extracurricular activity for students elementary school
“On a visit to S.Ya. Marshak"
Goals:
To expand children's knowledge about the life and work of S.Ya. Marshak.
Develop logical thinking, visual and auditory attention, memory and speech of children.
Develop conscious reading skills.
Raise interest in the work of S.Ya. Marshak, to his works.
Equipment:
Multimedia, presentation“On a visit to S.Ya. Marshak", portrait of S.Ya. Marshak (1887 - 1964),books, collections of works by S.Ya. Marshak,children's drawings for works, posters
The course of the holiday
1. A song about books is performed.
2.Poems:
With a book it is easier to live in the world.
The book of wisdom is full.
Everything will illuminate and answer
For any question, she
The book is a teacher
The book is a teacher
The book is a close friend and friend,
The mind, like a stream, dries up and grows old,
If you let go of the book.
Let's pretend for a moment
That suddenly we lost magazines and books,
That people don't know what a poet means
That there is no Cheburashka, there is no Hottabych.
As if no one has ever in this world
And never heard of Moidodyr,
That there is no Dunno, liar-klut,
That there is no Aibolit, and there is no uncle Styopa.
Surely it is impossible to imagine such a thing?
So hello, smart, kind word!
Let the books of your friends come into the houses!
Read all your life - get smart!
Read on boys!
Girls, read!
Favorite books
Scroll more often.
On the subway, on the train
And the car
Away or at home
At the cottage, at the villa -
Read on girls!
Read on boys!
Good is taught
Favorite books!
Teacher: Guys, 2017 marks the 130th anniversary of the birth of S.Ya.Marshak. It is difficult to imagine our childhood without the Scattered from Basseinaya Street, without a smart mouse, without a tower and Robin-Bobbin, and today we will make an amazing journey to the country of poems, songs and fairy talesSamuil YakovlevichMarshakA.
Samuil Yakovlevich was a faithful comrade and good friend of the children. He taught them to love poetry, showed them miraculous power and beauty mother tongue. Marshak once explained to the children that he would like to give them a doll that speaks the words that a person needs most at that moment. For example: “Don't be sad. There will be a holiday on your street. Or: "Don't be afraid! There are worse things." Or: “Do not be offended! Be smarter than your offender." But since such dolls do not exist, Marshak wrote: “To help those who do not come up with the right words that can console them, cheer them up, make them kinder, braver, smarter and more patient, good books will help ...”
The poet wrote the first children's poems about the smallest and for the smallest (poems from the book "Children in a Cage" sound)
Elephant
They gave shoes to an elephant.
He took one shoe
And he said: - Need wider,
And not two, but all four!
Giraffe
Picking flowers is easy and simple
Children of small stature
But to one who is so high
It's not easy to pick a flower!
Owlets
Look at the little owlets
The little ones sit side by side.
When they don't sleep
They are eating.
When they eat
They don't sleep.
Ostrich
I am a young ostrich
Arrogant and proud.
When I'm angry, I kick
Callused and hard.
When I'm scared, I run
Stretching your neck.
But I can't fly
And I can't sing.
Zebras
striped horses,
african horses,
It's good to play hide and seek
In the meadow among the grass!
lined horses,
Like school notebooks
Painted horses
From hooves to head.
Leading: Since childhood, we all know entertaining riddle verses, the author of which is also S.Ya. Marshak. Let's all remember them together.
He makes noise in the field and in the garden,
But it won't get into the house.
And I'm not going anywhere.
As long as it goes (rain)
What is in front of us:
Two shafts behind the ears
In front of the wheel
And a nurse on the nose? (glasses)
She got down to business
She screamed and sang.
Ate, ate oak, oak
Broke a tooth, a tooth. (Saw)
We always walk together
Similar as brothers.
We are at dinner - under the table,
And at night - under the bed. (Boots)
They beat him with a hand and a stick.
Nobody feels sorry for him.
Why are they beating the poor guy?
And for the fact that he is inflated! (ball)
Blue house at the gate
Guess who lives in it.
The door is narrow under the roof -
Not for a squirrel, not for a mouse,
Not for the spring tenant,
Talking starling.
News is flying in through this door
They spend half an hour together.
The news does not stay for a long time -
They fly in all directions (mailbox)
Under New Year he came to the house
Such a ruddy fat man.
But every day he lost weight
And finally completely disappeared (calendar)
Was green, small
Then I became scarlet.
I turned black in the sun
And now I'm ripe.
Holding on to a cane,
I've been waiting for you for a long time.
You eat me and the bone
Zaroy in your garden (cherry)
Teacher: S.Ya. Marshak told entertaining and instructive stories and fairy tales, painted color pictures of the world in verse. Now we will turn our page and find ourselves in a multi-colored country.
green page
This page Green colour,
So it's always summer.
If I could fit in here
I would be on this page.
Golden insects roam in the grass.
All blue like turquoise
Sat down, swaying on a corolla of chamomile,
Like a colored plane, a dragonfly
blue page
And this is a sea page,
On it you will not see the earth.
Breaking the steep wave
Ships pass by.
Dolphins flicker like shadows
Wandering starfish.
And the leaves of underwater plants
Shakes like wind, water
yellow page
Do you love guys
Sprinkle sand.
You have a shovel in your hands
Bucket and shovel..
Like a thread of gold
From your fist
A thick stream runs
Cool sand.
garden road
Covered with sand.
But it's bad if a lot
The sand is all around.
white page
This is a snow page.
Here a fox walked over it,
Covering the trail with the tail.
Here jumping on the page
Birds roamed on a clear day
They left a trace of the cross ...
Chain of footprints in the snow
Remains like a string
In a clean, brand new notebook
First student.
night page
Before us is the night page.
The capital is shrouded in darkness.
Trams go to rest
Trolleybuses rush home.
Pedestrians rush for the night.
You won't see guys anywhere.
And only stations, factories,
Clocks and machines don't sleep.
Teacher: We hear the poems of S.Ya. Marshak at home, on the street, and at school.- Often the poet ridiculed in his poems the lazy, clumsy, braggarts.
Hear the story of the quitters and the cat who dreamed of going to school.
The cat and the loafers
Gathered bums
to the lesson,
And the loafers got
To the rink.
Thick satchel with books
On the back,
And skates under the arms
On the belt.
They see, they see the loafers:
Out of the gate
Gloomy and tattered
The cat is coming.
The bums ask
Him:
- What are you frowning at?
From what?
mewed plaintively
Gray cat:
- To me, a mustachioed cat,
Soon a year.
And I'm beautiful, loafers,
And smart
And writing and literacy
Not a student.
School not built
For kittens.
teach us to read
Do not want.
And now without a diploma
you'll be lost
Far from literate
You will not leave.
Not to drink without a letter,
Neither to eat
At the gate of the room
Do not read!
Loafers answer:
- Cute cat,
We're on the twelfth
Soon a year.
They teach us literacy
And the letter
And they can't learn
Nothing.
We learn, loafers,
Something lazy.
We go skating
All day.
We do not write with slate
On the desk,
And we write with skates
On the rink!
Responds to the quitters
Gray cat:
- To me, a mustachioed cat,
Soon a year.
I knew a lot of loafers
Like you
And met with such
For the first time!
"About a student and six units"
A student came from school
And he locked his diary in a drawer.
- Where is your diary? the mother asked.
I had to show her the diary.
Mother couldn't help but sigh
Seeing the inscription: "Very bad."
Knowing that the son is such a lazy person,
The father exclaimed: - Fool!
How did you get one?
- I got it for the bird.
In natural science I am weak:
I named the bird the baobab.
“For this,” the mother said sternly, “
And there are too many units!
We don't have a mark! -
The boy said to her in response.
- What is the second unit for? -
The older sister asked.
- The second, if I'm not lying,
I got for the kangaroo.
I wrote in my notebook
That kangaroos grow in the garden.
Father exclaimed: - Crocodile,
Why did you get the third?
- I thought the hypotenuse -
River of the Soviet Union.
- Well, what about the fourth one? -
The young man answered: - Because
What are we with Yegorov Pakhom
They called the zebra an insect.
- And the fifth? mother asked
Opening a crumpled notebook.
- We've been given a task.
I solved it for an hour,
And I got in response:
Two diggers and two thirds.
- Well, and the sixth, finally? -
The angry father asked.
- The teacher asked me a question:
Where is Kanin Nos located?
And I did not know which Kanin,
And he pointed to his and Vanin ...
You are a very bad student
Sighing, her mother said. -
Take your terrible diary
And go to sleep!
Teacher: Thanks to S.Ya. Marshak, we can read all 154 sonnets of William Shakespeare, poems by Robert Burns and Rudyard Kipling, because Marshak was a wonderful translator. Many of these works have been set to music. (A song sounds to the words of R. Kipling “On the distant Amazon”, translated by S. Marshak).
And how many English and Scottish children's songs were translated by S.Ya.Marshak: “Humpty Dumpty”, “Three Trappers”, “Robin-Bobbin”, “The House That Jack Built”, “About Boys and Girls”.
What are boys made of?
From snails, shells
And green frogs.
That's what boys are made of!
What are girls made of?
From sweets and cakes
And all kinds of sweets.
That's what girls are made of!
What are guys made of?
From ridicule, threats,
Crocodile tears.
That's what guys are made of!
What are young ladies made of?
From pins, needles,
From ribbons, tattoos.
This is what ladies are made of!
Song
Teacher : "Twelve Months", "Teremok", "Cat's House", "Sorrow to be afraid - happiness not to be seen", "Smart things" - these are some of the plays written by S.Ya. Marshak in different time. From the very beginning, they were written not only for children, but also for their parents. In every fairy tale, behind an outwardly playful and harmless plot lies a wise word about a person, about the meaning of his life.
"Teremok" - dramatization
The poem “Wishing friends” is performed by the author.
Teacher: More than one generation of children grew up on Marshak's poems. At one time, the poet received letters from all over the country in batches. The children asked how the Distracted from Basseinaya Street was doing, they were interested
how old is its creator:
"Dear grandfather! How old are you? Are you already a hundred? After all, my grandmother also read your poems when she was little, and my mother and father too ..."
Marshak's poems for children are pure and honest, exactly the way the author wanted them to be.We hope that Samuil Yakovlevich's wish to young readers will come true: “Let your mind be good,
And the heart will be smart "
The song "The Way of Good" sounds
V.A. Favorsky. Self-portrait with his wife. 1913. Domotkanovo
Artists in the First World War. Fragments of correspondence with a brief introduction by art historian Elena Murina
March 15, 2016In this book, the descendants of Vladimir Andreevich Favorsky and Ivan Semenovich Efimov publish letters from these artists, who were friends and even had distant family ties - Vladimir Andreevich was married to the niece of Ivan Semenovich's wife, the wonderful artist Nina Simonovich-Efimova. Both of them were participants in the First World War - Vladimir Andreevich had been in the army since 1915, and Ivan Semenovich - since 1916. It was Favorsky who recommended Efimov to his battery. Vladimir Andreevich was promoted to warrant officer and presented to the St. George Cross for participation in the Brusilovsky breakthrough.
These letters from the front to their young wives and parents - amazing document love and spiritual closeness with their families.
