Magical time of enchantment of the eyes. A.S.

I
October has already arrived - the grove is already shaking off
The last leaves from their naked branches;
The autumn chill has blown in - the road is freezing.
The stream still runs babbling behind the mill,
But the pond was already frozen; my neighbor is in a hurry
To the departing fields with my desire,
And the winter ones suffer from mad fun,
And the barking of dogs wakes up the sleeping oak forests.

II
Now is my time: I don’t like spring;
The thaw is boring to me; stench, dirt - in the spring I’m sick;
The blood is fermenting; feelings and mind are constrained by melancholy.
I'm happier in the harsh winter
I love her snow; in the presence of the moon
How easy the running of a sleigh with a friend is fast and free,
When under the sable, warm and fresh,
She shakes your hand, glowing and trembling!

III
How fun it is to put sharp iron on your feet,
Slide along the mirror of standing, smooth rivers!
And the brilliant worries of the winter holidays?..
But you also need to know honor; six months of snow and snow,
After all, this is finally true for the inhabitant of the den,
The bear will get bored. You can't take a whole century
We'll ride in a sleigh with the young Armids
Or sour by the stoves behind double glass.

IV
Oh, summer is red! I would love you
If only it weren't for the heat, the dust, the mosquitoes, and the flies.
You, ruining all your spiritual abilities,
You torture us; like the fields we suffer from drought;
Just to get something to drink and refresh yourself -
We have no other thought, and it’s a pity for the old woman’s winter,
And, having seen her off with pancakes and wine,
We are celebrating her funeral with ice cream and ice.

V
The days of late autumn are usually scolded,
But she’s sweet to me, dear reader,
Quiet beauty, shining humbly.
So unloved child in the family
It attracts me to itself. To tell you frankly,
Of the annual times, I am glad only for her,
There is a lot of good in her; a lover is not vain,
I found something in her like a wayward dream.

VI
How to explain this? I like her,
Like you probably are a consumptive maiden
Sometimes I like it. Condemned to death
The poor thing bows down without a murmur, without anger.
A smile is visible on faded lips;
She does not hear the gaping of the grave abyss;
The color of his face is still purple.
She is still alive today, gone tomorrow.

VII
It's a sad time! charm of the eyes!
I am pleased with your farewell beauty -
I love the lush decay of nature,
Forests dressed in scarlet and gold,
In their canopy there is noise and fresh breath,
And the skies are covered with wavy darkness,
And a rare ray of sunshine, and the first frosts,
And distant gray winter threats.

VIII
And every autumn I bloom again;
The Russian cold is good for my health;
I feel love again for the habits of life:
One by one sleep flies away, one by one hunger comes;
The blood plays easily and joyfully in the heart,
Desires are boiling - I’m happy, young again,
I’m full of life again - that’s my body
(Please forgive me the unnecessary prosaicism).

IX
They lead the horse to me; in the open expanse,
Waving his mane, he carries the rider,
And loudly under his shining hoof
The frozen valley rings and the ice cracks.
But the short day goes out, and in the forgotten fireplace
The fire is burning again - then the bright light is pouring,
It smolders slowly - and I read in front of it
Or I harbor long thoughts in my soul.

X
And I forget the world - and in sweet silence
I'm sweetly lulled to sleep by my imagination,
And poetry awakens in me:
The soul is embarrassed by lyrical excitement,
It trembles and sounds and searches, as in a dream,
To finally pour out with free manifestation -
And then an invisible swarm of guests comes towards me,
Old acquaintances, fruits of my dreams.

XI
And the thoughts in my head are agitated in courage,
And light rhymes run towards them,
And fingers ask for pen, pen for paper,
A minute - and the poems will flow freely.
So the ship slumbers motionless in the motionless moisture,
But choo! - the sailors suddenly rush and crawl
Up, down - and the sails are inflated, the winds are full;
The mass has moved and is cutting through the waves.

XII
Floating. Where should we go?
. . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . .

Analysis of the poem “Autumn” by Alexander Pushkin

It is widely known which season was Pushkin’s favorite. The work “Autumn” is one of the most beautiful poems dedicated to autumn in all Russian literature. The poet wrote it in 1833, during his stay in Boldino (the so-called “Boldino Autumn”).

