Deeds of long-gone days of legend. Deeds of bygone days, ancient legends are deep

Things have been going on for a long time days gone by,
Legends of deep antiquity
From the poem (first song) “Ruslan and Lyudmila” (1817-1820) by A. S. Pushkin (1799-1837). The lines represent Pushkin's translation of one of the "poems of Ossian" English writer James Macpherson (1736-1796):
A tale of the times of old!..
The deeds of days of other years!..
Allegorically about long-standing and unreliable events that few people remember (ironic).
These are the lines by A.S. Pushkin, I think, that will fit, like an epigraph, to the cycle of my stories “Our Arrival in Kazakhstan,” because my grandchildren can hardly believe in what difficult conditions the majority found themselves Soviet people V post-war years how difficult it was to restore the country’s economy. The war destroyed not only cities, but also broke families and the psyche of people... But only perseverance and the will to live won over all difficulties. I describe life on my own behalf and only what I saw and I heard it myself, without rosy tones - everything was as it was in my distant post-war childhood. Thanks to the Internet, and with it Prose.ru for giving me the opportunity to publish and leave my memories for my loved ones!

Other articles in the literary diary:

• 11.01.2012. Deeds of days gone by, ancient legends are deep
• 01/09/2012. Picked up the tug, don’t say it’s not strong
• 01/06/2012. Pleasant surprise

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For you, the soul of my queen,
Beauties, for you alone
Tales of times gone by,
During golden leisure hours,
Under the whisper of chatty old times,
I wrote with a faithful hand;
Please accept my playful work!
Without demanding anyone's praise,
I am already happy with sweet hope,
What a maiden with the trembling of love
Maybe he'll look furtively
To my sinful songs.

There is a green oak near the Lukomorye;
Golden chain on the oak tree:
Day and night the cat is a scientist
Everything goes round and round in a chain;
He goes to the right - the song starts,
To the left - he tells a fairy tale.
There are miracles there: a goblin wanders there,
The mermaid sits on the branches;
There on unknown paths
Traces of unprecedented animals;
There's a hut there on chicken legs
It stands without windows, without doors;
There the forest and valley are full of visions;
There the waves will rush in at dawn
The beach is sandy and empty,
And thirty beautiful knights
From time to time clear waters emerge,
And their sea uncle is with them;
The prince is there in passing
Captivates the formidable king;
There in the clouds in front of the people
Through the forests, across the seas
The sorcerer carries the hero;
In the dungeon there the princess is grieving,
And the brown wolf serves her faithfully;
There is a stupa with Baba Yaga
She walks and wanders by herself;
There, King Kashchei is wasting away over gold;
There's a Russian spirit... it smells like Russia!
And there I was, and I drank honey;
I saw a green oak by the sea;
The cat was sitting under him, a scientist
He told me his fairy tales.
I remember one: this fairy tale
Now I will tell the world...

Song one

Things of days gone by
Deep legends of antiquity.

In the crowd mighty sons,
With friends, in the high grid
Vladimir the sun feasted;
He gave away his youngest daughter
For the brave prince Ruslan
And honey from a heavy glass
I drank to their health.
Our ancestors did not eat soon,
It didn't take long to move around
Ladles, silver bowls
With boiling beer and wine.
They poured joy into my heart,
Foam hissed around the edges,
It is important that the teacups wore them
And they bowed low to the guests.

Speeches merged into indistinct noise;
A cheerful circle of guests buzzes;
But suddenly a pleasant voice was heard
And the sound of the harp is a fluent sound;
Everyone fell silent and listened to Bayan:
And the sweet singer praises
Lyudmila-precious and Ruslana
And Lelem made a crown for him.

