The selection includes poems by Russian poets about spring. The awakening of nature in March, the melting of snow, the first warm days, the flood in April, the arrival of birds, the blossoming of buds on trees, the blossoming of bird cherry in May - all these images have inspired poets at all times!
Spring, spring! How clean the air is!
Evgeny Baratynsky
Spring, spring! How clean the air is!
How clear is the sky!
Its azuria alive
He blinds my eyes.
Spring, spring! How high
On the wings of the breeze,
Caressing the sun's rays,
Clouds are flying!
The streams are noisy! The streams are shining!
Roaring, the river carries
On the triumphant ridge
The ice she raised!
The trees are still bare,
But in the grove there is a decaying leaf,
As before under my foot
And noisy and fragrant.
Soared under the sun
And in the bright heights
The invisible lark sings
A cheerful hymn to spring.
What's wrong with her? What's wrong with my soul?
With a stream she is a stream
And with a bird, a bird!
It's murmuring with him,
Flying in the sky with her!
Poems about spring
Alexander Pushkin
The cold winds are still blowing
And the morning frosts strike,
Fresh from the spring thawed patches
Early flowers appeared
As if from a wonderful kingdom of wax,
From fragrant honey kelley
The first bee flew out
Flew over early flowers
To find out about the red spring,
Will there be a dear guest soon,
Will the meadows soon turn green?
Soon will the curly birch tree
Sticky leaves will bloom,
The fragrant bird cherry will bloom.
Sergey Gorodetsky
Go away, gray winter! The beauties of Spring...
Apollo Maykov
Go away, gray winter!
Already the beauties of Spring
Golden chariot
Rushing from the highest heights!
Should I argue with the old one, the frail one?
With her - the queen of flowers,
With a whole air army
Fragrant breezes!
What noise, what buzzing,
Warm showers and rays,
And chirping and singing!..
Go away quickly!
She has no bow, no arrows,
I just smiled - and you,
Picking up your white shroud,
She crawled into the ravine, into the bushes!..
May they be found in the ravines!
There are swarms of bees making noise,
And flies the victorious flag
Squad of motley butterflies!
SPRING
Yunna Moritz
Ding! Don!
Ding! Don!
What is this gentle ringing?
This is a snowdrop forest
Smiling through sleep!
Whose fluffy ray is this?
It tickles so much from behind the clouds,
Forcing the kids
Smile from ear to ear?
Whose warmth is this?
Whose kindness is this?
Makes you smile
A hare, a chicken, a cat?
And for what reason?
Spring is coming
Around town!
And the poodle has a smile!
And there is a fish in the aquarium
Smiled from the water
Smiling bird!
So it turns out
What doesn't fit
On one page
An immense smile, -
How pleasant!
This is the length
That's how wide it is!
And for what reason?
Spring is coming
Around the city!
Vesna Martovna Podsnezhnikova,
Vesna Aprelevna Skvoreshnikova
Vesna Mayevna Chereshnikova!
The days are fine
Mikhail Plyatskovsky
The days are fine
Similar to holidays
And in the sky there is a warm sun,
Cheerful and kind.
All the rivers overflow
All the buds are opening,
Winter has gone with the cold,
The snowdrifts became puddles.
Having left the southern countries,
The friendly birds have returned.
On every branch there are squirrels
They sit and clean their feathers.
The time of spring has come,
It's time to bloom.
And that means the mood
It's spring for everyone!
THE COMING OF SPRING
Vasily Zhukovsky
The greenery of the fields, the babbling of the groves,
There is a thrill in the sky of the lark,
Warm rain, sparkling waters, -
Having named you, what should I add?
How else can I glorify you?
Life of the soul, spring is coming?
SPRING
Andrey Bely
Everything has dried up. And there are already kidneys.
Lilies of the valley and porridge will bloom soon.
Here the clouds float like lambs.
Louder, louder the spring message.
I am alarmed by the annoying squeak:
Tucked back, grumpy Thekla,
hanging over the street with risk,
wipes window glass.
Here the lime is removed with a knife...
There are cups of poison... There is cotton wool...
My chest is filled with April delight.
The wind swirls dust outside the window.
The windows are wide open - and screaming, talking,
and the flower stem sways,
and the floor polishers go out into the yard
barefoot knocking out furniture.
The cat crawled out and sat at the trough,
washes with a velvet paw.
Here's a boy in a chintz shirt,
Having run, he threw his grandmother at him.
There is a light of early evening lights in the sky.
Feelings are fiery again, as before.
The skies are getting bluer and bluer,
The clouds are wavy like lambs.
My gaze wanders into the blue distances.
All earthly aspirations are so pathetic...
A little man in props in the yard
heavy beams are brought in with thunder.
No wonder winter is angry
Fedor Tyutchev
No wonder winter is angry,
Her time has passed -
Spring is knocking on the window
And he drives him out of the yard.
And everything started to fuss
Everything forces Winter to get out -
And larks in the sky
The ringing bell has already been raised.
Winter is still busy
And he grumbles about Spring.
She laughs in her eyes
And it just makes more noise...
The evil witch went crazy
And, capturing the snow,
She let me in, running away,
To a beautiful child.
Spring and grief are not enough:
Washed in the snow
And she only became blusher,
Against the enemy.
The grass is green, the sun is shining
Alexey Pleshcheev
The grass is turning green
The sun is shining;
Swallow with spring
It flies towards us in the canopy.
With her the sun is more beautiful
And spring is sweeter...
Chirp out of the way
Greetings to us soon!
I'll give you grains
And you sing a song,
What from distant countries
I brought with me...
April! April!
Samuel Marshak
April! April!
Drops are ringing in the yard.
Streams run through the fields,
There are puddles on the roads.
The ants will come out soon
After the winter cold.
A bear sneaks through
Through thick dead wood.
The birds began to sing songs
And the snowdrop blossomed.
Martin
Boris Zakhoder
The Swallow flew away
Far away...
Come back, Swallow!
It's April.
Come back, Swallow!
