Учебно - методическое пособие по английскому языку "Classics of Russian. Literature Классики русской литературы"

О.В. Печеник

Classics of Russian Literature Классики русской литературы

2018 год

О.В. Печеник

Classics of Russian Literature 

Классики русской литературы

Учебно - методическое пособие  по английскому языку

ШИК

с. Среднебелая

2018

Автор – составитель: Печеник О.В.

«Classics of Russian Literature. Классики русской литературы»/ Автор – составитель: О.В. Печеник

       Учебно - методическое пособие по английскому языку «Classics of Russian Literature. Классики русской литературы» содержит информацию которая будет близка обучающимся, изучающим английский язык и испытывающим привязанность к русской поэзии.

      Здесь собраны потрясающие по красоте и наполнености произведения русских классиков. Это позволяет не терять нити удовольствия от приобщения к искусству наших великих соотечественников, которое максимально бережно отражено при помощи иностранного языка.

ШИК, 2018

Mikhail Urevich Lermontov

Михаил Юрьевич Лермонтов

(1814-1841)

     

     «Выхожу один я на дорогу…»

I'm alone on the path just taken;

Glittering, it stretches through the fog;

Quiet night. All harkens to the Maker,

And two stars begin a dialogue.

It is grand and solemn in the heavens!

In the azure radiance Earth rests...

Why then does my heart seem so heavy?

Do I hope? Or do I have regrets?

No, for I hope no longer,

And do not regret the past at all;

I seek freedom and repose, while longing

To obtain them in a sleep withal!

But it's not a deathlike sleep I crave for...

I would rather fall asleep, yet live,

For my dormant chest might keep its vigor,

For my dormant chest might mutely heave;

For I would with joy forever listen

To a gentle voice that sings of love,

For an oak tree, always green and blissful,

Would caress me rustling from above.

    «Из Гёте»

The mountain summits

Gloomy, now rest;

The vales, grown silent,

Bathe in the night's mist;

The road is tranquill,

The foliage is calm…

You but wait a little

For your rest to come.

Sergey Alexandrovich Esenin

Сергей Александрович Есенин

(1895-1925)

  «Не криви улыбку, руки теребя»

Don"t you force a smile, girl, tensely, like you do,

The one I"m in love with isn"t really you.

I suppose you know it, and you know it well,

 I"m not here to see you but another girl.

I was passing by, and, well, I didn"t care, -

 I saw you and wanted just to stop and stare.

Marina Tsvetaeva

Марина Цветаева

(1895-1925)

  «Здравствуй! Не стрела, не камень»

Hello! Not arrow, not stone:

I am the most live of wives:

With two arms into your sleepless

Sleep. I am life.

Give! (On the two-sharp tongue

Take! - two-sharpness of snake!)

All of me in bare-headed Joy,

please do take!

Cling! - today on the schooner,

Cling! - on the skies! - Cling! - linen!

I am today in new

Gilded and the seventh skin!

Mine! - and of which rewards

When in the hands, at mouth - heaven:

Life is the flung-open joy

To say hello in the morn!

     «Мне нравится, что вы больны не мной…»

I like it that you're burning not for me,

I like it that it's not for you I'm burning

And that the heavy sphere of Planet Earth

Will underneath our feet no more be turning

I like it that I can be unabashed

And humorous and not to play with words

And not to redden with a smothering wave

When with my sleeves I'm lightly touching yours.

I like it, that before my very eyes

You calmly hug another; it is well

That for me also kissing someone else

You will not threaten me with flames of hell.

That this my tender name, not day nor night,

You will recall again, my tender love;

That never in the silence of the church

They will sing "halleluiah" us above.

With this my heart and this my hand I thank

You that - although you don't know it -

You love me thus; and for my peaceful nights

And for rare meetings in the hour of sunset,

That we aren't walking underneath the moon,

That sun is not above our heads this morning,

That you - alas - are burning not for me

And that - alas - it's not for you I'm burning.

     «Кто создан из камня, кто создан из глины…»

Who's made of stone, who's made of mud,

And I'm made from silver and shine.

My act is betrayal, my name is Marina,

The fragile sea foam am I.

Who is made from mud, who is made from flesh -

There's coffin and coffin plates..

Baptized in a sea font and unceasingly

Broken in my flight!

Through every heart, through every net

Will poke its head my will.

You will not make me the salt of the earth

Can you see these my loose curls?

I resurrect with each wave, pounding

Against your granite knees!

May be well the foam - the high foam -

The high foam of the seas!

  «Моим стихам, написанным так рано…»

These my poems, written so early

 That I did not know then I was a poet,

 Which having tore, like droplets from a fountain,

 Like sparks from a rocket,

Into a sanctuary, where there is sleep and incense

 Like little devils having burst,

 These my poems about youth and about death,

 This unread verse!

Scattered through shops in piles of dust

 Where nobody picked them up or does,

These my poems, like precious wine,

 Will have their time.

Sergey Alexandrovich Pushkin

Александр Сергеевич Пушкин

(1799-1837)

«Зимнее утро»

Cold frostt and sunshine: day of wonder!

