Dumb and snow ... towards me
Only miles are stripes
One come across.
Boring, sad ... tomorrow, Nina,
Tomorrow, returning to Mila,
I will forget the fireplace
I look around without looking.
Vigid Strelka hourly
The measured circle will make,
And, deleting document,
Midnight will not separate us.
Sadly, Nina: My path is bored,
Dorm, my coachman fell silent,
The bell is monotonous,
The lunar face is fucked up.

Winter evening
The storm of a halt skies the sky,
Whirlwinds of snowy torments;
Like a beast, she will win,
Will cry like a child,
Then on the roof dilated
Suddenly he will make a straw,
How belated as a traveler
He will stand in the window.
Our dilapidated shack
And sad and dark.
What are you, my old woman,
Said by the window?
Or a storm with a luggage
You, my friend, are tired
Or dozing under buzzing
Your spindle?
Let's drink, kind girlfriend
My poor youth,
Let's drink with grief; Where is the mug?
The heart will be more fun.
Sing me a song like a tit
She lived quietly for the sea;
Sing me a song like a girl
I walked for the water in the morning.

The storm of a halt skies the sky,
Whirlwinds of snowy torments;
Like a beast, she will win,
It will cry like a child.
Let's drink, kind girlfriend
My poor youth,
Let's drink from grief: where is the mug?
The heart will be more fun.

Winter. What should we do in the village? I meet…
Winter. What should we do in the village? I meet
A servant who carries a cup of tea in the morning,
Questions: warmth? Was a blizzard?
There is no powder or no? And is it possible
Leave for the saddle, or better before lunch
Bringing with the old neighbor's magazines?
Powder. We get up, and immediately on the horse
And trot in the field in the first light of the day;
Arapniks in the hands, dogs after us;
We look at pale snow with diligent eyes;
We circle, scour and late sometimes,
Two birds with one stone, we are home, we are home.
Where fun! Here is the evening: the blizzard howls;
The candle burns dark; Bezenching, the heart is aching;
Drop, slowly swallow the boredom of poison.
I want to read; Eyes above the letters glide
And thoughts are far away ... I close the book;
I take a feather, sitting; I am forcibly tear out
Muse has a dormant incoordinated words.
The sound is not for the sound ... I lose all the rights
Above the rhyme, over my servant is strange:
The verse stretches sluggishly, cold and foggy.
Tired, with the Lyro I stop the dispute,
I go to the living room; I hear a conversation there
About close elections, about the sugar factory;
The hostess frowns in the likeness of the weather,
Steel knitting needles vigorously moved,
Or about the cherry guesses the king.
Yearning! So day after day goes to solitude!
But if in the evening in a sad village,
When I sit behind the checkers in the corner,
Will arrive from afar in Kibitka il Provke
Unexpected family: old woman, two girls
(Two blonde, two slender sisters),
How the dull side is reviving!
Like life, oh my God, it becomes full!
At first indirectly feasive eyes,
Then there are a few words, then conversations,
And there is a friendly laughter and songs in the evening,
And the waltzes are frisky, and a whisper at the table,
And the eyes are languid and windy speeches,
Slow meetings on a narrow staircase;
And the Virgin at dusk goes to the porch:
The neck, chest, and blizzard are open to her face!
But the storms of the North are not harmful to the Russian rose.
How hot a kiss is burning in the cold!
Like a Virgin Russian fresh in the dust of snow!

The field is silver in the field ...
In a pure field is silver
The snow is wavy and pockmarked,
A month shines, three rushes
On the road Stolbova.
Sing! In the hours of road boredom,
On the road, in the darkness of the night
Sweet to me native sounds
Ragging song.
Sing, coachman! I am silently, eagerly
I will listen to your voice.
A clear month shines in cold
The distant howl is sad.
Sing: “Luchinushka, Luchin,
What is not lightly hungry? "

Pushkin poems about autumn

Pushkin’s poems about autumn:

Autumn (full poem)
I
October has already come - the grove is shaking off
The last sheets from their naked branches;
I breathed out the autumn clergy - the road freezes,
Murcuring, still runs behind the mill stream,
But the pond has already frozen; My neighbor hurries
In departure fields with their hunting,
And suffer from winter fun,
And the barking of the dogs asleep oaks wakes up.