Pushkin acts as a talented artist, painting an autumn landscape with great skill. The lines of the poem are imbued with great tenderness and love for the surrounding nature, which is in a phase of withering. The introduction is a first sketch of the picture: falling leaves, first frosts, hunting trips with hounds.

Next, Pushkin depicts the remaining seasons of the year. At the same time, he lists their advantages, but focuses on the disadvantages. The description of spring, summer and winter is quite detailed; the author resorts to humorous, rude remarks. Signs of spring - “stench, dirt.” Winter seems to be full of many joyful events (walks and fun in nature), but it lasts unbearably long and “even the den dweller” gets tired of it. Everything is fine in the hot summer, “yes there is dust, yes mosquitoes, yes flies.”

Having made a general overview, Pushkin, as a contrast, moves on to a specific description of the beautiful autumn season. The poet admits that he loves autumn with a strange love, similar to the feeling for a “consumptive maiden.” It is precisely for its sad appearance, for its fading beauty, that the autumn landscape is infinitely dear to the poet. The phrase, which is an antithesis, “” has become a catchphrase in the characteristics of autumn.

The description of autumn in the poem is an artistic model for the entire Russian poetic society. Pushkin reaches the heights of his talent in the use of expressive means. These are various epithets (“farewell”, “lush”, “wavy”); metaphors (“in their hallway”, “winter threat”); personifications (“dressed forests”).

In the final part of the poem, Pushkin proceeds to describe the state of the lyrical hero. He claims that only in the fall does true inspiration come to him. Traditionally, for poets, spring is considered a time of new hopes and the awakening of creative forces. But Pushkin removes this restriction. He again makes a small playful digression - “this is my body.”

The author devotes a significant part of the poem to visiting the muse. The hand of a great artist is also felt in the description of the creative process. New thoughts are an “invisible swarm of guests” that completely transform the poet’s loneliness.

In the finale, the poetic work is presented by Pushkin in the image of a ship ready to sail. The poem ends with the rhetorical question “Where should we sail?” This indicates an infinite number of themes and images that arise in the mind of the poet, who is absolutely free in his creativity.

1 presenter.
It's a sad time! Ouch charm!
I am pleased with your farewell beauty.
I love the lush decay of nature,
Forests dressed in scarlet and gold... -
This is how Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin once expressed his admiration for autumn nature. And I wanted to express my feelings in the words of the great poet.
2 presenter. And I would like to continue with the words of another famous Russian writer and poet Ivan Alekseevich Bunin:
The forest is like a painted tower,
Lilac, gold, crimson,
A cheerful, motley wall
Standing above a bright clearing.
Birch trees with yellow carving
Glisten in the blue azure,
Like towers, the fir trees are darkening,
And between the maples they turn blue
Here and there through the foliage
Clearances in the sky, like a window.
The forest smells of oak and pine,
Over the summer it dried out from the sun,
And autumn is a quiet widow
He enters his colorful mansion.
1 presenter. Autumn... The golden time of the year, striking with the richness of flowers, fruits, and a fantastic combination of colors: from bright, eye-catching to blurry-transparent halftones.
2 presenter. But it’s true, look around, take a closer look: the foliage sparkles like forged gold, multi-colored lanterns of asters and chrysanthemums flash brightly, rowan berries freeze on the trees with droplets of blood, and the bottomless autumn sky surprises with the abundance and brightness of the stars scattered across it.
1 presenter. Sad October holds out its business card, where the lines of the brilliant Russian poet are written in colorless ink of fog:
October has already arrived - the grove is already shaking off
The last leaves from their naked branches;
The autumn cold has arrived - the road is freezing.
………………………………………………..
But the pond has already frozen...
2 presenter. It’s autumn outside the windows now... We call it differently: cold, golden, generous, rainy, sad... But, be that as it may, autumn is a wonderful time of year, it’s the time of harvesting, summing up the results of field work, it’s the beginning of school school, this is preparation for a long and cold winter... And no matter how it is outside: cold or warm - the native land is always beautiful, attractive, charming! And popular wisdom says: “Autumn is sad, but life is fun.” So let the beautiful sounds sound on this October day, let the river of uncontrollable cheerful laughter flow, your legs know no fatigue, let your fun have no end!
All presenters. We are opening our holiday “Autumn Ball”.
1 presenter. Now let's take an oath for the participants of the "Autumn Ball".
All. We swear!
2 presenter. Have fun from the heart!
All. We swear!
1 presenter. Dance until you drop!
All. We swear!
2 presenter. Laugh and joke!
All. We swear!
1 presenter. Participate and win in all competitions.
All. We swear!
2 presenter. Share the joy of victory and the prizes received with friends.
All. We swear! We swear! We swear!
1 presenter. We talked for a long time, but completely forgot that we had to dance at the ball.
They want to present their dances to us...
2 presenter. And now we are starting the competition.
1 competition - literary. Now the lines of Russian poets will be heard, and you name their authors.
a) Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous air
Invigorates tired forces,
Fragile ice on the icy river,
It lies like melting sugar.
Near the forest, like in a soft bed,
You can get a good night's sleep - peace and space! -
The leaves have not yet faded,
Yellow and fresh, they lie like a carpet. (N.A. Nekrasov)