 But you, my friend, are still in slumber-

 Wake up, my beauty, time belies:

 You dormant eyes, I beg you, broaden

 Toward the northerly Aurora,

 As though a northern star arise!

 Recall last night, the snow was whirling,

 Across the sky, the haze was twirling,

 The moon, as though a pale dye,

 Emerged with yellow through faint clouds.

 And there you sat, immersed in doubts,

 And now, - just take a look outside:

 The snow below the bluish skies,

 Like a majestic carpet lies,

 And in the light of day it shimmers.

 The woods are dusky. Through the frost

 The greenish fir-trees are exposed;

 And under ice, a river glitters.

 The room is lit with amber light.

 And bursting, popping in delight

 Hot stove still rattles in a fray.

 While it is nice to hear its clatter,

 Perhaps, we should command to saddle

 A fervent mare into the sleight?

 And sliding on the morning snow

 Dear friend, we'll let our worries go,

 And with the zealous mare we'll flee.

 We'll visit empty ranges, thence,

The woods, which used to be so dense

And then the shore, so dear to me.

«Узник»

A captive, alone in a dungeon I dwell,

Entombed in the stillness and murk of a cell.

Outside, in the courtyard, in wild, frenzied play,

My comrade, an eagle, has punced on his prey.

Then, leaving it, at me he looks as if he

In thought and in purpose at one were with me.

He looks at me so, and he utters a cry.

"'Tis time," he is saying, "from here let us fly!

"We're both wed to freedom, so let us away

To where lonely storm clouds courageously stray,

Where turbulent seas rsh to merge with the sky,

Where only the winds dare to venture and I!..

«Что в имени тебе моем?»

What means my name to you?.. 'Twil die

 As does the melancholy rumour

 Of distant waves, or, of a summer,

 The forest's hushed nocturnal sigh.

Found on a fading album page,

 Dim will it seem and enigmatic,

 Like words traced on a tomb, a relic

 Of some long dead and vanished age.

What's in my name?.. Long since forgot,

 Erased by new, tempestuous passion,

 Of tenderness 'twill leave you not

 The lingering and sweet impression.

But in an hour of agony,

 Pray, speak it, and recall my image,

 And say, "He still remembers me,

 His heart alone still pays me homage."

«Я вас любил»

I loved you, and that love, to die refusing,

 May still - who knows! - be smouldering in my breast

 Pray be not pained - believe me, of my choosing

 I'd never have you troubled or distressed.

 I loved you mutely, hopelessly and truly,

 With shy yet fervent tenderness aglow;

 Mine was a jealous passion and unruly...

 May God grant that another'll love you so!

«Я помню чудное мгновенье…»

The wondrous moment of our meeting...

 I well remember you appear

 Before me like a vision fleeting,

 A beauty's angel pure and clear.

In hopeless ennui surrounding

 The worldly bustle, to my ear

 For long your tender voice kept sounding,

 For long in dreams came features dear.

Time passed. Unruly storms confounded

 Old dreams, and I from year to year

 Forgot how tender you had sounded,

 Your heavenly features once so dear.

My backwoods days dragged slow and quiet -

 Dull fence around, dark vault above -

 Devoid of God and uninspired,

 Devoid of tears, of fire, of love.

Sleep from my soul began retreating,

 And here you once again appear

 Before me like a vision fleeting,

 A beauty's angel pure and clear.

In ecstasy the heart is beating,

 Old joys for it anew revive;

 Inspired and God-filled, it is greeting

 The fire, and tears, and love alive.

СОДЕРЖАНИЕ

Введение	2
Mikhail Urevich Lermontov(Михаил Юрьевич Лермонтов)	3
Sergey Alexandrovich Esenin (Сергей Александрович Есенин)	4
Marina Tsvetaeva (Марина Цветаева)	5-6
Sergey Alexandrovich Pushkin (Александр Сергеевич Пушкин)	7-9
Библиография	11

БИБЛИОГРАФИЯ

1.    https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Цветаева,_Марина_Ивановна

2.    О жизни и творчестве С. А. Есенина

3.    Есенин «6 стихотворений в чтении автора» Библиотека Imwerden.

4.    Сайт, посвященный жизни и творчеству Марины Цветаевой, авторства Рольфа Гросса

5.    https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Пушкин,_Александр_Сергеевич

6.    Марина Ивановна Цветаева — значительная русская поэтесса начала XX-го века

7.    Литература о жизни и творчестве М. Ю. Лермонтова, 1825—1916 / сост. О. В. Миллер. — Л., 1990.

8.    Лермонтоведческий сборник. Вып. 1 / сост., авт. вступ. ст., примеч. Н. С. Беляев; науч. ред. Г. В. Бахарева; БАН. — СПб., 2014.

9.    Благой Д. Д. Стихотворения Пушкина // Собрание сочинений А. С. Пушкина в десяти томах. — М. : Государственное издательство художественной литературы, 1959. — Т. 1.

10. Эйдельман Н. Я. Пушкин. История и современность в художественном сознании поэта. — М. : Советский писатель, 1984.

11. https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Лермонтов,_Михаил_Юрьевич