​As a result of the educational reform, we have lost some fundamentalness, says a member of the HSE Academic Council, head of the School of Oriental Studies. Alexey Maslov.

The two-tier education system is maximally tailored to the market. But there are things that cannot be sold right away. Great Britain, Germany, France, within the framework of the Bologna process, managed to maintain a balance between the fundamental and the applied, we did not.

- Alexey Alexandrovich, Russia has joined the Bologna Process in order to fit into the global educational space. How did we do it?

We need to start with the fact that we did not fit into the international space in general, but precisely into the European space, because there is also a gigantic Asian space - very uneven, there is an American one. At that time, the European was very important for us.

What have we got? First, a transparent education system. Theoretically, our students could start their studies in Russia, and finish their studies in any of the European countries.

- But in practice it already exists?

Of course. For example, many of our students, having received a bachelor's degree, go to a foreign magistracy. If it were not for the two-tier system, it would not be entirely clear what to do with the strange five-year education, which does not really fit into this outline.

Secondly, many universities have received opportunities for double degrees, and they are implementing it quite actively according to the principle: "2 + 2" (two years of study in Russia, two - in a foreign university - for a bachelor's degree) or "1 + 1" - for a master's degree.

The introduction of credit units contributes a lot to integration. They can be obtained at almost any university in the world, and they will be credited as part of a Russian diploma. And vice versa. Thus, we got the opportunity to attract foreign students. For example, I have students in my class who have come from Europe for one semester, or even for one course - personally to mine. They receive the appropriate credits (my course costs four credits), receive the appropriate certificate, and this is credited to them as part of their diploma.

We had to tidy up our programs to meet international standards. Having switched to the Bologna system, we began to comply with the main world trends. For example, China, which is not formally part of the Bologna system, teaches on the basis of "4 + 2" or "3 + 1", that is, three years - bachelor's degree, one year - master's degree. Exactly the same system operates in Hong Kong, where formally there is no Bologna system, but there is a two-stage high school. Today, thanks to loans, we can count not only European diplomas, but, for example, Chinese, Japanese, Hong Kong diplomas.

- Skeptics say that theoretically the opportunity has appeared, but they havebachelor degree- three years, and we have - four. And that a foreign bachelor comes to us, but we cannot take him to the magistracy. How critical are such roughness?

For some reason Russia has come to believe in the rigidity of the Bologna standard, but there is no rigidity at all. In the same country, a bachelor's degree can be held for a period of three or four years, depending on the required level of training. Everything is tough with us: "4 + 2".

You need to understand that within the framework of one standard, this one Bologna agreement, many subsystems operate. For example, in Germany we have the classic "4 + 2" system, and in Malta, which is very close to Germany, - "3 + 1". Because, due to historical conditions, it is associated with the once formed British standards. At the same time, in the same Malta, a number of specialties still operate in the "4 + 2" format.

That is, there is no need to rigidly conform. If the academic council or the methodological commission believes that it is necessary to increase the training period or, on the contrary, reduce it, this should be done. There should be variability. For example, starting next year, the HSE will train orientalists according to the five-year bachelor's standard.

Let me give you another example. For a long time there was a "4 + 2" system in China, but it turned out that people do not want to study at the university for so long, they want to go to work right away. Then another stage of higher education appeared - a specialist, 3 years. For some specialties, 4 years is really too much, so they introduced three, and they live normally with it. By the way, after three years people can go to finish their studies in England or to France for a master's degree.

- And yet, how widespread is this practice in our country, not on the scale of a single HSE, but on a national scale? How often do our students go to study in Europe? Do they come to us?

If we take only inclusive education, when a person, say, studies for three years in Russia, and goes to England in the fourth year, unfortunately, it is not very developed in our country. There are objective reasons. Firstly, there are not so many educational process managers in Russia who can accurately and well negotiate with foreign universities. This lies on the shoulders of the students, who sometimes agree, sometimes they do not. Second, we do not have a sufficient number of Learning Process Managers to coordinate grades. It is rare for programs to completely match. For example, can the macroeconomics course and the institutional economics course replace each other or not? After all, formally, these are different courses, and to relate them is a special skill. We don't have many people who can do this.

Among other things, you need to understand that studying abroad is not a walk. As a rule, European universities have strict requirements. Many Russian students are not familiar with them. They just expect to go to rest, listen to something, and often return ahead of time.

Nowadays, such inclusive trips to China are widely practiced, where very little is required from students. At the same time, countries where everything is pretty tough, for example, Great Britain, where, moreover, you have to pay for it, are not very popular.

It makes sense to go to another country, first of all, for those courses that, for some reason, are less well represented in Russia. And vice versa. For example, I am reading the course "Russia in Asia". Obviously, it is read better in Russia than in any other country. That is, most often they go to the country for a specific teacher or course. But the fact is that somewhere in our subcortex it is laid down that education is an absolutely free thing. Many people are not ready to pay for a month or half a year of education in another country not so much financially as psychologically.

In addition, people who studied not only in Russia, but also in other countries of the world, have almost no competitive advantages in the Russian market. Then the question arises: why spend money and time on a trip to Germany if it is unlikely to add competitiveness. At the same time, in the UK or France, such things are valued quite highly, and play a role both when applying for a job and when applying from a bachelor's degree to a master's degree.

- Are there any numbers: how many students today are taking advantage of the opportunities that the Bologna process has provided?

It all depends on the specialty and the university. Orientalists travel most of all: 40-50% of students go abroad for a year. Almost constantly, students travel for short periods of time: a month, six months. Such trips are quite widespread for international relations, and in general for humanitarian specialties. Social sciences, for example, economics, are slightly less mobile. And very few representatives of the scientific and technical sector leave.

- What is it connected with?

Perhaps the closed nature of technical sciences has come to us since the times of the Soviet Union. But there are exceptions. Some Russian universities encourage students to make international outings. This is the Higher School of Economics, technical - Baumanka and MISiS. But outside Moscow and St. Petersburg, only 10% of students, or even less, get the opportunity to receive inclusive education. The fact is that this process is reciprocal, but Russia itself invites very few foreign students, if we are not talking about metropolitan universities. We have brilliant universities with a high level of training and infrastructure, which, unfortunately, are not known in the world - the Far Eastern Federal University, the Siberian Federal University. In my opinion, they are underestimated by the world markets, so the student exchange system does not work there.

- To what extent has the openness of the educational space affected the brain drain?