B) There is in the initial autumn
A short but wonderful time -
The whole day is like crystal,
And the evenings are radiant... (F.I. Tyutchev)

B) The sky was already breathing in autumn,
The sun shone less often,
The day was getting shorter
Mysterious forest canopy
With a sad noise she was naked... (A.S. Pushkin)

D) Autumn. Our whole poor garden is crumbling,
Yellowed leaves are flying in the wind.
They only show off in the distance, there, at the bottom of the valleys,
Bright red brushes of withering rowan trees... (A.K. Tolstoy)
1 presenter. And now the competition program is interrupted. Let's get a look …
2 presenter. Dear guests, please listen to a short announcement. In parallel with our competition program, a competition for the title of King and Queen of the “Autumn Ball” is taking place. Each of you has pieces of paper with numbers. Each of those present can go to the basket and write down the number of the person they consider a contender for this title.
1 presenter. It's time to take a break from dancing. That's why we have a game.
2 presenter. You all probably love apples. I hope our members do too.
Game "Who can eat the apples faster."
The apples are tied on a rope and the participants' task is to eat the apple without their hands.
1 presenter. And now we invite everyone to watch the dance...
2 presenter. And now we invite 2 representatives from each group. Everyone knows how tasty and healthy potatoes are. Very often we all have to both plant it and clean it up. I suggest that the next participants in the game collect the harvest. The game is called "Collect Potatoes".
Conditions of the competition: a lot of potatoes are scattered on the floor, and blindfolded participants must quickly collect the crop in one minute. The winner is the one who collects the most potatoes in the bucket.

1 presenter. We remind you that the competition for the title of King and Queen continues.
Hurry up to make your choice of King and Queen. Since the competition program is coming to an end
2 presenter. And now the last competition of our ball. Two participants from each group are invited. Competition "Wreath of leaves".
1 presenter. And while the participants are working on the wreaths, we offer you a performance...
2 presenter. They say that autumn is sadness, continuous rains, cloudy weather... Don't believe it, friends! Autumn is beautiful and attractive in its own way. It brings generosity to the soul, warmth from human communication to the heart, and brings unique beauty into our lives!
1 presenter. It is announced who became the King and Queen of the ball. (They wear wreaths of leaves)
2 presenter. Autumn has fully come into its own today, and we will celebrate its arrival. We thank this autumn for bringing us all together for the “Autumn Ball”. Winter, spring, summer are ahead... And then autumn again. How many more of them there will be in our lives! We hope that the golden lights of the Autumn Ball holiday will be lit for all of us at our school more than once. See you again!

It's a sad time! Ouch charm!...

It's a sad time! Ouch charm!






And distant gray winter threats.

The sky was already breathing in autumn....

The sky was already breathing in autumn,
The sun shone less often,
The day was getting shorter
Mysterious forest canopy
With a sad noise she stripped herself,
Fog lay over the fields,
Noisy caravan of geese
Stretched to the south: approaching
Quite a boring time;
It was already November outside the yard.