Not alone:
Let it be with you, Swallow,
Spring is coming!
Bird cherry
Sergey Yesenin
Bird cherry fragrant
Bloomed with spring
And golden branches,
What curls, curled.
Honey dew all around
Slides along the bark
Spicy greens underneath
Shines in silver.
And nearby, by the thawed patch,
In the grass, between the roots,
The little one runs and flows
Silver stream.
Fragrant bird cherry,
Having hung himself, he stands,
And the greenery is golden
It's burning in the sun.
The stream is like a thunderous wave
All branches are doused
And insinuatingly under the steep
Sings her songs.
Hello, first grass of spring!
Sergey Gorodetsky
Hello, first grass of spring!
How did you blossom? Are you happy about the warmth?
I know you have fun and crowd there,
They work together in every corner.
Put out a leaf or a blue flower
Every young stub is in a hurry
Earlier than the willow from tender buds
The first one will show a green leaf.
Spring
Elena Blagina
The stoves are still burning in the houses
And the sun rises late
Also along our river
They walk calmly across the ice;
More to the barn for firewood
You won't get through directly
And in the garden under the trees
A snowman is dozing with a broom;
We are all dressed warmly -
In sweatshirts, in cotton pants...
Still, signs of spring
In everything, in everything they are already visible.
And in the way the roofs became warmer
And like the sun in full view
The drops, falling, began to sing,
They fussed about as if in delirium.
And suddenly the road became wet,
And my felt boots are full of water...
And the wind is gentle and lingering
It blew from the south side.
And the sparrows scream to each other
About the sun, about its beauty.
And all the cheerful freckles
We sat on one nose...
Spring
Victor Lunin
Waking up from sleep,
Spring with a soft brush
Draws buds on the branches
In the fields there are chains of rooks,
Above the revived foliage
- The first stroke of a thunderstorm,
And in the shade of the transparent garden
— Lilac bush by the fence.
Martin
A. Maikov
The swallow came rushing
Because of the blue sea,
She sat down and sang:
"No matter how angry February is,
How are you, March, don’t frown,
Be it snow or rain -
Everything smells like spring!"
After the flood
I. Bunin
It's raining, April is getting warmer,
It's foggy all night, and in the morning
The spring air is definitely chilling
And turns blue with a soft haze
In distant clearings in the forest.
And the green forest quietly slumbers,
And in the silver of forest lakes
Even slimmer than his columns,
Even fresher than the pine crowns
And delicate larches pattern!
Warm in the sun. Spring
Afanasy Fet
Warm in the sun. Spring
Takes his rights.
In some places the depth of the river is clear,
Grass is visible at the bottom.
I'm waiting
M. P. Chekhov
I'm waiting for the snow to melt
And flies fly everywhere,
And the overgrown shore will be announced
The discordant croaking of a frog,
When the lilacs bloom,
A fragrant lily of the valley will appear,
And cool down a hot day
An unexpected, blessed thunderstorm.
I'm waiting for the pipes in the fields
Suddenly he starts singing unpretentiously,
And she loves the gloomy corncrake
He will respond with a timid twitch.
I'm waiting, but the snow is falling heavier,
Severe frosts are crackling...
Oh summer, where are you? Where are the dragonflies?
Where is the vociferous nightingale?
Green Noise
Nikolay Nekrasov
The Green Noise goes on and on,
Green Noise, spring noise!
Playfully disperses
Suddenly a riding wind:
The alder bushes will shake,
Will raise flower dust,
Like a cloud: everything is green -
Both air and water!
The Green Noise goes on and on,
Green Noise, spring noise!
Like drenched in milk,
There are cherry orchards,
They make a quiet noise;
Warmed by the warm sun,
Happy people making noise
pine forests,
And next to it there is new greenery
They babble a new song
And the pale-leaved linden,
And a white birch tree
With a green braid!
A small reed makes noise,
The cheerful maple tree is noisy...
They make a new noise
In a new way, spring...
Goes and hums, Green Noise,
Green Noise, spring noise!
Freckles
V. Orlov
Spring passed
Along the edge
Through the spring
Blue dreams
And they glowed quietly
Freckles
On the girl's face
Spring.
A girl was walking
In a green skirt
Ringing with blue dew.
And, jealous
Red-haired girl
Unnoticed
The earth sighed.
And for good reason
On this spring morning
Where the light legs are
Gone
Dandelions bloomed
As if
Golden freckles
Earth.
The hollow water is raging
I.A. Bunin
The hollow water is raging,
The noise is both dull and drawn out.
Migratory herds of rooks
They shout both fun and important.
Black mounds are smoking,
And in the morning in the heated air...
Thick white vapors
Filled with warmth and light.
And at noon there are puddles under the window
So they spill and shine...
What bright sunny warmth
Bunnies flutter around the hall.
The birch forest is getting darker and curlier...
I.A. Bunin
The birch forest turns greener and darker and curlier;
The bells of lilies of the valley are blooming in the green thicket;
At dawn the valleys are filled with warmth and bird cherry,
Nightingales sing until dawn.
Soon Trinity Day, soon songs, wreaths and mowing...
Everything is blooming and singing, young hopes are melting...
Oh spring dawns and warm May dews!
O my distant youth!
Spring thunderstorm
Fedor Tyutchev
When spring, the first thunder,
As if frolicking and playing,
Rumbling in the blue sky.
Young peals thunder,
The rain is splashing, the dust is flying,
Rain pearls hung,
And the sun gilds the threads.
A swift stream runs down the mountain,
The noise of birds in the forest is not silent,
And the noise of the forest, and the noise of the mountains -
Everything cheerfully echoes the thunder.
You will say: windy Hebe,
Feeding Zeus's eagle,
A thunderous goblet from the sky,
Laughing, she spilled it on the ground.
The last snow in the field is melting...
A.K. Tolstoy
The last snow in the field is melting,
Warm steam rises from the earth,
And the blue jug blooms,
And the cranes call each other.