Affected. In recent years, the number of students who went to study abroad and stayed there has grown by 10-15%. We must understand that a person who goes to study abroad expects to find a more promising job in the future. And the question of the brain drain is not about the openness of education, but rather about the attractiveness of the labor market.

- From our conversation with you, we can conclude that we have achieved something in terms of integration into the international education system. Now let's talk about what cost?

In my opinion, as a result of the education reform, we have lost some fundamentalness. In general, the two-tier education system is tuned for maximum adjustment to the market, which is very correct. This makes it easier for a person to get a good job. But there are things that cannot be sold right away - everything related to fundamental mathematics, physics, and in general, the exact sciences, with the study of philology or history. It is difficult to maintain a balance between fundamental and applied sciences, but there are countries that successfully coped with this within the framework of the Bologna Process: Great Britain, Germany, France. As for Russia, we have lighter requirements, and we have lost the fundamentality.

During the reform in some universities, the transition from the five-year plan to the "4 + 2" system took place mechanically. In fact, at the beginning of the reform, it was the Soviet education system, which was simply cut into two parts. That is, they took and "cut off" from the program the first four years, which was impossible for a stable system of training in a number of sciences, especially technical ones. Now the Ministry of Education is correcting errors, new standards "3 ++" are being adopted. But we must understand that at the initial stage, hundreds of thousands of people were trained according to these standards, and someone, of course, was left undereducated.

- We are talking about education reform as the Bologna process, but the Unified State Exam is also a part of this reform. Often criticism falls on her. They say that everything worked out abroad, but we did not. What did we do wrong?

Let's calculate how long the USE was introduced abroad! In many countries, the system has been operating for decades, they have long had time to fill their bumps. When this process began in Taiwan, there were, in fact, the same distortions. Although, Europe, of course, approached the exam very smoothly.

Another point for which the USE is criticized is coaching instead of training. In fact, there is such a practice in many countries, only it is taken out in a separate layer. For example, in China, if a child wants to go to university, he studies 11 classes, if not - 10. In England there is also something similar - the so-called "A" level, in which students are prepared for such an exam. When we talk about the fact that children are simply trained to answer questions, this is rather a lack of teacher training, and not the Unified State Exam.

Finally, see how the exam questions have changed, how the system has improved. However, I am sure that all these shortcomings could have been avoided. It was just that at that time the system was at the mercy of several groups, who literally blinded something on their knees. Now it is being corrected. Due to the size of our country, I see no other way but to hone the Unified State Exam to perfection.

- Obviously, inMinobrealso come to this. The department is ready to returnspecialtyin a number of areas of training, as stated by Minister Olga Vasilyeva. The same metamorphosis occurs with the USE: leaving tests, returning essays, oral examinations in a number of subjects. Is this all an attempt to roll back?

Now, as I understand it, there is no talk of canceling the existing system. We need to develop within the existing framework.

In Russia, the education system, unlike in the West, has always been very "regulated". Once someone said "4 + 2", it cannot be otherwise. However, now there is a transition to more flexible positions. And this is what will ultimately give the result.

- This flexibility that you are talking about, where does it come from?

We have a group of universities - these are federal universities and research institutes that can independently determine the training standards for their students. This applies, among other things, to Moscow State University and St. Petersburg State University. In addition, federal universities have great flexibility, which can adopt their own internal standards. For everyone else, there is a single educational standard. It is being developed by educational and methodological associations that work in close contact with the Ministry of Education. Traditionally, all state standards in our country must be "combed" under a single volume of hours and loans. But the further, the less mandatory is prescribed in these standards. For example, before, all courses were prescribed inside and out, but now there are many variable courses - at the choice of the university. And, in addition, it is no longer the names of the courses that are prescribed, but the areas of training within which these courses are taught.

From a formal point of view, everything has already been worked out. It is necessary to deal precisely with the content of education, to gradually restore scientific schools, and, moreover, it does not have to be mathematics or physics. It is not necessary to measure education only by the current needs of the market. It is important to understand that the person who comes to you to study will be released in five, six, or even eight years, and during this time a lot can change.

In addition, I believe that it is necessary to abandon the completely senseless race for international ratings, publications in the Web of Science and Scopus. It only exhausts the universities, while at the same time it does not reflect the real situation in science at all. It would be more correct to stimulate the creation of joint Russian-foreign research, joint journals in which Russia would play an important role. This will be the very integration we are striving for.

Anna Semenets

I offer you a selection poems about autumn for children... They will teach children about the beauty of nature and its changes at this time of year. Poems for autumn very beautiful, they are able to convey the autumn mood to both children and adults. You will find poems about every autumn month - September, October and November. In this collection, poems are presented long enough for older children. And for kids, you can pick up a poem from. Also, for acquaintance with the fall, children can be offered and.

Autumn

Yellow paint someone

Painted the woods

Became for some reason

Below is heaven

Blazed brighter

Rowan brushes.

All the flowers have faded

Only fresh wormwood.

I asked my dad:

- What happened suddenly?

And dad answered:

- It's autumn, friend.

(N. Antonova)

Autumn

Autumn days

there are large puddles in the garden.

Last leaves

the cold wind swirls.

There are yellow leaves

there are red leaves.

Let's put it in your wallet

we are different leaves!

It will be beautiful in the room

Mom will say thank you to us.

(O. Vysotskaya)

To school

Yellow leaves are flying
The day is merry.
Seeing off kindergarten
Children to school.

Flowers have faded with us,
Birds fly away.
- You go for the first time
To study in the first grade.

Sad dolls are sitting
On an empty terrace.
Our fun kindergarten
Remember in class.

Remember the vegetable garden
A river in the far field ...
We, too, in a year
We will be with you at school.

The country train departed
Rushing past the windows ...
- They promised well,
Best of all to study!

(Z. Alexandrova)

Autumn morning

The yellow maple looks into the lake
Waking up at dawn.
The ground froze over the night,
All hazel in silver.

The belated redhead shrivels
A broken branch is pinned down.
On his frozen skin
Light drops tremble.

Silence scaring alarming
In a lightly dormant forest,
Cautious moose roam
They gnaw on the bitter bark.

Different birds flew away,
Their ringing rehearsal fell silent.
And the mountain ash is celebrating autumn,
Wearing red beads.

(O. Vysotskaya)

In the woods

Leaves swirl over the path.
The forest is transparent and crimson ...
It's good to wander with a basket
Along the edges and clearings!

We walk, and under our feet
A golden rustle is heard.
Smells like wet mushrooms
It smells like the freshness of the forest.

And behind the hazy haze
A river glistens in the distance.
Spread it in the glades
Autumn yellow silk.

