You need to learn one text of your choice.

No. 1. Description of the steppe.

(P. 183-184 textbook)

The further the steppe went, the more beautiful it became. Then the entire south, all that space that makes up present-day Novorossiya, right up to the Black Sea, was a green, virgin desert. Never has a plow passed through immeasurable waves of wild plants. Only the horses, hiding in them, as in a forest, trampled them. Nothing in nature could be better. The entire surface of the earth seemed like a green-golden ocean, over which millions of different colors. Blue, blue and purple hairs showed through the thin, tall stems of grass; the yellow firewood jumped up with its pyramidal top; white porridge dotted the surface with umbrella-shaped caps; the ear of wheat brought from God knows where was pouring into the thicket. Partridges darted under their thin roots, stretching out their necks. The air was filled with a thousand different bird whistles. Hawks stood motionless in the sky, spreading their wings and motionlessly fixing their eyes on the grass. The cry of a cloud of wild geese moving to the side was heard in God knows what distant lake. A seagull rose from the grass with measured strokes and bathed luxuriously in the blue waves of air. There she has disappeared in the heights and only flickers like a single black dot. There she turned her wings and flashed in front of the sun... Damn you, steppes, how good you are!..

No. 2. It's about camaraderie.

(P. 217-218 of the textbook. For convenience, the text is divided into additional paragraphs.)

I would like to tell you, gentleman, what our partnership is. You heard from your fathers and grandfathers how honored everyone was with our land: it made itself known to the Greeks, and it took chervonets from Constantinople, and there were magnificent cities, and temples, and princes, princes of the Russian family, their own princes, and not Catholic mistrust . The Busurmans took everything, everything was lost. Only we are left, orphans, yes, like a widow after a strong husband, orphans, just like us, our land! This is the time at which we, comrades, gave our hand to brotherhood! This is what our partnership stands on! There is no bond holier than fellowship!

A father loves his child, a mother loves her child, a child loves his father and mother. But that’s not it, brothers: the beast also loves its child. But only one person can become related by kinship by soul, and not by blood. There were comrades in other lands, but there were no such comrades as in the Russian land. You have happened more than once to disappear for long periods of time in a foreign land; you see - there are people there too! also a man of God, and you will talk to him as if you were one of your own; and when it comes to telling a heartfelt word, you see: no, smart people, but not those; the same people, but not the same! No, brothers, to love like a Russian soul - to love not just with your mind or anything else, but with everything that God has given, whatever is in you...<…>No, no one can love like that!

I know that a vile thing has now begun on our land; They only think that they should have stacks of grain, stacks of grain, and horse herds of them, so that their sealed honey would be safe in the cellars. They adopt God knows what Busurman customs; they abhor their tongue; he doesn’t want to talk to his own; He sells his own, just as a soulless creature is sold at the trade market. The mercy of a foreign king, and not a king, but the vile mercy of a Polish magnate, who hits them in the face with his yellow shoe, is dearer to them than any brotherhood.

But the last scoundrel, whatever he is, even though he is covered in soot and worship, he also, brothers, has a grain of Russian feeling. And someday it will wake up, and he, the unfortunate one, will hit the floor with his hands, grab his head, loudly cursing his vile life, ready to atone for the shameful deed with torment.

Let them all know what partnership means in the Russian land! If it comes to that, to die, then none of them will have to die like that!.. No one, no one!.. Their mouse nature is not enough for that!

Cossack songs thematically related to N. V. Gogol’s story “Taras Bulba”

Cossack folk song “Lyubo, brothers, lyubo”

Lyrics

Since this song is folk, there are many variations of it. The text below may not be 100% identical to the performance in the video.

Like for black Erek,
Like for black Erek,
The Cossacks rode forty thousand horses.
And the shore was covered, and the shore was covered
Hundreds of chopped and shot people.

Love, brothers, love,
Love, brothers, to live!

Love, brothers, love,
Love, brothers, to live!
You don’t have to bother with our chieftain!

And the first bullet, and the first bullet,
And the brothers’ first bullet wounded the horse.
And the second bullet, and the second bullet,
And the second bullet in the heart wounded me.

Love, brothers, love,
Love, brothers, to live!
You don’t have to bother with our chieftain!
Love, brothers, love,
Love, brothers, to live!
You don’t have to bother with our chieftain!

And he will cry to his wife and marry someone else,
For the sake of my comrade, he will forget about me.
I only feel sorry for the little wolf
Yes, the pole is wide,
I feel sorry for the old mother and the dun horse.

Love, brothers, love,
Love, brothers, to live!
You don’t have to bother with our chieftain!
Love, brothers, love,
Love, brothers, to live!
You don’t have to bother with our chieftain!

My blond curls, my bright eyes
They will be overgrown with grasses, weeds and wormwood.
My bones are white, my heart is brave
Kites and crows will scatter across the steppe.

Love, brothers, love,
Love, brothers, to live!
You don’t have to bother with our chieftain!
Love, brothers, love,
Love, brothers, to live!

Love, brothers, love,
Love, brothers, to live!
It’s a pleasure to lay down your head with our chieftain!
Love, brothers, love,
Love, brothers, to live!
It's a pleasure to lay your head down with us!

“Steppe” (“Dashing Cossack”), Spanish. Pelagia

Lyrics

Only the steppe can barely breathe,
Like God's dew the grass
Wash your feet in the stirrup,
The rivers of time will wake up.

Chorus:
Look, the cavalry is rushing,
Steppe freemen
Regiments of harsh Cossacks
From the darkness of centuries.

The night begs to stop
The month shaves cheekbones, faces,
The forelocks hover over the papakha,
His mustache lashes, his teeth sparkle.

Chorus:
The steppe is a crazy army rushing,
The doomful raven cries.
He flies, risking his head,
Dashing Cossack!

Let's leave mother and father to cry,
We'll make the bed forever,
To the heart - a handful of native land,
Yes, passionately - the lips of your beloved.