Young forest, dressed in green smoke,
Warm thunderstorms are impatiently awaiting;
All springs are warmed by breath,
Everything around loves and sings;
In the morning the sky is clear and transparent,
At night the stars shine so brightly;
Why is it so dark in your soul
And why is my heart heavy?
It's sad for you to live, oh friend, I know
And I understand your sadness:
You should fly back to your native land
And you don’t feel sorry for the earthly spring...
Spring
A.N. Pleshcheev
Again the smell of spring came through my window,
And you can breathe more comfortably and freely...
The oppressive melancholy has fallen asleep in my chest,
A swarm of bright thoughts is replacing her.
The snow has melted... Ice shackles
They are not burdened by the sparkling wave...
And the distant, dumb ones await the plow
The fields of my native side.
Oh, how could I get out of these stuffy rooms
I wanted to go there quickly - to the open space,
Where there are no crackling and soulless phrases,
Where the venal choir does not thunder.
To the fields! to the fields! familiar nature
It attracts you with its bashful beauty...
To the fields! there is the song of the resurrected people
Sounds free and powerful.
Spring (The snow is already melting...)
A.N. Pleshcheev
The snow is already melting, the streams are flowing,
There was a breath of spring through the window...
The nightingales will soon whistle,
And the forest will be dressed in leaves!
Pure heavenly azure,
The sun became warmer and brighter,
It's time for evil blizzards and storms
It's gone for a long time again.
And my heart is so strong in my chest
He knocks as if he's waiting for something
As if happiness is ahead
And winter took away your worries!
All faces look cheerful.
“Spring!” - you read in every glance;
And he, like a holiday, is happy about her,
Whose life is only toil and sorrow.
But the playful children have loud laughter
And carefree birds singing
They tell me who is the most
Nature loves renewal!
On a spring thawed patch
Tatiana Gusarova
There's a bug on the thawed patch
A barrel was warming in the sun,
Soon the worm came out,
And behind him comes the spider.
The sun disappeared behind the mountain,
And went home
And the bug and the worm,
And, of course, the spider.
On the thawed patch again
Tomorrow they will sunbathe
Beetle, worm and spider.
They will heat ANOTHER barrel.
Spring feast
Tatiana Gusarova
Golden willow
It blossomed in the grove.
Butterflies and bees
Invited to visit:
I will set the tables:
There is something to treat.
Fresh pollen
I will feed you.
Hungry, sad
Early spring.
And on the branches of the willow
The feast is coming!
About icicles
Tatiana Gusarova
Spring came. Streams are running.
They are murmuring and laughing.
And their sharp noses
Icicles hung from the roof.
In the sun the poor things are very
They suffer, they suffer.
They only have it in the evening and at night
The runny nose stops.
And in the daytime my nose is in trouble again.
Merging with the street noise,
Not just water dripping -
The icicle life is passing away.
Poems about other seasons:
Anna Akhmatova
Before spring there are days like this:
The meadow rests under the dense snow,
The dry and cheerful trees are rustling,
And the warm wind is gentle and elastic.
And the body marvels at its lightness,
And you won’t recognize your home,
And the song that I was tired of before,
Like new, you eat with excitement.
Arseny Tarkovsky
March snow
On such white snow
White angel alpha-omega
I could write with wings
And the swan's mortal bliss
Send me down as grace.
But even in this snowy stagnation
You can barely hear about the restlessness
Black pines say:
Boils under their bark
Crazy tearful discord.
The upper branch is seven miles to the sky,
Not a crumb of bread for a beggar bird,
It’s like a needle piercing the heart:
Is his need great?
If only the sky fits.
And in those snows because of the log
Anxiety is roaring,
And alien to herself, in front of me
Life on earth, my dear
He wanders under his gray hair.
Vladislav Khodasevich
It became soft, and soggy, and soggy.
It's so hard to breathe from the dampness.
We look at the sidewalks as if they were glass,
We look at the sky - there is rain and darkness in the sky...
Isn't it wonderful? In trampled and low
We have now found our mountain face,
And there, in the sky, close, too close,
Everything is just what the earth has.
Osip Mandelstam
On pale blue enamel,
What is conceivable in April,
Birch branches raised
And it was getting dark unnoticed.
The pattern is sharp and small,
A thin mesh froze,
Like on a porcelain plate
The drawing, drawn accurately, -
When his artist is cute
Displays on the glassy solid,
In the consciousness of momentary power,
In the oblivion of sad death.
Vladislav Khodasevich
In the roar of the street, in the furious scream of the carriages,
In the grinding of sharply sharpened horse shoes,
The heart is spinning like Arion's shuttle,
The heart is motionless, like a moon among the clouds.
Near the wall a beggar babbles vaguely,
Noisy ice floes are falling through the pipes from the roofs...
Like ball lightning, the heart is dangerous -
And carefully, and vigilantly, and quietly, like a mouse.
Bella Akhmadulina
Here are the girls - they want love.
Here are the boys - they want to go hiking.
Weather changes in April
unite all people with people.
O new month, new sovereign,
so you are looking for favor,
so you are generous with favors,
tilting the calendar towards amnesties.
Yes, you will rescue the rivers from their shackles,
you will bring any distance closer,
you give enlightenment to the madman
and heal the ailments of the old.
Only I am not given your mercy.
There is no greed to ask you for this.
You ask - I hesitate to answer
and I turn off the light, and the room is dark.
Gennady Shpalikov
Spring in Moscow
Mimosa is sold at the store,
Pigeons in the sky -
I don't know whose
And they shine brightly
from gasoline
Lilac
Moscow
streams.
April 1956
Nikolay Rubtsov
Spring at sea
The blizzards in the rocks ceased.
Flooding the air with light,
The sun splashed with rays
To the jubilant bay!
The day will pass and your hands will get tired.
But, covering up the fatigue,
Live sounds from the soul
They ask for a harmonious motive.
The light of the moon is thin at night,
The shore is bright at night,
The sea is calm as a kitten
Everything is scraping against the pier...
 |
| Isaac Levitan. March |
Boris Pasternak
Spring in the forest
Desperate cold
Delays melting.
