Fairy tale bread voice and Remizov to read. Speech development preparatory group

There lived a king. And when the tsarina was gone, the tsar became thoughtful: it’s bad that the tsarina is not there, but that’s the will of God, and again, the economy is on hand - and not a small one, someone needs to dispose of it, it’s necessary to receive guests honestly, but so that everything is, as people have, and in his old age, God forbid that he manage the kingdom.

And the king had three sons, all three were married, they lived with their father. So the king called his daughter-in-law to himself - both the eldest, and the middle, and the youngest - and decided to test which of them should be big.

“Yes,” he says, “father, the other day a bull-calf was growling across the Moscow River, so you could hear Androniev at mass.

- What a fool! - the king set aside the eldest daughter-in-law and to the middle one. What voice do you hear next?

- Our rooster, father, sang early in the morning, and in Sokolinki they heard from my mother, Soforovna said.

The king only stroked his beard: well, why ask such a thing? - and to the youngest:

- I don’t dare, father, to say, you yourself know.

- How so, speak, do not be afraid.

- What kind of bread?

- And such, father, if someone feeds well, but does not forget the hungry, he feeds, warms, comforts, you can hear about him far away.

“Well,” says the tsar, “you are clever, Fields, you said in Russian, so be you big.”

A. Remizov

Owl

An old man is sitting, drinking tea. He doesn’t drink empty - he whitens with milk. Owl flies by.

“Hey,” he says, “friend! And the old man to her:

- You, Owl, - a desperate head, ears up, hooked nose. You bury yourself from the sun, avoid people - what a friend I am to you!

Owl got angry.

- All right, - he says, - old! I won’t fly to your meadow at night, catch mice - catch yourself.

And the old man:

“Look, what did you think to scare me!” Duck until whole.

The Owl flew away, climbed into the oak, does not fly anywhere from the hollow.

The night has come. In the Old Man's Meadow, mice in their burrows whistle and call to each other:

- Look, godfather, is the Owl flying - a desperate head, ears up, hooked nose?

Mouse mouse in response:

- Do not see the Owl, do not hear the Owl. Today we have expanse in the meadow, now we have freedom in the meadow.

Mice jumped out of holes, mice ran across the meadow. And Owl from the hollow:

“Ho-ho-ho, old man!” Look, no matter how bad it happens: the mice, they say, went hunting.

“Let them go,” says the old man. - Tea, mice are not wolves, they will not slaughter heifers.

Mice roam the meadow, looking for bumblebee nests, digging the ground, catching bumblebees.

And Owl from the hollow:

“Ho-ho-ho, old man!” Look, no matter how worse it turns out: all your bumblebees have scattered.

“Let them fly,” says the Old Man.

- What's the use of them: no honey, no wax - only blisters.

There is a fodder clover in the meadow, hanging with its head to the ground, and the bumblebees are buzzing, flying away from the meadow, they don’t look at the clover, they don’t carry pollen from flower to flower.

And Owl from the hollow:

“Ho-ho-ho, old man!” Look, no matter how worse it turns out: you wouldn’t have to spread pollen from flower to flower yourself.

“And the wind will blow it away,” says the Old Man, and he scratches in the back of his head.

The wind is blowing across the meadow, the pollen is pouring to the ground. Pollen does not fall from flower to flower - clover will not be born in the meadow; This is not to the liking of the Old Man.

And Owl from the hollow:

“Ho-ho-ho, old man!” Your cow lows, asks for clover - grass, listen, without clover is like porridge without butter.

The old man is silent, says nothing.

The Cow was healthy from the clover, the Cow began to grow thin, she began to slow down her milk; licks swill, and milk is thinner and thinner. And Owl from the hollow:

“Ho-ho-ho, old man!” I told you: come to me to bow.

The old man scolds, but things are not going well. An owl sits in an oak tree, does not catch mice. Mice roam the meadow, looking for bumblebee nests. Bumblebees walk in other people's meadows, but they don't look at the Old Man's meadow. Clover will not be born in the meadow. A cow without clover is emaciated. The cow has little milk. So the old man had nothing to whiten tea.

There was nothing for the Old Man to whiten tea - the Old Man went to the Owl to bow:

- Oh, you Owl-widow, help me out of trouble: there was nothing for me, the old one, to whiten tea.

And the Owl from the hollow with its eyes loop-loops, its knives are stupid-dumb.

- That's it, - he says, - old. Friendly is not heavy, but at least drop it apart. Do you think it's easy for me without your mice?

The Owl forgave the Old Man, crawled out of the hollow, flew into the meadow to scare the mice.

The owl flew to catch mice.

Mice with fear hid in holes.

Bumblebees buzzed over the meadow, began to fly from flower to flower.

Red clover began to pour in the meadow.

The cow went to the meadow to chew clover.

The cow has a lot of milk.

The Old Man began to whiten tea with milk, whiten tea - Praise the Owl, invite him to visit, respect.

faith chigray
Artistic word about bread

Fiction about bread.

Fairy tales: "Light bread» , "Krupenichka", "Winged, furry, but oily", "Spikelet";

V. Datskevich "From Grain to Loaf";

K. Chukovsky "Wonder Tree", "Bulka";

Ya Akim « Bread» , "Wheat";

T. Shorygina "hunk of bread» ;

D. Kharms “Very very tasty cake”;

I. Tokmakova "What bread» ;

N. Samkova "O bread» ;

P. Koganov « Bread is our wealth» ;

A. Bukalov "Like machines cherish bread» ;

E. Zhitnikova "From grain to bun";

K. Paustovsky "Warm bread» ;

S. Pogorelovskiy "Here he is fragrant bread…» ;

E. Rusakov "Black bread» , "Rye ear";

V. Sukhomlinsky "My mom smells bread» ;

K. Ushinsky « Bread» ;

riddles, tongue twisters, proverbs, sayings, signs about bread

Poems about bread

"What bread?»

As soon as the snow melted in April, the fields turned green,

We are speaking - BREAD!

Boundless golden expanse, harvesters work there,

We are speaking - BREAD!

Behold, grain flows like a river to become flour

We are speaking - BREAD!

Eat it, grow and remember:

There is no greater work in the world, so that on the table to you was

Fresh BREAD!

I. Tokmakova

Plow every spring

Raise the whole

They sow, they reap, they do not sleep at night,

From childhood know how bread is grown.

Rye bread, loaves, rolls,

You won't get it on a walk.

People bread is cherished in the fields,

Strength for do not spare bread.

(Y. Akim)

Not in vain the people long time ago and still

Bread the daily calls the very first shrine.

Golden the words we don't forget entitled:

"Bread is the head of everything!" –

In the field, in the house, in the state!

What thrown half-eaten bread, shameless.

Hey, you who trample on the crust with your foot.

You trample on our human dignity.

"Wheat"

Man puts grain in the ground,

It will rain - the grain is irrigated.

Steep furrow and soft snow

The grain will be sheltered from everyone for the winter.

In spring, the sun will rise to its zenith,

And the new spikelet will gild.

There are many ears in the harvest year,

And the man will remove them from the field.

And the golden hands of the Bakers

Rosy bread will be kneaded quickly.