Chorus:
With the truth by the reins
Well done guys leaving
Taste the wormwood bile,
Family destiny...

And the steppe is a crazy army rushing,
The doomful raven cries.
He flies, risking his head,
Dashing Cossack!

The horses neigh, the cauldron is seething,
The smoke from the pipe swirls.
Porridge, mash, song, dance
And unsteady in the pre-dawn hour.

Chorus:
Oh, Cossack, take your walk for now,
Let your enemies sleep
But in the wild field Yesaul
The dawn is calling again...

And the cavalry rushes again,
Steppe freemen.
He flies, risking his head,
Dashing Cossack!

Like a crazy steppe army rushes,
The doomful raven cries.
He flies, risking his head,
Dashing Cossack,
Dashing Cossack!

Feature Film"Taras Bulba" in HD quality

Released: 2009

Country: Russia, Ukraine, Poland

Age: 16+

Time: 131 min

Director: Vladimir Bortko

Cast: Bogdan Stupka, Igor Petrenko, Vladimir Vdovichenkov, Magdalena Meltsazh, Lyubomiras Laucevicius, Ada Rogovtseva, Mikhail Boyarsky, Sergei Dreyden, Yuri Belyaev, Les Serdyuk and others.

At the very beginning there is a speech about partnership (in an abbreviated form).

The steppe had long ago accepted them all into its green embrace, and the tall grass, encircling them, hid them, and only black Cossack hats flashed between its ears.

- Eh, eh, eh! Why are you guys so quiet? - Bulba finally said, waking up from his reverie. - As if they were some kind of blacks! Well, all thoughts to the unclean at once! Take the cradles in your teeth, let's smoke, let's spur the horses, let's fly so that not even a bird can keep up with us!

"Taras Bulba". Feature film based on the story by N.V. Gogol, 2009

And the Cossacks, bending down to their horses, disappeared into the grass. Even the black hats could no longer be seen; only the stream of compressed grass showed the trace of their fast running.

The sun had long since appeared in the cleared sky and bathed the steppe with its life-giving, warming light. Everything that was vague and sleepy in the Cossacks’ souls instantly flew away; their hearts fluttered like birds.

The further the steppe went, the more beautiful it became. Then the entire south, all that space that makes up present-day Novorossiya, right up to the Black Sea, was a green, virgin desert. Never has a plow passed through immeasurable waves of wild plants. Only the horses, hiding in them, as in a forest, trampled them. Nothing in nature could be better. The entire surface of the earth seemed like a green-golden ocean, over which millions of different colors splashed. Blue, blue and purple hairs showed through the thin, tall stems of grass; yellow gorse jumped up with its pyramidal top; white porridge dotted the surface with umbrella-shaped caps; the ear of wheat brought from God knows where was pouring into the thicket. Partridges darted under their thin roots, stretching out their necks. The air was filled with a thousand different bird whistles. Hawks stood motionless in the sky, spreading their wings and motionlessly fixing their eyes on the grass. The cry of a cloud of wild geese moving to the side was heard in God knows what distant lake. A seagull rose from the grass with measured strokes and bathed luxuriously in the blue waves of air. There she has disappeared in the heights and only flickers like a single black dot. There she turned her wings and flashed in front of the sun... Damn you, steppes, how good you are!..

Our travelers stopped only for a few minutes for lunch, and the detachment of ten Cossacks traveling with them dismounted from their horses, untied wooden eggplants with a burner and pumpkins used instead of vessels. They ate only bread with lard or shortcakes, drank only one glass at a time, solely for refreshment, because Taras Bulba never allowed people to get drunk on the road, and continued on their way until the evening. In the evening the whole steppe changed completely. Its entire motley space was covered by the last bright reflection of the sun and gradually darkened, so that one could see how the shadow ran across it, and it became dark green; the vapors rose thicker, every flower, every herb gave off ambergris, and the whole steppe was smoking with incense. Across the blue-dark sky, as if painted with a gigantic brush wide stripes in rose gold; occasionally light and transparent clouds appeared in white tufts, and the freshest, seductive, like sea ​​waves, the breeze barely swayed across the tops of the grass and barely touched my cheeks. All the music that had been heard during the day died down and was replaced by something else. The motley gophers crawled out of their holes, stood on their hind legs and filled the steppe with their whistles. The chattering of grasshoppers became more audible. Sometimes the cry of a swan was heard from some secluded lake and echoed in the air like silver. The travelers, stopping among the fields, chose a place for the night, laid out a fire and placed a cauldron on it, in which they cooked kulish for themselves; the steam separated and smoked indirectly in the air. Having had dinner, the Cossacks went to bed, letting their tangled horses run across the grass. They were spread out on scrolls. The night stars looked directly at them. They heard with their ears the whole countless world of insects that filled the grass, all their crackling, whistling, chirping - all this resounded loudly in the middle of the night, cleared in fresh air and lulled the dormant hearing. If one of them got up and stood up for a while, then the steppe seemed to him dotted with brilliant sparks of glowing worms. Sometimes the night sky different places was illuminated by a distant glow from the dry reeds burned across the meadows and rivers, and the dark line of swans flying to the north was suddenly illuminated by a silver-pink light, and then it seemed that red scarves were flying across the dark sky.

The travelers traveled without any incidents. Nowhere did they come across trees, the same endless, free, beautiful steppe. From time to time, only to the side were the chenille tops of the distant forest stretching along the banks of the Dnieper...

(See the summary and full text of Gogol’s story “Taras Bulba”.)

