Hope Queen
Literary evening "There is in the autumn of the original, short, but marvelous time»

Goals:

Raise interest in the artistic word, develop interest in the poems of various poets.

To intensify work with preschoolers on the use of children's books in their cognitive-speech and artistic-speech development.

Tasks:

Promote children's interest in poetry;

Strengthen children's knowledge about autumn, autumn months, about autumn preparation of flora and fauna for winter.

- Form in children: the desire to be able to expressively read by heart, the ability to feel, understand and reproduce the figurative language of the poem.

Develop children's artistic abilities.

Develop attention, memory, thinking and imagination.

preliminary work:

Reading poems to children and talking about them, expanding cognitive interests through lines of poetry. Project work "Seasons" chapter autumn.

Acquaintance of children with Pushkin through reading poems about nature.

Learning by heart poems.

Involving parents in raising interest in the poetic word, as one of the conditions for improvement speech activity children. (Learning Poems and reading works with children)

Learning dances

"Rain drip-drop-drop", Falling leaves - Wizard.

Equipment:

Phonogram of songs "Rain drip-drop-drop", "Leaf fall - Wizard", tape recorder.

Presentation with illustrations of photographs for children's poems, TV.

Exhibition of books with autumn poems. portraits writers: Pushkin, Yesenin, Fet, Marshak,

Decorative additions to poetry: village houses, near the wall of one firewood shed with firewood, autumn tree , dolls - autumn months september, October, November, an owl with books, a candlestick with a candle, a pen - a pen. Easel with a painting autumn, paints, brushes.

The course of the literary evening.

Is in the autumn of the original,

A short but marvelous time -

The whole day stands as if crystal,

And radiant evenings.

How wonderfully poets write about autumn.

What is autumn?

This is the time of year.

Imagine that you are an artist, what color of paint will you use?

Tell me, who can paint a picture, not with colors, but with words?

Poets. TO today we have been preparing for a long time, each of you has learned a poem. Each poem is a picture. Such pictures can only be seen in silence. Are you ready to listen to every word in a poem, riddle poems? Then we begin our poetic evening(Denis).

I decided to say goodbye to the summer,

Suddenly the river became cloudy

Birds became a friendly flock

Go on vacation.

And so that everything becomes like in a fairy tale,

Giving beauty to the earth

Year spilled on autumn paint

From september boxes

From whose boxes YEAR got paint? Denis bring us September here (doll - September)

September (Maksim)

On a clear September morning

Villages thresh bread

Birds rush" over the seas

And the school opened. S. Marshak

All year round. October. (Rita. P)

In October, in October

Frequent rain outside.

Grass is dead in the meadows

The grasshopper was silent.

Firewood prepared

For the winter for stoves

S. Marshak

What month did Rita read us a poem about? Rita look for October and put it next to September. Tell me why you need to prepare firewood for the winter?

(Nikita)

The sun freezes, hiding in the clouds,

The north wind howled

The birds went on holiday

The rain was cold.

I'm about autumn meditate

At the closed window:

Autumn loves Pushkin,

I was born in autumn!

Who is Pushkin? Yes it's true great poet he wrote many poems, and we will get to know you about fairy tales with them, and now Juliana will read an excerpt

From a novel "Eugene Onegin"

Already the sky autumn breathed,

The sun shone less

The day got shorter,

Fog fell on the fields

Noisy geese caravan

Pulled south: was approaching

Pretty boring it's time;

November was already at the yard.

A. Pushkin

Ruslan will give us 2 riddles.

Who does not let us warmly,

The first snow scares us?

Who calls the cold to us,

You know? Of course yes! (November)

It wets the field, forest and meadow,

City, house and everything around!

He is the leader of clouds and clouds,

You know this. (Rain)

It often rains in autumn, poets also wrote poems about this prankster.

"It's raining down the street." (Roma)

It's raining down the street

wet road,

Many drops on glass

And a little warmth.

How autumn mushrooms,

We carry umbrellas

Because in the yard

Has come autumn

It is raining (Ilya)

Cloud-cat, tail pipe,

A cloud with a long beard

Cloud-horse, cloud-beetle.

And there are only two hundred of them.

The poor clouds are very crowded,

There is no place for clouds in the sky.

All two hundred will quarrel,

And then they will pay together.

And the people below are screaming:

"Run, it's raining!"

Raindrops are flying (Ilya L.)

Flying, raindrops are flying

You won't leave the gate.

Along the wet path

A thick fog creeps in.

For the saddened pines

And fiery rowans

Goes and sows autumn

Fragrant mushrooms!