And the woman on the edge of the board

Ready bread cut into pieces.

To all who cherished grain spikelet,

Here he is Fragrant bread,

Here it is warm and golden.

In every house, on every table,

he complained, he came.

It is our health, strength, wonderful warmth in it.

How many hands raised him, protected him, took care of him.

In it - the earth's native juice,

The sun's light is cheerful in it ...

Gobble up both cheeks, grow up as a hero!

In every grain of wheat in summer and winter

The power of the sun is also stored in the native land.

And grow under a bright sky, slender and tall,

Like the motherland is immortal, grain spikelet.

"In field"

With a quiet wind in conversation

Rye worries like the sea ...

And in the blue sky

The sun is shining merrily

Everything lives and pours

With golden fire.

And among the ears of rye

Where the moths circle

Yes, grasshoppers play

Blue cornflowers throw a friendly look.

Evil winds bent the ear, and it rained on the ear,

But they could not break him over the summer.

That's what I am! - he boasted - he coped with the wind, with water!

Before that, he became proud, grew up with a beard.

So the summer has flown by, pulling cold from the river.

The rye ripened, turned yellow, tilted the spikelets.

Two harvesters are walking in the field. Back and forth, end to end.

Reap - thresh, reap - thresh, harvest.

In the morning the rye stood like a wall. By night, the rye was gone.

Only the sun has set, the grain has emptied.

Spring day, it's time to plow. We went out into the tractor field.

My father and brother lead them, they lead them hunchbacked over the hills.

I'm in a hurry to catch up with them, I ask you to ride.

And my father answers me: - The tractor plows, does not roll!

Wait a minute, grow up, you will lead the same!

"Golden Rain"

On the ground damp, not hard

Where the tractors have gone

shallow grooves

In the black arable land lay

And until the evening and later

Until midnight with darkness

Grains fell like rain

Like golden rain.

« Bread is being baked»

A thin stream of nourishing

A warm smell wafts through the corners.

I breathe in a world of joyful, original

With love and tears in half.

How simple is the understanding of the Universe,

When, waking up in the morning in the warmth,

Under solar ray kiss,

Home you will see bread on the table.

Wonderful spikelet

I'll tell you, friend

About a wonderful spikelet.

The one that ripens in the fields -

Gets on the table loaves.

Drying, buns and loaf -

Bread comes to every home.

Kravchenko Elena

tongue twisters about bread

A bagel, bagel, loaf and a loaf baked from dough early in the morning.

Peter baked cookies in the oven, and baked all the pastries.

A good pie - inside the curd.

Sasha loves drying, Sonya loves cheesecakes.

Vanya lay on the stove, Vanya ate kalachi.

Proverbs and sayings about bread:

Will be bread, there will be lunch.

Sweat on your back, well bread on the table.

Tasteless without salt, but without bread is insatiable.

Bread is a gift from God, father, breadwinner.

If you don't fertilize the rye, you'll harvest bread for a penny.

As long as there is bread Yes, water is not a problem.

Without all the bread will come.

Lived to the stick, whatever of bread, no flour.

You won't be full of conversation if you won't get bread.

Without of bread and you will not be full of honey.

Without bread and water to live badly.

Thin lunch if, no bread.

Bread on the table and the table is the throne, but how not a piece of bread and table board.

The well-fed counts the stars in the sky, and the hungry thinks about bread.

Not the one bread, which is in the field, and the one in the bins.

If a loaf of bread and paradise under the spruce.

Better bread with water than a pie with trouble.

Rye bread - kalachu grandfather.

Why do people say:

"For the time being, no seed is sown";

“In the spring you will miss an hour, you will not catch up with the year”;

"The time for sowing has come, do not look either to the right or to the left";

“He who does not sow in spring, regrets in autumn”;

"Do not feast when to sow bread» ;

“This is on time - it will be useful!”;

“In the spring you will lie down - in the winter you will run with a bag”;

“The better the seed is buried, the better it will be born”;

“It’s good to put the grain in the ground to sleep - it’s good to wake it up, you will be full”;

“Who is not lazy to plow, that bread will be born» ;

"Whoever sweats in the field, he bread has» ;

"What is the earth, such is bread» ;

"Don't look for treasure, but plow land - and you will find it";

“When they sow and reap, they don’t say that they burn corns”;

"Who bread wears, that is, does not ask";

"This oats even in the water, but at the right time";

"Whoever sows corn gets richer every year";

"A farm without corn is like a tree without roots";

“If you don’t pick oats, you will swallow tears”.

"Price of bread»

Do you know why grandparents know the price of every crumb of bread? Because they remember besieged Leningrad when issued per day -125 grams bread per person.

It hurts me when I happen to see

What thrown half-eaten bread, shameless

Hey, you trampling on the crust with your foot

You trample on our human dignity

You insulted your mother, you hurt

The land where he was born and grew up.

Signs about bread:

It was not allowed for one person to finish eating bread after another - you will take away his happiness and strength.

You can’t eat behind another person’s back - you will also eat his strength.

Give while eating bread from the table to the dogs - poverty will befall.

The biggest sin in Russia was considered to drop at least one crumb of bread, even bigger - to trample this crumb with your feet.

People who broke bread become friends for life.

Taking bread salt on towel, bread should be kissed.

Folk omens about bread.

Do not sow the wheat before the oak leaf appears.

Mosquitoes appeared - it's time to sow rye.

This barley, when the viburnum blossomed, and the birch leaves were released.

When the cones on the Christmas tree turn red, and on the pine - green, it's time to sow the barley.

If the mountain ash blossomed early, it will good harvest oats.

If the lingonberries are ripe, then the oats are ripe. The alder has blossomed - it's time to sow buckwheat.

The Story of Saints Fevronia and Peter of Murom.

In ancient times, in Russia, there lived a very wise peasant girl Fevronia. And she fell in love with Prince Peter of Murom. And when she became the wife of Prince Peter, the boyars disliked her because she was from a simple, not princely family. God praised her for her kindness and mercy.

One day, one of the servants came to Fevronia's husband, Prince Peter, and began to slander princess: She randomly leaves the table. Before she gets up she collects bread crumbs in your hand, as if hungry!»

Blessed Prince Peter, wanting to check Fevronia, began to watch her during dinner. And when, after eating, the princess, as usual, gathered bread crumbs in your hand, the prince decided to shame her - it does not befit the princess to collect crumbs.

He took Fevronia by the hand, unclenched her fingers and saw inside ... fragrant incense and precious pearls.

This merciful God, not wanting the shame of the good princess, made miracle: Bread the crumbs turned into incense and jewels. And from that day on, the prince ceased to believe the slander of the boyars, trusted the princess.

Since bread is considered sacred given by God.

In those old days the bread was white yes black. And nowadays there is a wide variety in stores bakery products.

Synopsis of an integrated lesson on cognitive development

"How bread is grown"

Educator: Barankova Valentina Leonidovna

To give an idea that bread is the main food of a person. To form in children ideas about the interaction of people different professions in the process of growing crops, about the order labor processes farmers. Familiarize yourself with the variety of bakery products. To form the ability to read poetry clearly and expressively. vocabulary.