All three riders rode silently. Old Taras was thinking about the past: his youth passed before him, his years, his past years, about which the Cossack always cries, who would wish his whole life to be youth. He thought about who he would meet at the Sich from his former comrades. He calculated which ones had already died and which ones were still alive. A tear quietly formed on his eye, and his gray head drooped sadly. His sons were busy with other thoughts. But more needs to be said about his sons. They were sent in their twelfth year to the Kyiv Academy, because all the honorary dignitaries of that time considered it necessary to educate their children, although this was done in order to completely forget it later. They were then, like everyone else who entered the bursa, wild, raised in freedom, and there they usually polished themselves a little and received something in common that made them similar friend on a friend. The eldest, Ostap, began his career by running in his first year. They returned him, flogged him terribly and put him in front of a book. Four times he buried his primer in the ground, and four times, having torn it inhumanely, they bought him a new one. But without a doubt, he would have repeated the fifth if his father had not given him solemn promise keep him in the monastery service for twenty whole years and did not swear in advance that he would not see Zaporozhye forever if he did not learn all the sciences at the academy. It is curious that this was said by the same Taras Bulba who scolded all learning and advised, as we have already seen, that children should not study it at all. From that time on, Ostap began to sit with extraordinary diligence at a boring book and soon became alongside the best. The type of teaching of that time was terribly at odds with the way of life: these scholastic, grammatical, rhetorical and logical subtleties absolutely did not touch the times, were never applied or repeated in life. Those who studied it could not attach their knowledge to anything, even less scholastic. The very scientists of that time were more ignorant than others, because they were completely removed from experience. Moreover, this is the republican structure of the Bursa, this terrible multitude of young, strapping, healthy people- all this was supposed to instill in them activities completely outside of them training session. Sometimes poor maintenance, sometimes frequent punishment by hunger, sometimes many needs aroused in a fresh, healthy, strong young man - all this, combined, gave birth to that enterprise that later developed in Zaporozhye. A hungry Bursa prowled the streets of Kyiv and forced everyone to be careful. The traders sitting at the market always covered pies, bagels, and pumpkin seeds with their hands, like eagles with their children, if they only saw a student passing by. The consul, who, as part of his duty, had to supervise the comrades under his charge, had such terrible pockets in his trousers that he could fit the entire shop of a gaping merchant there. These students were completely separate world: they were not allowed into the upper circle, which consisted of Polish and Russian nobles. The governor himself, Adam Kisel, despite the patronage of the academy, did not introduce them into society and ordered them to be kept strictly. However, this instruction was completely unnecessary, because the rector and the monastic professors did not spare the vines and whips, and often the lictors, on their orders, flogged their consuls so cruelly that they scratched their trousers for several weeks. To many of them it was nothing at all and seemed a little stronger than good vodka with pepper; others, finally, became very tired of such incessant poultices, and they ran away to Zaporozhye if they knew how to find their way and if they were not intercepted on the way. Ostap Bulba, despite the fact that he began to study logic and even theology with great diligence, did not get rid of the inexorable rods. Naturally, all this was supposed to somehow harden his character and give him the firmness that has always distinguished the Cossacks. Ostap was always considered one of best comrades. He rarely led others in daring enterprises - to rob someone else's garden or vegetable garden, but he was always one of the first to come under the banner of an enterprising student, and never, under any circumstances, betrayed his comrades; no whips or rods could force him to do this. He was harsh towards motives other than war and riotous revelry; at least I almost never thought about anything else. He was straightforward with his peers. He had kindness in a form in which it could only exist with such a character and at that time. He was spiritually touched by the tears of the poor mother, and this alone embarrassed him and made him lower his head thoughtfully. His younger brother, Andriy, had feelings that were somewhat more lively and somehow more developed. He studied more willingly and without the tension with which he usually accepts difficult and a strong character. He was more resourceful than his brother; more often he was the leader of a rather dangerous enterprise and sometimes, with the help of his inventive mind, he knew how to evade punishment, while his brother, Ostap, putting aside all care, threw off the scroll and lay down on the floor, not at all thinking of asking for mercy. He was also seething with a thirst for achievement, but along with it his soul was accessible to other feelings. The need for love flared up in him vividly when he turned eighteen; the woman began to appear more often in his hot dreams; He, listening to philosophical debates, saw her every minute, fresh, black-eyed, tender; her sparkling, elastic breasts, her tender, beautiful, completely naked hand constantly flashed before him; the very dress, clinging around her virgin and at the same time powerful limbs, breathed in his dreams some kind of inexpressible voluptuousness. He carefully hid these movements of his passionate youthful soul from his comrades, because in that age it was shameful and dishonorable for a Cossack to think about a woman and love without having tasted battle. Generally in last years He was less often the leader of some gang, but more often he wandered alone somewhere in a secluded corner of Kyiv, sunk in cherry orchards, among low houses that looked enticingly onto the street. Sometimes he climbed into the street of aristocrats, in what is now old Kyiv, where Little Russian and Polish nobles lived and where the houses were built with some whimsicality. Once, when he was careless, some Polish gentleman's horse almost ran over him, and a driver with a terrible mustache sitting on the box lashed him quite regularly with a whip. The young student boiled over: with insane courage, he grabbed the rear wheel with his powerful hand and stopped the car. But the coachman, fearing a cutting, hit the horses, they rushed - and Andriy, fortunately managing to snatch his hand away, fell to the ground directly with his face in the dirt. The most ringing and harmonious laugh came from above him. He raised his eyes and saw a beauty standing at the window, the likes of which he had never seen in his life: black-eyed and white as snow, illuminated by the morning blush of the sun. She laughed with all her heart, and her laughter gave sparkling power to her dazzling beauty. He was taken aback. He looked at her, completely lost, absentmindedly wiping the dirt from his face, with which he became even