When it rains, are we sad or happy? …

And it all depends on what mood we are in. Let's turn into rain and play a little pranks.

Dance "Rain drip-drop-drop".

Autumn is a wonderful time!

Leaves fly in the air

Like midges in summer.

About autumn leaves and autumn there are many poems

autumn leaf. (Sasha)

leaf behind the window autumn turned yellow,

Broke off, spun, flew.

The yellow leaf made friends with the breeze,

Everyone is spinning and playing under the window.

And when the cheerful wind flew away,

The yellow leaf on the asphalt got bored.

I went into the yard and picked up a leaf,

I brought it home and gave it to my mom.

You can't leave him outside.

Let him live all winter with me.

Autumn(Kate)

In a golden carriage

What's with the playful horse

galloped autumn

Through forests and fields.

good sorceress

Changed everything

bright yellow color

Decorated the earth.

Sleepy month from the sky

Surprised by a miracle

Everything around sparkles

Everything shimmers

Autumn(Artyom)

Autumn,

Autumn.

Damp in the clouds -

Shines even at noon

Dull and timid.

From the cold grove

On the path

The hare blew -

the first

Snowflake.

Autumn(Sonya)

walks autumn on the path,

Wet her feet in puddles.

It's raining

And there is no light.

Lost somewhere summer.

walks autumn,

Wanders autumn.

Wind with maple leaves

New carpet underfoot

yellow-pink -

Maple.

Falling leaves!

Falling leaves! Falling leaves! (Kirill)

The entire park and garden are strewn!

colorful carpets,

Spread out under your feet!

I will catch a leaf in my hands,

Gift to my beloved mother!

autumn deciduous,

The most elegant!

Do you know that autumn descends to the ground "Leaf fall - Wizard" and walks through the streets, parks, and the forest is his favorite place to play.

Dance Falling Leaves - Wizard.

Maxim will guess a riddle.

The cold scares them so much

TO warm countries fly away

Can't sing, have fun

Who gathered in flocks?

(birds)

Video of flying birds. Who is this? what are they doing? we read poems about them now.

"It has come autumn.» (Dasha)

Has come autumn,

Our garden turned yellow.

Leaves on a birch

They burn with gold.

Don't hear merry

Nightingale song.

The birds have flown away

To distant lands

Swifts (Rita G)

Swifts flew away today.

Where did you go, tell me?

And they flew away

Where the days are warm in the sun

Where there is no winter at all.

But we are still dearer to them!

And they will arrive in the spring

And again they whistle in the sky.

Not only birds, but also animals are preparing for winter. Kirill Yuriev will tell us about the bear.

Misha found a snag -

There is one wall and a roof.

Lies back against the wall, yawns.

The house is blowing in the wind.

Don't worry:

Winter will complete three walls.

And Nastenka knows the riddle about one of autumn months. Try to listen carefully and guess.

Frogs, bear cubs, (Nastya)

And of course the badgers

Again this month

Go to bed for the winter!

Like snow the leaves are spinning

And lays down like a colored carpet,

All nature falls asleep

What month of the year? (October)

Let's remember with you how squirrels are preparing supplies for the winter.

Autumn chores

How much trouble for squirrels! The walnut ripens

apples, pears, rowan.

It is necessary to gather porcini mushrooms,

String them on pine branches,

Caulk the hollow with new moss,

Grass and leaves to drag into the nest.

That is why there is vanity in the forest,

And without wind in the movement of the top,

That's why around the shaggy stump

Exploded mosses of multi-colored pillows.

And you know that all this time a hedgehog and a fox were watching you. We love your literary evening that we decided to give you three of our favorite books about how they live in the forest, a hare, a fox and a bear. The teacher reads to you, but for now you can look at the pictures. Just take care of these books, they are our favorite.

This concludes our literary evening, it was very pleasant to be in your company, to listen to a wonderful reading of poetry. I received from evenings great pleasure with you. I hope for new meetings.

Great about verses:

Poetry is like painting: one work will captivate you more if you look at it closely, and another if you move further away.

Little cutesy poems irritate the nerves more than the creak of unoiled wheels.

The most valuable thing in life and in poetry is that which has broken.

Marina Tsvetaeva

Of all the arts, poetry is most tempted to replace its own idiosyncratic beauty with stolen glitter.

Humboldt W.

Poems succeed if they are created with spiritual clarity.

The writing of poetry is closer to worship than is commonly believed.

If only you knew from what rubbish Poems grow without shame... Like a dandelion near a fence, Like burdocks and quinoa.

