home · On a note · The poem “Demons” by Pushkin - read in full online or download the text. Poem “Demons” (“Clouds are rushing, clouds are curling…”)

The poem “Demons” by Pushkin - read in full online or download the text. Poem “Demons” (“Clouds are rushing, clouds are curling…”)

Help me write down 1. Metaphors; 2. Epithets; 3. Personification. From a poem by A.S. Pushkin's "Demons" Clouds are rushing, clouds are curling; The invisible moon illuminates the flying snow; The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy. I'm driving, driving in an open field; Bell ding-ding-ding... Scary, scary involuntarily Among the unknown plains! “Hey, off you go, coachman!..” - “No urine: It’s hard for the horses, master; The blizzard blinds my eyes; All roads were skidded; For the life of me, there is no trace; We've lost our way. What should we do? The demon leads us into the field, apparently, and circles us around. Look: there he is playing, blowing and spitting on me; There - now he pushes the Wild Horse into the ravine; There He stood in front of me for an unprecedented mile; There he sparkled with a small spark and disappeared into the empty darkness.” The clouds are rushing, the clouds are swirling; The invisible moon illuminates the flying snow; The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy. We don’t have the strength to spin around anymore; The bell suddenly fell silent; The horses began... “What’s there in the field?” - “Who knows them? stump or wolf? The blizzard is angry, the blizzard is crying; Sensitive horses snore; Now he's galloping far away; Only the eyes glow in the darkness; The horses rushed again; The bell ding-ding-ding... I see: the spirits have gathered Among the white plains. Endless, ugly, In the muddy game of the month Various demons swirled, Like leaves in November... How many of them! where are they being driven? Why are they singing so pitifully? Do they bury the brownie, or marry off the witch? The clouds are rushing, the clouds are swirling; The invisible moon illuminates the flying snow; The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy. Demons rush swarm after swarm In the boundless heights, With pitiful squeals and howls, Breaking my heart...

The poem “Demons” was written by Pushkin on September 7, 1830. In the very first draft version, the poem was marked with the heading “Prank.” However, this name never caught on. The editors preferred a different name for it. The poem was first published in 1832 as “Demons.”

Belinsky recommended this poem for children's reading, noting: “Let their ears become accustomed to the harmony of the Russian word, let their hearts be filled with a sense of grace; let poetry act on them, just like music - straight through the heart, past the head, for which its time, its turn, will come.”

It is noteworthy that Dostoevsky named his novel “Demons”, based on Pushkin’s poem. This fact is emphasized by the epigraph that the writer introduced to his novel.

Some critics, like Dostoevsky, saw allegory and allegory in this poem, others saw mystical romanticism. But few of them knew that Boldino’s “Demons” were actually started in October - early November 1829. The first drafts of the poem contained nothing but a description of nature. Soviet literary critic and Pushkin scholar B.S. Meilakh conducted a textual analysis of Pushkin’s drafts and came to the conclusion that “both in concept and execution, it is a concrete image of a blizzard and the experiences of the traveler and the coachman associated with it.”

We bring to your attention the text of Pushkin’s poem “Demons”:

The clouds are rushing, the clouds are swirling;
Invisible moon
The flying snow illuminates;
The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy.
I'm driving, driving in an open field;
Bell ding-ding-ding.
Scary, scary involuntarily
Among the unknown plains!

“Hey, let’s go, coachman!” - “No urine:
It’s hard for the horses, master,
The blizzard blinds my eyes,
All roads were skidded;
For the life of me, there is no trace;
We've lost our way. What should we do?
The demon leads us into the field, apparently
Yes, it circles around.

Look: there he is playing,
Blows, spits on me,
There - now he’s pushing into the ravine
Wild horse;
There's an unprecedented mileage there
He stood in front of me
There he sparkled with a small spark
And disappeared into the darkness empty.”

The clouds are rushing, the clouds are swirling,
Invisible moon
The flying snow illuminates;
The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy
We don’t have the strength to spin around anymore;
The bell suddenly fell silent;
The horses began... “What’s there in the field?” -
“Who knows? stump or wolf?

The blizzard is angry, the blizzard is crying,
Sensitive horses snore,
Now he's galloping far away;
Only the eyes glow in the darkness;
The horses rushed again;
Bell ding-ding-ding...
I see: the spirits have gathered
Among the white plains.

Endless, ugly,
In the muddy game of the month
Various demons began to spin,
Like leaves in November...
How many are there? where are they being driven?
Why are they singing so pitifully?
Do they bury the brownie?
Do they marry off a witch?