A cheerful ray through the needles
He entered the thicket of the spruce forest.
Good for wet trees
Remove the elastic boletus!

On the hills, handsome maples
Crimson flashed with fire ...
How many saffron milk caps, honey mushrooms
We'll type in the grove in a day!

Autumn walks through the forests.
There is no time more beautiful than this ...
And in baskets we carry away
Forests are generous gifts.
(A. Bolsky)

Autumn

Covers the golden leaf
Wet ground in the forest ...
I boldly trample with my foot
The beauty of the spring forest.

Cheeks burn in the cold;
Anything in the woods for me to run,
Hear the branches crack
Rak the leaves with your foot!

I have no previous joys here!
The forest took off the secret from itself:
The last nut is plucked
Tied the last flower;

The moss is not raised, not exploded
A pile of curly milk mushrooms;
Does not hang around the stump
Purple lingonberry tassels;

Long on the leaves lies
The nights are frosty, and through the forest
Somehow looks cold
Clarity of transparent skies ...

Leaves rustle under the foot;
Death is laying down its harvest ...
Only I am cheerful at heart
And, like a madman, I sing!

I know, not without reason among the mosses
I tore an early snowdrop;
Down to autumn colors
I have met every flower.

What the soul told them
What did they tell her -
I remember, breathing happiness,
On winter nights and days!
Leaves rustle underfoot ...
Death is laying down its harvest!
Only I am cheerful at heart -
And, like a madman, I sing!

(A. Maikov)

Bunny

Little bunny
In a damp hollow
Before the eyes amused
White flowers ...

In the fall we burst into tears
Thin blade of grass
Paws are coming
On yellow leaves.

Gloomy, rainy
Autumn has come,
All the cabbage was removed,
There is nothing to steal.

Poor bunny jumping
Near wet pines
Scary in the paws of the wolf
Gray get ...

Thinks about summer
Presses his ears
He looks sideways at the sky -
You can't see the sky ...

Only it would be warmer
If only drier ...
Very unpleasant
Step on the water!

(A. Blok)

Autumn

Rain, rain
All day
Drumming into glass.
All the land
The whole earth
Soaked from the water.

Howls, howls
Outside the window
Dissatisfied wind.
He wants to tear down the doors
With squeaky hinges.

Wind, wind, don't knock
In the locked hallway;
Let them burn in our oven
Hot logs.

Hands reach for warmth
The windows are fogged up.
On the wall
And on the floor
Shadows danced.

Get together with me
Listen to a fairy tale
By the fire!

(Ya. Akim)

What will autumn bring us?

What will autumn bring us?
What will autumn bring us?
- Apples ruddy, sweet honey,
Ruddy apples, sweet honey!

What will autumn bring us?
What will autumn bring us?
A full vegetable garden of various vegetables,
A full garden of different vegetables!

What will autumn bring us?
What will autumn bring us?
Golden bread for the whole year
Golden bread for the whole year!

(L. Nekrasova)

A joke about Shurochka

Leaf fall, leaf fall,
The whole link rushed into the garden,
Shurochka came running.

Leaves (do you hear?) Rustle:
Shurochka, Shurochka ...

Shower of leaves lace
Whispers about her alone:
Shurochka, Shurochka ...

Swept three leaves,
I went up to the teacher:
- Things are going well!
(I'm working, mind you, they say,
Praise Shurochka,
Shurochka, Shurochka ...)

How does the link work,
It doesn't matter to Shura
If only they noted
Whether in the classroom, or in the newspaper,
Shurochka, Shurochka ...

Leaf fall, leaf fall,
The garden is buried in the leaves,
Leaves rustle sadly:
Shurochka, Shurochka ...

(Agniya Barto)

Uncompressed strip

Late fall. The rooks flew away
The forest is bare, the fields are empty

Only one strip is not compressed ...
She leads a sad thought.

The ears seem to whisper to each other:
“It's boring for us to listen to the autumn blizzard,

It's boring to bow down to the ground
Fat grains bathing in dust!

Every night we are ravaged by the villages
Every passing voracious bird

The hare tramples on us, and the storm hits us ...
Where is our plowman? what else is waiting for?

Or are we worse than others?
Or did they bloom and ears uncommonly?

No! we are no worse than others - and for a long time
The grain has poured and ripened in us.

Not for the same he plowed and sowed
So that the autumn wind scatters us? .. "

The wind gives them a sad answer:
- Your plowman does not have a loin.

He knew why he plowed and sowed,
Yes, he started the work beyond his strength.

Poor poor man - he does not eat or drink,
The worm sucks his sick heart,

The hands that brought out these furrows,
They dried up to splinters, hung like whips.

Like a plow, leaning on the hand,
The plowman walked thoughtfully in a line.

(N. Nekrasov)

Autumn

As a sad look, I love autumn.
I walk on a foggy, quiet day
I often go to the forest and sit there -
I look at the white sky
Yes to the tops of dark pines.
I love biting a sour leaf
With a smile lounging lazy,
Dream to tackle whimsical
Yes, listen to woodpeckers thin whistle.
The grass has withered all ... cold,
A calm shine spreads over it ...
And the sadness is quiet and free
I surrender my whole soul ...
What won't I remember? What kind
Dreams will not visit me?
And the pines bend like living ones,
And they make such a thoughtful noise ...
And, like a flock of huge birds,
Suddenly the wind will blow
And in twigs tangled and dark
Impatiently hesitate.

(I. Turgenev)

In autumn

How good were sometimes spring bliss -
And the soft freshness of green herbs,
And leaves of young fragrant shoots
Along the trembling branches of awakened oak groves,
And the day is a luxurious and warm glow,
And a gentle fusion of bright colors!
But you are closer to my heart, autumn tides,
When the weary forest on the soil of the compressed cornfield
With a whisper, the leaves are blown away,
And the sun is later from the desert heights,
Light despondency is full, looks ...
So a peaceful memory silently illuminates
And happiness is the past and past dreams.

(N. Ogarev)

Autumn late sometimes

Autumn late sometimes
I love the Tsarskoye Selo garden,
When he is quiet half-gloom,
As if in a slumber, embraced

And white-winged visions
On a dim lake glass
In some bliss of numbness
Will grow dull in this half-gloom ...