A. A. Akhmatova

Poetry is not in verses alone: ​​it is spilled everywhere, it is around us. Take a look at these trees, at this sky - beauty and life breathe from everywhere, and where there is beauty and life, there is poetry.

I. S. Turgenev

For many people, writing poetry is a growing pain of the mind.

G. Lichtenberg

A beautiful verse is like a bow drawn through the sonorous fibers of our being. Not our own - our thoughts make the poet sing inside us. Telling us about the woman he loves, he delightfully awakens in our souls our love and our sorrow. He is a wizard. Understanding him, we become poets like him.

Where graceful verses flow, there is no place for vainglory.

Murasaki Shikibu

I turn to Russian versification. I think that over time we will turn to blank verse. There are too few rhymes in Russian. One calls the other. The flame inevitably drags the stone behind it. Because of the feeling, art certainly peeps out. Who is not tired of love and blood, difficult and wonderful, faithful and hypocritical, and so on.

Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin

- ... Are your poems good, tell yourself?
- Monstrous! Ivan suddenly said boldly and frankly.
- Do not write anymore! the visitor asked pleadingly.
I promise and I swear! - solemnly said Ivan ...

Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov. "Master and Margarita"

We all write poetry; poets differ from the rest only in that they write them with words.

John Fowles. "The French Lieutenant's Mistress"

Every poem is a veil stretched out on the points of a few words. These words shine like stars, because of them the poem exists.

Alexander Alexandrovich Blok

The poets of antiquity, unlike modern ones, rarely wrote more than a dozen poems during their long lives. It is understandable: they were all excellent magicians and did not like to waste themselves on trifles. Therefore, behind every poetic work of those times, a whole Universe is certainly hidden, filled with miracles - often dangerous for someone who inadvertently wakes dormant lines.

Max Fry. "The Talking Dead"

To one of my clumsy hippos-poems, I attached such a heavenly tail: ...

Mayakovsky! Your poems do not warm, do not excite, do not infect!
- My poems are not a stove, not a sea and not a plague!

Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovsky

Poems are our inner music, clothed in words, permeated with thin strings of meanings and dreams, and therefore drive away critics. They are but miserable drinkers of poetry. What can a critic say about the depths of your soul? Don't let his vulgar groping hands in there. Let the verses seem to him an absurd lowing, a chaotic jumble of words. For us, this is a song of freedom from tedious reason, a glorious song that sounds on the snow-white slopes of our amazing soul.

Boris Krieger. "A Thousand Lives"

Poems are the thrill of the heart, the excitement of the soul and tears. And tears are nothing but pure poetry that has rejected the word.

Is in the autumn of the original
Short but wonderful time -
The whole day stands as if crystal,
And radiant evenings ...

Where a peppy sickle walked and an ear fell,
Now everything is empty - space is everywhere, -
Only cobwebs of thin hair
Shines on an idle furrow.

The air is empty, the birds are no longer heard,
But far from the first winter storms -
And pure and warm azure pours
To the resting field...

There is a spell in autumn early,
One all too brief, of an enchantment rare:
The nights are radiant and pearly,
The days, pellucid, crystal-clear.

Where played the sickle and fell the corn, a mellow,
A warm and breathless stillness reigns supreme;
spanning the brown and idle furrow,
A dainty thread of cobweb gleams.

The birds have flown, we hear no more their clamour,
But winter "s angry winds not soon will start to blow -
Upon the empty fields there pours the azure glow
Of skies that have not lost the warmth of summer.

Exists in the autumnal growing
A brief, but an enchanting phase:
The day - as if in crystal glowing,
The dusk - in the resplendent glaze.

Where ears fell to zesty sickle's rending,
It "s bare around; through a widespread range
Glows only, thinning and unbending,
A web string on an idle trench.

The air "s depleting, quiet - birds have pealed,
Of nascent wintry storms there isn't a clue,
And pours the warm and the transparent blue
Onto a resting field...

There is a fleeting, wondrous moment
during autumn "s early days:
time stands motionless, time "s a crystal,
evenings bathe in brilliant rays.

Where sickles swung and crops were toppled
there"s just an empty wasteland now.
A strand of glittering web is all you notice
across an idle track cut by a plow.

The air has emptied. Birds no longer chatter,
though there "s some time to wait for winter" s snow and rain,
and pure and warm, a gentle blue is flowing
across the resting plains.

Jest chwila krotka w dniach jesiennej pory,
Przedziwnych chwila mgnień:
Powietrze czyste, krysztalowy dzień,
Świetliste jeszcze wciąż wieczory...