But, tired of ardent passion,
Ruslan, in love, does not eat or drink;
He looks at his dear friend,
Sighs, gets angry, burns
And, pinching my mustache with impatience,
Counts every moment.
In despondency, with a cloudy brow,
At a noisy wedding table
Three young knights are sitting;
Silent, behind an empty bucket,
Forgot the circular cups,
And the trash is unpleasant to them;
They do not hear the prophetic Bayan;
They looked down, embarrassed:
Those are three rivals of Ruslan;
The unfortunate are hidden in the soul
Love and hate are poison.
One - Rogdai, brave warrior,
Pushing the limits with a sword
Rich Kyiv fields;
The other is Farlaf, an arrogant screamer,
In feasts, undefeated by anyone,
But the warrior is humble among swords;
The last one, full of passionate thought,
Young Khazar Khan Ratmir:
All three are pale and gloomy,
And a merry feast is not a feast for them.

Here it is over; stand in rows
Mixed in noisy crowds,
And everyone looks at the young people:
The bride lowered her eyes
As if my heart was depressed,
And the joyful groom shines.
But the shadow embraces all nature,
It’s already close to midnight; it’s deaf;
The boyars, dozing off from honey,
With a bow they went home.
The groom is delighted, in ecstasy:
He caresses in the imagination
The beauty of a shy maid;
But with secret, sad tenderness
Grand Duke blessing
Gives a young couple.

And here is the young bride
Lead to the wedding bed;
The lights went out... and the night
Lel lights the lamp.
Sweet hopes have come true,
Gifts are being prepared for love;
Jealous robes will fall
On Constantinople carpets...
Do you hear the loving whisper,
And the sweet sound of kisses,
And an intermittent murmur
The last timidity?.. Spouse
Feels delight in advance;
And then they came... Suddenly
Thunder struck, light flashed in the fog,
The lamp goes out, the smoke runs out,
Everything around is dark, everything is trembling,
And the soul froze in Ruslan...
Everything fell silent. In the menacing silence
A strange voice was heard twice,
And someone in the smoky depths
Soared blacker than the foggy darkness...
And again the tower is empty and quiet;
The frightened groom stands up
Cold sweat rolls off your face;
Trembling, with a cold hand
He asks the mute darkness...
About grief: there is no dear friend!
The air is empty;
Lyudmila is not in the thick darkness,
Abducted by an unknown force.

Oh, if love is a martyr
Suffering hopelessly from passion,
Even though life is sad, my friends,
However, it is still possible to live.
But after a long time, many years
Hug your loving friend
The object of desires, tears, longing,
And suddenly a minute wife
Lose forever... oh friends,
Of course, it would be better if I died!

However, unhappy Ruslan is alive.
But what did the Grand Duke say?
Suddenly struck by a terrible rumor,
I became angry at my son-in-law,
He convenes him and the court:
“Where, where is Lyudmila?” - asks
With a terrible, fiery brow.
Ruslan doesn't hear. “Children, friends!
I remember my previous achievements:
Oh, have mercy on the old man!
Tell me which one of you agrees
Jump after my daughter?
Whose feat will not be in vain,
Therefore, suffer, cry, villain!
He couldn’t save his wife! -
To him I will give her as a wife
With half the kingdom of my great-grandfathers.
Who will volunteer, children, friends?..”
"I!" - said the sad groom.
"I! I! - exclaimed with Rogdai
Farlaf and joyful Ratmir. -
Now we saddle our horses;
We are happy to travel all over the world.
Our Father, let us not prolong the separation;
Don’t be afraid: we’re going for the princess.”
And gratefully dumb
In tears he stretches out his hands to them
An old man, exhausted by melancholy.

All four go out together;
Ruslan was killed by despondency;
Thought of the Lost Bride
It torments and kills him.
They sit on zealous horses;
Along the banks of the Dnieper happy
They fly in swirling dust;
Already hiding in the distance;
The riders are no longer visible...
But he still looks for a long time
Grand Duke in an empty field
And the thought flies after them.

Ruslan languished silently,
Having lost both meaning and memory.
Looking over your shoulder arrogantly
And it’s important to put your arms akimbo, Farlaf,
Pouting, he groaned for Ruslan.
He says: “I force
I've broken free, friends!
Well, will I soon meet the giant?
Surely blood will flow,
These are the victims of jealous love!
Have fun, my faithful sword,
Have fun, my zealous horse!”