And on the porphyry steps
Catherine Palaces
Dark shadows fall
October early evenings -

And the garden is darkening, like oak trees,
And with the stars from the darkness of the night,
Like a glimpse of the glorious past
A golden dome comes out ...
(F. Tyutchev)

Glorious Autumn

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired strength;
Ice is fragile on the icy river
Like melting sugar lies;

Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not yet had time to fade,
Are yellow and fresh like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! Frosty nights
Clear, quiet days ...
There is no disgrace in nature! And kochi,
And moss swamps, and stumps -

All is well under the moonlight
Everywhere I recognize my dear Rus ...
I fly fast on cast-iron rails,
I think my thought ...

(N. Nekrasov)

Autumn

Autumn has come; bad weather
They rush in clouds from the seas;
The face of nature grows gloomy,
The sight of naked fields is not cheerful;
The forests are clothed with blue darkness
Fog walks over the land
And darkens the light of the eyes.
Everything dies, has grown cold;
The space was given blackened;
He knitted his brows on a white day;
Continuous rains poured;
People settled in neighbors
Longing and sleep, blues and laziness.
As if the old man's sickness is boring;
So sure too for me
Always watery and boring
Fool's idle chatter.

(A. Koltsov)

The sheets trembled, flying around

The sheets trembled, flying around,
The clouds of the sky covered the beauty
From the field, an evil storm rushed in
Tears and dashes and howls in the forest.

Only you, my dear bird,
In a warm nest, it is barely visible
Light chest, light, small,
Not intimidated by the storm alone.

And the roll call thunders,
And the noisy haze is so black ...
Only you, my dear bird,
In a warm nest, it is barely visible.
(A. Fet)

The swallows are gone ...

The swallows are gone
And yesterday dawn
All the rooks were flying
Yes, like a network, flashed
Over that mountain.

Everything sleeps in the evening
It's dark outside.
The dry leaf falls
The wind is angry at night
Yes, knocks on the window.

Better snow and blizzard
Glad to meet with your breasts!
As if from a fright
Shouting out to the south
The cranes are flying.

You will go out - against your will
It's hard - even cry!
You look - across the field
Tumbleweed
Jumps like a ball.

(A. Fet)

Tired all around

Tired all around: tired and the color of heaven,
And the wind, and the river, and the month that was born,
And the night, and in the greenery of the dull sleeping forest,
And the yellow leaf that finally fell off.

Only a fountain is babbling amid the distant darkness,
Talking about life invisible, but familiar ...
O autumn night, how omnipotent you are
Refusal to fight and death languor!
(A. Fet)

Leaf fall

The forest, as if we were looking at a painted one,
Purple, gold, crimson,
With a cheerful, colorful wall
Stands over a bright glade.

Birch trees with yellow carvings
Shine in the azure blue,
Like towers, Christmas trees are darkening,
And between the maples turn blue
Here and there in the foliage through
Clearances in the sky, that little window.
The forest smells like oak and pine,
Over the summer he dried up from the sun,
And Autumn is a quiet widow
He enters his motley tower ...

(I. Bunin)

October dawn

The night has turned pale and the month is setting
Over the river with a red sickle.
Sleepy fog in the meadows is silvery,
The black reeds are damp and smoking,
The wind rustles with reeds.

Quiet in the village. There is a lamp in the chapel
Dims, weary grief.
Into the quivering gloom of the frozen garden
Coolness pours from the steppe in waves ...
The dawn glows slowly.
(I. Bunin)

Autumn

Lingonberries ripen
The days got colder
And from the bird cry
My heart became sadder.

Flocks of birds fly away
Away, beyond the blue sea.
All the trees shine
In a multi-colored headdress.

The sun laughs less often
There is no incense in the flowers.
Autumn will wake up soon
And she will cry sleepily.

(K. Balmont)

In autumn

Autumn has come

The flowers have dried up

And they look sadly

Bare bushes.

Withers and turns yellow

Grass in the meadows

Only turns green

Winter in the fields.

A cloud covers the sky

The sun does not shine;

The wind howls in the field;

The rain is drizzling.

The waters rustled

Fast stream

The birds flew away

To warm lands.

(A. Pleshcheev)

Boring picture

Boring picture!
Endless clouds
The rain is pouring down
Puddles by the porch ...
Stunted rowan
It gets wet under the window
Looking at the village
A gray spot.
That you are early to visit
Autumn has come to us?
The heart still asks
Light and warmth! ..
(A. Pleshcheev)

The fields are squeezed, the groves are bare

The fields are squeezed, the groves are bare,
The water is foggy and damp.
The wheel behind the blue mountains
The quiet sun went down.

The blasted road slumbers.
She dreamed today
Which is very, very little
It remains to wait for the gray winter.

Ah, and I myself am in the often ringing
I saw yesterday in the fog:
Red month foal
Harnessed to our sleigh.
(S. Yesenin)

The golden foliage swirled

The golden foliage swirled
In the pinkish water on the pond
Like a flock of butterflies
With a daze flies to the star.

I'm in love tonight tonight
The yellowing valley is close to the heart.
Boy-wind to the very shoulders
He pounded the hem on a birch tree.

And in the soul and in the valley there is coolness,
Blue dusk like a flock of sheep
Behind the gate of the silent garden
The bell will ring and freeze.

I have never been frugal
So I did not listen to the rational flesh,
It would be nice, like willow branches,
To tip over into the pinkness of the waters.

It would be nice, smiling at the haystack,
Chew hay with the muzzle of the month ...
Where are you, where, my quiet joy,
Loving everything, wanting nothing?
(S. Yesenin)

Golden autumn

Autumn. Fairy palace
Open for everyone to review.
Forest paths clearings,
Looking into the lakes.

As in the painting exhibition:
Halls, halls, halls, halls
Elm, ash, aspen
In unprecedented gilding.

Linden hoop gold -
Like a crown on a newlywed.
The face of a birch - under the veil
Wedding and transparent.

Buried earth
Under foliage in ditches, holes.
In the yellow maples of the outbuilding,
As if in gilded frames.

Where are the trees in September
At dawn they stand in pairs
And the sunset on their crust
Leaves a trace of amber.

Where you can't step into the ravine
So that it does not become known to everyone:
So raging that not a step,
There is a woody leaf underfoot.

Where it sounds at the end of the alleys
Echo at the steep descent
And dawn the cherry glue
It solidifies in the form of a clot.

Autumn. Ancient corner
Old books, clothes, weapons,
Where is the treasure catalog
Leafs through the cold.

(B. Pasternak)

Indian summer

Indian summer has come -
Days of farewell warmth.
Warmed by the late sun
A fly came to life in the crack.

The sun! What is more beautiful in the world
After a chilly day? ..
Gossamer light yarn
Coiled around the bitch.

It will rain fast tomorrow
A cloud covering the sun.
Silver cobwebs
There are two or three days left to live.

