In the peasant hut there is a terrible grief: the owner and breadwinner Prokl Sevastyanich died. The mother brings a coffin for her son, the father goes to the cemetery to hollow out a grave in the frozen ground. The peasant's widow, Daria, sews a shroud for her late husband.
Fate has three hard parts: to marry a slave, to be the mother of a slave's son, and to submit to a slave to the grave - all of them fell on the shoulders of a Russian peasant woman. But despite the suffering, “there are women in the Russian villages”, to whom the filth of a wretched environment does not seem to stick. These beauties bloom wonderfully to the world, patiently and evenly enduring both hunger and cold, remaining beautiful in all clothes and dexterous in all work. They do not like idleness on weekdays, but on holidays, when a smile of fun removes the labor press from their faces, money cannot buy such a heartfelt laugh like theirs. The Russian woman "will stop the galloping horse, she will enter the burning hut!" She feels both inner strength and strict efficiency. She is sure that all salvation consists in work, and therefore she is not sorry for the poor beggar who walks without work. She is rewarded for her work in full: her family does not know the need, the children are healthy and well fed, there is an extra piece for the holiday, the hut is always warm.
Such a woman was also Daria, the widow of Proclus. But now grief has dried her up, and no matter how hard she tries to hold back her tears, they involuntarily fall on her quick hands, which are sewing the shroud.
Having brought their chilled grandchildren, Masha and Grisha, to the neighbors, mother and father dress up their deceased son. In this sad deed, no unnecessary words are said, no tears come out - as if the harsh beauty of the deceased, lying with a burning candle in his head, does not allow crying. And only then, when the last rite is completed, the time comes for lamentation.
On a harsh winter morning, Savraska is taking the owner on his last journey. The horse served the owner a lot: both during peasant work and in winter, setting off with Proclus in a carriage. Being engaged in a cab, hurrying to deliver the goods on time, and Proclus caught a cold. No matter how the family treated the breadwinner: they poured water from nine spindles, took them to the bathhouse, passed them three times through a sweaty collar, lowered them into an ice-hole, laid them under a chicken perch, prayed for him to the miraculous icon - Proclus did not rise.
The neighbors, as usual, cry during the funeral, take pity on the family, generously praise the deceased, and then go home with God. Returning from the funeral, Daria wants to feel sorry for and caress the orphaned children, but she has no time for affection. She sees that there is not a log of wood left at home, and, again taking the children to a neighbor, goes to the forest in the same Savrask.
On the way across the plain glistening with snow, tears appear in Daria's eyes - probably from the sun ... And only when she enters the burial chamber of the forest, does a "dull, crushing howl" erupt from her chest. The forest indifferently listens to the widow's groans, hiding them forever in its unsociable wilderness. Without wiping away her tears, Daria begins to chop wood "and, full of thought about her husband, calls him, speaks to him ...".
She recalls her dream before Stasov's day. In a dream, an innumerable host surrounded her, which suddenly turned into ears of rye; Daria appealed to her husband for help, but he did not come out, left her alone to reap overripe rye. Daria understands that her dream was prophetic, and asks her husband for help in the overwhelming work that now awaits her. She represents winter nights without cute, endless canvases that she will weave for the marriage of her son. Thinking about his son comes fear that Grisha will be illegally recruited, because there will be no one to intercede for him.
Having put the wood on the logs, Daria is going home. But then, mechanically taking the ax and quietly, intermittently howling, he approaches the pine tree and freezes under it "without thinking, without moaning, without tears." And then Frost-voivode approaches her, bypassing his possessions. He waves an ice mace over Daria, beckons her to his kingdom, promises to nip and warm her ...
Daria is covered with sparkling frost, and she dreams of the recent hot summer. She sees that she is digging potatoes in the strips by the river. With her children, beloved husband, under her heart is beating a child who should be born by spring. Shielding herself from the sun, Daria watches as the cart in which Proclus, Masha, Grisha are sitting goes further and further ...
In a dream, she hears the sounds of a wonderful song, and the last traces of torment leave her face. The song quenches her heart, "there is a limit to happiness in it." Oblivion in deep and sweet peace comes to the widow with death, her soul dies for sorrow and passion.
The squirrel drops a lump of snow on her, and Daria freezes "in her enchanted dream ...".
A summary of Nekrasov's poem "Frost, Red Nose"
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In the peasant hut there is a terrible grief: the owner and breadwinner Prokl Sevastyanich died. The mother brings a coffin for her son, the father goes to the cemetery to carve a grave in the frozen ground. The peasant's widow, Daria, sews a shroud for her late husband.