Khazar Khan, in his mind
Already hugging Lyudmila,
Almost dancing over the saddle;
The blood in him is young,
The look is full of fire of hope:
Then he gallops at full speed,
It teases the dashing runner,
It circles, rears up,
Ile boldly rushes to the hills again.

Rogday is gloomy, silent - not a word...
Fearing an unknown fate
And tormented by vain jealousy,
He is the most worried
And often his gaze is terrible
He looks gloomily at the prince.

Rivals on the same road
Everyone travels together all day.
The Dnieper became dark and sloping;
The shadow of the night pours from the east;
The fogs over the Dnieper are deep;
It's time for their horses to rest.
There's a wide path under the mountain
A wide path crossed.
“Let’s leave, it’s time! - they said -
Let us entrust ourselves to the unknown fate.”
And every horse, not smelling steel,
By will, I chose the path for myself.

What are you doing, Ruslan, unhappy,
Alone in desert silence?
Lyudmila, the wedding day is terrible,
It seems like you saw everything in a dream.
Pushing the copper helmet over his eyebrows,
Leaving the reins from powerful hands,
You're walking between the fields,
And slowly in your soul
Hope dies, faith fades.

But suddenly there was a cave in front of the knight;
There is light in the cave. He's straight to her
Walks under the dormant arches,
Contemporaries of nature itself.
He entered with despondency: what is he seeing?
There is an old man in the cave; clear view,
Calm gaze, gray hair;
The lamp in front of him is burning;
For ancient book he is sitting
Reading it carefully.
“Welcome, my son! -
He said with a smile to Ruslan. -
I've been here alone for twenty years
In the darkness old life fade;
But finally I waited for the day
Long foreseen by me.
We are brought together by fate;
Sit down and listen to me.
Ruslan, you have lost Lyudmila;
Your strong spirit is losing strength;
But a quick moment of evil will fly by:
For a while, fate befell you.
With hope, cheerful faith
Go for everything, don’t be discouraged;
Forward! with a sword and a bold chest
Make your way to midnight.

Find out, Ruslan: your insulter
The terrible wizard Chernomor,
Longtime thief of beauties,
Full owner of the mountains.
No one else in his abode
Until now the gaze has not penetrated;
But you, destroyer of evil machinations,
You will enter it, and the villain
He will die by your hand.
I don't have to tell you anymore:
The fate of your coming days,
My son, from now on it is your will.”

Our knight fell at the feet of the old man
And in joy he kisses his hand.
The world brightens before his eyes,
And the heart forgot the torment.
He came to life again; and suddenly again
There is a sadness on the flushed face...
“The reason for your melancholy is clear;
But sadness is not difficult to disperse, -
The old man said, “You are terrible.”
Love of a gray-haired sorcerer;
Calm down, know: it is in vain
And the young maiden is not afraid.
He brings down the stars from the sky,
He whistles - the moon trembles;
But against the time of the law
His science is not strong.
Jealous, reverent guardian
Locks of merciless doors,
He's just a weak torturer
Your lovely captive.
He silently wanders around her,
Curses his cruel lot...
But, good knight, the day passes,
But you need peace.”

Ruslan lies down on soft moss
Before the dying fire;
He is looking for sleep,
Sighs, turns slowly...
In vain! Knight finally:
“I can’t sleep, my father!
What to do: I am sick at heart,
And it’s not a dream, how sickening it is to live.
Let me refresh my heart
Your holy conversation.
Forgive my impertinent question.
Open up: who are you, O blessed one,
An incomprehensible confidant of fate?
Who brought you to the desert?

Sighing with a sad smile,
The old man replied: “Dear son,
I've already forgotten my distant homeland
Gloomy edge. Natural Finn,
In the valleys known to us alone,
Chasing the herd from the surrounding villages,
In my carefree youth I knew
Some dense oak groves,
Streams, caves of our rocks
Yes, wild poverty is fun.
But to live in gratifying silence
It didn't last long for me.