Gdzie rześki błyskał sierp i padał kłos,
Dziś głucho wszędzie, opuszczona niwa;
I tylko cienki pajęczyny włos
Na śpiącej bruździe odpoczywa.

Wichrowe jeszcze śpią poświsty,
W powietrzu pustka, zmilkły ptaków spory,
I spływa lazur jasny, ciepły, czysty
Na pogrążone w sen ugory.

I know in the early autumn
So short and clear.
Povіtrya clean, a day of insight,
I evening sang into the distance.

De sickle roaming and fell eared,
Use the space, empty on the stubble.
Lish pavutinnya, mov thin hair,
Shine on the march furrow.

Don't be a bird, it's getting colder,
Far to the first snowy khurtovins,
Blur the vision and heat flow from the heights
On a stagnant and quiet field.

Er is, als de herfst amper is verschenen,
Een korte maar heerlijke tijd -
Alle dagen als door kristal beschenen,
En de avond een stralende heerlijkheid.

Waar eens de sikkel het koren luchtig deed vallen
Is het nu uitgestrekt en verlaten.
Alleen de spin weeft er nog zijn vallen,
Een scittering over stille paden.

In de lege lucht laat geen vogel zich horen.
De eerste winterstorm nog ver in "t verschiet,
Warm en zuiver is het azuur dat vliedt
Over de rustende voren..

U jesenskih je prvih dana
Krachahna, ali divna dob -
Kad stoji dan ko "od kristala,
I večer sjaji blistavo…

Gdje set "o čilo srp i klas gdje pad" o
sad tek je prostor svud - i pusto sve -
i paucine tanki vlasak samo
Treperi gdje je brazde pusti red.

Zrak samotan, ni ptica cuti više,
no daleko jos je do prvih zimskih bura -
potoci toploga i cistoga azura
leže gdje polje mirno disse…

初秋有一段奇异的时节，
它虽然短暂，却非常明丽——
整个白天好似水晶的凝结，
而夜晚的天空是透明的……

在矫健的镰刀游过的地方，
谷穗落了，现在是空旷无垠——
只有在悠闲的田垄的残埂上
还有蛛网的游丝耀人眼睛。

空气沉静了，不再听见鸟歌，
但离冬天的风暴还很遥远——
在休憩的土地上，流动着
一片温暖而纯净的蔚蓝……

　　　　　　一八五七年
　　　　　　　查良铮 译

Philosophical reflections of F.I. Tyutchev about nature begin early, when he is not yet 20 years old, and will go through the whole creative life poet. In addition, he paints simply poetic pictures of wildlife with a bright new language and the purest colors. The nature of the poet is alive, it is spiritualized. It has everything: love, language, freedom, and soul. Based on this understanding of nature by the author, an analysis of Tyutchev's poem "There is in the original autumn ..." should be carried out.

The figurative system of the poet

It is extremely flexible and combines concrete, visible signs of the world and the personal impression that this world makes on the author. It is worth reading the first unhurried quatrain, and a clear picture of the beginning Indian summer, seen and expected many times by everyone, rises before the reader's eyes.

The initial autumn is short, but this time is wondrous, that is, amazing and beautiful. There is a "crystal" day, in other words, of extraordinary purity and clarity, and as if the most transparent crystal covered and protected him. From what? This will be discussed at the end of the work. And the evenings amaze with beauty - radiance (everything is permeated with the light of the unquenchable evening sun, which in the evening does not want to leave the sky, but lingers on it and colors its blueness with all the colors of the sunset). It is necessary to write about this, making Tyutchev "There is in the original autumn ...".

Second quatrain

The fields are empty, there are no people who cultivated them, hurriedly working with sickles, to which the epithet “peppy” is applied, cutting wheat, quickly harvesting. All that remained was the expanse, boundless from edge to edge, resting furrows and a thin cobweb that gleamed on plants and folk omens means warm long autumn and cold winter.

And people also noticed that the beginning of autumn is always associated with the departure of birds, so the sky is also empty (at Tyutchev, the air is empty). The poem was written in the very first days of autumn, which the people subtly subdivided into seasons: the beginning, Golden autumn, deep autumn, pre-winter, first winter. All this can be reflected by making an analysis of Tyutchev's poem "There is in the original autumn ...".

Last quatrain

The air became empty, as has been said, and the birds fell silent. Everything sinks into deep silence and stillness, preparing for winter holidays. But it is still far from the pre-winter, which will begin along with the autumn storms, approximately from the end of October. In the meantime, the sky is azure - this word means its incredibly gentle serene blue.