II
Now my time: I do not like spring;
The thaw is boring to me; stink, dirt - I'm sick in the spring;
Blood wanders; Feelings, mind is longing.
I am more pleased in winter, I am more pleased
I love her snow; In the presence of the moon
Like a light run of a sled with a friend is quick and free,
When under the sable, heated and fresh,
She presses your hand, bothering and trembling!

III
How fun, with iron shoes with sharp legs,
Slide along the mirror of standing, even rivers!
And the winter holidays are brilliant anxieties? ..
But you need to know the honor; Snow and snow, half a year,
After all, this is finally a resident of the den,
Bear, get tired. It is impossible for a whole century
To ride in a sleigh with the Armids of Young
Il sour by the stoves behind the glasses.

IV
Oh, summer is red! I would love you
When it would not be heat, but dust, yes mosquitoes, but flies.
You, all the spiritual abilities, are destroying
You torment us; as fields, we suffer from the drought;
Just how to drink and refresh yourself -
There is no other thought in us, and it’s a pity to the winter of the old woman,
And, having conducted her pancakes and wine,
We create a wake with ice cream and ice,

V
Days of late autumn are usually scolding
But she is sweet to me, the reader is dear
The beauty of quiet, shining humbly.
So an unloved child in the family of a native
It attracts me. Tell you frankly
Of the annual times, I am only glad of her alone,
It has a lot of good in it; The lover is not conceited,
I found something in it with a dream of wayward.

VI
How to explain this? I like her,
How probably you are a consumption of a consumption
Sometimes likes it. I was convicted of death,
The poor thing sticks without a murmur, without anger.
The smile on the lips of the believers is visible;
She does not hear the grave abyss;
The face plays on the face.
She is still alive today, no tomorrow.

VII
Dull time! Okay charm!
I am pleased to me your farewell beauty -
I love lush nature wilting,
In Baggers and in gold, dressed forests,
In their halls of the wind noise and fresh breath,
And heaven is covered with hare wavy,
And the rare sun is a ray, and the first frosts,
And the distant gray -haired winters are threats.

VIII
And with every fall I bloom again;
Russian cold is useful to my health;
I feel love to the habits of being again;
Credom flies a dream, finds hunger;
Blood plays easily and joyfully in the heart,
Desires boil - I'm happy again, young,
I am full of life again - this is my body
(Please forgive me for unnecessary proseism).

IX
Lead a horse to me; In Oscolly open,
Mahahi with a mane, he carries a horseman,
And loudly under his shining hoof
The frozen debt rings and the ice cracks.
But it goes out a short day, and in a camel forgotten
The fire burns again - then the bright light pours,
Then smolder slowly - and I read before him
Il Duma long in my soul.

X
And I forget the world - and in sweet silence
I am sweetly strewn with my imagination
And poetry awakens in me:
The soul is shy about a lyrical wave,
Trembles and sounds, and searches, like in a dream,
Finally pour out with a free manifestation -
And then an invisible swarm of guests comes to me,
Subscribers are long -standing, the fruits of my dreams.

XI
And thoughts in my head are worried in courage,
And the light rhymes to meet them are running,
And the fingers ask for the pen, the pen to the paper,
A minute - and poems will flow freely.
So the ship is naughty in motionless moisture,
But Chu! - Sailors suddenly rush, crawl
Up, down - and the sails pouted, the winds are full;
The bulk moved and dissects the waves.

XII
Swims. Where can we swim?

That year autumn weather ... (Excerpt from Eugene Onegin)
Autumn weather that year
I stood for a long time in the yard
She was waiting for winter, she was waiting for nature.
Snow fell only in January
On the third at night. Waking up early
Tatyana saw the window
In the morning a whitewashed yard
Curtains, roofs and fence,
Light patterns on the glasses,
Trees in winter silver,
Forty funny in the yard
And gently fixed mountains
Winter with a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything is white.