Spring is later than usual
But also more unexpected.
In the morning the rooster is amorous,
And there is no way for the chicken.
Turning your face to the south,
The pine tree squints in the sun.
Although it soars and bakes,
Another whole week
The roads are frozen
Blackened bark.
In the forest there is spruce debris, trash,
And everything is covered with snow.
Half the water and the sun
The thawed patches are flooded.
And the sky is covered in clouds like fluff
Above the dirty spring slurry
Stuck in the branches above
And it doesn't move because of the heat.
Georgy Ivanov
A white horse wanders without a team.
White horse, where are you going?
The sun is shining. Shawls and shirts
The pre-spring tremors are shaking in the garden.
I, who once said goodbye to Russia,
(At night towards the polar dawn),
Didn’t look back, didn’t cross himself,
And I didn’t notice how suddenly I found myself
In this remote European hole.
At least I'd be bored... But I'm not bored.
I lost my life, but I cherished my peace.
I receive letters from dead friends
And having read it, I feel relieved
On the blue pre-spring snow.
Valery Bryusov
Stonefly
Only in the north do we appreciate
All the delight of spring, -
We won’t exchange spring bliss
To other dreams.
After a long winter night
Tender spring day
Fabrics of hospitable darkness
Spreads a shadow.
Where the earth covered the slopes
Monochrome snow,
Burns your eyes in the green forest
Young escape!
A snowdrop looks into our souls
With a blue gaze;
Even old trash, dead wood,
Seems alive!
We live in the spring like children,
It’s like we’re delirious out loud;
In fresh colors, in clear light
The spirit comes alive!
Every May became an ally
And the enemy of winter,
Everyone is happy, like a prisoner
Coming out of prison!
in spring
Spring waters are flowing... Turned blue
The sky warmed the fields.
Winter grief, long painful,
The earth wants to cry.
Midnight dawns, languid bliss
Mleya, drive you away
Thousand-star, coldly dark,
Long winter night.
Swallows, drawn by the thirst for a date,
Dear children of spring,
You, returning to your familiar nests,
You will bring happiness to dreams.
Apple tree, having shaken off the snow, snow-white
Decorated with a chasuble of flowers;
Oh, how captivating with its tender freshness,
How fragrant it is!
Warm us, sun; shine brightly
Cold is replaced by darkness;
Let me enjoy the delightful spring,
Let me forget about winter.
Bulat Okudzhava
The sky is blue, just like the picture.
May morning. Sun. Peace.
The beetle on the reed smiles,
like he's some kind of birthday boy.
Everyone is tired of the long snowstorm,
everyone is irritable because...
Whatever you sing about winter,
but there is no need for it to be longer.
The snow is such that you can’t find each other:
the bottomless night, like a prison;
the blizzard covered all living things,
and why - I forgot myself.
Anyone lost in its blue ice,
involuntarily and blind and voiceless...
No, spare me the difficulties of winter,
from her whims and madness.
Thank God that the tabernacles and groves
filled with ringing again.
Let spring be lighter and simpler,
Yes, you need to breathe something!
Nature enjoys May,
the beast in the forests and the star in the heavens;
but from the very heart of the people
A long “ah!” bursts out.
Boris Pasternak
Scarves, rebounds, searing gaze
Can't stop seeing snowdrops.
And mud red chocolate
Not aligned with spirit level.
But slush is mixed from the rays
Spring and the sleepy sound of stones,
And the cries of birds crumple the stream,
How to mold dumplings with your fingers.
Scarves, frills, grace!
Thawed black licorice...
Let me repay you a hundredfold
And, like a river, breathe and open up.
Give me, having exceeded the level,
Thank you so much
And plunge your world from above,
Like in a mirror, thank you.
Overturn the crowd and the bollards,
And gutters in saliva and foam,
And the sky is horny blue,
And the clouds are empty shadows.
Blind afternoon gelatin,
And the yellow glasses are washed out,
And thin mica floes,
And hummocks with black fringe.
 |
| Victor Borisov-Musatov. Spring |
Innokenty Annensky
The sky bloomed so tenderly,
And the May day is already quietly melting away,
And only dim glass
The fire of the west shines.
Clinging to him from the semi-darkness,
In a moment there is a glimmer of glamor
The world that we were...
Or will we be in eternal transformation?
And you can’t separate your eyes
You with dusty-shaky gilding,
But I joined the evening's gamut
She's a sad note
Over the world that we are gilding with fire.
Now he will die without understanding
That happiness did not sparkle in him,
And in the golden deception of May,
That is irrevocably blue,
His golden one has faded...
That only the glow is barely
It warps pink glass.
Vladimir Nabokov
The locomotive rushed to the dacha.
The crowd is light, timid
trunks run up the slope:
the smoke showed through in a wave of white
in the April diversity of birches.
There is a velvet sofa in the carriage
still without summer cover.
By the rails on a yellow dandelion
The first bee lands.
Where was the snowdrift, now full of holes?
oblong island
along the green ditch:
covered with soot, soaked
spring smelling snow.
It’s twilight and cold in the estate.
In the garden, to the delight of the pigeons,
the cloud puddle shines.
Along the old roof, along the pillars,
along the drainage elbow -
time to anoint again
green paint from a bucket -
lies cheerfully on the wall
shadow of the stairs and the painter.
The tops of birches in fresh azure,
estate, sunny stumps -
all the images are the same,
They are becoming more and more perfect.
Far from the murmur of exile
my memories live on
in some unearthly silence:
everything that is irrevocable is immortal,
and in this reverse eternity
proud soul bliss.
Vladimir Nabokov
The world is excited by the spring breath,
the birds have returned and the streams are ringing
bells of moisture. With affection
I sort out the little things of love
on the dusty shelves of memory. Chilly
in the fields, and merrily in the forest, where
No matter where you step, there is a large lily of the valley. Like water,
the azure trembles - both pitifully and greedily
looks at the world. Birches by the river -
there, in the clearing, not forgotten by the heart,
crowded together and so simply, businesslike
unroll sticky sheets
as if this is not a miracle at all,
and in the blue there are two thin cranes
hesitate, and maybe from there
they think the earth is green
unripe, wet apple...