Fate has three hard parts: to marry a slave, to be the mother of a slave's son, and to submit to a slave to the grave - all of them fell on the shoulders of a Russian peasant woman. But despite the suffering, “there are women in Russian villages”, to whom the filth of a wretched environment seems to not stick. These beauties bloom wonderfully to the world, patiently and evenly enduring both hunger and cold, remaining beautiful in all clothes and dexterous in all work. They do not like idleness on weekdays, but on holidays, when a smile of fun removes the labor press from their faces, money cannot buy such a heartfelt laugh like theirs. The Russian woman "will stop the galloping horse, she will enter the burning hut!" She feels both inner strength and strict efficiency. She is sure that all salvation consists in work, and therefore she is not sorry for the poor beggar walking without work. She is rewarded for her work in full: her family does not know the need, the children are healthy and well fed, there is an extra piece for the holiday, the hut is always warm.
Such a woman was also Daria, the widow of Proclus. But now grief has dried up her, and no matter how hard she tries to hold back her tears, they involuntarily fall on her quick hands, which are sewing the shroud.
Having brought their chilled grandchildren, Masha and Grisha, to the neighbors, mother and father dress up their deceased son. In this sad deed, no unnecessary words are said, no tears come out - as if the harsh beauty of the deceased, lying with a burning candle in his head, does not allow crying. And only then, when the last rite is completed, the time comes for lamentation.
On a harsh winter morning, Savraska is taking the owner on his last journey. The horse served the owner a lot: both during peasant work, and in winter, going with Proclus in a carriage. Being engaged in a cab, hurrying to deliver the goods on time, and Proclus caught a cold. No matter how the family treated the breadwinner: they poured water from nine spindles, took them to the bathhouse, passed them three times through a sweaty collar, lowered them into an ice-hole, laid them under a chicken perch, prayed for him to a miraculous icon - Proclus did not rise.
The neighbors, as usual, cry during the funeral, take pity on the family, generously praise the deceased, and then go home with God. Returning from the funeral, Daria wants to feel sorry for and caress the orphaned children, but she has no time for affection. She sees that there is not a log of wood left at home, and, again taking the children to a neighbor, goes to the forest in the same Savrask.
On the way through the plain glistening with snow, tears appear in Daria's eyes - it must be from the sun ... And only when she enters the burial chamber of the forest, a "dull, crushing howl" escapes from her chest. The forest indifferently listens to the widow's groans, hiding them forever in its unsociable wilderness. Without wiping away her tears, Daria begins to chop wood "and, full of thought about her husband, calls him, talks to him ...".
She recalls her dream before Stasov's day. In a dream, her innumerable host surrounded her, which suddenly turned into ears of rye; Daria appealed to her husband for help, but he did not come out, left her alone to reap overripe rye. Daria realizes that her dream was prophetic, and asks her husband for help in the overwhelming work that now awaits her. She represents winter nights without cute, endless canvases that she will weave for the marriage of her son. Thinking about his son comes fear that Grisha will be illegally recruited, because there will be no one to intercede for him.
Having put the wood on the logs, Daria is going home. But then, mechanically taking the ax and quietly, intermittently howling, he approaches the pine tree and freezes under it "without thinking, without moaning, without tears." And then Frost-voivode approaches her, bypassing his possessions. He waves an ice mace over Daria, beckons her to his kingdom, promises to nip and warm her ...
Daria is covered with sparkling frost, and she dreams of the recent hot summer. She sees that she is digging potatoes in the strips by the river. With her children, beloved husband, under her heart is beating a child who should be born by spring. Shielding herself from the sun, Daria watches as the cart in which Proclus, Masha, Grisha are sitting goes further and further ...
In a dream, she hears the sounds of a wonderful song, and the last traces of torment leave her face. The song quenches her heart, "there is a limit to happiness in it." Oblivion in deep and sweet peace comes to the widow with death, her soul dies for sorrow and passion.
The squirrel drops a lump of snow on her, and Daria freezes "in her enchanted dream ...".
Retold
In the peasant hut there is a terrible grief: the owner and breadwinner Prokl Sevastyanich died. The mother brings a coffin for her son, the father goes to the cemetery to carve a grave in the frozen ground. The peasant's widow, Daria, sews a shroud for her late husband.