"Demons"

The clouds are rushing, the clouds are swirling;
Invisible moon
The flying snow illuminates;
The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy.
I'm driving, driving in an open field;
Bell ding-ding-ding.
Scary, scary involuntarily
Among the unknown plains!

"Hey, let's go, coachman!" - "No urine:
It’s hard for the horses, master,
The blizzard blinds my eyes,
All roads were skidded;
For the life of me, there is no trace;
We've lost our way. What should we do?
The demon leads us into the field, apparently
Yes, it circles around.

Look: there he is playing,
Blows, spits on me,
There - now he’s pushing into the ravine
Wild horse;
There's an unprecedented mileage there
He stood in front of me
There he sparkled with a small spark
And disappeared into the darkness empty."

The clouds are rushing, the clouds are swirling,
Invisible moon
The flying snow illuminates;
The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy
We don’t have the strength to spin around anymore;
The bell suddenly fell silent;
The horses began... "What's there in the field?" -
"Who knows? A tree stump or a wolf?"

The blizzard is angry, the blizzard is crying,
Sensitive horses snore,
Now he's galloping far away;
Only the eyes glow in the darkness;
The horses rushed again;
Bell ding-ding-ding...
I see: the spirits have gathered
Among the white plains.

Endless, ugly,
In the muddy game of the month
Various demons began to spin,
Like leaves in November...
How many are there? where are they being driven?
Why are they singing so pitifully?
Do they bury the brownie?
Do they marry off a witch?

The clouds are rushing, the clouds are swirling;
Invisible moon
The flying snow illuminates;
The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy.
Demons rush swarm after swarm
In the infinite heights,
With plaintive squeals and howls
Breaking my heart...

Poem by A.S. Pushkin - Demons

The clouds are rushing, the clouds are swirling;
Invisible moon
The flying snow illuminates;
The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy.
I'm driving, driving in an open field;
Bell ding-ding-ding...
Scary, scary involuntarily
Among the unknown plains!

“Hey, off you go, coachman!..” - “No urine:
It’s hard for the horses, master;
The blizzard blinds my eyes;
All roads were skidded;
For the life of me, there is no trace;
We've lost our way. What should we do?
The demon leads us into the field, apparently
Yes, it circles around.

Look: there he is playing,
Blows, spits on me;
There - now he’s pushing into the ravine
Wild horse;
There's an unprecedented mileage there
He stuck out in front of me;
There he sparkled with a small spark
And disappeared into the darkness empty.”

The clouds are rushing, the clouds are swirling;
Invisible moon
The flying snow illuminates;
The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy.
We don’t have the strength to spin around anymore;
The bell suddenly fell silent;
The horses began... “What’s there in the field?” —
“Who knows? stump or wolf?

The blizzard is angry, the blizzard is crying;
Sensitive horses snore;
Now he's galloping far away;
Only the eyes glow in the darkness;
The horses rushed again;
Bell ding-ding-ding...
I see: the spirits have gathered
Among the white plains.

Endless, ugly,
In the muddy game of the month
Various demons began to spin,
Like leaves in November...
How many of them! where are they being driven?
Why are they singing so pitifully?
Do they bury the brownie?
Do they marry off a witch?

The clouds are rushing, the clouds are swirling;
Invisible moon
The flying snow illuminates;
The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy.
Demons rush swarm after swarm
In the infinite heights,
With plaintive squeals and howls
Breaking my heart...

Analysis of the poem “Demons” by Pushkin

The year 1830 was marked in Pushkin’s work by one of the “Boldino autumns,” characterized by a powerful surge of inspiration. During this period they wrote a large number of a wide variety of works. These include the poem “Demons.”

The plot is based on the story of a traveler who gets lost in a winter field at night. Pushkin repeatedly found himself in such a situation, and it was very familiar to him. The central image of the poem is demons, personifying evil forces, seeking to lead a person astray and lead him to death.

At the beginning of the poem, the traveler has been on the road for a long time. The clouds gathering overhead do not bode well. The endless “unknown plains” in Rus' in such weather only inspire fear.

The coachman explains that they lost their way in an impenetrable blizzard. He is sure that this is the work of evil spirits. An educated gentleman, of course, understands perfectly well that such an explanation is based on folk tales and legends. But in a hopeless situation, under the pressure of horror that grips the soul, you can believe in anything. The driver's assurances that he really sees and hears the demons surrounding them seem plausible.