more smeared. Who would this beauty be? He wanted to find out from the servants who stood in a crowd, in rich decorations, outside the gate, surrounding the young bandura player who was playing. But the servants laughed when they saw his dirty face, and did not deign to answer him. Finally he found out that she was the daughter of the Koven governor who had come for a while. The very next night, with the audacity characteristic of only students, he climbed through the stockade into the garden, climbed a tree whose branches spread out to the very roof of the house; He climbed from the tree onto the roof and through the fireplace chimney made his way straight into the bedroom of the beauty, who at that time was sitting in front of a candle and taking expensive earrings out of her ears. The beautiful Polish girl was so frightened when she suddenly saw in front of her stranger that she could not utter a single word; but when she noticed that the student was standing with his eyes downcast and not daring to move his hand out of timidity, when she recognized him as the same one who had flopped before her eyes on the street, laughter took possession of her again. Moreover, there was nothing terrible in Andriy’s features: he was very handsome. She laughed heartily and amused him for a long time. The beauty was as flighty as a Pole; but her eyes, wonderful eyes, piercingly clear, cast a long glance, like constancy. Bursak could not move his hand and was tied up as if in a sack, when the governor’s daughter boldly approached him, put her brilliant diadem on his head, hung earrings on his lips and threw over him a transparent muslin chemisette with festoons embroidered in gold. She cleaned him up and did a thousand different stupid things with him with the cheekiness of a child, which is characteristic of flighty Poles and which plunged the poor student into even greater embarrassment. He imagined a funny figure, opening his mouth and looking motionless into her dazzling eyes. A knock at the door at that time frightened her. She told him to hide under the bed, and as soon as the anxiety passed, she called her maid, a captive Tatar, and gave her orders to carefully lead him out into the garden and from there send him over the fence. But this time our student did not climb over the fence so happily: the watchman, who woke up, grabbed him fairly on the legs, and the assembled servants beat him for a long time on the street, until his quick legs saved him. After this, passing by the house was very dangerous, because the governor’s servants were numerous. He met her again in the church: she noticed him and smiled very pleasantly, like an old acquaintance; he saw her in passing one more time, and after that the Koven voivode soon left, and instead of the beautiful black-eyed Pole, some fat face looked out of the windows. This is what Andriy was thinking about, hanging his head and lowering his eyes into the mane of his horse. Meanwhile, the steppe had long ago accepted them all into its green embrace, and the tall grass, encircling them, hid them, and only black Cossack hats flashed between its ears. - Eh, eh! Why are you guys so quiet? - Bulba finally said, waking up from his reverie, “as if they were some kind of monks!” Well, all thoughts to the unclean at once! Take the cradles in your teeth, let's smoke, let's spur the horses, let's fly so that not even a bird can keep up with us! And the Cossacks, bending down to their horses, disappeared into the grass. Even the black hats could no longer be seen; only the stream of compressed grass showed the trace of their fast running. The sun had long since appeared in the cleared sky and bathed the steppe with its life-giving, warming light. Everything that was vague and sleepy in the Cossacks’ souls instantly flew away; their hearts fluttered like birds. The further the steppe went, the more beautiful it became. Then the entire south, all that space that makes up present-day Novorossiya, right up to the Black Sea, was a green, virgin desert. Never has the plow passed over immeasurable waves of wild plants; Only the horses, hiding in them, as in a forest, trampled them down. Nothing in nature could be better: the entire surface of the earth seemed like a green-golden ocean, over which millions of different colors splashed. Blue, blue and purple hairs showed through the thin, tall stems of grass; yellow gorse jumped up with its pyramidal top; white porridge dotted the surface with umbrella-shaped caps; the ear of wheat brought in from God knows where was pouring into the thicket. Partridges darted under their thin roots, stretching out their necks. The air was filled with a thousand different bird whistles. Hawks stood motionless in the sky, spreading their wings and motionlessly fixing their eyes on the grass. The cry of a cloud of wild geese moving to the side was heard in God knows what distant lake. A seagull rose from the grass with measured strokes and bathed luxuriously in the blue waves of air; there she has disappeared in the heights and only flickers like a single black dot! there she turned her wings and flashed in front of the sun!.. Damn you, steppes, how good you are!.. Our travelers stopped only for a few minutes for lunch, and the detachment traveling with them, consisting of ten Cossacks, dismounted from their horses, untied wooden eggplants with a burner and pumpkins used instead of vessels. They ate only bread with lard or shortcakes, drank only one glass at a time, solely for refreshment, because Taras Bulba never allowed people to get drunk on the road, and continued on their way until the evening. In the evening, the whole steppe completely changed: its entire motley expanse was covered in the last bright reflection of the sun and gradually darkened, so that one could see how a shadow ran across it, and it became dark green; the vapors rose thicker; every flower, every grass gave off ambergris, and the whole steppe was smoking with incense. Wide stripes of rose gold were painted across the blue-dark sky, as if with a gigantic brush; From time to time, light and transparent clouds appeared in white tufts, and the freshest, seductive, like sea waves, breeze barely swayed across the tops of the grass and barely touched the cheeks. All the music that had been heard during the day died down and was replaced by something else. The motley gophers crawled out of their holes, stood on their hind legs and filled the steppe with their whistles. The chattering of grasshoppers became more audible. Sometimes the cry of a swan was heard from some secluded lake and echoed in the air like silver. The travelers, stopping among the fields, chose a place for the night, laid out a fire and placed a cauldron on it, in which they cooked kulish for themselves; the steam separated and smoked indirectly in the air. Having had dinner, the Cossacks went to bed, letting their tangled horses run across the grass. They were spread out on scrolls. The night stars looked directly at them. They heard with their ears the whole countless world of insects that filled the grass: all their crackling, whistling, chirping - all this sounded loudly in the middle of the night, cleared in the fresh air and lulled the dormant ear. If one of them got up and stood up for a while, then the steppe seemed to him dotted with brilliant sparks of glowing worms. Sometimes the night sky in different places was illuminated by a distant glow from dry reeds burned across meadows and rivers, and a dark line of swans