“The sky was breathing in the fall ...” (an excerpt from the novel “Eugene Onegin”)
The sky was breathing in the fall,
Less often the sun was shining
In short, the day became
Forests mysterious canopy
I was exposed with sad noise,
Fog went to the fields,
Geese loud caravan
Stretched to the south: approached
Pretty boring time;
November was already at the courtyard.

Autumn morning
Noise rose; Field with a flower
My solitude is announced
And with the image of a lover with a drama
The latter flew the dream.
From heaven, a shadow has already rolled up.
The dawn rose, the pale day shines -
And a dull desolation ...
There is no one ... I was off the coast,
Where dear went to the evening of clear;
On the shore, on the green of meadows
I did not find slightly visible traces,
Left her beautiful with her foot.
Thinking thoughtfully in the wilderness of the forests,
I pronounced the name of the incomparable;
I called her - and the voice is secluded
The empty valleys called her to Dali.
I came to the stream, attracted by dreams;
His jets flowed slowly,
The image of unforgettable did not tremble in them.
There is no one! .. Until sweet spring
I said goodbye to bliss and soul.
Already autumn with a cold hand
The heads of birch and linden are naked,
She is noisy in oak oaks;
There is a yellow sheet day and night.
It costs fog on the waves of cooler,
And an instant wind is heard a whistle.
Fields, hills, familiar oak bars!
Keepers of sacred silence!
Witnesses of my longing, fun!
You are forgotten ... until sweet spring!

Pushkin's poems about nature

Pushkin’s poems about nature:

Who saw the edge where the luxury of nature ...
Who saw the edge where the luxury of nature
Livers of oaks and meadows,
Where the waters are cheerful and shine.
And peaceful caresses the shores
Where on the hills for bay arches
Do not dare to lie gloomy snow?
Tell me: who saw the edge of the lovely,
Where did I love, an unknown exile?

The golden limit is the favorite edge of Elvina,
My desires fly to you!
I remember the rocks of the coastal striggers
I remember the waters of funny jets,
And shadow and noise - and red valleys,
Where in the silence of simple Tatars of the family
Among the worries and with the friendly mutual
They live hospitable under the roof.

Everything is lively there, all of the eyes there,
Gardens of Tatars, villages, cities;
Reflected by the waves of the rocks of the community,
The ships are lost in the sea,
Amber hangs on the vines of grapes;
Wandering herds make noise in the meadows ...
And the swimmer is looking - the grave of mitridate
Illuminated by the radiance of sunset.

And where Mirt is noisy over the fallen urine,
I will see again through dark forests
And the arches of the rocks and the sea are shine azure,
And clear, like joy, Iebes?
Will the excitement of a stormy life subside?
Will the beauty will resurrect?
Will I come again under sweet shadows
Soul to fall asleep in the bosom of peaceful laziness?

Earth and the sea
When the blue of the seas
Sephir glides and quietly blows
In windbreed proud ships
And Chelny cherishes on the waves;
Worries and thoughts composing the load,
Then I am lazy more fun
And I forget the songs of the muses:
I have a sweet noise nicer to me.
When are the waves in the Breggs
Roaring, boiling and splashing foam,
And thunder thunders in heaven,
And lightning in the darkness shine;
I'm moving away from the seas
In hospitable oakpers;
The earth seems more true to me
And the fisherman is harsh:
He lives at Utlu, he is a shuttle
The playing of blind abyss
And I'm in reliable silence
I listen to the noise of the stream of the valley.