Take pity, autumn! Give us light!
Protect from the winter darkness!
Have pity on us, Indian summer:
These cobwebs are us.

(D. Kedrin)

Autumn

There was a late wind hefty,
Carried the ashes of rotten leaves
And the dregs, as from the plates,
Splashed out of puddles.

A bunch of rowan trees glowed.
And the forest, thick recently,
The foliage shone gloriously,
Became visible to everyone through and through.

He was like a close home
Where the wallpaper is ripped off
There are no lamps over the head, -
You find out, but with difficulty.

To different ends
Folding down your curtains
And taking off my pictures
The tenants dispersed.

Rain poured from the haze
The smell lingered,
And as if burned
Wet trunks.

Oh, dear houses! ..
In vain the heart is sad:
He will correct everything skillfully
Winter will whiten everything.
(K. Vanshenkin)

Autumn

Love sublime origins
forests and pastures are kept.
Invisibly Pushkin's lines
intertwined with the fall of autumn leaves.

And in the midst of a sensitive silence
in the font of the golden dream
The soul is full of charm
And she is full of bright thoughts.

Native poetry freedom
embraced both the distance and the height,
where is Pushkin, where is nature,
go try to figure it out ...

(N. Rachkov)

Ooty-uchi

Under the birch
Under the aspen
Moving barely,
Like a brood of duck
Foliage floats along the river.

- Don't forget, don't forget
Come back to us in the spring! ..
- Uti-uti! .. Uti-uti ...
The forest world dies down.

And there are mother trees
And rustle alarmingly
And they look at the most-most
Yellow
small
leafing through ...

(M. Yasnov)

Autumn

On a bush-bush -
Yellow leaves
A cloud hangs in blue, -
So it's autumn!

In the red leaves of the coast.
Each leaf is like a flag.
Our autumn park has become stricter.
All will be covered with bronze!

Autumn seems to me too
Preparing for October ...
In the red leaves of the coast.
Each leaf is like a flag!

(I. Demyanov)

Harvest festival

Autumn decorates squares
Colored foliage.
Autumn feeds the harvest
Birds, animals and you and me.
And in the gardens and in the garden,
Both in the forest and by the water.
Prepared by nature
All kinds of fruits.
The fields are being harvested -
People gather bread.
The mouse drags the grain into the hole,
To have lunch in the winter.
Squirrels dry roots
bees store honey.
Grandma makes jam
He puts apples in the cellar.
The harvest was born -
Collect the gifts of nature!
In the cold, in the cold, in the bad weather
The harvest will come in handy!

(T. Bokova)

In autumn

In the crane sky
The wind carries clouds.
The willow whispers to the willow:
"Autumn. Autumn again! "

The leaves are yellow downpour,
The sun is below the pines.
The willow whispers to the willow:
"Autumn. Autumn soon!"

On the bush frost
Threw a white cloak.
Oak whispers to mountain ash:
"Autumn. Autumn soon!"

Whisper to the fir trees
In the middle of the forest forest:
"Will soon notice
And it will start playing soon! "

(A. Efimtsev)

Autumn signs

Thin birch
Wearing gold.
So the omen of autumn has appeared.

The birds fly away
To the land of warmth and light,
Here's another one for you
Autumn is a sign.

Rain drops
All day from dawn.
This rain too
Autumn is a sign.

Proud boy, happy:
After all, he is wearing
School shirt,
Bought in the summer.

Girl with a briefcase.
Everyone knows: this is -
Autumn walking
A true omen.

(L. Preobrazhenskaya)

See how beautiful the day is

Look how beautiful the day is
And how clear the sky is
As ash burns under the sun,
Maple burns without fire.

And circling over the clearing
Like a firebird, the leaf is crimson.

And crimson, like rubies,
Rowan berries turn red
Waiting for guests -
Red-breasted bullfinches ...

And on the hillock, in red leaves,
As if in lush fox fur coats,
Majestic oaks
They look sadly at the mushrooms -

Old and small
Scarlet russula
And purple fly agaric
In the middle of wormholes ...

Meanwhile, the day is coming to an end,
Goes to sleep in the red tower
The sun is red from heaven ...
The leaves are dying out.
The forest is dying.
(I. Maznin)

Autumn awards

Rocked,
Rustled
In the dark thicket
Pine trees, ate!
Meet the wind
So happy:
He hands them
Awards!
Attaches
"Order of the Maple"
On the uniform
Green pine.
Order red,
Cutout,
With golden
Border!
And a handful
Medals
Of every ate
The winds gave!
Gold
Yes pink -
"Osinovs",
"Birch"!

(A. Shevchenko)

Gathered and flew

Gathered and flew
Ducks on a long journey.
Under the roots of an old spruce
The bear makes a den.
The hare dressed in white fur,
The bunny became warm.
Carries a squirrel for a month
Reserve mushrooms in a hollow.
Wolves prowl in the dark night
For prey in the forests.
Between the bushes to the sleepy grouse
A fox sneaks in.
Hides a nutcracker for the winter
In the old moss nuts cleverly.
Needles are nibbled by wood grouses.
They came to winter to us
Bullfinches northerners.

(E. Golovin)

Autumn in the forest

Autumn forest every year
Pays in gold to enter.
Look at the aspen -
All dressed in gold
And she babbles:
"I'm cold ..." -
And shivers from the cold.

And the birch is happy
Yellow along:
“What a dress!
What a delight! "
Leaves flew quickly
Frost came suddenly.
And the birch whispers:
"Chill! ..."

Leaked by the oak
Gilded fur coat.
The oak caught on, but it's too late
And he makes a noise:
“I'm freezing! I'm freezing! "
Deceived the gold -
Not saved from the cold.

(From A. Gontar, translated by V. Berestov)

White blizzards are coming

White blizzards are coming
Snow will be lifted from the ground.
Fly away, fly away
The cranes flew away.

Do not hear the cuckoo in the grove,
And the birdhouse was empty.
The stork flaps its wings -
Flies away, flew away!

Patterned leaf swing
In a blue puddle on the water.
A rook walks with a black rook
In the garden along the ridge.

Crumbled, turned yellow
The sun's rays are rare.
Fly away, fly away
The rooks also flew away.
(E. Blaginina)

Sheet

Quiet, warm, gentle autumn
carries withered leaves everywhere,
paints in lemon, orange color
light.
On sidewalks, lawns, alleys
she pours them, not at all regretting, -
hanging over the window in the cobwebs
sheet.
Open the window wide. And a gullible bird
It sits in my palm, spinning around,
light and cold, gentle and clean
sheet.
A gust of wind. The leaf takes off from the palm,
here he is already on the next balcony,
moment - and, bypassing the wide cornice,
way down!
(A. Starikov)

Autumn has come

Autumn has come
The rains began.
How sad
The gardens look out.