flying to the north was suddenly illuminated by a silver-pink light, and then it seemed as if red scarves were flying across the dark sky. The travelers traveled without any incidents. They didn’t come across any trees anywhere: the same endless, free, beautiful steppe. At times, only to the side were the blue tops of the distant forest stretching along the banks of the Dnieper. Only once did Taras point out to his sons a small blackened point in the distant grass, saying: “Look, children, there’s a Tatar galloping!” A small head with a mustache stared straight at them from afar with its narrow eyes, sniffed the air like a hound dog, and, like a chamois, disappeared when it saw that there were thirteen Cossacks. “Come on, children, try to catch up with the Tatar! and don't try; You’ll never catch him: his horse is faster than my Devil.” However, Bulba took precautions, fearing an ambush hidden somewhere. They galloped to a small river called Tatarka, which flows into the Dnieper, rushed into the water with their horses and swam along it for a long time to hide their trace, and then, having climbed ashore, they continued their journey. Three days after this they were already close to the place, former subject their trips. The air suddenly became cold: they felt the proximity of the Dnieper. Here it sparkles in the distance and is separated from the horizon by a dark stripe. It blew in cold waves and spread closer, closer, and finally covered half of the entire surface of the earth. This was the place of the Dnieper where it, hitherto suppressed by the rapids, finally took its toll and roared like the sea, spilling at will, where the islands thrown into the middle of it pushed it even further out of the banks and its waves spread widely across the land, not meeting any cliffs , no elevations. The Cossacks dismounted their horses, boarded the ferry, and after three hours of sailing they were already off the coast of the island of Khortitsa, where the Sich was then, which so often changed its home. A bunch of people were arguing with the carriers on the shore. The Cossacks straightened their horses. Taras drew himself up, pulled his belt tighter and proudly ran his hand over his mustache. His young sons also looked at themselves from head to toe with some kind of fear and vague pleasure - and they all drove together into the suburbs, located half a mile from the Sich. As they entered, they were deafened by fifty blacksmith's hammers striking in twenty-five forges covered with turf and dug in the ground. Strong tanners sat under the canopy of the porches on the street and crushed ox skins with their strong hands; the Kramars sat under the yats with heaps of flints, flints and gunpowder; the Armenian hung out expensive scarves; the Tatar was moving rolls of lamb with dough on paddles; The Jew, sticking his head forward, was pouring a burner from a barrel. But the first person they came across was a Cossack, sleeping in the very middle of the road, with his arms and legs outstretched. Taras Bulba could not help but stop and admire him. - Oh, how important he turned around! Wow, what a curvaceous figure! - he said, stopping his horse. In fact, it was a rather bold picture: the Cossack, like a lion, stretched out on the road; his proudly thrown forelock covered half an arshin of ground; Bloomers of scarlet expensive cloth were stained with tar to show complete contempt for them. Having admired it, Bulba made his way further along the cramped street, which was cluttered with artisans who immediately practiced their craft, and with people of all nations who filled this suburb of the Sich, which looked like a fair and which clothed and fed the Sich, who only knew how to walk and fire guns. Finally they passed the suburb and saw several scattered kurens, covered with turf or, in Tatar, felt. Others were lined with cannons. The fence or those low houses with awnings on low wooden posts that were in the suburbs were nowhere to be seen. The small rampart and abatis, not guarded by anyone at all, showed terrible carelessness. Several stalwart Cossacks, lying with pipes in their teeth on the road itself, looked at them rather indifferently and did not move from their place. Taras rode carefully with his sons between them, saying: “Hello, gentleman!” - “Hello you too!” - answered the Cossacks. Everywhere, all over the field, there were people in picturesque heaps. It was clear from their dark faces that everyone was battle-hardened and had experienced all sorts of hardships. So here it is, Sich! This is the nest from which all those proud and strong like lions fly out! This is where the will and Cossacks spread throughout Ukraine! The travelers drove out to a large square where the Rada usually gathered. A shirtless Zaporozhian sat on a large overturned barrel; he held it in his hands and slowly sewed up the holes in it. Their path was again blocked by a whole crowd of musicians, in the middle of which a young Zaporozhian was dancing, his cap twisted like a devil and his arms thrown up. He only shouted: “Play more lively, musicians! Do not be sorry, Thomas, burners for Orthodox Christians!” And Foma, with a black eye, handed out a huge mug to each person who pestered him. Near the young Zaporozhian, four old ones were working rather shallowly with their feet, throwing themselves up like a whirlwind to the side, almost on the heads of the musicians, and suddenly, dropping down, they squatted and beat the hard ground with their silver horseshoes steeply and firmly. The earth hummed dully throughout its entire circumference, and in the distance the hopaks and tropaks, knocked out by the ringing horseshoes of boots, echoed in the air. But one of them screamed out louder than everyone else and flew after the others in the dance. Chuprina was fluttering in the wind, her strong chest was all open; a warm winter jacket was worn in the sleeves, and sweat poured from him like a bucket. “At least take off the cover! - Taras finally said, “see how it soars!” - "Not allowed!" - shouted the Cossack. "From what?" - "Not allowed; I have such a disposition: I’ll drink whatever I lose.” And the young man had not had a hat on for a long time, nor a belt on his caftan, nor an embroidered scarf: everything went where it should. The crowd grew; others pestered the dancers, and it was impossible to see without internal movement, as everything tore off the most free, most frenzied dance that the world has ever seen and which, according to its powerful inventors, is called the Cossack. - Oh, if it weren’t for the horse! - Taras cried out, - he really would have started dancing himself! Meanwhile, the people began to come across gray-haired, old forelocks, respected according to their merits by the entire Sich, who had been elders more than once. Taras soon met many familiar faces. Ostap and Andriy heard only greetings: “Oh, it’s you, Pecheritsa! Hello, Kozolup!” - “Where is God taking you from, Taras?” - “How did you come here, Chisel? Hello, Kirdyaga! Hello, Thick! Did I think I saw you, Belt? And the knights gathered from all over the wild world eastern Russia, kissed each other, and then the questions started flying: “What about Kasyan? What's a Wart? what is Koloper? What's Pidsytok?" And only Taras Bulba heard in response that Wart was hanged in Tolopan, that Koloper was flayed near Kizikirmen, that Pidsytkov’s head was salted in a barrel and sent to Constantinople itself. Old Bulba hung his head and said thoughtfully: “They were good Cossacks!”

