Review of E. Permyak’s fairy tale “Magic Colors. Magic colors

The main character of Permyak's fairy tale “Magic Colors” is one very friendly boy. Once every hundred years, Santa Claus gave a special New Year's gift. He chose the kindest child and gave him magic colors. Everything that was painted with these colors became real.

When Santa Claus gave such paints to a kind boy, the boy decided to help as many people as possible. He sat down and began to draw. He painted for several days until the magic paints ran out.

The boy drew a scarf for his grandmother, a new dress for his mother, eyes for a blind man, a new school for children and much more. All this became real, but people could not or did not want to take advantage of the boy’s gifts.

The scarf looked like a rag, the dress was ugly, the eyes could not see, and the school turned out to be so ugly that it was scary to approach it.

People asked the good boy why he did so much evil? The boy cried out of grief. He tried so hard, but did nothing good.

Then Santa Claus came to the boy again and gave him other colors. He said that these colors are ordinary, but the boy can make them magical. The boy sat down to draw again. He painted for many years until he became a real artist. And then people began to admire his magical colors and the paintings that the boy created.

People liked what he drew so much that they began to create in the flesh the things that the boy drew - winged ships, glass buildings, air bridges and much more.

This is the summary of the tale.

The main idea of ​​Permyak’s fairy tale “Magic Colors” is that hard work and perseverance can perform miracles. The boy from the fairy tale persistently learned to draw and became a real artist.

The fairy tale teaches you not to take on what you don’t know how to do. The boy received magic paints and began to paint gifts for people without the ability to do so. As a result, instead of doing good deeds, he caused a lot of evil to people. It is not enough to be able to do something. You must also have the abilities and skills to complete the task.

What proverbs fit Permyak’s fairy tale “Magic Colors”?

Do not do good, there will be no evil.
Talent is earned through hard work.
You won't become a master without messing things up.

Once every hundred years, on New Year's Eve, the kindest of all the kindest old men, Father Frost, brings seven magical colors. With these paints you can paint whatever you want, and what you draw will come to life.

If you want, draw a herd of cows and then graze them. If you want, draw a ship and sail on it. Or a spaceship and fly to the stars. And if you need to draw something simpler, like a chair, then go ahead. Draw and sit on it.

Santa Claus brings these colors to the kindest of all the kindest children. And this is understandable. If such paints fall into the hands of an evil boy or an evil girl, they can cause a lot of trouble. They will add a second nose to a person, and the person will be double-nosed. They will draw horns on the dog, a mustache on the chicken, and a hump on the cat, and the dog will have horns, the chicken will have a mustache, and the cat will have a humpback.

Therefore, Santa Claus spends a very long time choosing which of the children to give magic colors to...

The last time he gave them to one very kind boy. To the kindest of the kindest.

The boy was very happy with the gift and immediately began to draw. He drew a warm scarf for his grandmother, an elegant dress for his mother, and a hunting rifle for his father. The boy drew eyes for the blind old man, and a big, big school for his comrades.

But no one could use what was drawn. The scarf for the grandmother looked like a rag for washing floors, and the dress drawn for the mother turned out to be so lopsided, colorful and baggy that she did not even want to try it on. The gun was no different from a club. For a blind man, the eyes resembled two blue blots, and he could not see with them. And the school, which the boy painted very diligently, turned out to be so ugly that they were even afraid to come close to it.

Trees like brooms appeared on the street. Horses with wire legs appeared, cars with crooked wheels, houses with falling walls and roofs on one side, fur coats and coats with one sleeve longer than the other... Thousands of things appeared that could not be used. And the people were horrified:

How could you do so much evil, the kindest of all the kindest boys?!

And the boy began to cry. He wanted so much to make people happy!.. But he didn’t know how to draw and wasted paint in vain.

The boy cried so loudly that the kindest of all the kindest old men, Santa Claus, heard him. He heard, and returned to him, and put a new box of paints in front of the boy:

Only these, my friend, are simple colors. But they can also become magical if you really want it.

So said Santa Claus and left.

And the boy thought. How can you make simple colors become magical and so that they make people happy and not bring them misfortune? The kind boy took out a brush and began to paint.

He drew without straightening up all day and all evening. He painted on the second, and on the third, and on the fourth day. I painted until I ran out of paint. Then he asked for new ones.