When Vladimir Andreevich came to some exhibition or meeting of artists, everyone, regardless of age and even attitude to his art (there were those who did not like or did not understand this art), met him with the greatest reverence and respect. He was known for the fact that he never, at any time, tarnished his reputation with an unseemly act, which was a rarity in those years. It combined fidelity to the traditions of the Russian intelligentsia, honor, nobility, simplicity - simplicity in relations with people, with students and a deep sense of modernity. He was a contemporary artist who experienced the history of our country, and remains one of the most significant representatives of Russian artistic culture. His creative activity was extremely versatile. He was not only a famous master of engraving and the creator of the art of book design, but also a painter, but also the creator of monumental paintings, as well as a draftsman and sculptor. And that is not all. Favorsky was an outstanding teacher and original thinker, who left a great theoretical legacy in which he comprehended not only his own experience, but also the patterns of development of world art - from ancient egypt until the twentieth century.
All this together has become a truly unique contribution of Favorsky to our culture. Moreover, the value of this contribution stemmed from the ideological and ethical prerequisites that he was guided by in his creative life. For him they were not abstract philosophical categories. Favorsky admitted in one of the articles that when he entered the world of art and understood its beauty, then I wanted others to see it too, to teach them to see this world. That is, for him the goal of creativity was the knowledge of the laws of beauty and artistic truth, in order to reveal the beauty of art to a person - whether they are his students or just spectators.
This measure of humanity determined his preferred choice of those types and genres of art that accompany a person in Everyday life: a print that adorns a dwelling, not kept in a museum; the book you are holding in your hands; wall painting accessible to everyone; a theatrical performance where the viewer is in direct contact with the beauty of the scenery. That is, Favorsky was fascinated by the idea of organizing a spiritualized human environment by means of art. In fact, we should talk about humane creativity that brings beauty and goodness and opposes the chaos of everyday prose.
It is no coincidence that he was one of the highest moral authorities among his contemporaries - students and a wide range of artists and admirers. However, the significance of Favorsky's figure made him for many years one of the main targets of frantic criticism during the period of so-called socialist realism, to the "dogmas" of which he had nothing to do. He was officially proclaimed formalist No. 1, and his amazing monumental paintings and sgraffito in the Museum of Motherhood and Infancy and in the House of Models in Moscow were destroyed.
Only at the end of his life did Favorsky receive the recognition he deserved and was revered by the artistic community as one of the great classics of Russian art.
V.A. Favorsky. Book of Ruth. 1924
Ivan Efimov wrote in his notebooks about a friend:
Favorsky is a real husband (vir in Latin), and we are all boys, including P.A. Florensky, who, however, overcomes his restlessness by will, and the calm of some mountain is simply given to Favorsky.
About Efimov himself, Favorsky wrote in 1959 to his son Adrian:
Ivan Semenovich is not a sculptor, but an inventor of new forms. It's true: how many sculptors who have been given a mass of clay in their hands and who traditionally sculpt and do not imagine anything about the silhouette and about space, which should be in any plastic work, but Ivan Semenovich so sharply and witty come to light. […] There are living works that end in nothing but a living feeling, but there are works that, in the end, being alive and coming from life, are embodied as rhythmic thoughts, like crystals, I would say, plastic ideas that express rhythmically and musically modern and create what is called the style of the era. Everything that I have said here, in my opinion, closely concerns Ivan Semenovich and rarely any other sculptor. In this he is similar to the ancient artists.
Elena Murina
Artists in the First World War. V.A. Favorsky - M.V. Favorskaya. I.S. Efimov - N.Ya. Simonovich-Efimova. Letters. Compiled by E.A. Efimova, I.I. Golitsyn, I.D. Shakhovskaya. — M., 2013
Accepted abbreviations:
V.A. - Vladimir Andreevich Favorsky
M.V. - Maria Vladimirovna Favorskaya (Derviz)
I.S. - Ivan Semenovich Efimov
N.Ya. - Nina Yakovlevna Simonovich-Efimova
V.A. to M.V. Moscow (barracks) - Domotkanovo
(1st letter)
My dear Maruska
I'm writing you a letter, but I don't know what to write - either because it's too much, or because it's chaotic. The main thing I want to know about you is how you and Nikita are doing. I really want to hope that everything is fine with you and you have gained courage and do not lose heart.
If you write me a sad letter, it will be very unpleasant for me. I feel very strongly that I am not free. Please write me about yourself. And about me for the first time I will write briefly. I got to the barracks as soon as you left, the next day on Wednesday evening. A big shed, bunks, about forty volunteers, people are very different and there are obviously very nice ones, but there are also bad ones, but there are no very bad ones - just stupid. Some already quarrel with each other, quarrel, but this is by mutual agreement and they do not stick to those who do not want this. My beard especially guarantees me against this, it inspires respect in everyone. We also have the nearest authorities, and I must say, they are generally good: firstly, a platoon commander, a crest of Herculean build and a very good-natured one - Minko. Then the lieutenant - this indifferent one. Then ensign Grunberg - this one is true nervous person but good. Here are all the people who can give me trouble or not deliver it.
When the classes started, I was still afraid that I would feel bad, but now I see that all this is not so difficult. Until my leg hurts, I’m here and jumping and running like I haven’t run for a long time. And in horse riding I had undoubted talents. That's the whole life and everything would not be bad if it weren't for fleas - there are an awful lot of them because of the sandy soil and they don't let you sleep, but fatigue helps. To you I am very likely /.../ the end of the letter is missing.
Notes:
Domotkanovo - an estate with a two-story manor house, a neglected park with linden and spruce alleys and a chain of overgrown ponds, located sixteen miles from Tver, was bought by the father of M.V. Favorskaya (Derviz) by Vladimir von Derviz after his marriage to Nadezhda Simonovich in 1886.
Nikitka - Nikita Vladimirovich Favorsky (1915 -1941) - son of M.V. and V.A.The artist, phenomenally gifted from childhood, is a draftsman, sculptor, engraver, painter; learned from his parents from infancy; among his other teachers - P.Ya. Pavlinov, K.N. Istomin; graduated in 1938 graphic faculty MIII, his diploma - engravings for "The Captain's Daughter" by Pushkin - I.E. Grabar called "a phenomenon in art"; independent things he participated next to his father in monumental painting and book works, created vivid cycles of engravings for the fairy tales of B. Shergin, for the Armenian epic, and for the painting of the sanatorium in Kislovodsk. In 1941, having a "white ticket" (a sick heart), he volunteered for the militia and went missing during the defense of Moscow.
M.V.'s wedding Derviz and V.A. Favorsky. Domotkanovo. 1912
Dear dad and mom, I'm alive and well. We have fought a little over the past few days and with benefit, you probably already read about it. Many prisoners, a lot of all sorts of junk, guns, clothes, wine, all sorts of things, sometimes you think to take something as a keepsake but you don’t know where to put it. The guns are lying around like simple sticks and no one / them / is interested in us yet (they are then collected for the troops) with us, and everyone is looking for small carbines, there are also a lot of cartridges scattered everywhere. The prisoners are eccentrics, they go rejoicing, some talk about something preoccupied, but very businesslike ahead of the escorts, they come to us trying to get out of the shelling, and then they will come out and try to carry or lead our wounded, in a word, to be useful.
As for Marusya, I also hope that everything will be fine for her and others to enjoy. I bow to all the inhabitants of Epifanovka, I kiss you both tightly
your Volodka
Notes:
Epifanovka - Favorsky's farm on the Oka, near the large fishing village of Pavlova (a town of hereditary handicraftsmen who made knives, locks, etc.), where several generations of the Epifanov-Favorsky family were priests (a surname received by grandfather V.A. in the seminary ). Father V.A., Andrei Evgrafovich Favorsky, built a house and founded a dairy farm and an apiary in his homeland, on the wasteland, which he bought in the 1890s as a property qualification necessary to become a zemstvo vowel. He named the farm in memory of the original family name.
V.A. Favorsky with his family. 1916
V.A. to parents in Epifanovka
My dear parents, we are at war, we have everything for now, and if things go on like this, the Germans will not be able to cope with us. It's been quiet for a few days now and everyone is resting. I'm alive and well and don't worry about me at all.
Dad can be pleased, the commander ordered me to collect all my papers and they want to represent me as an officer, I didn’t ask, they themselves find me worthy, of course I don’t know what the answer will be, but I have to think positive. Of course, I'm afraid of my new duties, but it's not so soon and it will be possible to prepare, calculate what if I forgot. I live here not badly, it is only a little dirty and it is rather difficult to wash, but in general it is not bad. My comrades are doing well. Babinsky almost certainly leaves for the factory.
As for the general successes, you probably know better than I do, but in general it’s good on the Russian front, but if they had pressed on the French and Italian fronts, then the Germans would not have been able to throw either guns or soldiers. Well, how are you, how is everyone doing as an estate and all living creatures, orchards and vegetable gardens, does your mother draw, are you waiting for Vladimir Dmitrievich? well the postman goes all the best to you kiss you hard
your son Volodya
Notes:
Vladimir Dmitirevich - Vladimir Dmitrievich (background) Derviz (1859-1937) - father of M.V. Xpainter, watercolorist; studied at the Academy of Arts together (and later was friends) with V.A. Serov and M.A. Vrubel; He also graduated from the School of Law. In 1885, having married Serov's cousin, Nadezhda Simonovich (1866-1908), and having received his share of the capital from his father (St. Petersburg senator), he bought the Domotkanovo estate in the Tver province and, until his wife's death, was energetically engaged in organizing and modernizing the economy - both his own and the peasant (Nadezhda Yakovlevna was the soul of the estate for both households and peasants). For many years Vl. Dm. actively worked in the zemstvo, solving issues of education, "people's health", etc.; was elected chairman of the Tver district and provincial zemstvo councils. After the revolution, expelled from the estate, in the hungry Moscow of 1919-1920, he earned money by repairing shoes. From 1920 to 1928 he lived and worked in Sergiev - first in the Commission for the Protection of Monuments of the Lavra; in 1922, during the seizure of "church valuables" by the authorities, he, together with Yu.A. Olsufiev, in the most difficult living conditions, managed to preserve the priceless treasures of the monastery for history and culture (by handing over the least significant, but rich in precious stones and massive gold and silver things). Then, before the intensification of repression, he was the first head of the Lavra Museum.
V.A. Favorsky. Card officers. Romania. 1917
V.A. to A.E. to Epifanovka
End of June 1916
Dear dad, how are you and mom doing, I'm alive and well, in general, the danger for me is not very big. Of course, you know that we are already far away against our former sector, we are fighting now in a completely different way, all the time movement, all the time changes, so that sometimes you get very tired, there is no time and nowhere to wash for weeks, so that you are extremely dirty. Our commander is still ill and we have only two officers on the battery, who have a lot of work and get tired, especially the senior officer, very much. I am always with the senior officer at the observation post and my relations with him are very good, and in general, I have good relations with all the others.