Fate has three hard parts: to marry a slave, to be the mother of a slave's son and to submit to a slave to the grave - all of them fell on the shoulders of a Russian peasant woman. But despite the suffering, “there are women in the Russian villages”, to whom the filth of a wretched environment does not seem to stick. These beauties bloom wonderfully to the world, patiently and evenly enduring hunger and cold, remaining beautiful in all clothes and dexterous in all work. They do not like idleness on weekdays, but on holidays, when a smile of fun removes the labor press from their faces, money cannot buy such a heartfelt laugh like theirs. The Russian woman "will stop the galloping horse, she will enter the burning hut!" She feels both inner strength and strict efficiency. She is sure that all salvation consists in work, and therefore she is not sorry for the poor beggar who walks without work. She is rewarded for her work in full: her family does not know the need, the children are healthy and well-fed, there is an extra piece for the holiday, the hut is always warm.
Such a woman was also Daria, the widow of Proclus. But now grief has dried up her, and no matter how hard she tries to hold back her tears, they involuntarily fall on her quick hands, which are sewing the shroud.
Having brought their chilled grandchildren, Masha and Grisha, to the neighbors, mother and father dress up their deceased son. With this sad deed, no unnecessary words are said, no tears come out - as if the harsh beauty of the deceased, lying with a burning candle in his head, does not allow crying. And only then, when the last rite is completed, the time comes for lamentation.
On a harsh winter morning, Savraska is taking the owner on his last journey. The horse served the owner a lot: both during peasant work and in winter, setting off with Proclus in a carriage. Being engaged in a cab, hurrying to deliver the goods on time, and Proclus caught a cold. No matter how the family treated the breadwinner: they poured water from nine spindles, took them to the bathhouse, passed them three times through a sweaty collar, lowered them into an ice-hole, laid them under a chicken perch, prayed for him to the miraculous icon - Proclus did not rise.
The neighbors, as usual, cry during the funeral, take pity on the family, generously praise the deceased, and then go home with God. Returning from the funeral, Daria wants to feel sorry for and caress the orphaned children, but she has no time for affection. She sees that there is not a log of wood left at home, and, again taking the children to a neighbor, goes to the forest in the same Savrask.
On the way through the plain glistening with snow, tears appear in Daria's eyes - it must be from the sun ... And only when she enters the burial chamber of the forest, a "dull, crushing howl" escapes from her chest. The forest indifferently listens to the widow's groans, hiding them forever in its unsociable wilderness. Without wiping away her tears, Daria begins to chop wood "and, full of thought about her husband, calls him, talks to him ...".
She recalls her dream before Stasov's day. In a dream, her innumerable host surrounded her, which suddenly turned into ears of rye; Daria appealed to her husband for help, but he did not come out, left her alone to reap overripe rye. Daria realizes that her dream was prophetic, and asks her husband for help in the overwhelming work that now awaits her. She represents winter nights without cute, endless canvases that she will weave for the marriage of her son. Thinking about his son comes fear that Grisha will be illegally recruited, because there will be no one to intercede for him.
Having put the wood on the logs, Daria is going home. But then, mechanically taking the ax and quietly, intermittently howling, he approaches the pine tree and freezes under it "without thinking, without moaning, without tears." And then Frost-voivode approaches her, bypassing his possessions. He waves an ice mace over Daria, beckons her to his kingdom, promises to nip and warm her ...
Daria is covered with sparkling frost, and she dreams about the recent hot summer. She sees that she is digging potatoes in the strips by the river. With her children, beloved husband, under her heart is beating a child who should be born by spring. Shielding herself from the sun, Daria watches as the cart in which Proclus, Masha, Grisha are sitting goes further and further ...
In a dream, she hears the sounds of a wonderful song, and the last traces of torment disappear from her face. The song quenches her heart, "there is a limit to happiness in it." Oblivion in deep and sweet peace comes to the widow with death, her soul dies for sorrow and passion.
The squirrel drops a lump of snow on her, and Daria freezes "in her enchanted dream ...".
N.A.Nekrasov was always worried about the fate of the Russian peasantry, and especially the position of women. He devoted many works to this topic, including the poem "Frost, Red Nose", published in 1863 - already in the post-reform period. The summary of the work, of course, does not make it possible to fully appreciate its merits, but it allows us to outline the range of those problems that concern the author.
Introduction
N. Nekrasov dedicated the poem to his sister, Anna Alekseevna. Already in the extensive introduction, her general theme and attitude are indicated. This is the recognition of the author in the difficult lot of the poet, who knows much more about life than other people. That is why the new song "will be much sadder than the previous one," and in the future everything will seem "even more hopeless."
Memories of home and mother's death end with a direct appeal to her sister: "... you understood a long time ago - here only stones do not cry ...".
Part 1. Death of a peasant
The poem evokes gloomy thoughts in the reader. Here is a summary.