Strengthen the skills of children to sculpt from salt dough.

To develop the ability of children to emotionally perform songs and dances.

Bring up careful attitude to bread, respect for working people (grain growers, bakers).

vocabulary work: lush, fragrant, burnt, loaf, plow, black soil, grain growers, bakers, cornfield, bakery.

Equipment: bakery products, spikelets of wheat, salty dough, cookie cutters, blindfold scarf, CD player, CD with songs.

Previous work: reading K. Paustovsky "Warm bread", A. Remizov " Bread Voice”, Ukrainian folk tale“Spikelet”, memorizing proverbs about bread, conversation “Earth is the breadwinner”, looking at illustrations depicting agricultural machinery, memorizing poems, songs: “Golden Seed” by Y. Chichkov, “My Russian Niva” by E. Antipina.

Guys, I suggest you solve the riddle and you will find out what we are going to talk about today.

Guess easily and quickly:

Soft, fluffy and fragrant,

He is black, he is white

And it gets burnt.

Bad dinner without him

There is no tastier one in the world.

(children solve the riddle - bread)

Yes, today we will talk about bread. And what words in the riddle helped you guess that this is bread?

(soft, fluffy, fragrant, black, white, burnt)

Bread is one of the most amazing products of human labor. Not a single feast is complete without bread. He always and everywhere enjoys honor and respect. A guest in Russia was always greeted with bread and salt. There are even proverbs about bread. Do you know proverbs about bread?

(children name proverbs about bread)

Lunch is bad if there is no bread.

Bread is the head of everything.

Rye bread is a native father.

Bread is our wealth.

A loaf of bread does not fall from the sky.

And in Russia they said: If there is bread, there will be a song.

(Children sing the song "Golden Seed" by Yu Chichkov.)

But the grains did not immediately become the bread that is on the table. People have worked long and hard on the earth.

(Child reads a poem)

He does not fall to us from the sky

Appears, not suddenly

To grow an ear of bread

Dozens of hands are needed.

Thousands of people work to grow and harvest. And now let's hear how bread comes to our table.

(children read poetry)

Beyond the forests, past the meadows

Thunder is heard in the field,

These are tractors plows

They plow light black soil.

Why are they plowing the land?

(so that it is soft, loose)

And what happens then?

To wide valleys

New cars out:

Look out the open window

Seeders sow grain.

Let's remember how wheat grains were sown before?

(they were sown by hand).

When they sowed, what did they say?

Niva is golden, kind honey.

Bring us bread

Stem to the sky.

Wheat seeds were sown. A lot of work has been invested in this grain, only the sun, wind, and water knows. So wheat is growing, earing in the field.

(girls dance a dance with spikelets).

So the spikelets poured, ripened. New concerns for grain growers. What should be done next?

(Grain must be removed, ground)

The growers sowed bread in the spring,

He matured and stood up as a golden wall.

And the country hears:

It's time for cleaning!

We need combine harvesters and tractors for grain.

The boys perform the exercise "Grain growers thresh grain."

Grain growers work from morning to night. Lines of trucks stretch from the harvesters. Grain is being transported to the elevator. This is where the grain is stored. And who will tell me what happens next with the grain?

(It is ground into flour at the mill, bread is baked from flour at the bakery).

Now I want to know what can be baked from flour?

(buns, pies, bread, bagels, cookies. . . .)

We will now go to the bakery.

(children go to the table on which bakery products lie)

Do you love to eat baked goods? Now we will check if you can recognize them by taste?

The game "Find out the taste" is held.

(children with eyes closed recognize the taste of bakery products)

Would you like to become a baker? I suggest you make bagels, cookies, loaves, bread loaf.

(children come to the tables where the dough and biscuit molds are prepared and, together with the teacher, sculpt from salt dough)

You see, guys, how much work you have to spend to get bread and bakery products. Thank you bakers for this.

Honor and honor to you grain growers

For your wonderful harvest,

For what you gave to the Motherland

Fragrant bread keravay.

(children sing the song “My Russian Niva”. E. Antipina.)

Children, so what is the tastiest thing in the world? How should bread be handled? What if you don't eat a piece of bread?

(must be given to animals, birds. You can’t throw bread on the ground).

With cucumbers and potatoes

You have to eat bread to the crumbs,

Because there are many forces

Spends the one who raised the bread.

People - bread

Children - peace

Let the friendly feast begin.

It's time to shout out to everyone

Bread - a friendly "Hurray"!

(Children eat bakery products

Works of poets and writers of Russia for children 6-7 years old

Literary tales.

Content

1. 
   …….1
2. 
   A. Remizov. "Bread Voice"…………………………………………..15
3. 
   A. Remizov. "Swan geese"……………………………………………...16
4. 
   K. Paustovsky. "Warm bread"………………………………………..18
5. 
   V. Dahl. "Old man-year-old"…………………….………………………..24
6. 
   P. Ershov. "The Little Humpbacked Horse"………………….………………………..24
7. 
   K. Ushinsky. "Blind Horse"……………….……………………….90
8. 
   K. Dragunskaya. "The Cure for Obedience"….…………………….93
9. 
   I. Sokolov-Mikitov. "Salt of the earth"……………….…………………..96
10. 
    G. Skrebitsky. "Everyone in his own way"……………………………………..100

Literature……………………………………………………………………….106.

LITERARY FAIRY TALES

A. Pushkin. "Tale of dead princess and about the seven heroes"

The king and queen said goodbye

Equipped on the road,

And the queen at the window

She sat down to wait for him alone.

Waiting, waiting from morning to night,

Looks in the field, indus eyes

Get sick looking

From the white dawn to the night.

Don't see my dear friend!

He only sees: a blizzard is winding,

Snow falls on the fields

All white land.
Nine months go by

She does not take her eyes off the field.

Here on Christmas Eve, on the very night,

God gives the queen a daughter.

Day and night so long awaited

From afar, at last

The king-father returned.

She looked at him

She sighed heavily

Admiration did not take away

And died by noon.
For a long time the king was inconsolable,

But how to be? and he was sinful;

A year has passed like an empty dream

The king married another.

Tell the truth, young lady

Indeed, there was a queen:

tall, thin, white,

And she took it with her mind and everything;

But proud, broken,

Willful and jealous.

She was given as a dowry

There was only one mirror;

The mirror property had:

It speaks skillfully.

She was alone with him

Good-natured, cheerful

S. jokingly joked with him

And, blushing, she said:

"My light, mirror! Tell me

Yes, tell the whole truth:

Am I the sweetest in the world,

All rouge and whiter?

And a mirror in response to her:

"You, of course, no doubt:

You, queen, are sweeter than all,

All rouge and whiter."

And the queen laugh

And shrug.

And wink your eyes

And snap your fingers

And turn around, leaning forward.

Proudly looking in the mirror.
But the young princess

blooming silently,

Meanwhile, she grew and grew.

Rose and flourished.

White-faced, black-browed,

I like such a meek one.

And the groom was found by her,

Prince Elisha.

The matchmaker arrived, the king gave his word,

And the dowry is ready:

Seven trading cities

Yes, one hundred and forty towers.
Going to a bachelorette party.