We have to deal with the infantry, ask them about their life, they tell a lot of interesting things. One recently said that during reconnaissance he climbed into the church and found the enemy wounded left there, gave them a drink (there was no bread with him), at this time the enemy set fire to the church with a shell. The orderlies immediately picked up our wounded, but they did not want to drag strangers from the burning church, but our officer forced us and the soldier was very pleased. You have to see a lot of prisoners and talk to them, in general they complain that they have almost nothing to eat, they give very little bread, they give almost no meat at all, so you don’t understand what they eat, our soldiers eat incomparably better. I feel well, I get tired but not overtired, the weather is good and rheumatism and neuralgia do not torment me. How do you live, that in Epifanovka, is everything all right? Like mother, like /aunt/ Lida and children. Does my mother draw and what exactly, let her draw more for herself and for me. What about cows, bees, bread, what kind of weather you have, how Oka is doing.
Well, I bow to everyone, kiss you and mother, write me firmly all the best to you
your son Volodya
Notes:
A.E. - Andrei Evgrafovich Favorsky (1845-1924) - father of V.A. Attorney at Law, member of the Moscow Court of Justice; a native of Pavlov on the Oka, the eldest son in a large (5 brothers and 2 sisters) and early orphaned family of a priest; Zemsky and public figure; Member I State Duma from the Nizhny Novgorod province. After the revolution, from 1920 he lived in Sergiev and worked in the Commission for the Protection of Monuments of Art and Antiquities of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra (created in 1918 according to the concept and under the leadership of Father Pavel Florensky).
Lida - Lidia Vladimirovna Ganeshina (nee Sherwood), sister of Olga Vladimirovna Favorskaya, mother of V.A.
V.A. Favorsky. trenches. 1933
V.A. to parents in Epifanovka
Hello, my dears, I am alive and well, the events are going on some dizzying, but we still hope for the best. We were supposed to have an offensive here and we were assigned to a bad division, and it did not go on the offensive, and even part of it fled. The Turks and Bulgarians themselves climbed, but they were beaten off quite decisively by artillery and machine-gun fire, so they won’t climb again. There are many guilty, but of course the chiefs who reported that it is possible to attack are to blame. Artillerymen behave well and very good impression shock battalions are being produced, and most importantly, more and more are already wounded, but fresh people are to hell. It should be noted that some of the policemen did not flee, but remained at their post, so not all of them are scoundrels. Now, apparently, it will be quiet, we will wait, and the Germans here are weak for the offensive. It is remarkable that our prisoners do not surrender, but run away, it used to be different, they did not run away, but surrendered. One thing in all this is good, that it is all now in sight and not hidden, and therefore it may be possible to correct it. My stomach hurt again and I lay in reserve for two weeks, was treated, drank milk, and now I have completely recovered.
Today I am a birthday boy and I congratulate you on this, and then my mother, because recently she was also a birthday girl. Well, I'm sending Marusa a piece of paper to the Economic/Omic/community/, only she will have to go to Moscow once, well, it's not so difficult, letters from her are still cheerful and cheerful.
All the best to you, kisses to both of you, low bow to Aunt Lida
your son Volodya
I finished a woman with a child, I will do something else.
Notes:
"Woman with a Child" - a sculpture that V.A. cut from local stone in his spare time; subsequently purchased from the MTX exhibition - P.Ya. Pavlinov.
The picture brought by I.S. Efimov from the front. 1917. First on the left - commander of the 3rd battery D.M. Saakov, the second - I.S. Efimov; second from right - V.A. Favorsky
V. A. to parents in Epifanovka
My dears, I am alive and well with us so far calmly and I don’t have much to do, but still I have, so I don’t get bored. Today I received a letter from my mother, she writes that there are no letters from me for a long time, but I try to be careful, though the first thing I write to Maruska and then to you, so sometimes I don’t have time. The money that dad sent I received recently, thank you very much for it, it will last me a long time. Maruska writes to me quite often, they are doing well, there are very interesting letters about Nikita, how he talks, how he tries to walk - it would be terribly interesting to look at him, I only worry that my grandmother gets tired with our boy. It’s a pity for my mother that she doesn’t have to draw, I also really miss painting and I started to draw a little, and although all this is of course a trifle, it’s very nice at least a little. […] We don’t have any special changes here, only the commander arrived, but I had to write to you about this, and the senior officer, with whom I was together all these battles, left as commander in the second battery, I feel sorry for him, in general it’s better perhaps to be with a young commander. But this commander is also a good artilleryman and treats all of us very kindly. In addition, remember, I wrote to you about two ensigns sent to us, one of them has more or less taken root with us, and one cannot get used to it at all, everyone dreams of a park or something like that and he was lucky - he asks from the park to come to us too ensign Vasiliev and they may exchange places. It will be nice, this Vasiliev is a nice guy and besides, our Moscow artist, from the school of painting. In general, it turns out that the artists are good artillerymen, not without reason that Michelangelo, Leonardo and Cellini were the first artillerymen. Maybe in our free time we will draw together with him, and more seriously than sketches, that's all our news. And as for warm clothes, things are like this for me: jerseys, socks, a hat, etc. I have in Kiev at the Babinskys and I can get them more or less easily, but about the other I wrote to Marusya, maybe you, mother, will help her with advice or deed. I asked for my blue sheepskin coat to be widened at the shoulders and covered with a khaki, and then some warm boots, at least fur, but it’s better not to get wet, and fur mittens, that’s all, though it’s a lot and will require a lot of money, but what to do. The main thing is that I don’t understand how it will all be sent to me in the end if they don’t let me go on vacation. Well, my dears, all the best to you, I kiss you tightly
your son Volodya
Notes:
About the park - a park of guns.
... after all, they were the first artillerymen ... - The listed Renaissance artists - Michelangelo Buonarroti (1475-1564), Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519) and Benvenuto Cellini (1500-1571) - were also engaged in the development of siege and defensive weapons, structures and devices, as well as casting cannons and using them in real combat operations.
V.A. Favorsky. Battery on the go. Drawing from a letter to M.V. End of October 1916
M.V. to V.A. Domotkanovo - Army
My dear husband, thank you, my knight-soldier for the poems, they are good and I can still see my dear. Something boiled in my soul a lot that I want to say: seeing my grandmother's fussiness, pettiness; Lyalin and Val/eryan/ Dm/itriyevich/ keen concern; the passionate pursuit of the pleasures of the Efimovs and Serg / her / Ivanovich (only for the Efimovs / satisfied, but for P /olner / not); papa's confused, cold, lonely life, as if he had closed with a heavy lid all the best and most important and decided to touch only the most superficial strings of his soul; and Lelin, and my crude fanaticism to the cause - it seems to me that one should not live like that, that is, live in the same way in fact, but feel differently, so that life is illuminated by something from the inside, so that petty worries and momentary pleasures always reign and fanaticism for any business, even for art and for the upbringing of a child.
So that the soul would be all permeated with this big one, like a dewdrop permeated with the rays of the sun; but most importantly, when the sun shines, all the drops of dew sparkle and rejoice; when a person is doing well, it is not difficult for him to praise God and look into the sky and be kind. But when a person feels bad, and misfortunes attacked him - his grandmother has blindness, Lyalya has deafness, Serg / her / Iv / anovich / and dad have loneliness, I have an illness and eternal fear for your life (war) - and that's it - I still want that in spite of everything, the soul would be a praise to God, whole and united like a sigh; so that when the whole sky is gray, and the wind rushes through the bare autumn fields, and there is not a single ray of sunlight - and then the dewdrop would shine, penetrated by the inner sun that never sets.
Closer to this live, it seems to me, contented and hard-working Kolya and Natasha, keeping cheerfulness and faith in their souls (in what?); but the truth is they do not have grief, but there is a certain complacency, which of course contradicts the ideal. Always busy doing things for other O.V. and A.E. In my opinion, they also live well, they do not have heaviness and gloominess of their souls, their souls are simple and open to others. True, I don’t know much, but I think that she lived ideally - this is my mother, who always maintained meekness and peace of mind and some kind of splendor, and quietly enjoyed nature and the fact that life gave her good things. And gave more heavy. I open it more and more, but there has always been peace in my soul, and leaving with us somewhere / ud / to the thaw, sitting on a log, she smiled and sang some nib / ud / our songs. But I know so little, I don't even know if she believed; but that's how she lived.
Oh Volodik, Nikita coughed and all my good thoughts were gone; we were walking with him now, my grandmother dressed him lightly, and I think he caught a cold.
And these thoughts I have are far from reality, some misfortunes, I feel that I cannot endure calmly, so that the inner light does not go out: I could not endure loneliness, I would become embittered /... / I also think about Christianity - but this another time, and I wrote you so much, and you know, thoughts inspired by you; of course you.
Good luck
your stupid wife.
True, my body is selfish, but my soul is not, you're right. Own small decision All the same, I did it over the summer: I don’t remember a time when I got angry, I would speak in an angry voice. In my heart I sometimes got angry, but immediately restrained myself. What am I boasting about? it's so small that it's embarrassing to even talk about it. So few!
I would like the soul to sound all the time - praise, like the psalms of David. And you write - you have to live more intensely, like lightning; I don't quite understand it. In my opinion, this is the way to live.
Kiss my darling.
True, I have no right to say that they do not live like that, those whom I know; who knows - seemingly gloomy faces, boring preoccupied speeches, but in their souls there may be a light that is hidden from everyone, and shines in spite of everything. After all, the human soul is a mystery. I can say that I know only my own, yours and Nikita's soul; I almost know Lelina, but no one else, and in essence I have no data to say that they live not like that. Only the light somehow seldom breaks through with them, and you can’t hide the light anyway; we saw him at my mother's and were warmed by him, yes, yes, all our childhood is warmed by this light. Of course, Lyalina's children are also warmed by the light of mother's love. No, my mother had another light. And I don’t consider motherly love, you know, it’s like loving yourself or your husband; your child is selfish love.
I can not stop - I write everything and get distracted.
I love you the most; I love you too much and I'm afraid that you, it is you, are the light for me and I live / and inspire you - crossed out/, but there must be something more than love. You do not think?
Notes:
Lyalya - Adelaida Yakovlevna Derviz (nee Simonovich; 1872-1945) - sister of N.Ya.; aunt M.V., model of the famous painting by V.A. Serov “Portrait of A.Ya. Simonovich" [GRM]. From her youth, she helped her mother - at school, her sister Nadia - in the conduct of the Domotkanovsky estate. I lost my hearing at the age of 18. Val's wife. Dm. Derviz.
Valeryan Dmitrievich -Valerian Dmitrievich (von) Derviz (1869-1917) - brother of Vl. Dm., Uncle M.V., mathematician. After his marriage, he built his own house in Domotkanovo, next to the old manor house of his brother (the exposition of the V.A. Serov Museum is now located in it). On the last day of the Moscow October uprising of 1917 (November 2, O.S.) Val. Dm. was killed in the street by a stray bullet.
Polner - Sergei Ivanovich Polner (1861-1929) - teacher of mathematics in St. Petersburg (in the 1900s - at the Tenishevsky School); member of the United Council of Professors of Petrograd; in the 1880s one of the strongest chess players in the capital; in 1922 he was expelled from the country among a large group of "active anti-Soviet intelligentsia (professors)"; lived in exile and was buried in Paris.