The birds reached out
To warm lands.
Farewell is heard
Crane biting.

The sun does not spoil
Us with our warmth.
Northern, frosty
It blows chill.

It's too sad
Sad at heart
From what summer
Do not return already.
(E. Arsenina)

Falling leaves lesson

And in pairs, in pairs after her,
For her sweet teacher
We solemnly leave the village.
And in the puddles from the lawns, foliage poured!

“Look! On dark Christmas trees in the undergrowth
Maple stars burn like pendants.
Bend over for the most beautiful leaf
In streaks of crimson on gold.

Remember everything, how the earth falls asleep,
And the wind falls asleep with foliage. "
And in the maple grove it is brighter and brighter.
More and more leaves are flying off the branches.

We play and rush under the falling leaves
With a sad, pensive woman next to him.

(V. Berestov)

Autumn hare worries

What's on a hare's mind?
Prepare for winter.

Get it outside the store
An excellent winter down jacket.

White and white whiteness
To run in it until spring.

The former became a little cold
Yes, and - gray, and - too small.

He is in the winter of the enemy pack,
Like a target on a hillside.

It will be safer in the new
Not more noticeable to dogs and owls.

White snow and white fur -
And warmer and more beautiful than all!

(T. Umanskaya)

Autumn tasks

In the morning in the forest
Above the silvery thread
Spiders bustle -
Telephone operators.
And now from the tree
Until the aspen,
Like wires sparkle
Cobwebs.
Calls are ringing:
- Attention! Attention!
Listen to autumn
Tasks!
- Hello, bear!
- I'm listening to! Yes Yes!
- It's just around the corner
Cold!
Until winter came around
To the threshold
You need urgently
Find a den!
The calls are ringing
Squirrels and hedgehogs
From the top
And down to the lower floors:
- Check it soon
Your pantries -
Are there enough supplies
For wintering.
The calls are ringing
At the old swamp:
- Herons have everything ready
For departure?
- Everything is ready for departure!
- Good luck!
Don't forget again
Look in!
The bells are ringing at the linden tree
And the maple:
- Hello! Tell,
Who's on the phone?
- Hello! By the phone
Ants!
- Close
Your anthills!
- Tell me, is it a river?
- River, river!
- Why for crayfish
No place?
And the river answers:
- This is a lie!
I'll show you,
Where crayfish hibernate!
- Hello guys!
Good afternoon guys!
On the street already
It's chilly!
It's time for the birds
Hanging out feeders -
On the windows, on the balconies,
At the edge!
After all, the birds -
Your faithful friends,
And about friends to us
You can't forget!

(V. Orlov)

From dawn to dusk

Forests are turning
In the painted sails.
Autumn again
Leaves again
Without beginning, without end
Over the river
And by the porch.

Here they are floating somewhere -
Then back
And then go ahead.
From dawn to dusk
The wind tears them apart.

Whole day
Slanting rains
Pulling threads through the woods
As if they were repairing painted
Golden sails ...

(V. Stepanov)

Until next summer

Leaves quietly Summer
dressed in foliage.
And remains somewhere
in a dream or in reality:
silver fly
in the spider's nets,
undrinked mug
fresh milk.
And a glass stream.
And a warm earth.
And over the forest glade
buzzing bumblebee.

Comes quietly Autumn,
dressed in fog.
She brings the rains
from foreign countries.
And a heap of yellow leaves,
and the scent of the forest,
and dampness in dark burrows.

And somewhere behind the wall
alarm clock until dawn
chirps on the table:
"Until boo-doo-shche-go-ta,
until boo-doo-shche-go ... "

(Tim Sobakin)

Autumn cries quietly in a dance

Loose her braids in autumn
A blazing fire.
More often frost, less often - dew,
The rain is cold silver.

Autumn bared her shoulders
All the trees in the neckline -
Soon the ball, the farewell evening ...
The foliage is already waltzing.

Chrysanthemums with wondrous fur
Color the autumn outfit.
The wind is not a hindrance to the ball -
Louder music a hundred times!

Loose her braids in autumn,
The wind flutters the silk of your hair.
More often frost, less often - dew,
The scent of late roses is sweeter.

Autumn cries quietly in a dance
The lips tremble in a whisper.
In the puddles, a sad look hides.
The birds circle pitifully.

Stretching out a piece of paper like a hand,
Waving a sad "Goodbye" ...
Autumn, feeling parting,
Whispers tearfully: "Remember ..."
(N. Samoniy)

Plums are falling in the garden ...

Plums are falling in the garden
A noble treat for wasps ...
Yellow leaf bathed in a pond
And welcomes the early fall.

He pictured himself as a ship
The wind of wanderings shook him.
So we will sail after him
To the moorings unknown in life.

And we already know by heart:
In a year there will be a new summer.
Why is universal sadness
In every line of poetry?

Because there are traces in the dew
Will the showers wash away and the winters get cold?
Because all the moments
Fleeting and unique?

(L. Kuznetsova)

Autumn

Autumn. Silence in the dacha village,
And desertedly ringing on the ground.
A cobweb in a transparent air
Cold as a crack in glass

Through the sandy pink pines
The roof is turning blue with the cockerel;
In a light haze, the velvet sun -
Like a peach touched by a fluff.

At sunset, lush, but not abrupt,
The clouds are waiting for something, frozen;
Holding hands, emanate brilliance
The last two, the most gold ones;

Both turn their faces to the sun,
Both fade at one end;
The elder one carries the feather of the firebird,
The youngest is a feather of a fire chick.
(N. Matveeva)

Complains, cries

Complains, cries
Autumn outside the window
And hides tears
Under someone else's umbrella ...

Pestering passers-by
Bothers them, -
Different, different,
Sleepy and sick ...

It hurts boring
Windy longing
Then she breathes a cold
Moist city ...

What do you want
Strange madam?
And in response - annoying
Whipping the wires ...
(A. Travyanaya)

Autumn is approaching

Gradually gets colder
And the days became shorter.
Summer is running fast
A flock of birds, flashing in the distance.

Already the rowan trees have turned red,
The grass has become withered
Appeared in the trees
Bright yellow foliage.

In the morning the fog swirls
Motionless and gray-haired
And by noon the sun is warming
As if in the summer heat.