Here is the queen dressing up

In front of your mirror

Chatted with him:

"I'm, tell me, sweeter than everyone.

All rouge and whiter?

What is the mirror in response?

"You are beautiful, no doubt;

But the princess is sweeter than all,

All rouge and whiter."

How the queen jumps

Yes, how to wave the handle,

Yes, as it slams on the mirror,

With a heel, how it will stomp! ..

"Oh, you vile glass!

You're lying to spite me.

How can she compete with me?

I will calm the foolishness in it.

Look how grown up!

And it's no wonder that it's white:

Mother belly sat

Yes, I just looked at the snow!

But tell me how can she

To be nicer to me in everything?

Admit it: I'm more beautiful than everyone.

Go around our whole kingdom,

Though the whole world; I don't have an even one.

Is that right?" The mirror answered:

"And the princess is still nicer,

Everything is blusher and whiter."

Nothing to do. She is,

Full of black envy

Throwing a mirror under the bench,

Called Chernavka to her

And punish her

To his hay girl,

The message of the princess in the wilderness of the forest

And, tying her alive

Under the pine tree leave there

To be eaten by wolves.
Does the devil cope with an angry woman?

There is nothing to argue. With the princess

Here Chernavka went into the forest

And brought me so far

What did the princess think?

And scared to death

And she pleaded: "My life!

What, tell me, am I guilty of?

Don't kill me girl!

And how will I be a queen,

I pity you."

The one who loves her in my heart,

Didn't kill, didn't bind

She let go and said:

"Don't freak out, God bless you."

And she came home.

"What?" the queen said to her,

Where is the pretty girl?"

"There, in the forest, stands alone, -

She answers her,

Her elbows are tightly bound;

Caught in the claws of the beast

She will be less patient

It will be easier to die."
And the rumor began to ring:

The royal daughter is missing!

The poor king is grieving for her.

Prince Elisha,

Praying earnestly to God,

Set off on the road

For a beautiful soul

For a young bride.
But the bride is young

Until dawn in the forest wandering,

Meanwhile everything went on and on

And I came across the Terem.

The dog is meeting her, barking,

He ran and was silent, playing;

She entered the gate

Silence in the backyard.

The dog runs after her, caressing,

And the princess, picking up,

Went up on the porch

And took up the ring;

The door opened softly.

And the princess found herself

In a bright room; around

Shops covered with carpet,

Under the saints is an oak table,

Stove with tiled bench.

The girl sees what's here

Good people live;

Know she won't be offended!

In the meantime, no one is visible.

The princess walked around the house,

Removed everything,

Lit a candle to God

Fired up the stove hot

I climbed up on the floor

And quietly subsided.
Dinner time was approaching

There was a clatter across the yard:

Enter seven heroes,

Seven ruddy mustaches.

The elder said: "What a marvel!

Everything is so clean and beautiful.

Someone tidied up the tower

Yes, I was waiting for the owners.

Who? Come out and show yourself

Be honest with us

If you are an old man

You will be our uncle forever.

If you are a ruddy guy,

Brother will be our name.

Kohl old woman, be our mother,

So let's celebrate.

When the red girl

Be our dear sister."
And the princess came down to them,

Honored the owners

She bowed low to the waist;

Blushing, I apologized

Something went to visit them,

Even though she wasn't called.

In an instant, by speech, they recognized

That the princess was accepted;

seated in a corner,

They brought a pie

Pour a glass full

Served on a tray.

From green wine

She denied;

The pie just broke

Yes, I took a bite

And from the road to rest

She asked to go to bed.

They took the girl

Up into the bright light

And left one

Going to sleep.
Day after day goes, flickering,

A young princess

Everything in the forest, she is not bored

At the seven heroes.

Before the dawn

Brothers in a friendly crowd

Going out for a walk

Shoot gray ducks

Amuse the right hand

Sorochina hurry in the field,

Or a head with broad shoulders

Cut off the Tatar

Or etch from the forest

Pyatigorsk Circassian,

And she is the hostess

In the meantime, alone

Pick up and cook

She will not rebuke them,

They will not cross her.

So the days go by.
Brothers of a sweet maiden

Loved. To her in the light

Once, just dawn,

All seven of them entered.

The elder said to her: "Girl,

There are seven of us, you

We all love for ourselves

We would all be happy to take you

Yes, you can’t, so for God’s sake

Reconcile us somehow:

Be one wife

Other affectionate sister.

Why are you shaking your head?

Al refuse us?

Al goods are not for merchants?"
"Oh, you honest fellows,

Brothers, you are my relatives, -

The princess says to them,

If I lie, may God command

Do not leave my place alive.

What do i do? because I'm a bride.

To me you are all equal

All daring, all smart,

I love you all heartily;

But to another I am forever

Given away. I love everyone

Prince Elisha.
The brothers stood silently

Yes, they scratched the back of the head.

"Demand is not a sin. Forgive us, -

The elder said bow, -

If so, do not stutter

About that." - "I'm not angry, -

She said softly,

And my refusal is not my fault."

The grooms bowed to her,

Slowly departed

And according to everything again

They began to live and live.
Meanwhile, the evil queen

Remembering the princess

Couldn't forgive her

And on your mirror

Long pouted and angry;

Finally missed him

And she followed him, and sitting down

Before him, I forgot my anger,

Began to show off again

And with a smile she said:

"Hello, mirror! say

Yes, tell the whole truth:

Am I the sweetest in the world,

All rouge and whiter?

And a mirror in response to her:

"You are beautiful, no doubt;

But lives without any glory

Among the green oak forests,

At the seven heroes

The one that is sweeter than you."

And the queen flew

To Chernavka: "How dare you

Deceive me? and in what!.."

She confessed to everything:

Anyway. evil queen,

Threatening her with a slingshot

Decided or not to live,

Or destroy the princess.
Since the princess is young,

Waiting for dear brothers

Spinning, sitting under the window.

Suddenly angrily under the porch

The dog barked and the girl

Sees: beggar blueberry

Walks around the yard, stick

Chasing away the dog. "Wait,

Grandma, wait a little, -

She screams out the window, -

I will threaten the dog myself

And I'll bring you something."

The blueberry answers her:

"Oh, you little girl!

The damned dog overcame

Nearly ate to death.

Look how busy he is!

Come to me." - The princess wants

Go out to her and take the bread,

But just got off the porch

The dog under her feet - and barks,

And he won't let me see the old woman;

Only the old woman will go to her,

He, the forest animal is more angry,

For an old woman. "What a miracle?

Apparently, he slept badly, -

The princess says to her,

Well, catch!" - and the bread flies.

The old woman caught the bread;

"Thank you," she said,

God bless you;

That's what you, catch!"

And pouring to the princess,

young, golden

The apple flies straight...

The dog will jump, squeal ...

But the princess in both hands

Grab - caught. "For the sake of boredom,

Eat an apple, my light.

Thank you for lunch..."

The old lady said

Bowed down and disappeared...

And from the princess to the porch

The dog runs in her face

It looks pitiful, howls menacingly,

Like a dog's heart aches,

As if he wants to tell her:

Drop it! - She caress him,

Trembling with a gentle hand;

"What, Sokolko, what's the matter with you?