Lelya - Elena Vladimirovna Derviz (1889-1975) - sister of M.V. and niece N.Ya., pianist. Her whole life has passed under the sign of selfless fulfillment of duty. In 1917, after graduating from the conservatory, she went as a nurse to a field hospital; during the Civil War (again working in a hospital in Syzran) she injured her arm and subsequently could no longer give concerts; was an accompanist at music courses; also earned money by typing; unconditionally sacrificed everything to help in creativity and everyday life - Favorsky, Efimov, others - both relatives and friends. As for her personal life: her chosen one, Mikhail Timofeevich Markelov (1899-1937) - an ethnographer of the Moscow Museum of Ethnology (Mordvinian by origin; went on expeditions with Efimov and idolized him) - was arrested in 1933 as a "nationalist" and exiled to Transbaikalia (he worked at an experimental permafrost station in Skovorodino and closely communicated there with a friend of the Efimovs and Favorsky - P.A. Florensky); in 1934 transferred to Tomsk (supervised) - to teach at a local university; E.V. also went there to see him. Derviz. In 1937 he was re-tried: 10 years without the right to correspond. Then they did not know that it was - execution.
Kolya and Natasha - Nikolai Yakovlevich Simonovich and his daughter.
Nikolai Yakovlevich Simonovich (1869-1937 /?) - brother of N.Ya. and uncle M.V.Bacteriologist, doctor; Tolstoyan. He lost his hearing from a young age, but this did not interfere with his life and work. He built a log house not far from Domotkanov according to his original project. manor house- "Zaovrazhye"; maintained his own bacteriological laboratory at the Tver provincial zemstvo hospital; in 1919, he managed to take out a wagon with equipment and set up a laboratory in Lipetsk under the city Ministry of Health, and from that time he worked and lived there with his wife and daughter. (Adrian Efimov and his grandmother A.S. went with them to Lipetsk and stayed there until 1921) In 1936, Nick. Ya. was arrested and then sent to Siberia. How, where and when he died is unknown.
Natasha - Natalya Nikolaevna Simonovich (1890-1942) - daughter of Nick. I., mathematician, teacher. Beloved niece of Nina Yakovlevna, beloved cousin of M.V. She taught in Tver, after the Civil War - in the schools of Lipetsk, from the beginning of the 1930s - at courses for workers and engineers of a metallurgical plant under construction. Personal life N.N. tragic: her late and only love - a young brilliant engineer Alexander Borisovich Sekhon (c. 1900-1937 /?) was arrested (“for words”) in 1935. N.N. went after him, found him at the construction sites of the Norillag, registered the marriage and got the right to live with him inside the zone for 2 weeks. Having learned about the accusation of her father, she returned to Lipetsk; then, in 1937 - again to the Yenisei, but she was no longer allowed into Norilsk, and she lived in Dudinka, only corresponding with her husband; then the letters stopped. In 1940, after burying her mother, who was terminally ill with diabetes and labeled "the wife of an enemy of the people", she came to Moscow to the Efimovs and Favorskys; in 1941 she did not evacuate the city and died in the hospital, in the most difficult year of the war, and was buried in a common grave. (N.Ya. Simonovich-Efimova at the end of her life wrote a piercing confessional story about her -"The Story of a Girl" Not published.)
O.V. and A.E - parents V.A., Olga Vladimirovna and Andrey Evgrafovich Favorsky.
Letters No 4, 5, 6
I.S. to N.Ya. in Domotkanovo
Mid October 1916
N.Ya. Simonovich-Efimova and I.S. Efimov before being sent to the front. 1916
E. No 4
When I arrived, not all the officers were at home (in the hut) and the commander was not; I was immediately well fed (a cook-soldier from some Moscow hotel), then we went to the battery, standing half a verst from the hut: there are 4 guns in dug pits. They removed the covers from one, began to show me. One very pleasant officer (chemist) and a technician, an orderly for guns, showed up, pink, with a young curly beard, in a leather jacket and trousers. Then the officer ordered to take out of the cellar different types shells, but I climbed up there and there I planted them, heavy, a pood and a half, on my knees; in this place the battery has only been standing for three days, now the guns are covered with wicker shields, they have become hairy, like dragons. Now I am sitting in a wallless barn on a saddle and all around are various military facilities. A horse walks on my legs! I feed her with bread, and behind her back, as if carpets are being beaten out, guns click and roll, beautiful sounds, a good accompaniment for life.
Well, a better chronological story; on the first evening, when they came from the battery at dusk, the commander arrived from the headquarters, a vigorous, strong, black Armenian with two beautiful bulging balls of eyes with slightly lowered corners and such arches of eyebrows, /drawing/ no, it doesn't look like it, simple, reliable, after a short greeting, he sat down to read the secret orders of the headquarters the next day. And it's nice to feel that you are not a stranger, he only briefly said that the lower ranks should not know this. When he finished, they began to examine the huge white mouthpiece, which the officer who was traveling with us took to Moscow to Faberge to repair, which connected the crack with a nasty silver snake, and our first conversation with him was about it. Then they decided to drink at dinner a part of the box that the officer brought, leaving a part for the battery holiday - Holy / Mikh / ail /, which will soon be. They drank for the commander, for new officers, Favorsk / th / and others. During the conversation, it became clear how happy I was with my new life, and the commander said: “I drink for our new one - I don’t know how to say it (I must have wanted to say a comrade), and for us to justify his hopes.” And something else mentioned about my age. After a while, I drank to a friendly, strong family, which I had the good fortune to join. It was at ease and easy in this "terrible male" company, as it can never be at a table with strangers.
In the trenches, as they moved closer forward, nearby explosions began to be seen. The commander said that we would wait here. I asked him if it was safer to stand than to walk, he answered, no, he only shoots, just at that section in the advanced trenches where we are going. But what about, I say, V.V. decide that he will stop? “But he won’t always hit in one place forever - after all, when we shoot ourselves, the psychology is the same.” Indeed, soon stopped, let's go.
Today with Vlad. Andr. sat on the oak on which our observation post is arranged. So everything is firmly arranged - a staircase, a platform with a railing on an oak tree. We were told by phone where our guns were firing, and we monitored the explosions. The officer instructed me to keep a log of the battery's military operations, that is, to write history. Last night we had an interesting conversation with the commander about riding and horses.
We live 7 people in a hut, and it doesn’t seem crowded, it just doesn’t occur to me that it’s crowded, well, like Maria Dmitr / Ievna / in Tver. A telephone hangs over the commander's bed.
I once told an officer that they would give me a revolver - “You are not allowed!” - "Well, I'm a scout." - “Who told you that you are a scout? - (joking, this is a nice chemical officer). - Reliable, proven ones are appointed to scouts. And so, whoever asks for scouts - so they are appointed to the headquarters and carry packages.
Notes:
Chemical officer - Vasily Zakharovich Prodan.
Another officer is Pyotr Vasilyevich Ilyushin.
...of a "terrible male" company... - The son of middle-aged parents, I.S. grew up under the tutelage of old women who were afraid for him, without the society of peers: ... Gray children's life - well, how about it: in childhood he went under a veil, with a blue umbrella from the wind (the most difficult thing was to point the umbrella against the wind when there was no wind at all). Touching the snow is a mortal danger. I did not know the feeling of a felt boot on a bare leg. I have never ridden on sleds. [...] In the gymnasium, too, he was lonely because of his upbringing. That is why I appreciated the camaraderie of two hundred people in the battery so much... N.Ya. notices: Seven years he was sent to military school Bertalotti, where there was an extremely harsh regime, so that family pampering rebounded, and the military regime, it seems to me, still left its disciplinary, useful light for him.
V.V. - Your Highness.
... at Maria Dmitrievna's in Tver ... - in a two-room apartment above the hospital laundry (M.D. Simonovich worked as the chief clerk of the provincial zemstvo hospital), where her family lived comfortably - she, her husband Nikolai Yakovlevich and daughter Natasha, and where Numerous relatives stayed when they came to Tver.
Envelopes and a letter to I.S. Efimov to N.Ya. Simonovich-Efimova
E. No. 5
Now we are lying, talking, waking up, about observation pipes. They stick out like a periscope and are shot at. The same officer, in response to some of my words, says - "Look, how the rear argues." He said who would go where, and the teams / ir / gov / yells /: “I will not go anywhere, I will command from the bed.” It is convenient for him - there is a telephone above the bed, and not with a call, but as I wanted to do - with a beep.
I went to bed with an absurd good volunteer / sharing / on a battery with soldiers, and with them I scooped morning tea from a bucket. I was told that the soldiers had already called me the battery grandfather (and Favorsky is the only one here with a beard, or maybe more than one, is called daddy). Then in the morning he began to clean the wall of the bunks in the dugout with a sharp and convenient shovel, because the local clay is cut with unusual voluptuousness; I heard the battery greet the commander, and also got out of the dugout, and with him, and with the officers, went to the trenches, where he had to talk with the battalion (infantry) commander.
He, /our/ commander, has a very pleasant voice and, despite his great certainty, some kind of sweet oriental softness. I am now saying that an officer instructed me to write history. Commander/andir/ gov/ yells/: “Look what V/asily/ Zakh/arovich/ - he’s already breathed it out of himself.” He swears very well all the time.
On the third day, when the whole team was walking, I turned to the commander with a request: “Your Excellency, order me to ride the Ramrod, I really love riding.” - "Ah, please!" - and immediately turned around and ordered that the horse be assigned to me. This horse was advised to me as a frisky one - a small red-roan with a bald head and white-legged. I haven't tried it. In order to give a horse, you need to shout into the phone: "Checkers, give the horse to such and such."
You don’t send a suitcase, it’s not worth it, but the boots are oversized, if you could order an old refugee, it would be good, but only my foresight writes to you, but for now I have good, and warm legs in your blue blouse. I remember one of my ancestral magnifiers, you didn’t seem to be familiar with it (or maybe it was a burning glass), it would be good to look at a map with it, or else Nik / olai / Vas / Ilyevich / in Tyushevka has an excellent round old magnifying glass. Just don't buy, please.
Now I'm thinking of riding into the battery. I, they say, have already been called the battery grandfather.
Go to Petersburg. 2 more red handkerchiefs came and onuch papers, and Vilborg will send compasses here. I am writing to Ek/Aterina/Nik/Olaevna/, I would like to write to her much of what I am writing to you, but it is boring to rewrite, since you are going to Petersburg, give her my letters, and I emphasize that I want to borrow for Mikh/ ail / Os / IPovich /, or rather Maria Samoilovna, from whom, as a Parisian thinker, I have long felt the pressure sending me to war.
Here, perhaps, came hair insoles; you really start a slate board and do not try too hard and divide this board into Moscow - and Otradnoe. Pipe and English/Ian/tobacco. Magnifying glass at Nick. You. Cigars from the right bedside table in the blue /room/.
Now I’m back, three of us rode, an excellent horse, I hold it with all my might with both hands, and it’s very frisky, so that I could, it seems, overtake both of my officers, I just avoided it so as not to be envied. At sunset, the color was very beautiful, red-roan, and shimmers with rose gold. It is unusually good to ride, the countryside is hilly, beautiful, occasionally there are lone pears. Against the setting sun, the forest is filled with blue smoke, because a part is standing in it.
Notes:
Tyushevka - a village in the Efimov estate.
Onuch paper - tissue paper.