Lessons on speech development as part of the study of both literature and the Russian language, it seems to me, should be distinguished by a variety of techniques for working with the writer’s work and contain an algorithm for working on the text created by the students themselves. During the learning process, this particular algorithm is learned, various ways Reading and analyzing the author’s text helps to better understand it and convincingly express one’s opinion on a particular issue.
When high school students are preparing for the Unified State Exam, you enjoy every little thing that can be useful in your work. Maybe this lesson or the idea of ​​the lesson itself will also be useful to someone.

E.V. LOBKOVA,
Petropavlovsk secondary school,
Chelyabinsk region

Description of the steppe in works of Gogol, Turgenev, Chekhov

Preparing to write a review essay

Target: education of a literate, qualified reader.

Tasks:

1) deepen students’ understanding of complex comparative text analysis, introduce the techniques of working on literary text(description);
2) develop the ability to determine text idea, analyzing means of expression, used in it, and argue it out in a self-created text;
3) educate careful attitude to the author's words.

Equipment: reproductions of paintings by artists depicting the steppe; megaphone, printouts of excerpts.

DURING THE CLASSES

1.

Listening to a fragment of the folk song “Steppe and steppe all around.”

2.

Students read poems about the steppe by A. Koltsov, I. Bunin, S. Yesenin.

3. Announcing the topic of the lesson

Steppes without end and edge, smooth, boring, expansive, wavy, hilly... The steppe, as if Living being, changes his outfits. Various poets– different perceptions of the steppe.

Today's lesson will focus on prose texts Gogol, Turgenev, Chekhov, describing the steppe.

4. Working with texts

I. Description of the steppe by N. Gogol (“Taras Bulba”)

Expressive reading of a passage

The further the steppe went, the more beautiful it became. Then the whole south, all that space... right up to the Black Sea was a green, virgin desert... Nothing in nature could be better; the entire surface of the earth seemed like a green-golden ocean, over which millions of different colors splashed... an ear of wheat brought from God knows where was pouring in the thick... The air was filled with a thousand different bird whistles. Hawks stood motionless in the sky, spreading their wings and motionlessly fixing their eyes on the grass. The cry of a cloud of wild geese moving to the side was heard in God knows what distant lake. A seagull rose from the grass with measured strokes and bathed luxuriously in the blue waves of air. Now she has disappeared in the heights, only flashing like a single black dot; So she turned her wings and flashed in front of the sun. Damn you, steppes, how good you are!..

Conversation over text

Teacher. What mood of the author does the text convey?

Student answers:

– The mood, of course, is joyful, it’s not for nothing that the description ends with an exclamation sentence.

Teacher. In what words does the narrator convey joy and admiration for the steppe?

Student answers:

– First, Gogol defines the steppe as an expanse of land. And then he resorts to metaphors: steppe - green-golden ocean, blue waves of air splashed across the ocean...

– The vastness of the steppe is emphasized by the phrase: millions of different colors splashed out.

– Gogol’s steppe is special: it lives, breathes, makes noise.

Teacher. What language means is this conveyed?

Student answers:

– There are many verbs in the text, they convey movement and help to draw the “living” steppe: the hawks stood, the cry of the geese echoed, the seagull rose and swam.

– Direct word order is interspersed with inversion: millions of different colors splashed, hawks stood, a seagull rose.

– The author uses hyperbole: the entire surface of the earth was represented by an ocean, millions of flowers, thousands of birds, a cloud of geese; among the variety of flowers - one ear; among a thousand birds there is one seagull. The writer strives to see everything down to the smallest detail.

– There is a repetition in the text: stood motionless... motionless, staring; comparison: the seagull flashed like a black cloud.

– The picture of the steppe is sounded by a thousand bird whistles and the cry of wild geese.

– The atmosphere of rustling in the steppe grass and movement in the steppe sky is also created by dull and hissing sounds: [s], [h], [f], [sh].

– Gogol’s whole steppe is somehow fabulous, and he admires this fairy tale: Damn you, steppes, how good you are!..

(Some teachers are not inclined to ask questions about the artistic representation of means when analyzing a text, because this breaks the general perception of the picture. But in the class there is always weak students, which you have to navigate.)

Teacher. Why is Gogol so fascinated by the steppe? To answer this question, remember the content of the work.

– For him, the steppe is not in itself, but a symbol of the Motherland. And she is beautiful. And Gogol creates a magnificent picture, dear and dear to the heart of every person.

II. Description of the steppe by I. Turgenev (“Forest and Steppe”) Expressive reading of the passage

Further, further!.. Let's go to the steppe places. If you look from the mountain - what a view! Round, low hills, plowed and sown to the top, scatter in wide waves; ravines overgrown with bushes meander between them; small groves are scattered on oblong islands; Narrow paths run from village to village... But further, further you go. The hills are getting smaller and smaller, there is almost no tree to be seen. Here it is at last - the boundless, vast steppe!..

(Analysis of this passage strong students prepared in advance.)

Student answers:

– I. Turgenev’s book “Notes of a Hunter” ends with pictures of nature. Given in different time year (spring, summer, autumn), it symbolizes the eternal renewal of life.
In this passage you feel like the writer’s companion: As you drive, you will look from the mountain. It is surprising that Turgenev has the same metaphor as Gogol - a comparison of hills with diverging waves. Apparently, this vastness, the immensity of the steppe has given birth and will give rise more than once to associations with the sea element.

– Otherwise, Turgenev’s steppe landscape seems more realistic and concrete: hills, ravines, small groves, narrow paths. This realism may be achieved by the fact that the reader, together with the writer, tangibly sees and feels the steppe. That is why there are almost no tropes in the text. After all, Turgenev is us. And sometimes it only seems to us that the hills scatter, the ravines wind, the groves are scattered, the paths run(personification).
Like Gogol, Turgenev's steppe is full of movement. The text has a special syntax: long non-union proposals. They are as long and monotonous as the road in the steppe itself. Hence the repetitions: further, further... and again into the steppe further and further.
When Turgenev looks at the steppe, he is also delighted: what a view!; boundless, boundless steppe!
By comparing the two passages, a conclusion can be drawn. The writer’s language can be figurative, and the figurativeness of the writer’s language is different for everyone, it is individual. However, each writer does not have his own, unique image, which is most often repeated (like the image of the steppe), but is given in his own special situation, in his own special use.