Lie down!" - and entered the room,

The door was softly closed

Under the window for the yarn village

Wait for the owners, but looked

All for an apple. It

Full of ripe juice

So fresh and so fragrant

So ruddy golden

It's like honey!

You can see through the seeds...

She wanted to wait

Until dinner, I could not stand it,

I took an apple in my hands

She brought it to scarlet lips,

Slowly bit through

And I ate a piece...

Suddenly she, my soul,

Staggered without breathing

She lowered her white hands,

Dropped the ruddy fruit

Eyes rolled up

And she's under the image

Fell head on the bench

And quiet, motionless became ...
Brothers at that time home

returned in droves

From youthful robbery.

To meet them, howling menacingly,

The dog runs to the yard

The way shows them. "Not good! -

The brothers said - sorrow

We will not pass. "They galloped,

They enter, gasp. ran in,

Dog on an apple headlong

With barking rushed, got angry,

Swallowed it, fell off

And I died. drunk

It was poison, you know, it is.

Before the dead princess

Brothers in heartbreak

Everyone bowed their heads

And with the prayer of the saint

Raised from the bench, dressed,

They wanted to bury her

And they thought. She is,

As under the wing of a dream,

So quiet, fresh lay,

Just not breathing.

Waited three days, but she

Didn't wake up from sleep.

Having created a sad rite,

Here they are in a crystal coffin

The corpse of a young princess

Put - and the crowd

Carried to an empty mountain

And at midnight

Her coffin to six pillars

On iron chains there

Carefully screwed

And fenced with bars;

And before the dead sister

Having made a bow to the earth,

The elder said: "Sleep in the coffin;

Suddenly went out, a victim of malice,

Your beauty is on earth;

Heaven will receive your spirit.

We loved you

And for the dear store -

Nobody got it

Only one coffin."
On the same day, the evil queen,

Good news waiting

Secretly took a mirror

And she asked her question:

"I eh, tell me, all the nicer,

All rouge and whiter?

And heard back:

"You, queen, no doubt,

You are the sweetest in the world

All rouge and whiter."
For your bride

Prince Elisha

Meanwhile, the world is jumping.

No how no! He weeps bitterly

And whoever he asks

All his question is wise;

Who laughs in his eyes

Who will rather turn away;

To the red sun at last

The good guy turned:

"Our light is the sun! You walk

All year round in the sky, you drive

Winter with warm spring

You see us all below you.

Al will you refuse me an answer?

Didn't you see where in the world

Are you a young princess?

I am her fiancé." - "You are my light, -

The red sun answered, -

I did not see the princess.

Know that she is no longer alive.

Is it a month, my neighbor,

Somewhere I met her

Or a trace of her noticed.
Dark Night Elisha

He waited in his anguish.

Only a month seemed

He chased after him pleadingly.

"Month, month, my friend,

Gilded horn!

You rise in deep darkness

round-faced, light-eyed,

And, loving your custom,

The stars are watching you.

Al will you refuse me an answer?

Have you seen anywhere in the world

Are you a young princess?

I am her fiancé." - "My brother, -

The clear moon answers, -

“I did not see the red maiden.

I stand on guard

Just in my queue.

Without me, the princess is visible

Ran." - "How insulting!" -

The king answered.

The clear moon continued:

"Wait; about her, perhaps,

The wind knows. He will help.

Don't be sad, goodbye."
Elisha, not discouraged,

Rushed to the wind, calling:

"Wind, wind! You are mighty,

You drive flocks of clouds

You excite the blue sea

Everywhere you blow in the open.

Don't be afraid of anyone

Except for one god.

Al will you refuse me an answer?

Have you seen anywhere in the world

Are you a young princess?

I am her fiance." - "Wait, -

The violent wind answers,

There, behind the quiet river

There is a high mountain

There is a deep hole in Noah;

In that hole, in the sad darkness,

The coffin is rocking crystal

On chains between poles.

Can't see any trace

Around that empty place

In that coffin is your bride."
The wind ran away.

The prince sobbed

And went to an empty place

For a beautiful bride

View one more time.

Here comes and rose

In front of him is a steep mountain;

Around her the country is empty;

Under the mountain is a dark entrance.

He goes there quickly.

Before him, in the mournful darkness,

The coffin is rocking crystal,

And in that crystal coffin

The princess sleeps forever.

And about the coffin of the bride dear

He hit with all his might.

The coffin was broken. Virgo suddenly

Revived. Looks around

Astonished eyes

And, swinging over the chains,

Sighing, she said:

"How long have I been asleep!"

And she rises from the grave...

Ah! .. and both sobbed.

He takes her in his hands

And brings it into the light from darkness,

And, talking pleasantly,

On their way back,

And the rumor is already trumpeting:

The royal daughter is alive!
At home at that time without work

The wicked stepmother was sitting

In front of your mirror

And talked to him

Saying: "I'm the sweetest of all,

All rouge and whiter?

And heard back:

"You are beautiful, there is no word,

But the princess is still nicer,

All rouge and whiter.

Evil stepmother, jumping up,

Breaking a mirror on the floor

Ran straight through the door

And I met the princess.

Then her longing took

And the queen died.

They just buried her

The wedding was immediately arranged

And with his bride

Elisha got married;

And no one since the beginning of the world

I have not seen such a feast;

I was there, honey, drinking beer,

Yes, he just wet his mustache.

There lived a king. And when the tsarina was gone, the tsar became thoughtful: it’s bad that there is no tsarina, but it’s God’s will, and again, the economy is in hand and not small, someone needs to dispose of it, it’s necessary to receive guests honestly, but so that everything is as people have, and in his old age, God forbid that he manage the kingdom.

And the king had three sons, all three were married, they lived with their father. So the king called his daughter-in-law to himself, and the eldest, and the middle, and the youngest - and decided to test which of them should be big.

Why, - he says, - father, the other day a bull-calf was growling across the Moscow River, so you could hear Androniev at mass.

Eka fool! - the king set aside the eldest daughter-in-law and to the middle one. - What voice can be heard further?

Our rooster, father, sang early in the morning, and in Sokolinki they heard from my mother, Soforovna said.

The king only stroked his beard: well, why ask such a thing? - and to the youngest:

I don’t dare, father, to say, you yourself know.

As so, speak, do not be afraid.

What kind of bread is this?

And such, father, if someone feeds well, but does not forget the hungry, he will feed, warm, comfort, you can hear about him far away.

Well, - says the tsar, - you are smart, Fields, you said in Russian, so be you big.

A. Remizov. "Swan geese"

Even before dawn, when the devils fought on fists and the dawn was about to rise at sunrise and the wind threw up a silk whip, a wolf came out of the forest into the field for a walk.

The devils have sunk into the ravine, the dawn has dawned, the sun has rolled out in the dawn.

And under the sun, paradise - the tree has blossomed its lilac honey color.

The geese are awake. The geese asked their mother to fly in the field. The mother did not argue, she let the geese go into the field, she herself remained on the lake, sat down to carry the egg. She carried an egg, did not notice how the day had come to evening.