A. Vilborg is a familiar merchant-publisher.
Ekaterina Nikolaevna Vinberg (1878-1959) - teacher, friend of N.Ya. from the gymnasium years, who lived in St. Petersburg. The first letter of I.S. it was sent by E. Vinberg. A fragment of a letter from I.S. to Tolskaya (the widow of A.N. Tolsky), written on the same days:…Fine. Smoothly. Just as the body is comfortable and calm in a new shell, so the soul sat comfortably and calmed down completely, as never before; God bless forever. And how easily he now walks in this uniform on Russian soil. Night. The train is lonely in the field. Dawn; the chin on my cap suggested to me that happiness is to stand in a leather jacket on the lowest step of the carriage and rush in a warm whirlwind to war.There must be no other such lucky man who would go straight from his lazy, terrible private life to the front, bypassing all the nasty hardships of military training. Such an easy transition better life- a sign from experience, perhaps, only to those who are taken by lightning from our lives and wake up surprised in another.I began to write to you while still in the carriage, - now I continue in the dugout during a break between fires; we have been preparing for the attack for the third day, which is scheduled for today, but, probably, due to rain and slippery clay, it has not yet been undertaken (now I have a letter to you for a long time lying in an album - and, by the way, these two years I have written four thick letters to you, but I won’t send you right away, and then it seems old). I am quite happy that I have found myself in this simple environment, welded together by one purpose, and I would like to think that, finally, my flabby, unadapted and mediocre double, into which I always degenerated from time to time, will get rid of me. The good thing is that I got into this friendly family, right when she is busy with a business that will suck me in itself, and this is not overshadowed by any conventions of discipline. And how timely I am cut off from my work, over which Lately completely out of the habit of working. Now I believe that if I am whole and infected with this cheerfulness of the war, then I will return to that case in a different way. Forgive me that it somehow turns out that I am trying on the great event of the war to my own fate, but somehow I don’t know how to look otherwise. Another great joy for me is that my good friend is with me, a very deep artist who brought me here to fight.
Mikhail Osipovich Tsetlin (1882-1945) - poet (pseudonym Amari) and prose writer, member of the Socialist-Revolutionary Party. I.S. participated in the design of a collection of his poems; Maria Samoilovna Tsetlin (nee Tumarkina; 1882 -?) - collector; N.Ya. visited her salon in Paris].
I.S. Efimov. Commander D.M. Saakov. Drawing from a letter to N.Ya. Simonovich-Efimova. 1917
E. No. 6
Then they went with volunteer Altukhov, crammed into the dugout of the 3rd gun. And they sang with the soldiers “Because of the island ...!” under the harmonica Recently I sat with Vladimir Andreevich on the top of a tall oak at an observation post. Leaves fell from the shots. A pink technician arrived, they came to dine in the hut. While I sit on the fence close, close to a white strong snorting horse, pressing its ears on a stranger, on a head wrapped in halters and chains. The technician talked about a good priest who, in front of a mass grave, when he began to serve a memorial service, stood up, raised his hands to heaven and said: “Righteous in heaven, step aside (or make room), give place to these heroes.”
There is such a well-established life here that it seems that it should be so and it has always been and will be so. Only now, next to the teapot, smelling of smoke, lies the worn-out shoe of a six-year-old child. On this blue smoke are red, strong, sunlit oaks; high, 5 arshin Catholic crosses, supporting the telephone wire, which here stretches in all directions like a cobweb, over lumps of black earth arable land. And they drove home, in the green sky stood, as always, bright rockets, which, apparently, did not want to fly far from the earth. My horse, it turns out, used to /been/ with a rural father (Vetluga, Kostroma province.), A little frequent trot and hot, so he gets hot in vain, but all the horses and dogs that dealt with me became calmer, although pleasant, of course that she carries anxiety within herself.
/…/ Where my horse stands in reserve, about one and a half or 2 versts (from where I can call the horse by phone) the reserve stands in a rare (cut down) pine forest of the Sokolniki scale, now it is not ordered to cut down, so yesterday, when we arrived, I look, he sits high, damn it, where is the soldier and cuts the branch on which he sits. The bark from trees to human height is all cut down for flooding. Beautifully at dusk among rare pines against a bright sky, horses stand in rows, tied to a chain stretched between the trees. The muzzle in front of the muzzle is our black-haired shearer with a sack on his face, and opposite the gray horse, which all the time pulls on his sack, there are beautiful horned gray Ukrainian oxen that serve on the battery.
Today Vlad. Andr. battery attendant. And I walk and sit near the guns, I ask them to show the soldiers, who explain very clearly, and now I am writing you a letter, otherwise we are sitting with Vlad. Andr. and Vasiliev, who was with you at Yuon's and held /exams/ and studied at the school [MUZHVZ], and now, recently, without Vladimir Andreevich, he was transferred to our third battery. He cut walls / dugouts / a woman on excellent ground, and they talked. Artist. He told how his brother, a cavalryman, escaped from Austrian captivity through Italy, how he was met in England and dressed in an English uniform because he broke off.
Soldiers dug raspberries near the hut and built a dugout for themselves.
Notes:
Yuon Konstantin Fedorovich (1875-1958) - painter, teacher, leader for many yearswho had his own studio in Moscow.
I.S. Efimov. Portrait of an unknown. Blue Album. 1917
E. No 11
I.S to N.Ya. in Domotkanovo
October 1916
/…/ The center of today is my bath. Well, I bought myself, the nice chemical officer and I guessed to take advantage of the hospitality of the infirmary. A charming old man washed us, he talked about how excellent forests were around here, about the fortress of the local former people, whose women married at 25 years old, and men kept their virginity until 40 years old, before reaching which not a single girl would let (these are my words about my old age). This helped military service. And the strength of the people was such that his mistress gave birth in a wagon and did not even order the horses to be stopped. He spoke about serfdom, how, in order to flog pregnant women, they were laid with their belly on a dug hole. And he told an interesting legend about how the pans signed the abolition of serfdom. The sovereign in the Senate ordered them to sign a law on the release of slaves. They signed, thinking that the case was about robbers, but the Sovereign said: “No, these are hunters, but I have other slaves.” And it was too late to change. Give this legend to Adelaide Semyonovna, it will make her happy.
Now we sit, drink local good wine and eat. Yesterday with Vlad. Andr. and Nick. Boris. spent the evening with a sweet but dissolute drunken comrade, whom his comrades for fun left to the mercy of fate. Vladimir Andreevich assures us that we were doing a public cause.
Today we have a day's rest, and tomorrow we will again march in a marching column for 70 versts along beautiful undulating terrain among the most beautiful panorama, precisely a panorama from which it is impossible to cut a piece for painting a landscape. /.../
Notes:
Adelaida Semyonovna Simonovich (1844-1933) - mother of N.Ya. and grandmother M.V. teacher; founder (together with Ya.M. Simonovich, 1840-1883) of the theory and practice of Russian preschool pedagogy; both are "sixties", followers of Herzen, who "blessed" them for real disinterested activity in Russia. A.S. and her husband (a doctor and teacher) organized the first Russian kindergarten in St. Petersburg (1866); published a magazine Kindergarten”, where they published their own and translated articles. A.S. she led an "elementary school" - for several years in Tiflis, then again in St. Petersburg; brought up a galaxy of followers. In the working family of the Simonovichs, where there were 6 of their children, Valentin Serov (A.S.'s nephew) and the orphan Olga Trubnikova (who later became his wife; both she and all the Simonovich sisters served as Serov's models) were brought up - "Girl, illuminated by the sun" [TG ] and "Portrait of M. Ya. Lvova" [Orsay, Paris], "N. Ya. Derviz with a child" [TG], etc.). After the marriage of her daughter Nadia and the acquisition by her husband Vl. von Derviz of the Domotkanov estate (1886) A.S. lived there with younger children; long years headed the built Vl. Dm. school where she taught peasant children (many of them became rural teachers). After the Civil War, completely blind, she lived in Sergiev (Zagorsk) in the family of her granddaughter - M.V. Favorskaya and helped raise great-grandchildren.
Nick. Boris. - Nikolai Borisovich Rosenfeld (1886-1936 /?) - artist, friend of V.A., illustrator; studied with V.A. in Munich, translated with him in the 1910s. books on art (A. Hildebrandt and K. Voll); worked in 1912-1913 with Favorsky and Istomin on murals in the house of V.S. Sherwood. After the revolution, N.B., who had previously lived very poorly with his family, accepted the help of his brother, L.B. Kamenev, one of the Bolshevik leaders (and helped V.A. when he was dying of typhus in 1920). Designed books for the Asademia publishing house. He was arrested in 1935 (following his brother, who then, after the famous "trial of 1936", was shot). N.B. taken according to the so-called. "Kremlin cause" together with his wife and son (shot in 1937). N.B. himself perished in the dungeons of the NKVD; no evidence of him and documents after the 35th, as well as traces of his work, have not yet been found.
I.S. to N.Ya. and Adrian in Domotkanovo
November 1916
Don't tell your mom or she'll scold you. Again, on a foggy moonlit night, I went to the Monster, on a steam locomotive. I stood in front near his very heart, and sometimes his heart suddenly began to beat strongly and often. This is when the wheels did not take and rotate in place. A multi-colored constellation of the station appeared ahead, and the monster began to choose its own path between many paths. I have never traveled on a train so much fun - sometimes with comrades, sometimes with geldings, we are going very economically, we are going to make a brood of horses somewhere at a long stop, i.e. to withdraw all 200 horses from the wagons. Today they slaughtered a cow - a wagon of our handsome bulls is coming with us. Passenger traffic is now very crowded with our military trains, so the head of the echelon, as an officer - the owner of the train, sometimes allows the military, and sometimes private, to ride on our train. Thanks to my night trip on a steam locomotive, I discovered some mistake in our route - the head of our echelon thought to take fodder (oats) at a certain station - it turned out that we would not go through it. When I reported this to him, he wanted to send another, but I volunteered to go, and funny, on the way to the station they offered me hay: “Yes, you would take it,” but I refused, saying that we needed oats. At the commandant's station, thanks to my talkative mood, I learned everything I needed and didn't need, but it was interesting. And first of all, I managed when our echelon departed, and found out that the locomotive was served and was leaving in 20 minutes, but a map of future actions appeared, for which I sat for 23 minutes, and my train left. But everything ended perfectly: I got into the next echelon of a foreign train, first in a horse carriage, where there was a uterus with a foal and a gray big horse, illuminated in the morning, and then I rode in a soft carriage with the head of a strange echelon and a doctor who spoke interestingly. And it ended with him catching up, after walking about two versts, with his train that had gone ahead, quietly moving along the curves, that is, he met it more correctly, going towards him through the plowed fields of corn.
It turns out that the soldiers of the 2nd platoon missed me and invited me to eat apples, which they managed to get from a box that had broken on the way. Yesterday we bought apples and arranged a game: moving further and further, I threw apples to a friend through the car window, and the old saleswoman asked me to buy more: “it’s very good to watch how you throw.”
Marvelous! Where they bathed in a military hospital, the clerk (a local black resident) pokes his address, asks to write and says that he will answer with a warm feeling. Now I went from the theater to the coffee shop, where I went several times. An old beautiful Jew, saying goodbye, with sparkling eyes, wished me a happy return to the family, and they affectionately said goodbye to everyone who was sitting, one hunchbacked old one.
It must be that the war presses the most necessary spring and waits only for the command "e-e-drivers - sit down."
I can still kiss you.