The clouds of the clouds are flying up ...
The clouds of the clouds are flying up.
The star is sad, evening star!
Your beam washed out wilted plains,
And the dormant bay, and the black rocks of the top.
I love your faint light in heavenly embroidery;
He woke the thoughts, who fell asleep in me:
I remember your sunrise, a familiar luminary,
Above a peaceful country, where everything is cute for the heart,
Where the poppopoli tunes in the valleys ascended,
Where the delicate myrtle and dark cypress dozs,
And midnight waves are sweetly noisy.
There is once in the mountains, the heart thought is complete,
Above the sea, I earned thoughtful laziness,
When the hut went off the shadow - the shadow -
And the young Virgin was looking for you in the darkness
And she called her friends a name.
The daytime shone went out ...
The daylight went out;
At sea, the blue evening fell fog.
Noise, noise, obedient windbreak
Angle under me, the sullen ocean.
I see a remote shore,
The lands of the midday magic edges;
With excitement and longing I strive there,
With a memorial, it was alarmed ...
And I feel: tears were born again in the eyes;
The soul boils and freezes;
A friend that is familiar around me flies;
I remembered my former years crazy love
And all that I suffered, and everything that is nice to the heart,
Desires and hopes is a languid deception ...
Noise, noise obedient windbreak
Angle under me, the sullen ocean.
Fly, ship, bring me to distant limits
At a formidable whim of deceptive seas,
But not to the Breggs sad
My foggy homeland,
Countries where the flame of passions
Feelings for the first time flared up,
Where the muse gently smiled at me secretly,
Where early in storms faded
My lost youth,
Where the light -winged joy changed me
And my heart betrayed a cold suffering.
The seeker of new impressions,
I fled you, fatherly edges;
I ran you, pets of pleasure,
Minute youth, minute friends;
And you, a half -misconceptions,
Which I sacrificed myself without love
Peace, glory, freedom and soul,
And you are forgotten by me, the traitors are young,
My secret friends are golden in my spring,
And you are forgotten by me ... but the former hearts of the wounds,
Deep wounds of love, nothing cured ...
Noise, noise obedient windbreak
Worry under me, sullen ocean ...

The Lukomorye has green oak ...
In the Lukomorye oak green;
Golden chain on oak Tom:
Both day and night the cat is a scientist
Everything walks around the chain around;
Goes to the right - the song starts,
To the left - says a fairy tale.
There are miracles: there is a goblin roaming,
The mermaid on the branches sits;
There on unknown paths
Traces of unseen beasts;
Hut there on chicken legs
Stands without windows, without doors;
There the forest and debts are full;
There are waves about the dawn
Sand and empty on the Bregg,
And thirty knights of beautiful
Chreds from the waters come out of clear,
And with them their uncle sea;
There is the Korolevich in passing
Captivates the formidable king;
There in the clouds in front of the people
Through the forests, through the seas
The sorcerer carries a hero;
In the dungeon there is a princess
And the brown wolf serves her correctly;
There is a stupa with a butter
Goes, wanders by itself
There, the king of Koschey over the gold is the haste;
There is a Russian spirit ... there it smells of Russia!
And there I was, and I drank honey;
At the sea, I saw a green oak;
He sat under him, and the cat is a scientist
He told my fairy tales.

Cloud
The last cloud of scattered storm!
One you rush along the clear azure,
You alone are a dull shadow
You alone are singifying a jubilant day.
You have recently shook the sky,
And lightning menacingly wrapped you up;
And you published a mysterious thunder
And the greedy earth was in rain.
Enough, scold! It's time for over
The earth was refreshed, and the storm rushed,
And the wind, caressing the leaflets of wood,
He is driven by heaven from the reassured.

How quickly in the field, an open ...
How quickly in the field, an open open,
Fucked again, my horse is running!
How loudly under his hoof
The earth is frozen sounds!
Useful for Russian health
Our strengthening frost:
Lanites, brighter than the away roses,
They play with cold and blood.
——
Sad forest and dollars.
He will see the day - and it is dark
And, as if the traveler is belated,
The storm knocks on our window ...

The shrub is noisy ... to the cliff ...
Noisy bush ... on a cliff
The cheerful deer runs out
He is shy
From the top of a sharp look around,
Looks at the bright meadows,
Looks at the Blue Code of Heaven
And on the Dnieper Brega,
Browned often wood.
Realistic, it is built
And a sensitive ear moves ...