A year has passed... Two years have passed... Many, many years have passed. The boy became an adult, but still did not part with paints. His eyes became keen, his hands skillful, and now in his drawings, instead of crooked houses with falling walls, there were tall, light buildings, and instead of dresses that looked like bags, there were bright, elegant clothes.

The boy did not notice how he became a real artist. He painted everything that was around, and what no one had ever seen: airplanes that looked like huge arrows, and ships that looked like airplanes, air bridges and palaces made of glass.

People looked at his drawings with surprise, but no one was horrified. On the contrary, everyone rejoiced and admired.

What wonderful pictures! What magical colors! - they said, although the colors were the most ordinary.

The paintings were really so good that people wanted to revive them. And then happy days came, when what was drawn on paper began to come to life: palaces made of glass, and air bridges, and winged ships...

This happens in this world. This happens not only with paints, but also with an ordinary ax or sewing needle, and even with simple clay. This happens to everything that is touched by the hands of the greatest of the greatest wizards - the hands of a hardworking, persistent person.

Once every hundred years, the kindest of all the kindest old men - Santa Claus - brings seven magical colors on New Year's Eve. With these paints you can paint whatever you want, and what you draw will come to life.

If you want, draw a herd of cows and then graze them. If you want, draw a ship and sail on it... Or a starship and fly to the stars. And if you need to draw something simpler, like a chair, please... Draw it and sit on it. With magic paints you can paint anything, even soap, and it will lather. Therefore, Santa Claus brings magical colors to the kindest of all the kindest children.

And this is understandable... If such paints fall into the hands of an evil boy or an evil girl, they can cause a lot of trouble. If, say, you paint a second nose on a person with these paints, he will have two noses. It is worth adding horns to a dog, a mustache to a chicken, and a hump to a cat, and the dog will be horned, the chicken will have a mustache, and the cat will be humpbacked.

Therefore, Santa Claus checks the hearts of children for a very long time, and then chooses which of them to give magic colors to.

For the last time, Santa Claus gave magical colors to one of the kindest of all the kindest boys.

The boy was very happy with the colors and immediately began to paint. Draw for others. Because he was the kindest of all the kindest boys. He drew a warm scarf for his grandmother, an elegant dress for his mother, and a new hunting rifle for his father. The boy drew eyes for the blind old man, and a big, big school for his comrades...

He drew without straightening up all day and all evening... He drew on the second, and on the third, and on the fourth... He drew, wishing good things to people. I painted until I ran out of paint. But...

But no one could use what was drawn. The scarf drawn for the grandmother looked like a rag for washing floors, and the dress drawn for the mother turned out to be so lopsided, colorful and baggy that she did not even want to try it on. The gun was no different from a club. For a blind man, the eyes resembled two blue blots, and he could not see with them. And the school, which the boy painted very diligently, turned out to be so terrible that they were even afraid to come close to it. Falling walls. The roof is askew. Crooked windows. Slanting doors... A monster, not a house. They didn’t even want to take the ugly building for a warehouse.

So trees appeared on the street that looked like old brooms. Horses with wire legs appeared, cars with some strange round pieces instead of wheels, airplanes with heavy wings, electrical wires as thick as a log, fur coats and coats with one sleeve longer than the other... Thus, thousands of things appeared that could not be used, and the people were horrified.

How could you do so much evil, the kindest of all the kindest boys?

And the boy began to cry. He so wanted to make people happy, but, not knowing how to draw, he wasted his paints in vain.

The boy cried so loudly and inconsolably that he was heard by the kindest of all the kindest old men - Santa Claus. He heard and returned to him. He returned and put paints in front of the boy.

Only these, my friend, are simple colors... But they can become magical if you want it...

That's what Santa Claus said and left...

A year has passed... Two years have passed... Many, many years have passed. The boy became a youth, then an adult, and then an old man... All his life he painted with simple colors. I painted at home. Drew people's faces. Clothes. Aircraft. Bridges. Railway stations. Palaces... And the time came, happy days came, when what he had drawn on paper began to come to life...

Many beautiful buildings appeared, built according to his drawings.

Wonderful planes flew. Unknown bridges spanned from shore to shore... And no one wanted to believe that all this was painted with simple colors. Everyone called them magical...