Notes:
Adrian Ivanovich Efimov (1907-2000) - son of N.Ya. and I.S. A well-known scientist, geologist, one of the first researchers of hydrogeological conditions and permafrost in Yakutia. During the Great Patriotic War(from 1941 to 1943) was sent to the location of the Trans-Baikal Front for the selection and engineering and geological survey of sites for the construction of military airfields and large technical facilities. Biographer, as well as the custodian of the creative - artistic and literary - heritage of his parents. He did a lot in his study, systematization and preparation of various editions and publications. He is largely responsible for organizing the museum of V.A. Serov in Domotkanovo and the study of historical and cultural ties of all Domotkanovo residents.
M.V. Favorskaya (Derviz). Self-portrait with her husband. 1913
N.Ya. Simonovich-Efimova. Portrait of I.S. Efimov. 1917
Letter from N.Ya. Simonovich-Efimova to I.S. Efimov. 1917
We thank Elena Borisovna Murina for the text specially written for Kultpro and Ivan Dmitirevich Shakhovsky for help in publishing the fragment.
November 3 marks the 130th anniversary of the birth of one of the most famous Russian and Soviet poets, also known for his translation works - Samuil Yakovlevich Marshak.
The creator of classic children's works, poet and translator, Marshak was born in 1887 in a village near Voronezh in a Jewish family. His father was a descendant of the famous 17th century talmudist and rabbi Kaidonover. In Hebrew, the word "marshak" denoted an abbreviation of the respectful address to this rabbi.
Destined to be a poet
Even in the gymnasium, Marshak attracted the attention of his teacher of literature with his first literary experiences. The teacher helped and guided the student, instilled in him a love for literature, considering Samuel to be unusually talented. The well-known Russian critic Stasov, having accidentally read the poems of a talented young man, helped him move to the best gymnasium in St. Petersburg.
A life dedicated to children
The poet devoted all his work to children. Through his efforts, a children's theater was opened in Krasnodar; in revolutionary Petrograd, he begins to publish a magazine for children, Sparrow. Each of his works can be called a masterpiece - almost all children's poems are still known and loved by both children and adults.
For many years Samuil Yakovlevich was the head of Detgiz in Leningrad. Not everyone knows that the poet used his own funds to help a boarding school in Lithuania for Jewish children who became orphans as a result of the Holocaust.
In addition to children's poetry, the poet was seriously engaged in translations. Thanks to his work, we can get acquainted with the classic works foreign literature- poems by Shakespeare, Burns, fairy tales and poems by Kipling and others.
For his invaluable contribution to Soviet literature, Marshak was repeatedly awarded the Stalin and Lenin Prizes, the Orders of Lenin, the Patriotic War and the Red Banner of Labor.
Literary game - a quiz based on the works of S.Ya. Marshak for junior schoolchildren 2 classes
130 years since the birth of the poet
Bagrova Elena Viktorovna, teacher primary school I category, educator GPA I category, classroom teacher MBOU "Average comprehensive school No. 1, Kashira, Moscow region.Purpose of material: I bring to your attention an interactive educational game based on the works of Samuil Yakovlevich Marshak. The game will help in organizing and conducting classes extracurricular activities on the course "Visiting a fairy tale", in the extended day group. This material will be useful to elementary school teachers; teachers-organizers, librarians, teachers additional education, parents; for children 7 - 10 years old.
Target: development of interest in fiction and reading; development auditory perception, memory and speech, communication skills and culture of behavior, emotional-volitional sphere.
Tasks:
- to consolidate knowledge about the numerous works of S.Ya. Marshak;
- V game form recall and repeat the works of S.Ya. Marshak;
- arouse interest in his work.
- learn to perceive the content of works;
- instill interest in reading books;
- develop imagination, thinking, culture of communication;
Preliminary work:
Reading and memorizing poems and fairy tales by S. Ya. Marshak.
2017 is declared the Year of Samuil Marshak
This year marks the 130th anniversary of the birth of its author, poet and translator Samuil Marshak. He was loved and loved throughout Russia. Millions of children grew up on his fairy tales.
Brief biography of Samuil Marshak
Samuil Yakovlevich Marshak - Soviet writer, poet, playwright, translator and literary critic. Samuil Yakovlevich was born in Voronezh on November 3, 1887 into a Jewish family. The surname Marshak was passed on to the writer from a descendant who was a famous rabbi and Talmudist. The writer's childhood passed near Voronezh, where he also attended a gymnasium. In addition, he attended gymnasiums in St. Petersburg and Yalta. Love to classical poetry Samuel was instilled by a teacher of literature, who saw talent in him. In 1907 he began to publish. In September 1912, the young couple went to England, where Samuel not only attended the University of London, but also worked on the translation English ballads. Returning to Russia, he publishes these translations in the journals Russian Thought and Northern Notes. In 1920, while in Ekaterinodar, he opened a number of institutions for children, including one of the first children's theaters in Russia. Soon his first children's books appeared with poems "The Tale of the Silly Mouse", "The House That Jack Built", etc. In 1922, the writer moved to Petrograd, where he created a studio of children's writers and published the children's magazine Sparrow. In 1960, Marshak's autobiographical story entitled "At the Beginning of Life" was published, and a year later a collection of articles "Education by Word" was published. The writer died on July 4, 1964 in Moscow and was buried at the Novodevichy Cemetery.
1 round
Quiz based on the works of S. Marshak
1. Who is knocking on my door
With a thick shoulder bag
With the number 5 on a copper plaque
In a blue uniform cap?
Question: What is the profession of the hero of the poem.
Answer: postman from S. Marshak's poem "Mail"
2. He sat down on the bed in the morning
Started putting on a shirt
Put your hands in your sleeves
- It turned out that these are trousers ....
Instead of a hat on the go
He put on the frying pan.
Question: What hero of the work of S. Marshak could do this?
Answer: an absent-minded person from Basseinaya Street from S. Marshak's poem "That's how absent-minded."
3. She threw a suitcase,
She pushed the sofa with her foot,
picture,
basket,
Cardboard ...
- Give me back my dog!
Question: What was deposited by a lady who was leaving for another city?
Answer: Luggage from the poem of the same name by S. Marshak "Luggage"
4. Petya says to mom:
- Can you, Mom, sleep in the light?
Let the fire burn all night.
Mom answers: - No! -
Click - and turned off the light.
Question: Why did Petya want to sleep in the light, what was he afraid of?
Answer: darkness. S. Marshak's poem "What Petya was afraid of"
5. -Your voice is too thin
Better, mom, not food,
Find me a babysitter!
Question: Who didn't like their mother's voice?
Answer: mouse. Tale of S. Marshak "The Tale of the Silly Mouse"
6. Under the New Year's holiday
We issued an order:
- Let them bloom today
We have snowdrops!
Question: Who helped the poor stepdaughter to collect snowdrops in the middle of winter?
Answer: Brothers of the Moon. Fairy tale "Twelve months" translation by S. Marshak
2 round
Insert the missing word in the title of the literary work:
1. Mustachioed (striped)
2. Roly - (Vstanka)
3. Cat and (slackers)
4. Napping and (Yawn)
5. Wax - (Blot)
6. Master - (Lomaster)
Application for the 2nd round of the game
For acquaintance, reading, learning, discussion
VANKA - VSTANKA(excerpt)
Samuil Marshak
Vanka, Vstanka have unfortunate nannies:
They will start putting Vanka to bed,
But Vanka doesn’t want to - he will lie down and jump up,
Lie down again and get up again.
They will cover him with a blanket on cotton -
In a dream, he will throw the blanket away,
And again, as before, stands on the bed,
The child is on the bed all night.
SLEEPING AND YANING
Samuil Marshak
Wandered along the road Slumber and Yawn.
Drowsiness ran into gates and gates,
I looked into the windows
And in the cracks of the doors
And she said to the children:
- Lie down quickly!
Yawning said: who would rather go to sleep,
To that she, Yawn, will say good night,
And if someone does not lie down
Now on the bed
So she will order
Yawn, yawn, yawn!
MASTER-LOMASTER(excerpt)
Samuil Marshak
I don't want to study.
I will teach anyone.
I am a famous master
For carpentry!
How to hit with a hammer -
The nail curled into a worm.
I became different to score
Yes, he bent over.
Hammered the third nail -
He turned his hat to the side.
I have bad nails -
Don't hit them straight.
So until today
Frame not ready...
VAKSA-BLOT(excerpt)
Samuil Marshak
Suddenly, leaving bread and rice,
A flock of rats scattered.
A dachshund dog entered the door,
Nicknamed Waxa-Klyaksa.
Crooked, agile dog
A long nose stuck in the gap
And caught a big rat -
It can be seen, the headmistress rat.
And then he, like a sapper,
dug one of the holes
And climbed to the thieves in the underground
Punish for willfulness.
They say that since then
A flock of rats left their holes.
MUSTACHIOED - STRIPED(excerpt)
Samuil Marshak
The girl wrapped the kitten in a scarf and went with him into the garden.
People ask: - Who is it with you?
And the girl says: - This is my daughter.
People ask: - Why does your daughter have gray cheeks?
And the girl says: - She has not washed for a long time.
People ask: - Why does she have furry paws, and a mustache, like daddy's?
The girl says: - She has not shaved for a long time.
And as soon as the kitten jumped out, as it ran, everyone saw that it was a kitten - mustachioed, striped.
What a stupid kitty!
And then,
And then
He became a smart cat
And the girl also grew up, became even smarter and is studying in the first grade of the 101st school.
CAT AND SLAMPERS
Samuil Marshak
Gathered bums
to the lesson,
And the loafers got
To the rink.
Thick satchel with books
On the back,
And skates under the arms
On the belt.
They see, they see the loafers:
Out of the gate
Gloomy and tattered
The cat is coming.
The bums ask
Him:
- What are you frowning at?
From what?
mewed plaintively
Gray cat:
- To me, a mustachioed cat,
Soon a year.
And I'm beautiful, loafers,
And smart
And writing and literacy
Not learned.
School not built
For kittens.
teach us to read
Do not want.
And now without a diploma
you'll be lost
Far from literate
You will not leave.
Do not drink without a letter,
Don't eat
At the gate of the room
Do not read!
Loafers answer:
- Cute cat,
We're on the twelfth
Soon a year.
They teach us literacy
And the letter
And they can't learn
Nothing.
We learn, loafers,
Something lazy.
We go skating
All day.
We do not write with slate
On the desk,
And we write with skates
On the rink!
Responds to the quitters
Gray cat:
- To me, a mustachioed cat,
Soon a year.
I knew a lot of loafers
Like you
And met with such
For the first time!
3 round
Guess what's in the chest?
S. Marshak MYSTERIES
1. We walk at night
We walk during the day
But nowhere
We won't leave.
We hit right
Each hour.
And you, friends,
Don't hit us! (watch)
2. We always walk together,
Similar as brothers.
We are at dinner - under the table,
And at night - under the bed. (slippers)
3. They beat him with a hand and a stick
Nobody feels sorry for him.
Why are they beating the poor guy?
And for the fact that he is inflated. (ball)
4. In Linen Country
Along the River Bed
The ship is sailing
Back, then forward.
And behind him such a smooth surface -
Not a wrinkle to be seen! (iron)
4 round
Who lives in a fairy tale?