The mother was worried, calling the children:

Geese-swans, home! Geese scream:

Wolf under the mountain.

What is he doing?

The duck nibbles.

Gray and white.

Fly, don't be afraid...

The geese ran from the field. And the wolf is right there. He took over the whole herd, dragged the geese down the hill. Him, gray, only moreover and need to.

Get ready, - the wolf announced to the geese, - I will eat you now.

The geese pleaded:

Don't destroy us grey Wolf, we will give you a goose on a sweetheart!

I can't help it: I'm a gray wolf.

The geese nibbled on the grass, sat in a pile, and the sun was setting, I wanted to go home.

The wolf in those days sharpened his teeth: he stepped with ducks,

And the mother, as she sensed that something was wrong with the children, took off from the lake and into the field. She flew across the field, called, sees - feathers are lying around, and then straight ahead and came to the hill.

She began to think how to find her own - the wolf had other geese there too - she thought, thought and came up with: she went to walk on the geese and gently pull the ear. Which goose will squeal, that one is her mother, and the one who crows, not her, is the wolves.

That's how I found all of them.

The geese were already delighted, they raised the sodom.

The wolf left to sharpen his teeth, ran to see what was the matter.

It was then that they attacked him, the gray one. They grabbed the wolf by the sides, dragged it up the hill, laid it out under a paradise tree, and set up such a bathhouse, God forbid.

Don't cut off my tail! - the wolf calmed the geese, kicked back.

They pinched him pretty much, got tired, and again to the lake: it's time to go to bed.

The wolf got up, not slurping salty, went into the forest.

Voznyla dark cloud covered the sky.

And in the darkness, the whites languished in the meadow of woodweeds and herbs, watered the grass.

Crowdsmen climbed ashore, removed the mud from themselves, sat on the decks and swam.

A gray wolf walked, stumbled over the boundary, thought and wondered about Ivan Tsarevich.

On the lake, the geese cackled in their sleep

K. Paustovsky. "Warm Bread"

When the cavalrymen were passing through the village of Berezhki, a German shell exploded on the outskirts and wounded a black horse in the leg. The commander left the wounded horse in the village, and the detachment went further, dusting and ringing the bits, - left, rolled behind the groves, over the hills, where the wind shook the ripe rye.

The miller Pankrat took the horse. The mill has not worked for a long time, but the flour dust has forever eaten into Pankrat. She lay with a gray crust on his quilted jacket and cap. From under the cap, the quick eyes of the miller looked at everyone. Pankrat was an ambulance to work, an angry old man, and the guys considered him a sorcerer.

Pankrat cured the horse. The horse remained at the mill and patiently carried clay, manure and poles - helping Pankrat to repair the dam.

It was difficult for Pankrat to feed the horse, and the horse began to go around the yards to beg. He would stand, snort, knock with his muzzle on the gate, and, you see, they would bring him beet tops, or stale bread, or, it happened even, sweet carrots. It was said in the village that nobody's horse, or rather, a public one, and everyone considered it their duty to feed him. In addition, the horse is wounded, suffered from the enemy.

The boy Filka lived in Berezhki with his grandmother, nicknamed "Well, you." Filka was silent, incredulous, and his favorite expression was: "Come on!". Whether the neighbor's boy suggested that he walk on stilts or look for green cartridges, Filka answered in an angry bass: "Come on! Look for yourself!" When the grandmother reprimanded him for his unkindness, Filka turned away and muttered: "Come on, you! I'm tired!"

The winter was warm this year. Smoke hung in the air. Snow fell and immediately melted. Wet crows sat on the chimneys to dry off, jostled, croaked at each other. Near the mill flume, the water did not freeze, but stood black, still, and ice floes swirled in it.

Pankrat had repaired the mill by that time and was going to grind bread: the housewives complained that the flour was running out, each had two or three days left, and the grain lay unground.

On one of these warm gray days, the wounded horse knocked with his muzzle on the gate to Filka's grandmother. Grandmother was not at home, and Filka was sitting at the table and chewing a piece of bread, heavily sprinkled with salt.

Filka reluctantly got up and went out the gate. The horse shifted from foot to foot and reached for the bread. "Come on you! Devil!" - Filka shouted and hit the horse on the lips with a backhand. The horse staggered back, shook his head, and Filka threw the bread far into the loose snow and shouted:

You won’t get enough of you, the Christians! There is your bread! Go, dig it with your face from under the snow! Go dig!

And after this malicious shout, those amazing things happened in Berezhki, about which people still talk, shaking their heads, because they themselves do not know whether it was or nothing like that happened.

A tear rolled down from the horse's eyes. The horse neighed plaintively, drawlingly, waved his tail, and immediately howled in the bare trees, in the hedges and chimneys, a piercing wind whistled, snow blew up, powdered Filka's throat. Filka rushed back into the house, but could not find the porch in any way - it was already snowy all around and whipped into his eyes. Frozen straw flew from the roofs in the wind, birdhouses broke, torn shutters slammed. And columns of snow dust rose higher and higher from the surrounding fields, rushing to the village, rustling, spinning, overtaking each other.

Filka finally jumped into the hut, locked the door, said: "Come on!" - and listened. The blizzard roared, maddened, but through its roar Filka heard a thin and short whistle - this is how a horse's tail whistles when an angry horse hits its sides with it.

The blizzard began to subside in the evening, and only then was Grandmother Filkin able to get to her hut from her neighbor. And by nightfall, the sky turned green as ice, the stars froze to the vault of heaven, and a prickly frost passed through the village. No one saw him, but everyone heard the creak of his boots on the hard snow, heard how the frost, mischievous, squeezed thick logs in the walls, and they cracked and burst.

The grandmother, crying, told Filka that the wells had probably already frozen over and now imminent death awaited them. There is no water, everyone has run out of flour, and now the mill will not be able to work, because the river has frozen to the very bottom.

Filka also wept with fear when the mice began to run out of the underground and bury themselves under the stove in the straw, where there was still a little warmth. "Come on you! Damned!" - he shouted at the mice, but the mice kept climbing out of the underground. Filka climbed onto the stove, covered himself with a sheepskin coat, shook all over and listened to the grandmother's lamentations.

A hundred years ago, the same severe frost fell on our district, - said the grandmother. - He froze wells, beat birds, dried forests and gardens to the roots. Ten years after that, neither trees nor grasses bloomed. The seeds in the ground withered and disappeared. Our land was naked. Every animal ran around her side - he was afraid of the desert.

Why did that frost strike? Filka asked.

From human malice, - answered the grandmother. - An old soldier was walking through our village, asked for bread in the hut, and the owner, an evil man, sleepy, noisy, take it and give me only a stale crust. And then he didn’t give it to his hands, but threw it on the floor and said: “Here you are! Chew!”.

“It’s impossible for me to lift bread from the floor,” the soldier says. “I have a piece of wood instead of a leg.” - "Where did you put your leg?" - the man asks. "I lost my leg in the Balkan mountains in the Turkish battle," the soldier replies. "Nothing. Once you're hefty hungry, you'll get up," the man laughed. "There are no valets for you here." The soldier grunted, contrived, lifted the crust and saw - this is not bread, but one green mold. One poison! Then the soldier went out into the yard, whistled - and at once a blizzard broke, a blizzard, the storm swirled the village, the roofs were torn off, and then a severe frost struck. And the man died.