Autumn morning

There was a noise; field pipe
My solitude has been announced,
And with the image of a mistress draga
The last dream has flown away.
The shadow of the night has already rolled down from the sky.
The dawn has risen, the pale day is shining -
And all around me there is desolation...
She's gone... I was off the coast,
Where my dear went on a clear evening;
On the shore, in the green meadows
I didn't find any barely visible traces,
Left by her beautiful foot.
Wandering thoughtfully in the depths of the forests,
I pronounced the name of the incomparable;
I called her - and a solitary voice
Empty valleys called her into the distance.
He came to the stream, attracted by dreams;
Its streams flowed slowly,
The unforgettable image did not tremble in them.
She's gone!.. Until sweet spring
I said goodbye to bliss and to my soul.
Already autumn's cold hand
The heads of birch and linden trees are bare,
She rustles in the deserted oak groves;
There a yellow leaf spins day and night,
There is fog on the chilled waves,
And an instant whistling of the wind is heard.
Fields, hills, familiar oak forests!
Keepers of sacred silence!
Witnesses of my melancholy, fun!
You are forgotten... until sweet spring!

Autumn

October has already arrived - the grove is already shaking off
The last leaves from their naked branches;
The autumn chill has blown in - the road is freezing.
The stream still runs babbling behind the mill,
But the pond was already frozen; my neighbor is in a hurry
To the departing fields with my desire,
And the winter ones suffer from mad fun,
And the barking of dogs wakes up the sleeping oak forests.
II

Now is my time: I don’t like spring;
The thaw is boring to me; stench, dirt - in the spring I am sick;
The blood is fermenting; feelings and mind are constrained by melancholy.
I'm happier in the harsh winter
I love her snow; in the presence of the moon
How easy the running of a sleigh with a friend is fast and free,
When under the sable, warm and fresh,
She shakes your hand, glowing and trembling!

How fun it is to put sharp iron on your feet,
Slide along the mirror of standing, smooth rivers!
And the brilliant worries of the winter holidays?..
But you also need to know honor; six months of snow and snow,
After all, this is finally true for the inhabitant of the den,
The bear will get bored. You can't take a whole century
We'll ride in a sleigh with the young Armids
Or sour at the stoves behind double glass.

Oh, summer is red! I would love you
If only it weren't for the heat, the dust, the mosquitoes, and the flies.
You, ruining all your spiritual abilities,
You torture us; like the fields we suffer from drought;
Just to get something to drink and refresh yourself -
We have no other thought, and it’s a pity for the old woman’s winter,
And, having seen her off with pancakes and wine,
We are celebrating her funeral with ice cream and ice.

The days of late autumn are usually scolded,
But she’s sweet to me, dear reader,
Quiet beauty, shining humbly.
So unloved child in the family
It attracts me to itself. To tell you frankly,
Of the annual times, I am glad only for her,
There is a lot of good in her; a lover is not vain,
I found something in her like a wayward dream.

How to explain this? I like her,
Like you probably are a consumptive maiden
Sometimes I like it. Condemned to death
The poor thing bows down without a murmur, without anger.
A smile is visible on faded lips;
She does not hear the gaping of the grave abyss;
There is still a crimson color playing on the face.
She is still alive today, gone tomorrow.

It's a sad time! charm of the eyes!
Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me -
I love the lush decay of nature,
Forests dressed in scarlet and gold,
In their canopy there is noise and fresh breath,
And the skies are covered with wavy darkness,
And a rare ray of sunshine, and the first frosts,
And distant threats of gray winter.

And every autumn I bloom again;
The Russian cold is good for my health;
I feel love again for the habits of life:
One by one sleep flies away, one by one hunger comes;
The blood plays easily and joyfully in the heart,
Desires are boiling - I’m happy, young again,
I'm full of life again - that's my body
(Please forgive me the unnecessary prosaicism).

They lead the horse to me; in the open expanse,
Waving his mane, he carries the rider,
And loudly under his shining hoof
The frozen valley rings and the ice cracks.
But the short day goes out, and in the forgotten fireplace
The fire is burning again - then the bright light is pouring,
It smolders slowly - and I read in front of it
Or I harbor long thoughts in my soul.

And I forget the world - and in sweet silence
I'm sweetly lulled by my imagination,
And poetry awakens in me:
The soul is embarrassed by lyrical excitement,
It trembles and sounds and searches, as in a dream,
To finally pour out with free manifestation -
And then an invisible swarm of guests comes towards me,
Old acquaintances, fruits of my dreams.

And the thoughts in my head are agitated in courage,
And light rhymes run towards them,
And fingers ask for pen, pen for paper,
A minute - and the poems will flow freely.
So the ship slumbers motionless in the motionless moisture,
But choo! - the sailors suddenly rush and crawl
Up, down - and the sails are inflated, the winds are full;
The mass has moved and is cutting through the waves.