Roman Sef
Facing Spring
Slowly
The snow has melted
Blackened
And melted away
To everyone in the world
Fine:
In the grove -
To flocks of birds,
On the trees -
Petals,
Sticky
And smelly
In the blue sky -
To the clouds,
Easy
And volatile;
The best
In the world - for me,
Along a damp path
I am running,
Face the spring
After getting wet
Boots.
Ilya Erenburg
* * *
How can the children of the south
Where the roses shine in December
Where you won’t find the word “blizzard”
Neither in memory, nor in the dictionary,
Is it where the sky is blue?
And it doesn’t disappear even for an hour,
Where from time immemorial to this day
All the same summer pleases the eye,
Is it possible for them to do this, at least briefly,
Even for a minute, even in a dream,
At least inadvertently guess
What does it mean to think about spring?
What does it mean in the March cold,
When despair takes over,
Keep waiting and waiting, how clumsy
The heavy ice will begin to stir.
We've known such winters
Got used to such cold weather,
That there wasn't even sadness
But only pride and trouble.
And in strong, icy resentment,
Blinded by the dry snowstorm,
We saw without seeing anymore
The eyes are green of spring.
Vladimir Lugovskoy
Over vast Russia
With lakes at the bottom
Geese cackled
In the green heights.
Dawn with cold fire
Gilded them.
They fly freely
Like an old Russian poem.
To the pines of Zaonezhye
The river of heaven is quiet.
So reverently and tenderly
The alder blossoms below.
The leader spreads his wings,
Hastens to the wedding feast.
Now a fairy tale, now a reality
The whole world is becoming.
Under the tight wings
The land is clear and clear.
Millions of years behind them
Spring is approaching us.
Some of them will be scattered
Separation, death, trouble,
But the path of spring is to the north!
To the north, as always.
Novella Matveeva
In the spring, in the spring,
Among the first to be tracked,
Caught red-handed by the sleeve,
The snowdrop is already turning out
From a weak leaf shell.
The nine violet of clubs rustles
In low, elongated winds...
They fly like feathers on a felt hat,
There are panicles of grass across the bare lands.
Spring hides its shine.
But it breathes, it’s full of air bubbles,
In a loose layer - old needles,
Where there are many lily of the valley bayonets,
Motes blown off the shoulder by the wind...
And there is the descending ouzo
Underwater leaves like brewed tea
In the red-brown thicket of the lake...
...Wet axes of duck universes -
Reeds whistle in the hidden corners.
Wind...
Standing up in the stirrups
Half-visible Spring is rushing.
A dry, undressed oak tree gallops...
Her horse is gray and entangled in grass...
In the dark trunk - purple Amazons
The elusive tilt of the wind.
Same with birds
Through an icy feather,
dim,
It seems like you see in the spring
Copper-green cross under velvet.
So, between drinks,
In the darkness of humus,
Untraceable purple subtext,
I think you're reading...
Nikolay Glazkov
Vernal grace
March is the month of sunny winter
And that’s why it’s considered spring.
It's a good month because we
And the best minds are with us,
We appreciate the forest awakening.
When the drops ring in the morning,
Nature is warming up.
The sparrows shout "Hurray"
Seeing sparkling water!
The ice hasn't broken yet
Dogwood, however, is blooming,
What does it mean: spring leads
Huge offensive.
The bear crawled out of the den -
The sun killed the virus.
The wood grouse is calling out the warming weather.
Beautiful spring nature
April smiled again.
The waters are noisy and merry:
They now have freedom of speech!..
The river flows majestically -
Honor and glory to her these days!
A lot has been written about spring,
I am writing about sunny spring again.
I feel it near the scarlet pines
And in streams that wash away all the snow.
The sky looks rosy and welcoming,
The quiet blizzard does not grumble -
And it rings as needed, good-naturedly
Keys of joy drops.
Sleepy nature comes to life,
Enjoy the warm weather.
April is smiling for us!
April snow - simpleton -
Doesn't scare people
It flies and immediately melts.
It just fell out
To update your skis
Some kid and
His double is an eccentric.
April transformed nature
Green spring is flying.
I love this time of year
It’s gratifying, like something new.
Wonderful morning waters,
Swimming is very joyful -
There is daring and freedom in this!
I appreciate and understand April
I love him no less than May,
I praise him for his good nature.
Who will wander through the forest in April,
He will find morels near an old spruce tree,
I searched diligently.
Not bad this time of year
Breathe oxygen solution
It makes sense to go out into nature
She lives in her native forests!..
I'll take a swim in the April river,
I won’t catch a cold, I won’t be afraid -
There is daring and scope in this!
It was a cool morning
And the birds frolicked and sang:
They praised spring wisely,
April was glorified in April.
Such funny birds
Could hardly be wrong
They could hardly sing in vain:
It's not good to be discouraged in spring,
The smile of nature is beautiful!
Vladimir Mayakovsky
A comprehensive picture of spring
Leaves.
After the lines of foxes -
points.
Conclusion. Many poets and writers wrote about spring. This is F.I. Tyutchev, V.A. Zhukovsky, A.S. Pushkin, A.N. Pleshcheev, S.D. Drozhzhin, L.N. Tolstoy, A.A. Fet, I.S. Nikitin, A.N. Maikov, A.P. Chekhov and many others. These poems are beautiful, lyrical and musical. For many generations they were favorite reading. Poems and stories about our native nature do not get old, and we repeat and read them again and again. Artists in their works reflected spring in all its diversity. This is the work of I.I. Levitan “Spring - Big Water”, “March”, I.E. Grabar “March Snow”, V.N. Baksheev “Blue Spring”, S.V. Gerasimov “The Ice Has Gone” and others. Spring is the favorite time of year for many landscape artists who are especially sensitive to the poetic charm of spring nature.