But as soon as the wind blows
And autumn foliage
Flashes in a bright dance
Like sparks from a fire.
(I. Butrimova)

Leaf fall

Fallen leaves rustle underfoot
The whole earth, covered with a multi-colored carpet,
And the autumn maples are cold flames
A farewell fire sparkles in the sun.

And the wind plays with a rowan branch
And the bunches flicker in the autumn foliage.
There has been a sign among the people for a long time
That there are a lot of mountain ash - for a cold winter.

Golden eyes of the last daisies
Reminded again about the lost heat
And dew drops, like living tears,
From their white cilia flow at dawn.

And the wind keeps blowing the fallen leaves
And the cranes are flying like a wedge.
For me a train that rushed from summer to autumn,
He will wave a yellow ticket in the distance.
(I. Butrimova)

September is smart ...

In red boots, in a yellow suit,
September came out in a fashionable outfit.
In a curl of wheat, to the envy of the virgins,
The viburnum ruby ​​is skillfully woven.

Dandy walks across the meadow grasses,
Brings gifts to his friends.
Aspen in the grove, in the birch forest
They are waiting for the color of honey and gold in braids.

Gave all the colors out September generous,
But there was not enough pine and cedar,
And linden and oak are not enough of them ...
September is calling for his brother's help.

In an amber dress coat, to the ringing of streams,
October is feasting in gardens and parks,
And gold pours in various samples.
November, all in white, is already on the road.

November is the last month of autumn. Perhaps he is the rainiest and most depressing for nature. In any case, this is the case in Russia. In Togliatti, for example, this is where I live.

They say that all poets relate to autumn in a special way, poets are sad, but at the same time they can write a lot about rain, about puddles, about what they see, and what echoes their gentle souls, who are able to give the world beauty in words.

I myself write poetry, as many already know. I have a good attitude towards autumn: not as hot as it can be in summer, not as cold as it happens in our Samara regions in January and February. I am not particularly sad at this time of year, not blues, but all the time I repeat a song about how “nature does not have bad weather,” so I try not to grow old and not to drive the summer of life to its logical conclusion.

I think this is a persistent social stereotype - to mope in the fall, and hibernate in winter in order to wake up in the spring, shake off all the fat and in the summer undress to the extent possible (depending on the area), and go to the beach. People also love to wander through the forests, through the fields, to travel to resorts. Finally, there is such a thing as summer residents who are always positive, ready, as long as there is warmth, to poke around in the beds, sit under a tree in the shade and merge with nature.

So, autumn. November. It's still a long way off until next summer, but poems are still being written, people are worried about this and are unhappy with precipitation and gloomy, as it seems to them, the sky. Walking on the World Wide Web Internet, I, a great lover of poetry, stumbled upon a Russian-speaking poet, or rather a poetess, who interested me. Read the next poem from November - it seemed very relevant to me.

Svetlana Moiseeva

Crying November ...

November cries like a stray cat

Living in a dark basement since summer

With a chilled paw, it scratches at the window -

Everything is hopeless: they will hardly open it ...

The triple frames are deafly battened down,

Curtains like tightly closed eyelids

And the lanes are like a bowl, empty ...

How November was deceived in man!

Spread the gold of the leaves on the paths,

Wisely healed fatigue with the first snow -

They are driving now. He's a stray cat

Freezes in the basement. Not long left ...

And here is my reader's opinion on the poem of the poetess Svetlana Moiseeva... I will not say that I did not like it. I also don’t want to write banal praising comments, it’s better honestly and to the point. I think the author will understand me.

I read the above sad lines several times, even recited them aloud, because this is the only way to hear the music of poetry. I introduced myself to a dirty, hungry cat with a sign on the side: "November". She runs around the empty city, but she is not allowed anywhere. In the summer she felt better: she lived in a dark basement and, apparently, enjoyed life.

Now she has complete hopelessness, or rather, this cat named November. Cold, hungry, the person does not want to let him into the house. And the cat is disappointed with people, he is cruelly deceived. And freezes in the basement. The last phrase is like a shot in the temple of a poor fellow to a cat: "It is not long left ..."

Here is such oil painting as Mark Gotzman said in the television series Liquidation. I am not against the fact that the author is grieving over the bad weather, I just do not understand why this autumn despair should be expressed in poetry and shared with readers? I was very hooked on this thought. After all, in poets, even if sadness is in verse, then it is always light! Maybe I don’t understand something, but I’m arguing now not as a poet, but as a simple reader who came to the well to get drunk in the heat, and picked up rotten water in a bucket.

The last quatrain made me especially "pleased." Some questions ... Well, firstly, the phrase "gold of leaves", it is so often found in poetry by all and sundry (and after all, someone once composed it, I wonder who?) That here, it seems to me , you could come up with something of your own, original.

And that's okay, it's not as scary as the use of the classic rhyme "cat - window". Phrase "Wisely healed fatigue with the first snow"- completely confused: what does the author mean? The cat-November wisely heals the fatigue of a person with the first snow, and he drives him out of the door. Eh, really sad ...

Well nothing. The main thing is that the guys do not grow old at heart. It’s just that these verses have touched a living. November after all, winter is coming. After reading the cats, it became even more pity. In our courtyard, one elderly woman, apparently very lonely, feeds homeless cats in the mornings and evenings, they run to her with joyful squeals and growls, seeing a heavy gait from afar.