The slow movement of the carriage and the ringing of the bell somehow restrained fear and reminded us that the travelers were still alive. When the horses stood up from fatigue, a huge feeling of hopelessness came over them. Intense attempts to see anything in the darkness only irritate the imagination. Vague outlines lead to the most terrible guesses.

The author has already forgotten about his mental superiority. Misfortune reduced him to a simple man. The horses are also gripped by fear; they also sense danger. With the last of their strength they broke free and carried away, not making out the road. Moving without a goal is still better than waiting in place for the unknown. Childhood memories of terrible fairy tales and legends emerge in the master’s soul. He is already seriously thinking about what causes the appearance of demons (“whether the brownie is buried”).

The poem does not describe the end of the journey. The final lines are dedicated to the desperate melancholy in the master’s heart, who is surrounded by demonic “plaintive squeals and howls.” Pushkin leaves the reader in uncertainty about the fate of his heroes. Any of the poet’s contemporaries could find themselves in such a situation and seek protection from demons only in prayer.

Pushkin's genius always manifested itself in the most acute, critical periods of his life. Everyone who wants to get acquainted with the philosophical lyrics great poet.

The poem was written in 1830, when Alexander Sergeevich again wooed N.N. Goncharova and received consent. Autumn found him in Boldino, where the poet arrived to settle matters related to inheritance. Due to cholera quarantines that began in the capital, Pushkin was forced to stay on the estate for three months. This is how the first “Boldino autumn” began, which became the highest point of the work of the great Russian poet.

In “Demons” Pushkin returns to the topic of Russian folklore that interests him. The main topic this work is a journey into a blizzard, causing genuine horror even among brave man. The lyrical hero, frightened by the rampant elements, asks the coachman to drive the horses without sparing. The man's answer is typical of a Russian peasant in the first half of the 19th century. This devilry fools travelers, it was she who lured them into a snow trap.

The coachman tells the master about how he repeatedly encountered demons on the road. In the end, the lyrical hero himself “sees” the eyes of evil spirits burning in the darkness.

Pushkin's works of the 30s differ markedly from his “rebellious” early work. This is already a mature Pushkin, condescending towards the obscurantism of the common people, but sharply speaking out against demons in human form - representatives of the ruling elite.

The mysticism of “Demons,” a poem taught in a 6th grade lesson, is closely intertwined with realism. There are no notes of abstract spiritualism in it, which is rich in foreign literature of those times. According to A. Herzen, Pushkin’s muse is “too rich true feelings to look for the imaginary.” In this poem, the poet draws an analogy between the rampant evil spirits and the secular Moscow balls, which do not stop even during a cholera epidemic.

This poem is quite easy to learn. Like all of Pushkin’s poetry, it easily evokes vivid images, and therefore is quickly remembered.

The clouds are rushing, the clouds are swirling;
Invisible moon
The flying snow illuminates;
The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy.
I'm driving, driving in an open field;
Bell ding-ding-ding.
Scary, scary involuntarily
Among the unknown plains!

“Hey, let’s go, coachman!” - “No urine:
It’s hard for the horses, master,
The blizzard blinds my eyes,
All roads were skidded;
For the life of me, there is no trace;
We've lost our way. What should we do?
The demon leads us into the field, apparently
Yes, it circles around.

Look: there he is playing,
Blows, spits on me,
There - now he’s pushing into the ravine
Wild horse;
There's an unprecedented mileage there
He stood in front of me
There he sparkled with a small spark
And disappeared into the darkness empty.”

The clouds are rushing, the clouds are swirling,
Invisible moon
The flying snow illuminates;
The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy
We don’t have the strength to spin around anymore;
The bell suddenly fell silent;
The horses began... “What’s there in the field?” –
“Who knows? stump or wolf?

The blizzard is angry, the blizzard is crying,
Sensitive horses snore,
Now he's galloping far away;
Only the eyes glow in the darkness;
The horses rushed again;
Bell ding-ding-ding...
I see: the spirits have gathered
Among the white plains.

Endless, ugly,
In the muddy game of the month
Various demons began to spin,
Like leaves in November...
How many are there? where are they being driven?
Why are they singing so pitifully?
Do they bury the brownie?
Do they marry off a witch?

The clouds are rushing, the clouds are swirling;
Invisible moon
The flying snow illuminates;
The sky is cloudy, the night is cloudy.
Demons rush swarm after swarm
In the infinite heights,
With plaintive squeals and howls
Breaking my heart...