Then, near our village,
Like a sweet color of solitude,
Naina lived. Between friends
She thundered with beauty.
One morning
Their herds on the dark meadow
I drove on, blowing the bagpipes;
There was a stream in front of me.
Alone, young beauty
I was making a wreath on the shore.
I was attracted by my destiny...
Ah, knight, it was Naina!
I go to her - and the fatal flame
I was rewarded for my daring gaze,
And I recognized love in my soul
With her heavenly joy,
With her painful melancholy.

Half the year has flown away;
I opened up to her with trepidation,
He said: I love you, Naina.
But my timid sorrow
Naina listened with pride,
Loving only your charms,
And she answered indifferently:
“Shepherd, I don’t love you!”

And everything became wild and gloomy for me:
Native bush, shade of oak trees,
Merry games of shepherds -
Nothing consoled the melancholy.
In despondency, the heart became dry and sluggish.
And finally I thought
Leave Finnish fields;
Seas of faithless depths
Swim across with a brotherly squad
And deserve the glory of abuse
Naina's proud attention.
I called the brave fishermen
Look for dangers and gold.
For the first time quiet region fathers
I heard the swearing sound of damask steel
And the noise of non-peaceful shuttles.
I sailed into the distance, full of hope,
With a crowd of fearless countrymen;
We are ten years of snow and waves
They were stained with the blood of enemies.
Rumor spread: the kings of a foreign land
They were afraid of my insolence;
Their proud squads
The northern swords fled.
We had fun, we fought menacingly,
They shared tributes and gifts,
And they sat down with the vanquished
For friendly feasts.
But a heart full of Naina,
Under the noise of battle and feasts,
I was languishing in secret sorrow,
Searched for the Finnish coast.
It's time to go home, I said, friends!
Let's hang up the idle chain mail
Under the shadow of my native hut.
He said - and the oars rustled:
And, leaving fear behind,
To the Gulf of the Fatherland dear
We flew in with proud joy.

Long-time dreams have come true,
Ardent wishes come true!
A minute of sweet goodbye
And you sparkled for me!
At the feet of the haughty beauty
I brought a bloody sword,
Corals, gold and pearls;
Before her, intoxicated with passion,
Surrounded by a silent swarm
Her envious friends
I stood as an obedient prisoner;
But the maiden hid from me,
Saying with an air of indifference:
"Hero, I don't love you!"

Why tell me, my son,
What is it impossible to retell?
Ah, and now alone, alone,
Soul asleep, at the door of the grave,
I remember sorrow, and sometimes,
How a thought is born about the past,
By my gray beard
A heavy tear rolls down.

But listen: in my homeland
Between the desert fishermen
Wonderful science lurks.
Under the roof of eternal silence,
Among the forests, in the distant wilderness
Gray-haired sorcerers live;
To objects of high wisdom
All their thoughts are directed;
Everyone hears their terrible voice,
What happened and what will happen again,
And they are subject to their formidable will
And the coffin and love itself.

And I, a greedy seeker of love,
Decided in joyless sadness
Attract Naina with charms
And in the proud heart of a cold maiden
Ignite love with magic.
Hastened into the arms of freedom,
Into the lonely darkness of the forests;
And there, in the teachings of sorcerers,
Spent invisible years.
The long-awaited moment has come,
And the terrible secret of nature
I realized with bright thoughts:
I learned the power of spells.
The crown of love, the crown of desires!
Now, Naina, you are mine!
The victory is ours, I thought.
But really the winner
There was rock, my persistent persecutor.