“...It's a sad time! The charm of the eyes..." (excerpt from the novel "Eugene Onegin")

...It's a sad time! Ouch charm!

Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me -

I love the lush decay of nature,

Forests dressed in scarlet and gold,

In their canopy there is noise and fresh breath,

And the skies are covered with wavy darkness,

And a rare ray of sunshine, and the first frosts,

And distant threats of gray winter.

From the book Commentary on the novel "Eugene Onegin" author Nabokov Vladimir

From the book History of Russian Literature of the 19th Century. Part 1. 1800-1830s author Lebedev Yuri Vladimirovich

The creative history of A. S. Pushkin’s novel “Eugene Onegin.” In Pushkin's draft papers of the Boldino autumn period of 1830, a sketch of the outline of “Eugene Onegin” was preserved, visually representing the creative history of the novel: “Onegin” Note: 1823, May 9. Chisinau, 1830, 25

From the book In the Light of Zhukovsky. Essays on the history of Russian literature author Nemzer Andrey Semenovich

Zhukovsky's poetry in the sixth and seventh chapters of the novel "Eugene Onegin" The beetle buzzed. A. S. Pushkin Echoes of Zhukovsky’s poetry in “Eugene Onegin” have been repeatedly noted by researchers (I. Eiges, V. V. Nabokov, Yu. M. Lotman, R. V. Iezuitova, O. A. Proskurin). At the same time, attention

From the book From Pushkin to Chekhov. Russian literature in questions and answers author Vyazemsky Yuri Pavlovich

“Eugene Onegin” Question 1.57 “But, my God, what boredom it is to sit with a sick person day and night, Without leaving a single step!” How many days did Onegin sit with his dying man?

From the book 100 Great Literary Heroes [with illustrations] author Eremin Viktor Nikolaevich

“Eugene Onegin” Answer 1.57 “But, having flown to my uncle’s village, I found Him already on the table, Like a ready-made tribute

From the book Heroes of Pushkin author Arkhangelsky Alexander Nikolaevich

Evgeny Onegin As noted by V.G. Belinsky, “Eugene Onegin” by A.S. Pushkin “wrote about Russia for Russia.” The statement is very important. In general, it must be said that there is a more complete and more accurate disclosure of the image of Eugene Onegin than was done by Belinsky in articles 8 and 9

From the book Universal Reader. 1 class author Team of authors

EVGENY ONEGIN EVGENY ONEGIN is the main character of Pushkin's novel in verse, the action of which takes place in Russia from the winter of 1819 to the spring of 1825, (see: Yu. M. Lotman. Commentary.) Introduced into the plot immediately, without prefaces or prologues. Evgeny Onegin (chapter 1) goes to the village to

From the book Universal Reader. 2nd grade author Team of authors

“Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant...” (excerpt from the novel “Eugene Onegin”) Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant, Renews the path on the wood; His horse, sensing the snow, trudges along at a trot; Exploding the fluffy reins, the daring carriage flies; The coachman sits on the beam in a sheepskin coat, in red

From the book Works of Alexander Pushkin. Article eight author

“The sky was already breathing in autumn...” (excerpt from the novel “Eugene Onegin”) Already the sky was breathing in autumn, The sun was shining less often, The day was getting shorter, The mysterious canopy of the forests was exposed with a sad noise, Fog was settling on the fields, A noisy caravan of geese was stretching to the south:

From the book Works of Alexander Pushkin. Article nine author Belinsky Vissarion Grigorievich

“Neater than fashionable parquet...” (excerpt from the novel “Eugene Onegin”) Neater than fashionable parquet The river shines, covered in ice. The joyful people of the boys cut the ice sonorously with their skates; A heavy goose on red paws, Having decided to swim along the bosom of waters, steps carefully onto the ice, glides and

From the book How to Write an Essay. To prepare for the Unified State Exam author Sitnikov Vitaly Pavlovich

“Driven by the spring rays...” (excerpt from the novel “Eugene Onegin”) Driven by the spring rays, From the surrounding mountains the snow has already fled in muddy streams To the sunken meadows. With a clear smile, nature greets the morning of the year through a dream; The skies are shining blue. Still transparent, the forests seem to rest in peace