Slide 8 from the presentation “Paintings of artists about spring”. The size of the archive with the presentation is 957 KB.Iso 2nd grade
summary of other presentations“Kargopol folk toy” - U. Babkina. Double headed horse. Folk clay toy. Women dance with men, And the accordion sings in bass. Kargopol toy. Kargopol toy – Horses, ducks, cuckoos. The sequence of making the Lady. The sequence of making a horse - Palkan. According to the program of N.M. Konysheva “Artistic and design activities (basics of design education) grades 1-4.” The troika rushes, the snow creaks, the moon shines in the sky.
“Map of Russian folk crafts” - World Perception. Coachman's bells. Vladimir region. Lipetsk region. Bone carving. Ivanovo lace. Folk crafts of Russia. Novgorod region. Folk crafts. Ivanovo region. Magadan Region. Vyatka. Ivanovo region. Arhangelsk region. Orenburg region. Nizhny Novgorod Region. Goose crystal. Folk arts and crafts. Kirov region. Penza region.
“Dymkovo toy” - We stick the head and neck onto the body blank. We apply the tail-cake to the body. Paint the toy using the rhythm and variations of the haze pattern. Shaping the horse's legs. After sculpting, prime the product. Folk clay toy. Sequence of making a bird (rooster, turkey): The horse is ready You can put a rider on the horse. We make cone-shaped ears and a twisted rope - the mane and tail. Find an outfit for the Dymkovo “lady”.
“Ornament on dishes” - Geometric ornament. Floral ornament. Our works. Participants. Patterns and ornaments on dishes. The word "ornament". Anthropomorphic ornament. Associations of patterns and figures. Basic geometric shapes. Patterns in our lives. Method of decorating dishes. Animal (zoomorphic) ornaments.
“Drawing a dinosaur” - Increase your knowledge. History of dinosaurs. Drawing techniques. Children's project. Blank sheet. Legs. Oviparous reptile. Drawing. How to draw a dinosaur. I'm learning to draw a dinosaur.
““Drawing” 2nd grade” - What is a pixel? We will also draw the first paw for the second kitten. "Beauty will save the world." Place a cross at the top of the sheet. For those who like to draw. Pencil tips. Extend the rope. Let's draw a stripe on the head. We draw eyes and claws. Let's draw a line for the hind leg, and on the head - lines for the ears. We carefully draw a cross on the head of the second kitten. Let's finish drawing the rope. We “stretch” a rope through the cross and draw a bow.
Evgeny Baratynsky
Spring, spring! How clean the air is!
How clear is the sky!
Its azuria alive
He blinds my eyes.
Spring, spring! How high
On the wings of the breeze,
Caressing the sun's rays,
Clouds are flying!
The streams are noisy! The streams are shining!
Roaring, the river carries
On the triumphant ridge
The ice she raised!
The trees are still bare,
But in the grove there is a decaying leaf,
As before under my foot
And noisy and fragrant.
Soared under the sun
And in the bright heights
The invisible lark sings
A cheerful hymn to spring.
What's wrong with her? What's wrong with my soul?
With a stream she is a stream
And with a bird, a bird!
It's murmuring with him,
Flying in the sky with her!
Alexander Pushkin
The cold winds are still blowing
And the morning frosts strike,
Fresh from the spring thawed patches
Early flowers appeared
As if from a wonderful kingdom of wax,
From fragrant honey kelley
The first bee flew out
Flew over early flowers
To find out about the red spring,
Will there be a dear guest soon,
Will the meadows soon turn green?
Soon will the curly birch tree
Sticky leaves will bloom,
The fragrant bird cherry will bloom.
Sergey Gorodetsky
Hello, first grass of spring!
How did you blossom? Are you happy about the warmth?
I know you have fun and crowd there,
They work together in every corner.
Put out a leaf or a blue flower
Every young stub is in a hurry
Earlier than the willow from tender buds
The first one will show a green leaf.
Apollo Maykov
Go away, gray winter!
Already the beauties of Spring
Golden chariot
Rushing from the highest heights!
Should I argue with the old one, the frail one?
With her - the queen of flowers,
With a whole air army
Fragrant breezes!
What noise, what buzzing,
Warm showers and rays,
And chirping and singing!..
Go away quickly!
She has no bow, no arrows,
I just smiled - and you,
Picking up your white shroud,
She crawled into the ravine, into the bushes!..
May they be found in the ravines!
Look, the swarms of bees are already making noise,
And flies the victorious flag
Squad of motley butterflies!
Mikhail Plyatskovsky
The days are fine
Similar to holidays
And in the sky there is a warm sun,
Cheerful and kind.
All the rivers overflow
All the buds are opening,
Winter has gone with the cold,
The snowdrifts became puddles.
Having left the southern countries,
The friendly birds have returned.
On every branch there are squirrels
They sit and clean their feathers.
The time of spring has come,
It's time to bloom.
And that means the mood
It's spring for everyone!
Vasily Zhukovsky
THE COMING OF SPRING
The greenery of the fields, the babbling of the groves,
There is a thrill in the sky of the lark,
Warm rain, sparkling waters, -
Having named you, what should I add?
How else can I glorify you?
Life of the soul, spring is coming?
Andrey Bely
SPRING
Everything has dried up. And there are already kidneys.
Lilies of the valley and porridge will bloom soon.
Here the clouds float like lambs.
Louder, louder the spring message.
I am alarmed by the annoying squeak:
Tucked back, grumpy Thekla,
hanging over the street with risk,
wipes window glass.
Here the lime is removed with a knife...
There are cups of poison... There is cotton wool...
My chest is filled with April delight.
The wind swirls dust outside the window.
The windows are wide open - and screaming, talking,
and the flower stem sways,
and the floor polishers go out into the yard
barefoot knocking out furniture.
The cat crawled out and sat at the trough,
washes with a velvet paw.
Here's a boy in a chintz shirt,
Having run, he threw his grandmother at him.
There is a light of early evening lights in the sky.
Feelings are fiery again, as before.