In dreams of young hope,
In the delight of ardent desire,
I cast spells hastily,
I call the spirits - and in the darkness of the forest
The arrow rushed like thunder,
The magic whirlwind raised a howl,
The ground shook under my feet...
And suddenly he sits in front of me
The old woman is decrepit, gray-haired,
Sparkling with sunken eyes,
With a hump, with a shaking head,
A picture of sad disrepair.
Ah, knight, it was Naina!..
I was horrified and silent
With his eyes the terrible ghost measured,
Still didn't believe in doubt
And suddenly he began to cry and shout:
“Is it possible! oh, Naina, is it you!
Naina, where is your beauty?
Tell me, is heaven really
Have you been changed so badly?
Tell me, how long has it been since you left the light?
Have I parted with my soul and my sweetheart?
How long ago?..” – “Exactly forty years,”
There was a fatal answer from the maiden, -
Today I hit seventy.
“What should I do,” she squeaks to me, “
The years flew by in a crowd.
My, your spring has passed -
We both managed to grow old.
But, friend, listen: it doesn’t matter
Loss of unfaithful youth.
Of course, I'm gray now,
A little hunchbacked, maybe;
Not like in the old days,
Not so alive, not so sweet;
But (added the chatterbox)
I’ll tell you a secret: I’m a witch!”
And it really was like that.
Mute, motionless in front of her,
I was a complete fool
With all my wisdom.

But here's something terrible: witchcraft
Unfortunately, it came to pass.
My gray deity
There was a new passion for me.
Curling his terrible mouth into a smile,
Freak with a grave voice
He mumbles a confession of love to me.
Imagine my suffering!
I trembled, looking down;
She continued through her cough.
Heavy, passionate conversation:
“So, now I recognize the heart;
I see, true friend, it
Born for tender passion;
Feelings have awakened, I'm burning,
I'm yearning for love...
Come into my arms...
Oh darling, darling! I'm dying..."

And meanwhile she, Ruslan,
She blinked with languid eyes;
And meanwhile for my caftan
She held herself with her skinny arms;
And meanwhile I was dying,
I closed my eyes in horror;
And suddenly I couldn’t stand the urine;
I broke out screaming and ran.
She followed: “Oh, unworthy!
You have disturbed my calm age,
The days are bright for the innocent maiden!
You have achieved Naina's love,
And you despise - these are men!
They all breathe treason!
Alas, blame yourself;
He seduced me, wretched one!
I gave myself up to passionate love...
Traitor, monster! oh shame!
But tremble, maiden thief!

So we parted. From now on
Living in my solitude
With a disappointed soul;
And in the world there is consolation for the old man
Nature, wisdom and peace.
The grave is already calling me;
But the feelings are the same
The old lady hasn't forgotten yet
And the flame later than love
Turned from frustration into anger.
Loving evil with a black soul,
The old witch, of course,
He will hate you too;
But grief on earth does not last forever.”

Our knight greedily listened
Stories of the Elder; clear eyes
I didn’t fall into a light nap
And a quiet flight of the night
I didn't hear it in deep thought.
But the day shines radiantly...
With a sigh the grateful knight
Volume of the old sorcerer;
The soul is full of hope;
Gets out. Legs squeezed
Ruslan of the neighing horse,
He recovered in the saddle and whistled.
“My father, do not leave me.”
And gallops across the empty meadow.
Gray-haired sage to a young friend
Shouts after: “ Happy journey!
Forgive, love your wife,
Don’t forget the elder’s advice!”

"Things of days gone by..."

1. The embodiment of the idea of ​​the victory of good over evil in M. Glinka’s opera “Ruslan and Lyudmila”.
2. Introduction to the aria genre.
3. Ruslan's aria as an important dramatic number of the opera: a change in states from gloomy to victorious, decisive.

Musical material:

1. M. Glinka. Bayan's chant; Ruslan's aria from the opera "Ruslan and Lyudmila" (listening);
2. M. Glinka. March of Chernomor from the opera “Ruslan and Lyudmila” (listening at the request of the teacher);
3. M. Glinka. Overture from the opera “Ruslan and Lyudmila” (listening at the request of the teacher);
4. E. Ptichkin, poems by M. Plyatskovsky. “Russian hut” (singing).

Description of activities:

1. Correlate artistic and figurative content piece of music with the form of its embodiment.
2. Apply knowledge of fixed assets musical expressiveness when analyzing the listened work.
3. Express in color emotional attitude to the artistic image.