This happens in this world... This happens not only with paints, but also with an ordinary ax or a sewing needle and even with simple clay... This happens with everything that is touched by the hands of the greatest wizard of all the greatest wizards - the hands of a hardworking, persistent person...

Once upon a time there lived a young artist. His name was Artyom. He lived with his mother and sister on a small farm. My sister had a son, a little boy, whom everyone loved. The paintings that Artyom painted delighted everyone and quickly sold out, so he had enough money. To paint his paintings, the artist traveled to many places. But only in one place did he feel peaceful and calm. The landscapes painted here were so believable that, looking at them, people felt the breath of a fresh wind and heard the whisper of leaves. Of course, it just seemed like it to them, but the main thing is that the paintings brought people joy! It was a wonderful place. The artist came here many times. First he traveled by train, then walked for a long time. There were no people here, and he didn't need them. Without noticing time, Artyom painted his paintings, giving them part of his soul and taking a piece of the beauty of the forest onto the canvas. The young man did not know what he was coming to create in the magical Reserved Forest, but the forest inhabitants had long noticed and loved him. Unnoticed by the young man, they looked over his shoulder and recognized themselves in the picture.
One day the young man, tired, sat down on a hillock. Suddenly he saw a girl walking towards him.
- Hello! You probably don’t know, but you are now in the magical Reserve Forest. I am his keeper, the good sorceress Krupenichka! Me and my friends really like the pictures you painted. Your work deserves a reward. I will give you magic colors. Everything you draw with them will become real. Don't waste them and remember: you shouldn't draw people. If you paint a person three times with magic colors, you will die.
-Thank you, sorceress! This is a wonderful gift! Tell me, if I paint with magic paints the place where a fire recently occurred, will it change, will it become the same?
- Certainly! That's why I gave you magic colors! After all, you are an artist and you have a good memory. You can restore what was lost. But remember what I told you!
Krupenichka disappeared, and Artyom hurried home. At home, he decided to check whether the paints were really magical. Artyom heard the neighbor's boy crying and drew a ball. As soon as the artist applied the last stroke, the ball jumped off the canvas and rolled merrily along the floor.
“Wow!” the young man thought admiringly. He threw the ball to the boy, and he happily picked it up, forgetting about his tears.
Since then, the artist wandered a lot through the forest. He painted broken trees and burnt meadows and they again became as beautiful as they were before the disaster.
Artyom told his mother about the sorceress’s gift, and she, unable to resist, told her neighbor about it. And soon people flocked to the artist. One asked to draw a cow, another a house, and the children always needed toys.
One day, a misfortune happened: Artyom’s little nephew drowned while swimming in the river. The artist's sister went to the river to wash clothes and took the boy with her. She was distracted only briefly, but when she looked back to see her son, he was no longer anywhere. The woman found the child very close to the shore. She didn't cry when she brought it home, but it seemed like the woman had lost her mind. The boy was buried. His mother now spent all her time at her son’s grave. Artyom’s heart was breaking with grief. He loved his nephew and his sister very much. She didn't ask for anything, although she knew about magic colors. One day, unable to bear it, the young man took out paints and soon the living boy walked off the canvas.
Happiness and peace reigned in their home.
“You didn’t keep your promise,” Krupenichka said sadly to Artyom. And he answered:
- Look at them! Do you see how happy they are? Shouldn't I have helped? After all, I could lose her too!
- Okay, but please don't ever do that again! If something happens to you, who will help our forest?
Everything went as before. Only now Artyom was not at all interested in fulfilling the wishes of his neighbors, and the colors were becoming less and less. The young man became sad; it seemed to him that he had not painted his main picture. But the artist did not know how to write it.
Then he told his mother that he would go traveling around the world. The young man wrapped the magic paints in canvas and hid them. He took simple paints with him.
Artyom wandered around the world for a long time, saw different cities, large and small. He met people with different skin colors. He sailed the seas, wandered through deserts, clinging to a caravan. He drew everywhere.
Once upon a time in a distant hot country, Artyom and his fellow travelers were making their way through a dense forest. Suddenly the trees parted, and the travelers found themselves in a large clearing. In its center there was a dilapidated building. Looking around, people noticed that they were in a destroyed city. The forest almost swallowed him up, only the foundations of buildings were visible here and there.