From the pictures, children name the heroes of the fairy tale, and then the name of the fairy tale according to the main characters
1) Mouse
2) Frog
3) Fox
4) Wolf
5) Rooster
6) Hedgehog
7) Bear
S. Marshak "Teremok"
You can invite children to play out a fairy tale, prepare costume elements in advance, for example, headbands or paper masks.
1) Horse
2) Toad
3) Hen
4) Pike
5) Pig
6) Duck
7) Mouse
8) Cat
S. Marshak "The Tale of the Silly Mouse"
Application
Tale of the Silly Mouse
Samuil Marshak
The mouse sang at night in a mink:
- Sleep, little mouse, shut up!
I will give you a bread crust
And a candle stub.
The mouse answers her:
Your voice is too thin.
Better, mom, not food,
Find me a babysitter!
The mother mouse ran
I began to call a duck as a nanny:
- Come to us, aunt duck,
Shake our baby.
The mouse duck began to sing:
- Ha-ha-ha, sleep, baby!
After the rain in the garden
I'll find you a worm.
Silly little mouse
Answers her awake:
- No, your voice is not good.
You're singing too loud!
The mother mouse ran
I began to call a toad as a nanny:
- Come to us, aunt toad,
Shake our baby.
The toad became important to croak:
- Kwa-kva-kva, don't cry!
Sleep, little mouse, until the morning,
I'll give you a mosquito.
Silly little mouse
Answers her awake:
- No, your voice is not good.
You are very boring!
The mother mouse ran
Aunt horse in the nanny call:
- Come to us, aunt horse,
Shake our baby.
- Wow! - the horse sings. -
Sleep, little mouse, sweet-sweet,
Turn to the right side
I'll give you a sack of oats.
Silly little mouse
Answers her awake:
- No, your voice is not good.
You are very scared to eat!
The mother mouse ran
Call aunt pig as a nanny:
- Come to us, aunt pig,
Shake our baby.
The pig began to grunt hoarsely,
Naughty cradle:
- Bay-bayushki, oink-oink.
Calm down, I say.
Silly little mouse
Answers her awake:
- No, your voice is not good.
You are eating very rudely!
The mother mouse began to think:
I need to call the chicken.
- Come to us, aunt klusha,
Shake our baby.
The mother hen cackled:
- Where-where! Don't be afraid, baby!
Get under the roof:
It's quiet and warm there.
Silly little mouse
Answers her awake:
- No, your voice is not good.
You won't fall asleep at all!
The mother mouse ran
I began to call a pike as a nanny:
- Come to us, aunt pike,
Shake our baby.
The pike began to sing the mouse -
He didn't hear a sound.
The pike opens its mouth
And you can't hear what he's singing...
Silly little mouse
Answers her awake:
- No, your voice is not good.
You are too quiet!
The mother mouse ran
I began to call a cat as a nanny:
- Come to us, aunt cat,
Shake our baby.
The cat began to sing to the mouse:
- Meow-meow, sleep, my baby!
Meow meow, let's go to sleep
Meow meow, on the bed.
Silly little mouse
Answers her awake:
- Your voice is so good.
You are very sweet to eat!
The mother mouse came running
Looked at the bed
Looking for a stupid mouse
And you can't see the mouse...
Fairy tale - play "Teremok"(excerpt)
Samuil Marshak
CHARACTERS
Evil grandfather. Hedgehog. Good grandfather. Wolf. Frog. Fox. Mouse. Bear. Rooster.
Kind grandfather
In the open field of the teremok,
Teremok.
He's not low, he's not high
Not high.
There was a frog from the swamp,
He sees the gates are locked.
Hey lock, back off, back off!
Teremochek, open up, open up!
Frog
Who, who lives in a teremochka?
Who, who lives in the low?
(Goes into the tower.)
Qua-qua!
Silence…
I'm alone in the dungeon.
Although the surroundings are not very damp,
And a nice apartment!
Qua-qua!
Qua-qua-qua!
There is a stove and firewood,
And a cauldron and a frying pan.
What a find, what a find!
Bye before dinner
I'll freeze the worm.
Kind grandfather
Only the light was lit by a frog,
A mouse knocked.
mouse
What kind of teremok is this
Teremok?
He's not low, he's not high
Not high.
Who, who lives in a teremochka?
Who, who lives in the low?
Frog
I am a frog.
And who are you?
mouse
And I am a mouse.
Let me into the house
We will live together with you.
We will get ripe grains,
We will bake pancakes with you.
Frog
So be it, perhaps in the house.
It's more fun to live together!
Kind grandfather
The mouse settled with the frog,
With a goofy girlfriend.
They heat the stove, crush the grain
Yes, pancakes are baked in the oven.
Suddenly knocking at dawn
Cockerel throaty - Petya.
Rooster
What kind of teremok is this?
He is not low, not high.
Hey, open the cockerel!
Ko-ko-ko, crow!
Who-who-who lives in a teremochka?
Who-who-who lives in the low?
Frog
I am a frog.
mouse
I am a mouse.
And who are you?
Rooster
And I'm a cockerel
golden scallop,
butter head,
Silk beard.
Let me live here
I will serve you faithfully.
I will sleep
Outside.
I will sing
At dawn.
Kukare-ku!
Frog and Mouse
So be it, perhaps in the house.
It's more fun to live together!
Kind grandfather
Here they live - a frog,
Cockerel and mouse.
You can't spill them with water.
Suddenly a gray hedgehog knocks.
Hedgehog
Who, who
Does he live in a teremochka?
Who, who
Does he live low?
Frog
I am a frog.
mouse
I am a mouse.
Rooster
And who are you?
Hedgehog
I am a gray hedgehog
No head, no legs
hump back,
On the back is a harrow.
Let me live here
I will guard the tower.
Better than us forest hedgehogs
There are no guards in the world!
Frog
So be it, perhaps in the house.
We will live together!
Kind grandfather
Here they live - a frog,
Hedgehog, rooster and lamb mouse.
mouse
Oatmeal pushes,
A frog
She bakes pies.
And the rooster on the windowsill
Im playing the harmonica.
Gray hedgehog curled up in a ball,
He does not sleep - he guards the tower.
Angry grandfather
Only suddenly from the dark thicket
A homeless wolf dragged himself.
Knocked at the gate
Sings with a hoarse voice.
Wolf
What kind of teremok is this?
Smoke comes out of the chimney.
It looks like dinner is being cooked.
Are there animals here or not?
Who, who
Does he live in a teremochka?
Who, who
Does he live low?
Frog
I am a frog.
mouse
I am a mouse.
Rooster
I am a cockerel - a golden comb.
Hedgehog
I am a gray hedgehog -
No head, no legs.
And who are you?
Wolf
And I am a wolf
Teeth click!
mouse
What can you do?
Wolf
Catch
Mice!
crush
Frogs!
Hedgehog to choke!
Gut the roosters!..
mouse
Go away, toothy beast,
Don't break on our door!
Teremok firmly locked
On the bolt and on the castle.
Angry grandfather
The wolf roams in the dense forest,
Looking for a gossip fox.
And the fox goes towards -
Red tail, eyes like candles.
Wolf
Lisaveta, hello!
Fox
How are you, toothy?
Wolf
Nothing is going on
The head is still intact.
And I want, Lisaveta,
Ask you for advice.
Do you see the teremok in the field?
Fox
Teremok?
Wolf
He is not low, not high.
Fox
Not high?
Wolf
mouse
There the grain is crushed,
And the frog bakes pies.
And the rooster on the windowsill
Im playing the harmonica.
How good is a rooster, -
To pluck only fluff!
Fox
Ah, my gray, my tailed one,
How I want cockerels!
Wolf
Yes, and I want to eat hunting, -
Only the gates are closed...
Maybe sometime together
We'll unlock the gate!
Fox
Oh, I'm weak from hunger!
The third day, as empty in the belly.
If only we met Mishenka the bear,
He would help us open the gate.
We'll go look for him in the woods!
Wolf
Oh, you, fathers, he himself is coming here!
Angry grandfather
At this time indeed
Mishka came out from behind the spruce.
He shakes his head
He argues with himself.
Bear
I'm looking for a deck in the forest,
I want to taste honey
Or ripe oats.
Where can I find him, fox?
Fox
Do you see, Misha, the teremok?
Bear
Teremok?
Fox
He is not low, not high.
Bear
Not high?
Fox
mouse
There the grain is crushed.
Wolf
A frog
She bakes pies.
Fox
Pies bakes cabbage,
Toasted, delicious.
Wolf
A rooster with a prickly hedgehog
Cut the fat with a sharp knife.
Fox
Don't you want to visit
rooster,
To taste the cocks,
Offal?
Bear
Cockerel is good food.
Where is the gate? Submit them here!
Fox
No, Mishenka, let's go
Let's open it on the spot!
Angry grandfather
Here they go to the neighbors -
A wolf with a bear friend.
The fox is walking ahead
Leads guests to the teremok.
Bear
Hey, owners, open up with kindness,
Otherwise, we will smash the gate for you!
mouse
Who came to us for the night?
Bear
Michael!
mouse
Which?
Bear
Ivanych.
Do you think it's a Bear?
Try to unlock!
I don't feel like waiting long.
I'll break down your gate!
mouse
Hush, Mishenka! Don't knock on the gate!
Frog
Our dough will tip over in the oven!
Rooster
You do not poke your head in the teremok - crow!
Or with spurs I'll spot you!
Hedgehog
If you are going to rob
You will get acquainted with the watchman - a hedgehog!
Bear
The owners don't want to let me in.
They don't want to take me to dinner!
Fox
Come on, Mishenka, turn your back,
Come on, Mishenka, attack the wolf!
If together we fall together,
We will unlock the boarded gates!
Angry grandfather
And they went to work:
They hit the gate...
Kind grandfather
Yes, they can't open it.
The bear snaps.
He beats the wolf, like a pile,
And the fox is busy on the edge.
She, a cheat, is easier than anyone -
Protects his red fur.
Fox
Forward!
Bear
Back!
Fox
Goes
All right!
Bear
Do you hear, little fox?
Like planks
Are they cracking?
Wolf
That's not boards
And the bones
crunch -
The shameless bear crushed me!
Without lunch, I'll have to die.
I still can't breathe.
I can barely make it to bed!
Bear
I won’t take it, fox, I understand:
Why is the wolf angry?
Why did he run away?
Fox
You squeezed him a little -
That's why he ran away!
Barely dragged my legs ...
What good is a wolf?
And without a wolf we will open the gate,
We'll eat roosters together.
Bear
I really want to eat, little fox!
I'll try to get through the doorway.
Kind grandfather
The clubfoot has contrived,
He put his paw in the doorway.
Yes, as you can see, out of place -
She doesn't go back.
The breath hitched in my chest.
He yelled at the top of his lungs.
Bear
Oh fox, help!
I can't stretch my legs!
Give me friendship for the sake of
Pull me from behind!
Kind grandfather
fox didn't answer
And she went into the woods.
A rooster is crowing from the fence.
Rooster
Hey, keep the evil thief!
Give, frog, a poker -
I'll burn his heel!
Kind grandfather
The bear trembled with fear,
Shouted all over the area.
Bear
Oh, I'm afraid of the poker!
Oh fox, help!
Rooster
Kukareku! All in the yard!