Theaters are different. Most often in theater performances actors participate who go on stage to the audience and begin to speak their text and play their roles. You probably all know and love puppet theater, where puppets give performances instead of living people. Such a puppet theater comes to visit you every evening in the TV show “ Good night, kids!

And there is a theater in which all performances are staged using music. And the actors don’t speak there, but sing and dance to the music. This kind of theater is called musical theater.

1. What types musical performance You know? (Opera and ballet.)
2. What is the name of a musical performance during which all its participants - the actors - do not speak, but sing? (Opera.)
3. What are the performers called? vocal parts? (Singers.)
4. Who else is involved in the production of the present opera performance? (Symphony orchestra, chorus)

Yes, this is what the show is called a beautiful word"opera". Often the plot of an opera is a fairy tale. The heroes end up at the bottom of the sea, then in a magical fairy-tale forest, then in an enchanted kingdom...

There is a green oak near the Lukomorye;
Golden chain on the oak tree:
Both day and night the cat is a scientist
Everything goes round and round in a chain;
He goes to the right - the song starts,
To the left - he tells a fairy tale.
There are miracles there: a goblin wanders there,
The mermaid sits on the branches;
There on unknown paths
Traces of unseen animals...

Lukomorye... (Lukomorye is a sea bay.) Music hall turned into a seashore. On the shore stood a mighty, thick oak tree. The water on the sea was agitated, and the splashes fell on the slow gray cat, who, jingling his heavy gold chain, walked importantly around the oak tree, purring a song. And among the dense foliage the pale face of a mermaid flashed. Instead of a braid, long green algae flowed over her shoulders, and either drops of water or tears glistened on her eyelashes... An unprecedented animal flashed through the thicket, leaving its traces on an unknown path...

How wonderfully Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin talks to us. He uses the most ordinary words, but his speech, his story become a living magical picture.

This is how A. Pushkin’s poem “Ruslan and Lyudmila” begins. (Poem - large poetic work with a developed plot.)

This fairy tale story became the plot of Mikhail Ivanovich Glinka’s opera “Ruslan and Lyudmila”.

You and I find ourselves in ancient Kyiv at a wedding feast visiting the legendary Prince Vladimir. He gives his daughter Lyudmila in marriage to the Russian hero Ruslan.

In the crowd of mighty sons,
With friends, in the high grid
Vladimir the sun feasted;
He gave away his youngest daughter
For the brave prince Ruslan
And honey from a heavy glass
I drank to their health.

Hearing at the request of the teacher: M. Glinka. Overture from the opera “Ruslan and Lyudmila”

The attention of all guests is focused on the wonderful singer-storyteller - Bayan.

Who is Bayan?

Singer, storyteller, old gray-haired sage, predictor, historian. In a prophetic song, the prophetic Bayan predicts Ruslan and Lyudmila severe trials; but misfortunes will pass, and “a sign of joy, child of rain and light, the rainbow will rise again!”

He sings, accompanying himself on the harp - ancient Russian folk instrument. The golden strings fascinate listeners with their ringing sound. Calm movement, melodious melody and measured chords with accompaniment convey the concentration and solemnity of the narrative in the music. The light and soft sound of the voice alternates with instrumental performances.

Things of days gone by
Legends of deep antiquity!
About the glory of the Russian land,
Ring, golden strings.

Listening: M. Glinka. Bayan's chorus from the opera "Ruslan and Lyudmila"

In the midst of the wedding feast, darkness suddenly sets in. Thunderclaps are heard, and everyone present suddenly plunges into a strange stupor:

Thunder struck, light flashed in the fog,
The lamp goes out, the smoke runs out,
Everything around is dark, everything is trembling,
And Ruslan’s soul froze.

When it becomes light again, everyone sees with horror that Lyudmila has disappeared. It was the wizard Chernomor who kidnapped her and took her to his enchanted castle.

Hearing at the request of the teacher: M. Glinka. March of Chernomor from the opera “Ruslan and Lyudmila”

Brave Ruslan goes in search of her. In order to find Lyudmila, Ruslan will have to meet and fight enemies. On his way he will meet the evil sorceress Naina and the good Finn, and meet the Head of the Hero...