Thus, one can begin to analyze Tyutchev’s poem “There is in the original autumn ...”, which speaks of the complete peace that reigns in nature and which is transmitted to the soul of a person who lovingly looks at the passing summer and the coming autumn without sadness and anxiety, but only enjoying their beauty . Such is his emotional coloring and the theme of the poem.

The history of the creation of the poem

Fedor Ivanovich was returning to Moscow with his daughter Maria, who at that time was seventeen years old, from his village Ovstug in the Bryansk province. On the third day of the journey, he dictated to his daughter the text of this poem.

The beginning of a pacifying autumn inspired the poet with beautiful lines about Russian autumn. During these years (50 - 60) he usually does not address the theme of nature, his poems are usually politicized, so it stands out from the crowd.

art trails

The epithets that the author uses become leading and main, creating an image of a subtle transition from summer to autumn. "Wonderful" autumn says goodbye to us, giving the last fine days. "Crystal" in relation to the day emphasizes the fragility of its beauty and the special transparency of the sky. "Radiant Evening" creates a particularly bright and This shows how to analyze the poem "There is in the autumn of the original ..." Tyutchev.

The antithesis is seen in the opposition of the now empty field with the fact that it was previously filled with reapers with sickles. The personification is the web, taught as "thin hair". Metaphor - pouring azure, warm and clean. Comparisons can be found after the words "how" or in the form instrumental noun. This is how the analysis of Tyutchev's poem "There is in the original autumn ..." In short, there is little left to consider - rhyme.

The first two quatrains use cross-rhyme, that is, the first stanza rhymes with the third, and the second with the fourth. At the end, the rhyme becomes encircling - the first stanza rhymes with the last. Yamb creates a very musical rhythm.

Analysis of Tyutchev's poem "There is in the original autumn ..." according to the plan:

  • Author and title of the work.
  • History of its creation.
  • Emotional coloring.
  • Subject.
  • Trails.

Reading this poem, you understand that the poet was able to reproduce all the colors and sounds, in this case, the complete silence of nature. His images are imbued with feeling and reflection, enclosed in a strict elegance of form.

Is in the autumn of the original
A short but marvelous time -
The whole day stands as if crystal,
And radiant evenings ...

Where a peppy sickle walked and an ear fell,
Now everything is empty - space is everywhere -
Only cobwebs of thin hair
Shines on an idle furrow.

The air is empty, the birds are no longer heard,
But far from the first winter storms -
And pure and warm azure pours
On the resting field…

Analysis of the poem "There is in the original autumn" Tyutchev

F. Tyutchev became famous for his ability to convey the elusive moments associated with the Russian landscape. His poems are like excellent photographs taken at the most opportune moments. The poet surprisingly accurately found the right angle and time. In 1857, he wrote the poem "There is in the autumn of the original ...", dedicated to the most beautiful and short autumn season – Indian summer. The work was written by the poet in a surge of inspiration while watching the autumn landscape from the carriage.

Autumn is traditionally considered a period of fading vitality, a premonition of the inevitable winter with its severe frosts. Therefore, many poets were attracted by a special autumn period - Indian summer. After the first dull autumn rains and frosts, it is a bright farewell reminder of the past happy days. summer days. Indian summer is a short respite of nature, made before the next severe test.

Tyutchev draws the reader's attention to the fact that Indian summer suddenly stops the process of withering and for some time fixes nature in an unchanged state, allowing you to fully enjoy its beauty. One feels the incredible fragility of this state ("the whole day stands as if crystal"). A person is given time to gather strength before the long Russian winter, once again plunge into the atmosphere of the past summer.

Tyutchev refers to the images of simple village labor, harvesting and harvesting. Along with the latest warm days the hard time of suffering is over. Autumn is a period of summing up. It is no coincidence that weddings were traditionally celebrated in Rus' at this time. Indian summer is also becoming a respite for the peasantry.

Tyutchev's close attention to every little thing is vividly represented in the image of the "thin hair of the web." This element of the landscape, insignificant in itself, very capaciously and accurately conveys the feeling of peace that unites nature with man.

The poet encourages readers to make the most of the respite provided. Nothing can interfere with the calm contemplation of nature: loud sounds have disappeared (“no more birds can be heard”), bright colors have faded. Severe winter storms are still very far away, so they seem to be something unrealistic. The author specifically does not mention the autumn bad weather and mudslides. He wants to keep the best memories of autumn in his memory.