(I'm not asking the class to add anything to this analysis, but this moment there is no need to do this.)

Teacher. In 1888, Chekhov created a work that he considered as “a pass into great literature", - the story "Steppe". The subject of Chekhov's thoughts is the fate of the Motherland as a whole and, against this background, the fate individual person. Guys, you probably don’t find it strange that today, speaking about the image of the steppe, we have already repeated the word several times Motherland.
In “The Steppe” one of the important aspects of Chekhov’s worldview is indicated - the element of the natural world, which is perfect image harmony, opposed boring world of people. The story is organized by two storylines: life of nature and human life. The landscape in this work becomes an independent plot. It demonstrates the author's idea of ​​a full, meaningful and harmonious life.

III. Description of the steppe by A.P. Chekhov. ("Steppe")

Expressive reading of a passage

Meanwhile, before the eyes of those traveling, a wide, endless plain, intercepted by a chain of hills, spread out. Crowded and peeking out from behind each other, these hills merge into a hill that stretches to the right of the road to the very horizon and disappears into the purple distance; you drive and drive and you can’t figure out where it begins and where it ends...
The sun had already peeked out from behind the city and quietly, without any fuss, began its work. First, far ahead, where the sky meets the earth, near the mounds and the windmill, which from a distance looks like a little man waving his arms, a wide bright yellow stripe crawled along the ground; a minute later, the same stripe shone a little closer, crawled to the right and enveloped the hills... and suddenly the entire wide steppe threw off the morning penumbra, smiled and sparkled with dew... gophers called to each other in the grass, somewhere far to the left lapwings cried...
Grasshoppers, crickets, violinists and mole crickets began to sing their creaky, monotonous music in the grass... suddenly quiet singing was heard. Somewhere nearby a woman was singing, but where exactly and in what direction it was difficult to understand...
But a little time passed, the dew evaporated, the air froze, and the deceived steppe took on its dull July appearance.
The grass drooped, life froze. Tanned hills, brown-green, purple in the distance, with their calm, shadow-like tones, a plain with a foggy distance and the sky overturned above them, which is in the steppe, where there are no forests and high mountains, seems terribly deep and transparent... Suddenly something broke through in the still air, the wind rushed strongly, whirled across the steppe with a noise and a whistle. Immediately, the grass and last year's weeds began to murmur, dust spiraled on the road, ran across the steppe, and, carrying straw, dragonflies and feathers with it, rose to the sky in a black spinning column and fogged the sun. Tumbleweeds ran along and across the steppe, stumbling and jumping...
Suddenly the wind blew... The blackness in the sky opened its mouth and breathed white fire; thunder immediately roared... new blow, just as strong and terrible. The sky no longer thundered or rumbled, but made dry, crackling sounds, similar to the crackling of dry wood...
Streams flowed along the road and bubbles jumped...

Dialogue between two groups

(The analysis of the passage is based on a dialogue between two groups. One of the groups was tasked with creating questions for linguistic analysis passage, the other carefully works through the text. Questions and answers are heard during the lesson, the teacher only makes corrections if necessary.)

– Through whose eyes do we see the steppe?

– How does Yegorushka perceive the steppe?

- At Yegorushka's children's perception world, similar, perhaps, to a fairy tale, or perhaps to a game. Him windmill – little man, waving his arms; the blackness in the sky opened its mouth and breathed white fire (not lightning); tumbleweeds run, stumbling and jumping; Bubbles jump along the road in the rain...

– Chekhov’s steppe lives its own life and develops according to its own laws. Demonstrate this with examples from the text.

– The July steppe changes several times before the eyes of those traveling: here it is wide And majestic, smiling; then suddenly the deceived steppe freezes; That raises a murmur everything is spinning and clouding the sun.

– The varied steppe is majestic and spacious, scary and not always understandable. And this happens because it is given in different perceptions - of the author and his little hero.

(The group asking the questions has its own answer options.)

- We want to add. Before us is a morning landscape and the transition to the heat of the day; a picture of the oppressive heat of the day, when the time is precise froze and stopped, the evening landscape is given against the backdrop of an approaching thunderstorm.

– In Chekhov’s passage we also note both personification and metaphors: the dew evaporated, the air froze, the grass and weeds began to murmur, the blackness breathed white fire...

– There are lyrical and figurative epithets: wide, endless plain(visual), deceived steppe, tanned hills(lyrical).

– Of course, each writer has his own artistic media. But what distinguishes the Chekhov steppe from Gogol’s and Turgenev’s? What is this feature?

– It seems to us that Chekhov’s steppe is spiritualized in a special way: threw off the penumbra, smiled and sparkled with dew. The sun above her, like a housewife in the morning, quietly, without any fuss, began her work. I just want to paint the steppe as a capricious girl. And all because she changes her temper so often.

– The steppe is becoming actor, a living person.

– Chekhov’s “Steppe” resembles lyrical prose.

– The author uses the techniques of alliteration and assonance. In the first paragraph of the passage there are a lot of sounds [s], [w], [x], [ts]. These are sounds that convey the dull sound of the wheels of a cart driving across the steppe. Monotony of repeated hissing sounds: food w b-eating w b And you can't figure it out w b– conveys a feeling of boredom and annoyance of the road.

In the second paragraph, the abundance of sounds [o], [a] gives rise to melodiousness and melody. This musicality in nature merges with the real everyday picture: somewhere not far away a woman was singing, but where exactly and in what direction it was difficult to understand...

– When you read more and more into the text, listen to its sound recording, you are surprised: how it helps to accurately paint a picture.