Why did he die? Filka asked hoarsely.

From the cooling of the heart, - the grandmother answered, paused and added: - To know, and now a bad person, an offender, has wound up in Berezhki, and has done an evil deed. That's why it's cold.

What to do now, grandma? Filka asked from under his sheepskin coat. - Really die?

Why die? Need to hope.

That a bad person will correct his villainy.

And how to fix it? asked Filka, sobbing.

And Pankrat knows about it, the miller. He is a cunning old man, a scientist. You need to ask him. Can you really run to the mill in such a cold? The bleeding will stop immediately.

Come on, Pankrat! - said Filka and fell silent.

At night he climbed down from the stove. Grandma was sleeping on the bench. Outside the windows, the air was blue, thick, terrible. In the clear sky above the osokors stood the moon, adorned like a bride with pink crowns.

Filka wrapped his sheepskin coat around him, jumped out into the street and ran to the mill. The snow sang underfoot, as if an artel of merry sawyers sawed down a birch grove across the river. It seemed that the air froze and between the earth and the moon there was only a burning void, so clear that if a speck of dust were raised a kilometer from the earth, then it would be visible and it would glow and twinkle like a small star.

The black willows near the mill dam turned gray from the cold. Their branches gleamed like glass. The air pricked Filka's chest. He could no longer run, but walked heavily, raking the snow with his felt boots.

Filka knocked on the window of Pankrat's hut. Immediately in the barn behind the hut, a wounded horse neighed and beat with a hoof. Filka groaned, squatted down in fear, hid. Pankrat opened the door, grabbed Filka by the collar and dragged him into the hut.

Sit down by the stove, - he said. - Tell me before you freeze.

Filka, weeping, told Pankrat how he offended the wounded horse and how frost fell on the village because of this.

Yes, - Pankrat sighed, - your business is bad! It turns out that everyone is lost because of you. Why hurt the horse? For what? You stupid citizen!

Filka sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

You stop crying! Pankrat said sternly. - Roar you all masters. A little naughty - now in a roar. But I just don't see the point in that. My mill stands as if sealed with frost forever, but there is no flour, and no water, and we don’t know what to think of.

- What should I do now, grandfather Pankrat? Filka asked.

Invent salvation from the cold. Then the people will not be your fault. And in front of a wounded horse - too. Will you pure man, happy. Everyone will pat you on the back and forgive you. Clear?

Well, think of it. I'll give you an hour and a quarter.

A magpie lived in Pankrat's hallway. She did not sleep from the cold, she sat on the collar and eavesdropped. Then she galloped sideways, looking around, to the gap under the door. Jumped out, jumped on the railing and flew straight south. The magpie was experienced, old, and deliberately flew near the ground itself, because it still drew warmth from the villages and forests, and the magpie was not afraid to freeze. No one saw her, only a fox in an aspen hole stuck her muzzle out of the hole, turned her nose, noticed how a magpie swept through the sky like a dark shadow, shied back into the hole and sat for a long time, scratching herself and thinking: where is it in such a terrible night gave forty?

And Filka at that time was sitting on a bench, fidgeting, inventing.

Well, - Pankrat said at last, trampling on a shag cigarette, - your time is up. Spread it! There will be no grace period.

I, grandfather Pankrat, - said Filka, - as soon as it dawns, I will gather the guys from all over the village. We will take crowbars, picks, axes, we will cut ice at the tray near the mill until we get to the water and it will flow onto the wheel. As the water goes, you let the mill! Turn the wheel twenty times, it will warm up and start grinding. There will be, therefore, flour, and water, and universal salvation.

Look, you are smart! - said the miller, - Under the ice, of course, there is water. And if the ice is as thick as your height, what will you do?

Yes, well it! Filka said. - Let's break through, guys, and such ice!

What if you freeze?

We will burn fires.

And if the guys do not agree to pay for your nonsense with their hump? If they say: "Yes, well, it's his own fault - let the ice itself break off."

Agree! I will beg them. Our guys are good.

Well, go ahead, gather the guys. And I'll talk with the old people. Maybe the old people will put on their mittens and take up the crowbars.

AT frosty days the sun rises crimson, in heavy smoke. And this morning such a sun rose over Berezhki. The frequent sound of crowbars was heard on the river. Fires crackled. The guys and old people worked from the very dawn, chipped off the ice at the mill. And no one in the heat of the moment noticed that in the afternoon the sky was overcast with low clouds, and an even and warm wind blew through the gray willows. And when they noticed that the weather had changed, the branches of the willows had already thawed, and the wet Birch Grove. The air smelled of spring, of manure.

The wind was blowing from the south. It got warmer every hour. Icicles fell from the roofs and smashed with a clang. The ravens crawled out from under the jams and again dried themselves on the pipes, pushed, croaked.

Only the old magpie was missing. She arrived in the evening, when the ice began to settle from the warmth, work at the mill went quickly and the first polynya with dark water appeared.

The boys pulled off their triplets and cheered. Pankrat said that if it were not for the warm wind, then, perhaps, the guys and old people would not have chipped the ice. And the magpie was sitting on a willow above the dam, chirping, shaking its tail, bowing in all directions and telling something, but no one but the crows understood it. And the magpie said that she flew to warm sea, where the summer wind was sleeping in the mountains, woke him up, cracked him about the severe frost and begged him to drive away this frost, to help people.

The wind did not seem to dare to refuse her, the magpie, and blew, rushed over the fields, whistling and laughing at the frost. And if you listen carefully, you can already hear how it boils and murmurs along the ravines under the snow warm water, washes the roots of lingonberries, breaks the ice on the river.

Everyone knows that the magpie is the most talkative bird in the world, and therefore the crows did not believe her - they only croaked among themselves: that, they say, the old one was lying again.

So, until now, no one knows whether the magpie spoke the truth, or whether she invented all this from boasting. Only one thing is known that by evening the ice cracked, dispersed, the guys and old people pressed - and water poured into the mill flume with a noise.

The old wheel creaked - icicles fell from it - and slowly turned. The millstones gnashed, then the wheel turned faster, and suddenly the whole old mill shook, started shaking and began to knock, creak, grind grain. Pankrat poured grain, and hot flour poured from under the millstone into sacks. The women dipped their chilled hands into it and laughed.

Ringing birch firewood was chopping in all the yards. The huts glowed from the hot stove fire. The women were kneading the tight sweet dough. And everything that was alive in the huts - guys, cats, even mice - all this was spinning around the housewives, and the housewives slapped the guys on the back with a hand white from flour, so that they would not climb into the very mess and interfere.

At night, there was such a smell of warm bread with a ruddy crust, with cabbage leaves burnt to the bottom, that even the foxes crawled out of their holes, sat in the snow, trembled and whined softly, thinking how to manage to steal from people at least a piece of this wonderful bread. The next morning, Filka came with the guys to the mill. The wind drove loose clouds across the blue sky and did not allow them to take a breath for a minute, and therefore cold shadows, then hot sunspots, alternately rushed across the earth.