But he flinked - a sudden sound
He touched him - fearfully
He pulled his neck and suddenly
He spent from the top ...

The field is silver in the field ...
In a pure field is silver
The snow is wavy and pockmarked,
A month shines, three rushes
On the road Stolbova.

Sing! In the hours of road boredom,
On the road, in the darkness of the night
Sweet to me native sounds
Ragging song.

Sing, coachman! I am silently, eagerly
I will listen to your voice.
A clear month shines in cold
The distant howl is sad.
Sing: “Luchinushka, Luchin,
What is not lightly hungry? "

Pushkin's verse "Winter morning"

Pushkin's verse "Winter Morning":

Frost and sun; Wonderful day!
You will also doze off, a lovely friend -
It's time, beauty, wake up:
Open the eyes of the eyes of the eyes
Towards Northern Aurora,
Star of the North come!

Evening, you remember, the blizzard was angry
In the muddy sky, the haze was worn;
Moon, like a pale spot
Through the clouds gloomy yellow,
And you sat sad -
And now ... look out the window:

Under blue sky
Magnificent carpets,
Shiny in the sun, snow lies;
A transparent forest is one blacken
And the spruce through the hoarfrost is turning green,
And the river shines under the ice.

The whole room with amber shine
Illuminated. Funny bang
The flooded stove is cracking.
Nice to think with a bed.
But you know: do not enjoy the sledges
Brown mare forbid?

Sliding in the morning snow
Dear friend, let's put on running
Impatient horse
And let the fields are empty,
Forests, recently so thick,
And the shore, dear for me.

Pushkin's verse "I remember a wonderful moment"

Pushkin’s verse “I remember a wonderful moment”:

I remember a wonderful moment:
You appeared before me
Like a fleeting vision,
As a genius of pure beauty.

In languid sadness of hopeless,
In anxieties noisy fuss,
I sounded a gentle voice for a long time
And dreamed of cute features.

Years passed. The storm is rebellious
Scattered previous dreams
And I forgot your voice tender,
Your heavenly features.

In the wilderness, in the darkness of the backwards
My days were drawn quietly
Without a deity, without inspiration,
Without tears, without life, without love.

A awakening has come to the soul:
And here you appeared again,
Like a fleeting vision,
As a genius of pure beauty.

And the heart beats in the acceptance,
And for him they resurrected again
And the deity and inspiration,
And life, and tears, and love.

"Monument" - Pushkin's verse

"Monument" - Pushkin's verse:

I am sitting behind bars in dungeon raw.
A young eagle, nourished in captivity,
My sad comrade, waving a wing,
Bloody food pecks under the window,

Pecks, and throws it, and looks out the window,
As if I had conceived one thing with me.
Calls me a look and cry with his
And he wants to utter: “Let's fly away!

We are free birds; It's time, brother, it's time!
There, where the mountain is whitening behind the cloud,
Where the sea edges turn blue,
There, where we walk only the wind ... yes I! .. "

Pushkin's verse "Prisoner"

Pushkin's verse "Prisoner":

I am sitting behind bars in dungeon raw.
A young eagle, nourished in captivity,
My sad comrade, waving a wing,
Bloody food pecks under the window,

Pecks, and throws it, and looks out the window,
As if I had conceived one thing with me.
Calls me a look and cry with his
And he wants to utter: “Let's fly away!

We are free birds; It's time, brother, it's time!
There, where the mountain is whitening behind the cloud,
Where the sea edges turn blue,
There, where we walk only the wind ... yes I! .. "

"Nanny" - Pushkin's verse

"Nanny" - Pushkin's verse:

A friend of my harsh days
My darling is decrepit!
One in the wilderness of pine forests
For a long time, for a long time you have been waiting for me.

You are under the window of your light
You are grief like a clock
And the knitting needles
In your bewildered hands.

You look at forgotten gates
On a black remote path:
Longing, forebodings, care
Close your chest all over.
Then you feel like ...