The travelers decided to stop here for the night. After dinner, Artyom’s comrades went to bed, and the young man decided to explore the ruins. It was getting dark, and he took a torch. The roof of the building was missing, but the walls were still strong. Artyom walked through the rooms, looking at them. It was obvious that rich people lived here. Beautiful paintings and stucco moldings, skillfully executed mosaics decorated the walls and floor of the building. Artem tried to remember ancient patterns so that he could draw them later. He carefully examined the paintings, damaged by time and bad weather. Stopping in one of the rooms, the young man suddenly felt someone’s gaze. He looked back and froze: a girl was looking at him from the depths of centuries! It was, of course, a painting of a girl. The girl was beautiful, and her look was sad. It seemed to Artem that his heart stopped. He couldn't take his eyes off the girl. The young man forgot about everything and woke up only when his comrade, touching him on the shoulder, said:
- Get ready, we're heading out.
The artist now hurried home. He realized that he fell in love with the girl and had to write her. The young man did not think at all about the sorceress’s warning. He wished with all his heart that the beauty would be next to him.
It was a long journey for him to return home. But finally, Artyom hugged his aged mother, sister and grown-up nephew, and, putting aside all conversations, took out magic paints. He quickly sketched the image that struck him. With each brushstroke, the girl became more and more beautiful and more and more like her portrait. The young man did not eat or sleep; he wanted to finish the painting quickly. He had very little time left and the girl, having come to life, would have stepped out of the picture.
“Stop,” said Krupenichka, who appeared. You do not have to do this. Do you remember what I told you?
- Krupenichka, but I have one more time in stock. I may have used it twice, but I won’t die yet? Such beauty must live!
- I know you loved her. But it may also be that she will not love you.
- Let him not love you! I'll still finish this painting! And I also ask you, make sure that she understands me, because there, at home, she spoke a different language!
- Well... Krupenichka looked sadly at Artyom. I will fulfill your request. And you are free to manage your own life, but remember that we need you. She lightly stroked Artyom’s hand and disappeared.
The young man went back to work. So he put the last stroke and the girl stepped into the room.
- Who you are? Where I am?
Artyom calmed the beauty down and told her about how she got into his house. He talked about magical colors, about his journey, about how he found it and painted it. The young man did not say anything except that every time he draws a person, he brings him closer to death.
The girl listened to him silently and cried bitterly.
“What’s wrong with you?” Artyom was scared.
“Listen to me now and you will understand why I’m crying,” the girl wiped her tears. My name is Mariella. I lived with my parents in a rich house. My father and mother loved me very much. I had a fiance, and my wedding was soon to take place. But our city was attacked by wild tribes. My fiancé was a brave warrior. He died in battle with the enemy. I love him very much and I won’t be happy without him.
The girl began to cry again.
Artyom’s heart sank. The young man’s eyes darkened from grief, but he smiled and said:
- Do not Cry! I will do everything to make you happy! I have magic paints, I will draw it, and you will be together. Tell me about your fiance, because I have no idea what he looks like.
Mariella started talking about her beloved. Artyom listened, and every word pierced his heart like a knife. But he listened and remembered.
Several weeks have passed. Mariella and Artyom spent all this time together. The girl talked about her lover, and the artist listened. He took touching care of the girl and tried so hard to entertain her that tears appeared less and less in her eyes. She often asked the young man:
- When will you start drawing my fiance? And the artist answered:
- I have to find out more about him.
Artyom wanted more than anything to make Mariella happy. After all, he loved her and was ready to die for her happiness.
One morning Mariella walked into the room where the artist usually worked. He stood behind an easel.
- Good morning, Mariella! I started work. Sit in a chair and talk about your loved one, and I will draw.
Mariella laughed joyfully. She did not see the sadness in the artist’s eyes and thought only about meeting her beloved.
The days have flown by. The girl came in the morning to the room where Artem worked and spoke. Obeying her words, the young man applied stroke after stroke. And with every movement he made, he became weaker. Mariella noticed this and asked:
- What happened to you?
“It’s okay, it will pass soon,” the artist reassured her. Artyom thought that everything would soon end and his wounded heart, having stopped, would finally stop hurting, and his beloved would be happy.
But then the day came when the painting was finished. The artist put down the last stroke and the brush fell out of his hands. The lifeless body fell to the floor, and a man came down from the canvas into the room. Mariella rushed to him.
- Darling! Finally we met! Now no one will separate us!
The girl hugged and kissed the young man. And he, not believing his luck, answered her.
- How can this be? After all, I should have died! Mariella, look at me, it’s me – Artyom! You said that you loved someone else, and I drew him according to your words!
“Yes, it’s you, my beloved!” the happy girl repeated.
“There’s nothing strange here,” said Krupenichka, who appeared. I'm happy for you Artyom! Mariella spent a lot of time with you, and without noticing it, she fell in love with you. According to her, you drew her beloved, that is, yourself. Be happy and take care of your love!
The sorceress disappeared, and with her the magical colors disappeared.
Mariella and Artyom got married and lived a long, happy life. The young man became a world-famous artist. Now he painted his wife and in many museums around the world you can see her, who came from distant centuries.