Filka was dragging a loaf of fresh bread, but a little boy Nikolka was holding a wooden salt shaker filled with coarse yellow salt. Pankrat came out on the threshold and asked:

What is the phenomenon? Would you bring me some bread and salt? For what such merits?

Well no! - shouted the guys. - You will be special. And this is a wounded horse. From Filka. We want to reconcile them.

Well, - said Pankrat, - not only a person needs an apology. Now I will introduce you to the horse in kind.

Pankrat opened the gates of the shed and released his horse. The horse came out, stretched out his head, neighed - he smelled the smell of fresh bread. Filka broke the loaf, salted the bread from the salt shaker and handed it to the horse. But the horse did not take the bread, began to finely sort it out with his feet, and backed into the barn. Filka was scared. Then Filka wept loudly in front of the whole village. The guys whispered and fell silent, and Pankrat patted the horse on the neck and said:

Don't be scared, Boy! Filka is not evil person. Why offend him? Take bread, put up!

The horse shook his head, thought, then carefully stretched out his neck and finally took the bread from Filka's hands with soft lips. He ate one piece, sniffed Filka and took the second piece. Filka grinned through his tears, and the horse chewed bread and snorted. And when he ate all the bread, he put his head on Filka's shoulder, sighed and closed his eyes from satiety and pleasure.

Everyone smiled and rejoiced. Only the old magpie sat on the willow and cracked angrily: she must have boasted again that she alone managed to reconcile the horse with Filka. But no one listened to her and did not understand, and the magpie became more and more angry from this and cracked like a machine gun.

V. Dahl. "Old man-year-old"

An old man came out. He began to wave his sleeve and let the birds go. Each bird has its own special name. The old one-year-old waved for the first time - and the first three birds flew. It blew cold, frost.

The old one-year-old waved a second time - and the second three flew. The snow began to melt, flowers appeared on the fields.

The old one-year-old waved a third time - the third trio flew. It became hot, stuffy, sultry. The men began to harvest rye.

The old one-year-old waved for the fourth time - and three more birds flew. blew cold wind, frequent rain fell, fogs lay.

And the birds were not ordinary. Each bird has four wings. Each wing has seven feathers. Each pen also has its own name. One half of the wing is white, the other is black. A bird will wave once - it will become light-light, it will wave another - it will become dark-dark.

What are the four wings of each bird?

What are the seven feathers in each wing?

What does it mean that each feather has one half white and the other black?

P. Ershov. "The Little Humpbacked Horse"

...purchased with wing...- whirlwind, blizzard; from carousing - circling, twisting, whirling (about wind, weather), and taking out - blowing.

to whine- blow.

Butt- the part of the ax opposite to the blade, forming an eye for the ax handle.

Slaughterhouses- snow nailed by the wind to a building or into a ravine, as well as the actual snowdrift.

Earthly mysteries

daughter-in-law- the same as the daughter-in-law, the son's wife.

Bolshakha- here: main, senior.

...At Androniev's...- This refers to the Moscow monastery, founded in the second half of the XIV century by a disciple of St. Sergius of Radonezh. Andronicus; named after its founder. Remizov himself, a Muscovite by birth, as a child went to the Androniev Monastery on a pilgrimage. Memories of this are reflected in many works of the writer and have become an indispensable attribute autobiographical hero(see, for example, the story "Praying Man" from "Salting", the novel "The Pond", the memoir book "Cropped Eyes"),

Falcons- i.e. Sokolniki.

Handwritten sources: "Goal-stone" (fragment) - autograph - RNB. F.634. Unit ridge 6. L. 1; CRC AK. Cor. 12. Folder 11.

Source text: Sadovnikov. No. 73 About the witch.

... for a month I hid more than once, but spoiled people- The usual accusations against witches.

handwritten sources. "Pchelyak" - autograph with author's correction<1912>- RNB. F. 634. Unit. xp 6. L. 1–2; and also: No. 2 as part of the layout of the unrealized edition of the collection "Bread Voice and Other Tales" (IRLI F 172 item 573).

Source texts: Sadovnikov. No. 74 in. About bees, No. 116 a. About pharmaceuticals.

bee- i.e. bee breeder, beekeeper. In “Tales of Sorcery” (chapter “Bee Business”), I. P. Sakharov notes: “Bee business in the villages is revered as the most mysterious, important and, moreover, not accessible to everyone. Wealthy, economic people, having up to a hundred or more beehives, always, according to popular rumor, are in friendly relations with evil spirit. The opinions of the villagers about the bee business are so diverse that some choose St. saints, others doom the water grandfather. beekeepers, adherents of this last opinion, are called in the villages sorcerers, grandfathers, healers.<…>The sorcerers think that bees were originally formed in swamps, under the hand of a water grandfather.<…>Healers believe that all bees originally emerged from a horse that was beaten by a water grandfather and thrown into a swamp ”(quoted from: Legends of the Russian people, collected by I.P. Sakharov. M, 1990. P. 98, 99). In the source text No. 74, the bee is directly called a sorcerer; here it is especially emphasized: “And it is a well-known case that if someone has such an abyss of bees, it is not without reason” (p. 245). The episode with the frog swelling to the size of a bull was borrowed by Remizov from the second source text (No. 116 a). In the first one, there is just a huge frog, and the bee itself is less bloodthirsty here * he offers the horse breeder just to eat the honey that the frog regurgitated. AT folklore tradition horse and bee are firmly connected with each other and correspond to the middle of the world tree.

barn- a place where they put bread in sheaves and where it is threshed, covered current.

Source text: Sadovnikov. No. 72 e. About the dead.

Bogey- combustible sulfur; burning tar, heat and stench.

... as the rooster crowed, so they fell through the ground ...- It reflects the general mythological idea of ​​a rooster as a symbol of light, the sun, with the rise of which, under the influence of its cleansing power, all evil spirits and undead are forced to leave the earth

Urwin(rvina) - in general, what is dug with a spade, a pit, a ready grave

Source text: Sadovnikov. No. 70. About squash kikimora.

kikimora - mythological creature living in the house and harming people; during the day he sits invisible behind the stove, but he plays pranks at night; comes from unbaptized children and babies killed by their mothers.

... to the south ...- in a lively, open place, a marketplace or a noisy bazaar.

... shrinkage of wine and crumbling- i.e. loss (from drying out) and dilution (from crumbling).

Buy-out office- in charge of farming, including the rental of taverns with wine and vodka, since the sale of the latter was in pre-revolutionary Russia in a state monopoly.

Polushtof- a square glass bottle with a short neck containing a certain measure of liquid, the volume of which was different in one or another era.

pierce- i.e., to confirm the correctness of one’s words (from takat) \ perhaps, it is also used here in the meaning of “to flatter”.

remote- the head of the district (sometimes a certain space in general) or the caretaker of a section of the road, river (from a distance)

... in the forehead on the damper- This is the name of a large arched opening in the Russian stove, leading to its mouth, which, after the stove is heated, is closed with a damper

Attorney- here: inspector, tax inspector