Alexander Tenenbaum

One fine summer day, a young poet Ivan Podushkin arrived in the capital of his beloved homeland from a beautiful Ryazan village on a cast-iron, fast-footed train with the aim of looking at the life of city people, admiring the beauty of many museums of great Moscow, as well as meeting with the then famous poet Bolognsky, who in his poems he glorified the kingdom of love and beauty. Ivan wanted to read him some of his poems and hear about them the opinion of a person who knows quite a lot in the field of poetry and art. His creative destiny depended on the opinion of Bologna. He decided that if Bologna praises his work, then he will continue to write poetry, become a poet who loves his native land, will burn in the fire of fiery, poetic feelings, if not, then goodbye to the enchanting world of poetry, an ocean of combination divine sounds and words. For a creative person hovering in a transcendental fantasy land, there is nothing better than hearing the sound of an ocean of sounds and words that completely fill the soul, and you cannot calmly fall asleep until you throw out everything that you feel on a white sheet of paper, which serves as the poet's clear friend in moment of his spiritual enlightenment
Ivan came to Moscow for only a few days. He spent the night in an old railway station hotel, which fascinated him with its antiquity. Seeing her, Ivan said to himself: “Our life is really short. It seems that a person lives on this earth for only a few minutes, and not many years. That is how it is. Once upon a time in this hotel lived people who have not been in this world for a long time. They live only in the memory of their friends and relatives. They also dreamed about something, fell in love, suffered, laughed and thought. In one word they lived. Were the same people as we are. Some of them, with their talent, love for the whole world, preaching the ideals of good, told us that this world is beautiful, and they forever entered our life as people whose altruism knew no boundaries. I also want to live my whole life with love for people and for this bottomless endless sky, through which snow-white clouds float like ships on the surface of the sea. I love this world with green meadows, dense forests, cheerful streams, yellow fields and wide steppes. I love Russia! I will serve her forever! ”
His room was on the second floor of a dilapidated hotel. The windows overlooked the station and the joyous summer sky. The room was very clean and comfortable, despite the wretchedness of all the interior decoration. Ivan liked her. He left his suitcase in his room and immediately took the metro to visit Bologna, who lived near Red Square. He learned the address from the large telephone book of his good old grandfather Athanasius. On the way, he was very nervous, because his poetic fate was being decided. He was also afraid that he would not find him at home or that he had left to wander somewhere. Ivan did not notice anyone, he was in a world of anxiety and worries. He hoped that the great poet of Russia would like his poems and that he would be able to continue to create. After all, he cannot live without poetry.
Finally, he was already standing at the door of the poet's apartment and did not find the courage to ring the doorbell. But still, after a few minutes, he was able to overpower himself and pressed the doorbell. Now he could only wait. And the wait was short-lived. The door was opened by a man whose poetry he adored and admired. In the corridor stood a man who looked 32 years old of average height, with sky-blue eyes, rather thin and obviously not athletic in build. His name was Nikolai Bolognsky. He was wearing a long dressing gown, in his right hand he held a small volume of Pushkin's poems.
Please come in, young poet! I will be glad to consider you my guest - said Bologna
How did you know that I want to be a poet? - Ivan asked with surprise.
I see through the human soul - answered Bologna and once again invited him to come into the apartment.
I humbly thank you - said Ivan and finally went into the apartment. He looked very confused.
Bolognsky closed the front door and invited the young man to go into the living room. Ivan followed him. His heart began to beat even faster, he was trembling all over like a cowardly hare. It even seemed to him that he was about to lose consciousness. Unhappy Ivan was very worried.
Bolognsky sat down in his favorite armchair, put a volume of poetry on a small table that stood next to the armchair. Ivan sat down on a wooden chair opposite him. There was silence in the large and bright room. They looked into each other's eyes and were silent. Two poetic souls have met in a world where, unfortunately, money and cruelty rule.
Bolognsky was the first to speak. Ivan was still in a state of nervous fear and could not even say a word.
I would like to hear your poems, my dear friend. Please read me something - Bologna said in a gentle and gentle voice. He understood the state of his pen brother.
After these words, a fire lit up in Ivan's chest. His fear disappeared. He got up from his chair, took out a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket, raised it to his eyes and, before starting to read, said: “The verse is called Stars. I wrote it on one moonlit, starry night. I admire the beauty of the stars shining in the sky. I adore the beauty of nature and do not understand how many people on earth admire luxurious cars and expensive houses and do not pay attention to the pristine beauty of our mother nature. The philistine often captures the inhabitants of the earth in their networks, and they often cannot get out of the monotonous routine of life. In our time, industry and technology are developing at a rapid pace, but the world of poetry, philosophy, art, unfortunately, few people care. So in my verse I wanted to show people the beauty of the stars, which for me are the luminous rays of happiness and goodness. Excuse me dear Nikolai Bolognsky for my long speech. Now I will read my verse to you "
Ivan began to read his poem with great love for his creation. He read it with a soul that sincerely loves nature and man, as an inseparable and important part of nature. Here is his actual verse:
Eternal wanderers of the night sky
Pleasing many inhabitants of the world
By the brightness of the light of a native, saint
In the circle of movements of the live ether.

Starlight rays on a cold night
Wandering in a space full of mysteries
Knowing that in his excellent life
They don't need anything but happiness.

Beloved stars, dumb stars
They breathe sweet, beautiful freedom.
Beloved stars, dumb stars
They look at the earth with passionate love

Bolognsky listened to him very attentively. I followed the intonation of his voice, listened to the rhythm of the verse, looked into Ivan's eyes, in which one could see joy and happiness. Bologna realized that Ivan could become a good poet if he worked incessantly. Indeed, in our world, it is impossible to achieve one's goal without the application of effort, labor.
After Ivan finished reading his poem, Bologna said:
I liked your verse, but you still have to work hard to become a real poet. I think you shouldn't stop writing poetry. My friend, you have potential, and maybe one day you will become a great poet and become famous for the ages. You are a kind person. Stay that way for life.
Thank you very much. Know that I have been and always will be a fan of your talent. Once again, I humbly thank you - Ivan said happily
At this moment of joy and happiness of the young poet, the telephone rang in the other room. Bologna reluctantly got up from his chair and went to answer the phone call. Ivan did not hear what he was talking to someone, so he was not at all interested in it. He saw before him new poems that he was going to write in the near future. Ivan was in a state that is familiar only to creative individuals with a very subtle, sensual soul. For the poet, the most important thing is his feelings. A man without feelings is just a stale biscuit.
Bolognsky again returned to Ivan and said that guests were coming to him and the young poet would have to leave him. At parting, a slender, brown-eyed, handsome country boy hugged him tightly. He thanked him again, shook hands goodbye and went to his hotel at the station. It was already beginning to get dark on the street, a breeze blew a light robber, air kings, birds still flew across the sky, nature breathed freshness and silence. It was light in Ivan's soul. Bologna did not break his hopes to smithereens, but on the contrary helped him to come closer to his most precious dream of becoming a real singer of nature, goodness and beauty.The poet always feels his connection with the world around him, he is a part of it and therefore cannot but reflect in his poetry that interests the people of their native country and the whole world.
A few years later, Ivan Podushkin became a famous poet. His poems were sold out not only in Russia, but also abroad. All his poetry is imbued with humanism, love for nature and the mysterious, blue-eyed sky. He reflected in it what interests and cares about every inhabitant of the earth.
He became a real poet with a sensitive heart and a very kind soul. Humanity will never forget Ivan Podushkin. He will forever shine to people with his radiant light of kindness. He became a star that will always burn in the sky of our life. His dream came true. Now Ivan Podushkin can proudly call himself a poet.