"Frost, Red Nose" Nekrasov begins with a description of the tragedy in the life of a peasant family. Her head and breadwinner died, leaving her parents, wife and two young children orphans. The father went to dig his son's grave ("I wouldn't dig this hole!"). Mother went for the coffin. The wife "weeps softly" over the shroud - she sews the last outfit for her husband. And only "stupid children" make noise, not yet understanding what happened.
About the hard lot of the Slav
The story of the difficult life of a peasant woman occupies an important place in the first part of the poem "Frost, Red Nose". Its summary is as follows.
Initially, the Russian woman was destined for three bitter shares: both by the mother of a slave, and also to submit to fate to the grave. And no matter how many centuries pass, this situation does not change. But no harsh life is capable of breaking the "beautiful and powerful Slav" - this is exactly what Daria sees from the poem "Frost, Red Nose".
Beautiful and dexterous in everything, patient and dignified, with a gait and "the look of tsaritsa", a Russian woman always arouses admiration. She is good both at the moment when she squints, and when her face "burns with anger." He does not like idleness even on weekends, but if a “smile of fun” appears on his face, replacing the “labor seal” on him, then neither in the song nor in the dance there is no equal to her.
She feels responsible for the whole family, because it is always warm in her hut, the kids are fed, and she has an extra piece in store for the holiday. And when such a “woman” goes to mass with a child in her arms, “all those who love the Russian people” become “to their liking” the picture that has arisen - this is how N.A. Nekrasov. Thus, Frost, Red Nose is primarily a poem about the fate of a Russian peasant woman.
Proud Daria braces herself, but tears involuntarily roll down, falling on the "fast hands" and the shroud.
Farewell to Proclus
All preparations have been completed: the grave has been dug, the coffin has been brought, the shroud is ready. "Slowly, importantly, severely" they began to dress Proclus. His whole life was spent in work. Now, motionless and stern, he lies with a candle in his head. The author notes the big, hard-working hands and face - "beautiful, alien to torment."
And only when the deceased was ritualized, "the relatives of Prokla howled." In their cry is the pain of the loss of a loved one, and praise to the breadwinner, and the mourning of the bitter orphan share of children, the widow of his wife, old parents ...
And in the morning the faithful horse Savraska took the owner on his last journey. For many years he served Proclus: in the summer - in the field, in the winter - in a carriage. Hurrying to deliver the goods on time on his last campaign, the peasant caught a cold. I returned home - "there is a fire in the body." He was treated with all known folk methods. Finally, the wife went to a distant monastery for the miraculous icon. But I was late. When she returned, Proclus, seeing her, groaned and died ...
We returned from the cemetery, and Daria, wanting to warm the children, saw that not a log was left. Bitter is the widow's share! Leaving her son and daughter with a neighbor, she went to the forest.
Part 2. Daria
Finding herself alone in the open, among the forest and glittering diamonds, Daria can no longer restrain her feelings. The forest, the sun, the birds became the witnesses of the “great grief of the widow” ... Having burst into tears to her heart's content, she begins to chop wood. And tears all roll from the eyes, like pearls, and all thoughts are about her husband. And also about what now awaits the young widow and her children. Now you need to keep up everywhere: both in the field and around the house. Masha and Grisha will grow up, but there will be no one to protect them.
I remember Daria and a recently had a dream. She fell asleep in the field, and it seemed that the ears, like a warrior's army, surrounded her from all sides. She began to call for help. Everyone came running, except for a dear friend. She set to work, and the grains are still pouring in - you can't do it alone. The dream turned out to be prophetic: "Now I will reap alone." Long and lonely winter nights await her. Natket, she canvases for the wedding of her son, but now recruits are waiting for Grisha - the headman is dishonest, and there is no one to intercede. So, for bitter thoughts, she chopped wood that you would not take away.
But the heroine of the work "Frost, Red Nose" is in no hurry to go home.
A summary of the meeting with the majestic governor of forests and fields
On reflection, Daria leaned against a tall pine tree, standing "without thinking, without moaning, without tears." The exhausted soul suddenly found peace, terrible and involuntary. And the frost is getting stronger. And then she appears bending over the head of the unfortunate woman, inviting her to his kingdom. And suddenly Frost turned to Proklushka, whispered sweet speeches.
Daria grows colder, and a picture appears before her eyes. Hot Summer. She is digging potatoes, next to her mother-in-law and Masha. Suddenly her husband appears - next to Savraska he walks, Grisha jumps out of the pea field. And under her heart is a child who should be born in the spring. Then Proclus got up on the cart, put Mashutka and Grisha down, and "drove off." And on the face of Daria looking after them appears "a smile of contentment and happiness." Through her sleep, she hears a lovely song, and the soul sinks more and more into the long-awaited peace. A squirrel jumping on a pine tree drops snow on the heroine, and Daria stands and freezes "in her enchanted dream." This is how the poem "Frost, Red Nose" ends.