Composer M. Glinka paints us a portrait of the hero Ruslan. This prince appears before us as strong, courageous, brave, ready for exploits.

... In search of Lyudmila, Ruslan finds himself in a deserted field containing traces of a long-past battle. Sorrowful thoughts engulf him:

With a sigh the knight surrounds himself
He looks with sad eyes.
"Oh field, field,
Who littered you with dead bones?”

These verses formed the basis of Ruslan's aria.

Listening: M. Glinka. Ruslan's aria "About the field, the field..." from the opera "Ruslan and Lyudmila"

An aria is an opera fragment performed by one singer accompanied by an orchestra.

The heavy and gloomy intonations of the aria give way to decisive and victorious ones. Ruslan understands: only courage and bravery will help him defeat his evil enemies.

Ruslan is portrayed in the opera not only as the savior of Lyudmila, but also as the defender of the Russian land from the forces of evil. Ruslan defeats his enemies and frees Lyudmila from the magic spell. And we are again in Kyiv at Prince Vladimir’s wedding feast.

Good things are followed by sorrows,
Sadness is the key to joy!

Music took us to the distant past. She helped us touch our history, our heroic past.

In this opera, the composer divides all the characters into good and evil. For the good and noble, he composed beautiful song music. These include Ruslan, Lyudmila, and the singer-storyteller Bayan. These characters theme song sing-song, with beautiful, memorable melodies. And with evil heroes In his opera, the composer played a kind of musical joke - he did not give them vocal parts. For example, for one such heroine - the evil sorceress Naina - he composed music that is almost all sung in one sound. For the kidnapper of Princess Lyudmila, the evil wizard Chernomor, Glinka did not create vocal music: all of Chernomor’s actions are conveyed only by orchestral music.

1. What is opera? ( Musical performance, where everyone sings.)
2. What plot is the opera based on? (Based on the poem by A. S. Pushkin “Ruslan and Lyudmila.”)
3. What words begin A. S. Pushkin’s poem “Ruslan and Lyudmila”? (“Near Lukomorye there is a green oak…”)
4. What is Lukomorye? (Sea Bay.)
5. What event does the opera begin with? (From the wedding of Ruslan and Lyudmila.)
6. What's happening on wedding feast? (Evil wizard Chernomor kidnaps Lyudmila, and Ruslan goes in search of her.)
7. What excerpts from the opera “Ruslan and Lyudmila” by composer M. Glinka did you listen to today?
8. What was the character of this music?

Questions and tasks:

1. What is the character of the Bayan Chorus? How do you think. Why does the Chorus sound leisurely and majestic?
2. What sound musical instrument played in an orchestra?
3. How do the means of musical expression help to “draw” the gloomy image of the “dead field”? What tempo did the composer choose? What registers are used? What are the dynamics?
4. In the middle of the aria, the character of the music changes dramatically. What do you think this is connected with?

Presentation

Included:
1. Presentation, ppsx;
2. Sounds of music:
Glinka. Ruslan's aria from the opera “Ruslan and Lyudmila”, mp3;
Glinka. March of Chernomor from the opera “Ruslan and Lyudmila”, mp3;
Glinka. Bayan's song from the opera “Ruslan and Lyudmila”, mp3;
Glinka. Overture from the opera “Ruslan and Lyudmila”, mp3;
3. Accompanying article, docx.

The work uses unique illustrations of Palekh boxes.

Encyclopedic Dictionary winged words and expressions Serov Vadim Vasilievich

Deeds of days gone by, / Traditions of deep antiquity

Deeds of days gone by, / Traditions of deep antiquity

From the poem (song one) “Ruslan and Lyudmila” (1817-1820) A. S. Pushkina(1799-1837). The lines represent Pushkin's translation of one of the "poems of Ossian" by the English writer James Macpherson (1736-1796):

A tale of the times of old!..

The deeds of days of other years!..

Allegorically about long-standing and unreliable events that few people remember (ironic).