Once every hundred years, on New Year's Eve, the kindest of all the kindest old men, Father Frost, brings seven magical colors. With these paints you can paint whatever you want, and what you draw will come to life.

If you want, draw a herd of cows and then graze them. If you want, draw a ship and sail on it. Or a spaceship and fly to the stars. And if you need to draw something simpler, like a chair, go ahead. Draw and sit on it.

Santa Claus brings these colors to the kindest of all the kindest children. And this is understandable. If such paints fall into the hands of an evil boy or an evil girl, they can cause a lot of trouble. They will add a second nose to a person, and the person will be double-nosed. They will draw horns on the dog, a mustache on the chicken, and a hump on the cat, and the dog will have horns, the chicken will have a mustache, and the cat will have a humpback.

Therefore, Santa Claus takes a very long time to choose which of the children to give magic colors to.

The last time he gave them to one very kind boy. To the kindest of the kindest.

The boy was very happy with the gift and immediately began to draw. He drew a warm scarf for his grandmother, an elegant dress for his mother, and a hunting rifle for his father. The boy drew eyes for the blind old man, and a big, big school for his comrades.

But no one could use what was drawn. The scarf for the grandmother looked like a rag for washing floors, and the dress drawn for the mother turned out to be so lopsided, colorful and baggy that she did not even want to try it on. The gun was no different from a club. For a blind man, the eyes resembled two blue blots, and he could not see with them. And the school, which the boy painted very diligently, turned out to be so ugly that they were even afraid to come close to it.

Trees like brooms appeared on the street. Horses with wire legs appeared, cars with crooked wheels, houses with falling walls and roofs on one side, fur coats and coats with one sleeve longer than the other... Thousands of things appeared that could not be used. And the people were horrified:

- How could you do so much evil, the kindest of all the kindest boys?!

And the boy began to cry. He wanted so much to make people happy!.. But he didn’t know how to draw and wasted paint in vain.

The boy cried so loudly that the kindest of all the kindest old men, Santa Claus, heard him. He heard, and returned to him, and put a new box of paints in front of the boy:

- Only these, my friend, are simple colors. But they can also become magical if you really want it.

So said Santa Claus and left.

And the boy thought. How can you make simple colors become magical and so that they make people happy and not bring them misfortune? The kind boy took out a brush and began to paint.

He drew without straightening up all day and all evening. He painted on the second, and on the third, and on the fourth day. I painted until I ran out of paint. Then he asked for new ones.

A year has passed... Two years have passed... Many, many years have passed. The boy became an adult, but still did not part with paints. His eyes became sharp-sighted, his hands skillful, and now in his drawings, instead of crooked houses with falling walls, there were tall, bright buildings, and instead of dresses that looked like bags, there were bright, elegant clothes.

The boy did not notice how he became a real artist. He painted everything that was around, and what no one had ever seen: airplanes that looked like huge arrows, and ships that looked like airplanes, air bridges and palaces made of glass.

People looked at his drawings with surprise, but no one was horrified. On the contrary, everyone rejoiced and admired.

- What wonderful pictures! What magical colors! - they said, although the colors were the most ordinary.

The paintings were really so good that people wanted to revive them. And then happy days came, when what was drawn on paper began to come to life: palaces made of glass, and air bridges, and winged ships...

This happens in this world. This happens not only with paints, but also with an ordinary ax or sewing needle, and even with simple clay. This happens to everything that is touched by the hands of the greatest of the greatest wizards - the hands of a hardworking, persistent person.