In the peasant hut there is a terrible grief: the owner and breadwinner Prokl Sevastyanich died. The mother brings a coffin for her son, the father goes to the cemetery to hollow out a grave in the frozen ground. The peasant's widow, Daria, sews a shroud for her late husband.
Fate has three hard parts: to marry a slave, to be the mother of a slave's son, and to submit to the slave to the grave; they all fell on the shoulders of the Russian peasant woman. But despite the suffering, “there are women in Russian villages,” to whom the filth of a wretched environment does not seem to stick. These beauties bloom wonderfully to the world, patiently and evenly enduring hunger and cold, remaining beautiful in all clothes and dexterous in all work. They do not like idleness on weekdays, but on holidays, when a smile of fun removes the labor press from their faces, money cannot buy such a heartfelt laugh like theirs. The Russian woman "will stop the galloping horse, she will enter the burning hut!" She feels both inner strength and strict efficiency. She is sure that all salvation consists in work, and therefore she is not sorry for the poor beggar walking without work. She is rewarded for her work in full: her family does not know the need, the children are healthy and well fed, there is an extra piece for the holiday, the hut is always warm.
Such a woman was also Daria, the widow of Proclus. But now grief has dried up her, and no matter how hard she tries to hold back her tears, they involuntarily fall on her quick hands, which are sewing the shroud.
Having brought their chilly grandchildren, Masha and Grisha, to the neighbors, mother and father dress up their deceased son. In this sad deed, no unnecessary words are said, no tears come out - as if the harsh beauty of the deceased, lying with a burning candle in his head, does not allow crying. And only then, when the last rite is completed, the time comes for lamentation.
On a harsh winter morning, Savraska is taking the owner on his last journey. The horse served the owner a lot: both during peasant work and in winter, setting off with Proclus in a carriage. Being engaged in a cab, hurrying to deliver the goods on time, and Proclus caught a cold. No matter how the family treated the breadwinner: they poured water from nine spindles, took them to the bathhouse, passed them three times through a sweaty collar, lowered them into an ice-hole, laid them under a chicken perch, prayed for him to a miraculous icon - Proclus did not rise.
The neighbors, as usual, cry during the funeral, take pity on the family, generously praise the deceased, and then go home with God. Returning from the funeral, Daria wants to feel sorry for and caress the orphaned children, but she has no time for affection. She sees that there is not a log of wood left at home, and, again taking the children to a neighbor, goes to the forest in the same Savrask.
On the way through the plain glistening with snow, tears appear in Daria's eyes - it must have been from the sun ... And only when she enters the burial chamber of the forest, a "dull, crushing howl" escapes from her chest. The forest indifferently listens to the widow's groans, hiding them forever in its unsociable wilderness. Without wiping away her tears, Daria begins to chop wood "and, full of thought about her husband, calls him, speaks to him ...".
She recalls her dream before Stasov's day. In a dream, her innumerable host surrounded her, which suddenly turned into ears of rye; Daria appealed to her husband for help, but he did not come out, left her alone to reap overripe rye. Daria realizes that her dream was prophetic, and asks her husband for help in the overwhelming work that now awaits her. She represents winter nights without cute, endless canvases that she will weave for the marriage of her son. Thinking about his son comes fear that Grisha will be illegally recruited, because there will be no one to intercede for him.
Having put the wood on the logs, Daria is going home. But then, mechanically taking the ax and quietly, intermittently howling, he approaches the pine tree and freezes under it "without thinking, without moaning, without tears." And then Frost the governor approaches her, bypassing his possessions. He waves an ice mace over Daria, beckons her to his kingdom, promises to nip and warm her ...
Daria is covered with sparkling frost, and she dreams about the recent hot summer. She sees that she is digging potatoes in the strips by the river. With her children, beloved husband, under her heart is beating a child who should be born by spring. Shielding herself from the sun, Daria watches as the cart in which Proclus, Masha, Grisha are sitting goes further and further ...
In a dream, she hears the sounds of a wonderful song, and the last traces of torment disappear from her face. The song quenches her heart, "there is a limit to happiness in it." Oblivion in deep and sweet peace comes to the widow with death, her soul dies for sorrow and passion.
The squirrel drops a lump of snow on her, and Daria freezes "in her enchanted dream ...".
© T. A. Sotnikova