The skies are getting bluer and bluer,
The clouds are wavy like lambs.
My gaze wanders into the blue distances.
All earthly aspirations are so pathetic...
A little man in props in the yard
heavy beams are brought in with thunder.
Fedor Tyutchev
No wonder winter is angry,
Her time has passed -
Spring is knocking on the window
And he drives him out of the yard.
And everything started to fuss
Everything forces Winter to get out -
And larks in the sky
The ringing bell has already been raised.
Winter is still busy
And he grumbles about Spring.
She laughs in her eyes
And it just makes more noise...
The evil witch went crazy
And, capturing the snow,
She let me in, running away,
To a beautiful child.
Spring and grief are not enough:
Washed in the snow
And she only became blusher,
Against the enemy.
Alexey Pleshcheev
The snow is already melting, the streams are flowing,
There was a breath of spring through the window...
The nightingales will soon whistle,
And the forest will be dressed in leaves!
Pure heavenly azure,
The sun became warmer and brighter,
It's time for evil blizzards and storms
It's been a long time again...
Alexey Pleshcheev
The grass is turning green
The sun is shining;
Swallow with spring
It flies towards us in the canopy.
With her the sun is more beautiful
And spring is sweeter...
Chirp out of the way
Greetings to us soon!
I'll give you grains
And you sing a song,
What from distant countries
I brought with me...
Samuel Marshak
April! April!
Drops are ringing in the yard.
Streams run through the fields,
There are puddles on the roads.
The ants will come out soon
After the winter cold.
A bear sneaks through
Through thick dead wood.
The birds began to sing songs
And the snowdrop blossomed.
Sergey Yesenin
CHERYOMUCHA
Bird cherry fragrant
Bloomed with spring
And golden branches,
What curls, curled.
Honey dew all around
Slides along the bark
Spicy greens underneath
Shines in silver.
And nearby, by the thawed patch,
In the grass, between the roots,
The little one runs and flows
Silver stream.
Fragrant bird cherry,
Having hung himself, he stands,
And the greenery is golden
It's burning in the sun.
The stream is like a thunderous wave
All branches are doused
And insinuatingly under the steep
Sings her songs.
Children's poems about spring
Yunna Moritz
SPRING
Ding! Don!
Ding! Don!
What is this gentle ringing?
This is a snowdrop forest
Smiling through sleep!
Whose fluffy ray is this?
It tickles so much from behind the clouds,
Forcing the kids
Smile from ear to ear?
Whose warmth is this?
Whose kindness is this?
Makes you smile
A hare, a chicken, a cat?
And for what reason?
Spring is coming
Around town!
And the poodle has a smile!
And there is a fish in the aquarium
Smiled from the water
Smiling bird!
So it turns out
What doesn't fit
On one page
An immense smile -
How pleasant!
This is the length
That's how wide it is!
And for what reason?
Spring is coming
Around the city!
Vesna Martovna Podsnezhnikova,
Vesna Aprelevna Skvoreshnikova
Vesna Mayevna Chereshnikova!
Boris Zakhoder
MARTIN
The Swallow flew away
Far away...
Come back, Swallow!
It's April.
Come back, Swallow!
Not alone:
Let it be with you, Swallow,
Spring is coming!
N. Antipina
I'm writing about spring
Your own poem.
Spring, when the drops ring,
And you can hear birds singing.
It gets warm in spring.
And the snow is melting everywhere.
And over the green grass
The snowdrop is blooming.
In spring the days became longer,
And the nights are getting shorter.
And new leaves grow
From sticky sticky buds.
In the spring he leaves me
Bad mood,
And I give to spring days
Your own poem.
N. Zhelezkova
The snow has aged, turned black, but not grief -
It will soon be a noisy stream!
The sun will generously spread its rays,
And the streams will ring and flow...
Suddenly forgetting about notebooks and books,
A flock of boys will rush after them...
And, akimbo, sedately and importantly
My paper boat will sail into the distance...
I wrote the title myself
The word “Spring” is written in red letters.
N. Martidi
The snowstorms are over.
Dead wood has dried out in the forest.
The birds have arrived!
A snowdrop has bloomed in the grass!
It's getting light earlier now
And the day rings like a tambourine.
The birches turned white
And there are no nicks on them.
And soon the juice will flow through the branches
It will rush, reviving them.
Spring came! Spring came!
Nature is alive again!
E. Arutyunova
Sunflare, solstice!
The sun is calling spring to us.
Warms, bakes.
He lets his bunnies in.
They jump everywhere.
I rejoice at them like a miracle.
Drip-drip-drip! - drops sings.
All day - ding-ding!!!
Brook. The ship is here -
A sliver of wood floats in a puddle.
The sparrow chirped:
“Chick-chirp! It’s already warmer!”
“Pur-mur-mur,” the cat sang,
Sitting under my window.
And the snowdrop blooms.
Soon the snow will completely melt.
A. Ensh
It hasn't been stormy for a long time now,
All the ice melted into puddles.
And the sun draws rays on your face
Perky freckles.
And the birds and animals
We rejoiced together
To the Beauty of Spring.
Green glades.
Oh, how many tulips there are in them,
Daffodils, dandelions
And little bugs!
Nature wakes up
It washes itself with dew.
And so easy and joyful
From bird voices!
O. Oglanova
The sun warmed me gently,
Snow flows into streams.
It’s so important for the white winter,
Extend the days at least a little,
But he's not angry spring,
She understands everything:
"Let the snowflakes fly,
They will melt anyway
Let it freeze in the morning
I'll take it all into my hands!
I'll call the birds back
I'll spread a carpet of grass.
Soon everything will turn green:
Poplars, oaks and maples.
The river will gurgle again,
Spring thunder will thunder.
And in a great mood
I'll share it with everyone
So that even for a moment
No sadness crept into my heart.
Everything comes to life in the spring,
So why be sad with me?!
A. Golovin
In the sun in spring
The forest world has awakened.
Water flows from green paws,
The drops sing: “drip-drip-drip!”
Under the Christmas tree and pine.