From the author's book

“Eugene Onegin” We admit: it is not without some timidity that we begin to critically examine such a poem as “Eugene Onegin.” (1) And this timidity is justified by many reasons. "Onegin" is Pushkin's most sincere work, the most beloved child of his imagination and

From the author's book

“Eugene Onegin” (End) Pushkin’s great feat was that he was the first in his novel to poetically reproduce Russian society of that time and, in the person of Onegin and Lensky, showed its main, that is, male, side; but perhaps the greater feat of our poet is that he is the first

From the author's book

Belinsky V. G. “Eugene Onegin”

From the author's book

“Eugene Onegin” (end) Pushkin’s great feat was that he was the first in his novel to poetically reproduce Russian society of that time and, in the person of Onegin and Lensky, showed its main, that is, male side; but perhaps the greater feat of our poet is that he is the first

From the author's book

N. G. Bykova “Eugene Onegin” The novel “Eugene Onegin” occupies a central place in the work of A. S. Pushkin. This is his largest work of art, the richest in content, the most popular, which had the strongest influence on the fate of the entire Russian

The famous poem “Autumn” (in another version “October has already arrived...”) is known to everyone in our country. Perhaps not by heart, but a couple of lines are a must. Or at least some phrases, especially those that have become catchphrases. Well, at least this one: “Sad time! The charm of the eyes! Who else could say that? Of course, Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin! Autumn time is a charm of the eyes... Look how subtly noted... What could inspire a person, even if he is very gifted, to write such a touching work? Just autumn? Or something more?

Family estate

In the fall of 1833, a famous person, the author of the most famous works to this day, a Russian genius, a literary reformer - A. S. Pushkin, came to Boldino, a village located near Nizhny Novgorod. Autumn time, the charm of the eyes... He loves this place, he idolizes the season, which gives him not only inspiration, but also physical strength. The estate that the famous poet visited is a family estate.

"Autumn"

The work “Autumn” is considered unfinished, consisting of 11 complete eight-line lines and a beginning twelfth. In poetry, he describes his worldview during his stay in Boldino. Silence, the opportunity to forget, even to renounce the world, in order to give free rein to thoughts and dreams... Only work - boiling, selfless, all-consuming...

This is exactly how the inspired Autumn time felt - the charm of the eyes - captured the author, forcing him to paint every moment of the withering of the surrounding nature with the bright colors of words. The poet describes the life and way of life of the district estates, and his own pastime.

He also talks about his attitude to the seasons, arguing in detail this or that point of view. The author refers these enthusiastic words not only to autumn, but also to winter with its amusements and beauties. Pushkin shares his feelings with readers in a simple form.

Autumn time, the charm of the eyes, so unloved by many, but which has won his heart, makes him feel the need to justify himself to others, proving and explaining his enthusiastic attitude, which is so strikingly different from the opinion of most other people.

First visit to Boldino

Pushkin came to the Nizhny Novgorod region for the first time on the eve of his wedding. The author was stuck in Boldino for three months. The magnificent autumn season - the charm of the eyes, as Pushkin wrote - inspired him to fruitful work. During that period, from the pen of the Russian classic came a whole series of works that are still famous to this day, including “The Tale of the Priest and His Worker Balda.”

Second visit

The next time (in the fall of 1833) Pushkin deliberately goes to the village; he already perceives it not as a family estate, but as an office for creativity. He is in a hurry to get there, despite the fact that his beautiful wife is waiting for him in St. Petersburg, and he has not been home for a very long time. Pushkin stayed in Boldino for only a month and a half, but during this time he gave the world several fairy tales and more than one poem.

Autumn time! Ouch charm!.. Do you know how beautiful Boldino autumn is? She cannot help but captivate with her beauty.

Everyone who has ever visited those places experiences the same feelings as Pushkin, but not everyone is able to express them so eloquently. Perhaps this is not necessary. After all, we have his “Autumn”.

P.S.

During the same period, Pushkin gave birth to such a famous work as “The History of Pugachev.” In Boldino, the author finished work on the work, rewriting it completely. There, work began on the cycle “Songs of the Western Slavs”. The writer must not have exaggerated when he wrote that it was in the fall that he felt a surge of inspiration:

"... And I forget the world - and in the sweet silence
I'm sweetly lulled to sleep by my imagination,
And poetry awakens in me..."