Let's see how Chekhov depicts the approach of a thunderstorm: IN d RU G ditch anul V yeah R... Che R note on the sky R ask R there was R from and d s whined about white G him; immediately for gr had gr oh... Have you read it? Feel like a thunderstorm is rolling over you? And combinations of sounds helped me feel this: [dr], [rv], [r], [g], [gr]. All this happens because we perceive the phonetic, sound level by ear: in order to catch the alliteration on [p], [g], there is no need to even know the language in which Chekhov wrote, it can already be heard.

5. Comparison of descriptions of the steppe. conclusions

– If you had paints in your hands, what colors would you use when painting the steppe of Gogol, Turgenev, Chekhov?

– The Gogol steppe is bright. The passage is replete with adjectives of color: green, green-gold, blue, black. And there are millions of flowers! This is where the riot of colors is!

– Turgenev’s steppe is stingy with paints. When drawing the Turgenev steppe, you need to think about the colors. Rather, the color of sown (yellow) and plowed (black) lands will prevail here. Small groves will be painted in rare green.

– Bright yellow, purple, brown-green colors would appear in a painting depicting the Chekhov steppe.

Teacher. After comparing the passages, we will try to draw conclusions.

Student answers:

– Every great writer, even with commonality artistic images, comparisons, metaphors, with all the similarity of associations, there emerges its own individual picture of the steppe, expressed in its own way.

– Different writers, different times, different literary tastes, but the language is the same. You get aesthetic pleasure from this Russian language.

6. Homework.

Write a review essay on any of the passages.

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Outline of a literature lesson in grade 7 based on N.V. Gogol’s story “Taras Bulba.”

Subject: « Damn you, steppes, how good you are!”

Lesson Objectives: education expressive reading a detailed complex description of the picture of nature, the development of speech, imagination and creativity students, developing the skill to work on figurative language writer, to improve his speech.

During the classes:

1.Opening speech by the teacher.

Based on the topic of the lesson, it is not difficult to guess what will be discussed. Of course, about Gogol’s famous description of the steppe.

Why did Gogol introduce a description of the steppe into the story? What is the image of the steppe for Gogol? We will find the answer to these and other questions.

The description of nature in Russian classics is not just a background against which the action unfolds. It has important V general structure works, in the characterization of the character, since in relation to nature the inner appearance of a person, his spiritual and moral essence is revealed.

Gogol entered the history of literature as the discoverer of the beauty of Ukrainian nature. This attractiveness and hidden charm of the Ukrainian steppe expanses is glorified by the writer in the story “Taras Bulba”.

In order to feel the feeling of the writer and his heroes, let's follow how Gogol describes the steppe.

2. Analysis of the passage. "Steppe in the afternoon"

Expressive reading of a passage by the teacher.

Conversation on questions:

Which sentence expresses the main idea of ​​the passage? (Nothing in nature could be better)

What fascinates Gogol so much about the steppe? What does he see as the enchanting beauty of the steppe? (The Gogol steppe amazes with its riot of colors, their variegation, brightness, and diversity.)

What type of art does this landscape resemble? (Painting. It seems that you see a big picture in front of you.)

What is the main image that runs through the entire description of the steppe? (Image of the sea, ocean: waves of wild plants, green-golden ocean...)

What does Gogol emphasize by comparing the surface of the earth with the green-blue ocean? (spatial power and its beautiful, soothing tone).

What role does the metaphor “millions of different colors splash” play? (She conveys the surprise caused by the appearance of such an abundance of flowers before the reader’s eyes)

What seemingly insignificant details does the author notice? (Describes the shape of an individual flower: “the porridge was full of umbrella-shaped caps,” “yellow gorse popped up with its pyramidal top”)

Why does Gogol call the steppe “the green virgin desert”? (This is a metaphorical comparison. No man's hand touched her, no plow ever passed

Along the waves of wild plants)

From the description of plants, Gogol moves on to the description of birds. The writer notices the movements and sounds of the feathered inhabitants of the steppe and conveys them figuratively.

Find the movements of the birds that the author notices (“partridges darted...”, hawks stood motionless,” “a seagull bathed in the blue waves of air”

And the air was filled with a thousand different bird whistles and the cries of geese. The author not only sees birds, but also hears them. In this description, both visual and auditory sensations merge.

But the steppe is magnificent not only during the day, but also in the evening.

3.Analysis of the passage “Steppe in the evening.”

Reading of the passage by a trained student.

Conversation on questions:

How does the steppe transform in the evening? (The motley space darkened, the green-golden steppe turned into dark green. The plants smell stronger in the evening. The music that filled the day fades away, replaced by another: gophers whistle, grasshoppers chatter, swans scream)

How do you understand the metaphor “The whole steppe was smoking with incense”? (The plants gave off a pleasant smell)

How do you understand the comparison “The cry of a swan is like silver”? (The swan is a beautiful, proud bird. Silver is beautiful, noble metal. To make the bell sound better, silver was added)

4 Analysis of the passage “Steppe at night”

Expressive reading of a passage.

Conversation on questions:

How is the steppe depicted at night? (Crackling sounds of insects, whistling and chirping can be heard.)

Why are swans compared to red scarves? (The sky was illuminated by the glow from the burning reeds)

The steppe is magnificent not only during the day, but also in the evening and at night.

Why did Gogol introduce a description of the steppe into the story about Taras Bulba? (The steppe is a generalized image of the Motherland. For the sake of it, the Cossacks performed their feats and died for it. Only courageous, strong, proud people. The steppe in the story connects two worlds: Bulba’s house and the Zaporozhye Sich, prepares for a meeting with the Cossacks - free, proud people.

How are pictures of nature related to the mood of the characters? (At first, all three riders rode in silence, Taras remembered his fallen comrades, Ostap was touched by his mother’s tears, Andriy was sad about the separation from the lady. The steppe is their own mother, like a mother accepts them into her arms.)

Conclusion: The steppe and the Cossacks are relatives, close to each other. The image of the steppe was given by Gogol as an image of the mother Motherland, which gave birth to powerful, heroic characters.

5. Summing up the lesson.