A thief climbs into the alley.
Hey frog hostess,
Where is your big mug?
Bring water soon
Wrap the clubfoot!
mouse
Water it guys!
Frog
From a jug, from a tub!
Hedgehog
Pour it from a bucket,
Do not pity the evil thief!
Bear
Help! Guard!
Choked, drowned!
Kind grandfather
Beluga bear roared
Tossed about with fright
I rushed with all my strength -
Nearly knocked down the gate.
Released the leg
And - go to your lair!
Howls on the go.
Bear
I will not come to you again!
Kind grandfather
A rooster is crowing from the fence.
Rooster
We chased away the evil thief!
Crow! Ko-ko-ko!
He ran away
He let in all the shoulder blades,
Runs away without looking back.
Ko-ko-ko! Crow!
Will not return to the tower!
Angry grandfather
Our rooster has spread
Fluffed out the satin fluff.
And while he roosters,
A fox is crawling out of the bushes...
Fox
(quiet)
Okay, Petya, wait,
Something will be ahead!
Let the sides crush the wolf
And the bear got caught in a crack, -
I will avenge mine
I'll take the rooster!
Angry grandfather
The fox crawled furtively
And she sang sweetly, sweetly.
Fox
Who, who lives in a teremochka?
Who, who lives in the low?
Lives there
Fighting cockerel.
He sings
And shakes his head.
His head is brighter than fire...
Rooster
Who-who-who sings about me?
Fox
Oh, you, Petya, dashing cockerel,
You have a golden comb.
Everyone envy your beard.
You fly away, my handsome man, here!
Rooster
No, I'd rather be here
I'll sit -
Down on you
I'll take a look.
Fox
(quiet)
Oh you, Petya,
Rooster good!
Who in the world
Comparable to you?
you have two wide
wings.
You are a little like
On the eagle!
Rooster
I can not hear,
What are you eating about.
Repeat:
What do I look like?
Fox
You are sitting far away from me.
Come, I'll whisper in your ear!
Angry grandfather
Here the rooster did not resist,
Sang with a loud voice
And flew off to the red cheat.
He came closer to her
And fox, don't be bad
Grab the rooster by the throat!
The rooster screams and beats,
And the fox laughs at him.
Fox
Now I'll say it out loud
Who does the rooster look like?
You look like yourself, rooster!
Soon I will eat your offal!
Hee hee hee!
Ho-ho-ho!
Ha ha ha!
You look like
On yourself, rooster!
Angry grandfather
Here the fox runs at full speed,
And a rooster beats in her teeth.
Stupid rooster breaks out -
Feathers and fluff scatter.
Rooster
Brother hedgehog dear,
Come out with a poker
With a poker, with a shovel -
Beat the damned fox!
Kind grandfather
Heard a prickly hedgehog
He shouted: “Robbery! Robbery!"
He ran through the gate
Ran to the turn.
Sees: red fox
With a rooster he runs into the woods.
Rolled gray hedgehog
On the grass of forest paths,
By the predawn dew
Right under the fox's feet.
He does not give her the way,
Pricks the fox's legs with a brush.
Hedgehog
I am a prickly gray hedgehog
You won't leave me
I'll split your furs.
Give me the rooster!
Kind grandfather
The hedgehog has needles,
The needles hurt.
The fox just spins
Like the spokes of a wheel.
Fox
Oh you, hedgehog, gray hedgehog,
Don't scratch the fox's legs
Have pity on my furs!
I'll release the rooster!
Kind grandfather
She threw the rooster
Yes, I quickly dived into the bushes,
Slipped between the stumps
And the prickly hedgehog is behind her.
Behind rushing after each other
Gray mouse with a frog...
mouse
catch up! Hold on! Catch!
Frog
Tear off the redhead's tail!
Kind grandfather
The chase runs through the forest.
A fox is running ahead.
Stopped at the bush -
And left without a tail.
And then all the shoulder blades
She let go without looking back.
The redhead hid in the forest -
Just saw a fox!
The gray hedgehog laughed.
Hedgehog
I'll get a sharp knife
Tail cut in half
And I will distribute to the hostesses:
Half a tail to you, frog,
Half a tail to you, norushka.
Frog
Thank you, gray hedgehog.
mouse
You won't find better fur!
I put my tail on my neck
I will be warmer in winter.
Into the fierce cold
In frost
I wrap up
Your nose!
Kind grandfather
Here they follow each other
Hedgehog with a mouse and a frog.
The fox tail is carried with them,
They speak hurriedly.
mouse
We deftly drove the fox away.
The rogue won't come back!
Is the cockerel alive
Our golden scallop?
Frog
He lies down and doesn't move.
We chased the fox
And left him
On the road alone.
He barely breathes, poor thing,
Beats with a wing and groans heavily.
Hedgehog
Do not grieve for him:
We will find him now.
I see a cock's comb
On a hillock under an aspen!
mouse
What are you, Petya,
Don't you get up?
Frog
What are you songs
Don't eat?
Rooster
I have no time for songs, sisters ...
I was in the teeth of a fox,
I can't even get up!
Hedgehog
Let me help you.
I'll take you by the wing
Poor, lame bird...
Well, get up! Maybe you'll get there.
Rooster
You are very prickly, hedgehog!
Even if my legs don't support me
And I will come without help.
Kind grandfather
The rooster rises
Speaks out loud to himself.
Rooster
Cuckoo, crow!
Why did I become crippled?
Because it's simple...
It's all my own fault!
Hedgehog
Do not grieve, my dear Petya,
You will still live in the world
Will you be songs again
Meet the red sun!
-
Kind grandfather
In the open field of the teremok,
Teremok.
He's not low, he's not high
Not high.
Who, who lives in a teremochka?
Who, who lives in the low?
Frog
I am a frog!
mouse
I am a mouse!
Rooster
I am a cockerel
golden scallop,
butter head,
Silk beard!
Hedgehog
I am a prickly gray hedgehog.
I look like all hedgehogs -
hump back,
On the back of a harrow!
Together
(sing)
Today we have a cheerful holiday,
Dance to the harmonica in the yard.
We chased the bear into the woods
The fox ran away without a tail.
The fox ran away without a tail
Here are some of our miracles!
5 round
Samuil Marshak "Children in a Cage"
The children have to guess who lives in the zoo.
To whom is the poem about the absent-minded from Basseinaya Street and other lines of Marshak familiar to everyone from childhood dedicated?
November 3 marks the 130th anniversary of the birth of the author of our favorite poems - Samuil Yakovlevich Marshak
The funny lines of Samuil Marshak about a terribly absent-minded person are familiar to everyone who grew up in our country. Already a generation of children laugh at the adventures of an eccentric who got into a detached car, hoping to reach his destination and not believing that he is still in the city of Leningrad. A funny cartoon was made based on this poem.
And it hardly occurs to anyone that Marshak wrote these poems with a real person in mind - a professor at Moscow State University, a fairly well-known chemist. He was so distracted that he often confused proper name and surname, in thought he rearranged words in places or even uttered incomprehensible phrases. Naturally, those around him were amused.
Yes, and Samuil Marshak himself was distinguished by phenomenal absent-mindedness, so, according to his relatives, the features of the author can be traced in the image of the Distracted from Basseinaya Street. For example, my friend Polina Borozdina, Marshak once, in 1960, sent a postcard, which he dated 1930.
"Mr. Twister"
In 1933 Marshak wrote the satirical poem " Mister Twister”, which ridiculed racism and racists. American rich man - "owner of factories, newspapers, steamboats" - Mr. Twister comes to the USSR with his wife and daughter Suzy. He made sure in advance that neither on the ship on which he was sailing with his family, nor in the Leningrad hotel where they were going to stay, were there people with a different skin color - "Negroes, Malays and other rabble."
However, in the hotel, he discovers a black guest. Oh God! Twister urgently cancels the reservation and looks for another hotel, but there are no places anywhere - everything is occupied by the delegates of the congress. Twister and his ladies have to spend the night in the hallway. When the black children took pity on him, one of the hotel employees put everything in its place with one phrase: “He is very proud of his white skin - so he sleeps on a chair in the hallway!”
Marshak decided to write this poem after his acquaintance, an academician, Dmitry Mushketov, told him an instructive story about an American who came to Leningrad. The arrogant tourist flatly refused to live in the same hotel with blacks and as a result did not find a lodging for the night, despite all his money. Marshak wrote about this in one of his letters.
The author rewrote the poem several times. At first, the "former minister" was called "Mr. blister", then -" Mr. Priester". Marshak also tried a completely different option - he called his hero “businessman spanking". The car in which the American tourist traveled around Leningrad changed in different editions - either it was a domestic ZIS, or a foreign Lincoln.
Marshak first wrote in a poem that after the scandal at the Angleterre, where Twister noticed a black man, the hotel porter called the porters of other Leningrad hotels and persuaded them not to let the arrogant foreigner in under the pretext of lack of space. The editors persuaded him to cut out this piece - they were afraid that foreign tourists would stop visiting our country, having learned that, with the help of a few phone calls, they could be boycotted by doormen.
The poems turned out to be cheerful, sonorous, elegant, well-remembered lines were immediately loved by both children and adults. At the same time, it is known that Marshak, before getting the sound range that satisfied him, wrote at least ten versions. Even after the poem was published, Samuil Yakovlevich repeatedly returned to his work, again and again finding a more accurate rhyme, a more witty metaphor, a more accurate comparison.
"Mustachioed - Striped"
In this poem lies an inexplicable charm for children of different generations. Either they are so fascinated by the game with the word - Marshak alternates between lines of poetry and prose, or it’s nice for kids to feel big and smart compared to a little stupid kitten, or they are simply amused by the story about the little mistress of a little cat ...
And this poem was born thanks to the son of the poet - Yashe. A two-year-old boy asked his father to read a book. Marshak went through several children's books, but none of them captivated the child.
Then his father began to tell him a fairy tale about a kitten, composing on the go - first in prose, and then, imperceptibly to himself, the lines began to take shape in poetry. Little Yasha was delighted and asked his father to repeat the tale again and again. So the famous book "Mustache-striped" was born.
"Funny siskins"
Simple a funny story about “forty-four siskins”, each of which is busy with his own business - “Chizh is a dishwasher, Chizh is a scrubber, Chizh is a gardener, Chizh is a water carrier”, is remembered from the first time, the poem has such a simple and clear rhythm and simple words. Marshak wrote this poem together with Daniil Kharms. Harms came up with the first lines: “Forty-four funny siskins lived in apartment 44.” Then it is told about how the siskins were engaged in housework, rested, played music ... Quite a lot of verses were imperceptibly written. The time has come to complete the poem - and the co-authors began to put their heroes to bed. The siskins lay down in all directions - on the bed, on the sofa, on the basket, on the bench...
It would seem that one can rest: the poets were tired, smoked a lot of cigarettes, wrote down a mountain of drafts ... But then Kharms went to Marshak and whispered: "Lying in bed, forty-four merry siskins were whistling in unison ..." And it became clear to Marshak: on this the poem is not finished! The merry siskins have not calmed down - they still have to whistle. And the co-authors added a funny ending.
Marshak's funny poems still give great pleasure to young children and older readers - after all, they are written in a truly cheerful and kind person who was very fond of children.