The snow got wet in the snowdrift!
I can make a lump
I can make a huge lump,
I want to make a snowman,
I'll build a tower.
I don't sleep at all at night,
I'm still waiting for the rooks to arrive.
All around from the sun and warmth
The water flowed like a river,
A stream began to sing in the snow!
The bear woke up: “Oh!” yes "oh!"
The moss in his den got wet.
The bear got out into the wild -
Let's walk, let's look,
And the day is not bad at all!
Sparrow: “Tweet-chirp!”
He has already gotten used to the warmth,
He fluffs feathers with his beak,
Spring is in a hurry to please,
Jump and jump on a wet branch.
5th place. The image of spring in Russian poetry is rightfully considered key and has multiple meanings. First of all, this time of year is associated with renewal and purification, symbolizing youth, tenderness and sublimity. Therefore, it is not surprising that spring, as a prototype of a young maiden, is present in the works of many Russian poets, inspired by its beauty, perfection, freshness and spontaneity. The period when spring has not yet come into its own is especially exciting, but its presence is already in the air, filling it with an incomparable aroma. This period was very vividly and accurately depicted by the poet Afanasy Fet in his poem “Still fragrant spring bliss...”, comparing his favorite time of year with the steppe beauty who watches the cranes returning from the south.
*** A. Fet
More fragrant spring bliss
She didn’t have time to come down to us,
The ravines are still full of snow,
Even before dawn the cart rattles
On a frozen path.The sun barely warms at noon,
The linden tree turns red in height,
Through, the birch tree turns a little yellow,
And the nightingale does not yet dare
Sing in a currant bush.But the news of rebirth is alive
Already there are in the passing cranes,
And, following them with my eyes,
The beauty of the steppe is standing
With a bluish blush on her cheeks.
4th place. In turn, the poet Alexander Blok compares spring with a child who shuns adults and does not try to show himself to them, although everyone feels his elusive presence somewhere very close. In a poem "In the meadow" the poet figuratively and succinctly reveals the theme of spring, which seems to pass people by, but its traces are visible and heard everywhere - in the blackened arable land, the bright blue sky and the babbling stream, which creates a festive and surprisingly joyful atmosphere.
“In the Meadow” by A. Blok
The forests in the distance are more visible,
Blue skies
More noticeable and blacker
There is a stripe on the arable land,
And children's sounds are louder
Voices above the meadow.
Spring is passing by
But where is she herself?
Chu, a clear voice is heard,
Isn't this spring?
No, it's loud, subtle
A wave gurgles in the stream.
3rd place. In the works of many Russian poets, spring is presented as one of the most romantic periods, when nature itself evokes thoughts of love and forces one to listen to the rapid beating of the heart. IN Ivan Bunin’s poem “Beyond the river the meadows have turned green...” spring is associated with the expectation of happiness and spiritual anguish, when longing is replaced by causeless joy only because the sun is shining brightly and the world appears in a different, rainbow light. At the same time, spring is an unsaid story about love, a timid expectation of happiness and hope for reciprocity, when feelings are heightened to the limit, but those cherished words that can bring spiritual relief have not yet been spoken out loud.
*** I. Bunin
Across the river the meadows turned green,
The light freshness of water emanates;
More merriment rang through the groves
Bird songs in different modes.The breeze from the fields brings warmth,
The bitter spirit of young lozina...
Oh, spring! How the heart asks for happiness!
How sweet is my sadness in the spring!Gently the sun warms the leaves
And the paths are soft in the garden...
I don’t understand what opens the soul
And where am I slowly wandering!I don’t understand who I love with longing,
Who is dear to me... And does it matter?
I'm waiting for happiness, suffering and yearning,
But I don’t believe in happiness for a long time!I'm sad that I'm wasting my time fruitlessly
The purity and tenderness of better days,
That I alone rejoice and cry
And I don’t know, I don’t like people.
2nd place. IN poem by Alexei Pleshcheev “The snow is already melting” spring, on the contrary, is presented in contrast and very expressively due to the fact that both its sides are shown. For some, running streams and the first leaves on the trees are a real holiday of rebirth, but for others they are a symbol of hard peasant labor. Only children who are not burdened with everyday worries and have not yet forgotten how to feel the beautiful are able to truly enjoy the warm sun, green grass and the timid trills of the nightingale during this period.
“Spring” by A. Pleshcheev
The snow is already melting, the streams are flowing,
There was a breath of spring through the window...
The nightingales will soon whistle,
And the forest will be dressed in leaves!Pure heavenly azure,
The sun became warmer and brighter,
It's time for evil blizzards and storms
It's gone for a long time again.And my heart is so strong in my chest
He knocks as if he's waiting for something
As if happiness is ahead
And winter took away your worries!All faces look cheerful.
“Spring!” - you read in every glance;
And he, like a holiday, is happy about her,
Whose life is only toil and sorrow.But the playful children have loud laughter
And carefree birds singing
They tell me who is the most
Nature loves renewal!
1 place. At the same time, for Fyodor Tyutchev, spring is not only the end of hibernation, but also an opportunity to leave behind the spiritual garbage that was accumulated over the previous year. Having built an allegory with living nature, in the poem the author emphasizes that rain washes away dust and dirt, and a person, inhaling the clear spring air, becomes softer, cleaner and kinder. He remembers that the world around him is filled with magic, to which we all have long ceased to pay attention in search of a rational explanation of natural phenomena and metamorphoses from which every moment is woven.
“Spring Storm” F. Tyutchev
I love the storm in early May,
When spring, the first thunder,
as if frolicking and playing,
Rumbling in the blue sky.Young peals thunder,
The rain is splashing, the dust is flying,
Rain pearls hung,
And the sun gilds the threads.A swift stream runs down the mountain,
The noise of birds in the forest is not silent,
And the din of the forest and the noise of the mountains -
Everything cheerfully echoes the thunder.You will say: windy Hebe,
Feeding Zeus's eagle,
A thunderous goblet from the sky,
Laughing, she spilled it on the ground.
