Doesn't let me study!
I just sat down at the table,
I hear: "Meow..."
"What have you come for?
Leave! - I shout to the cat.
I already... can't bear it!
You see, I'm busy with science,
So scurry and don’t meow!”
He then climbed onto the chair,
He pretended to fall asleep.
Well, he cleverly pretended
It’s almost like he’s sleeping!
But you can't fool me...
“Oh, are you sleeping? You’ll get up now!”
You are smart and I am smart!"
Strike him by the tail!
He scratched my hands
He pulled the tablecloth off the table,
I spilled all the ink on the floor,
I stained all my notebooks
And he slipped out the window!
I'm ready to forgive the cat
I feel sorry for them cats.
But why do they say
As if it's my fault?
I told my mother openly:
"This is just slander!
You should try it yourself
Hold
For some reason I
No luck and no luck!
I have no luck at football:
When you hit it, there is no glass!
No luck at home
And at school...
Things are terrible at school!
Even on that test, say,
Waited for fours:
Petka - contact has been established with him
He gave me the cheat sheet.
Well, everything seems to be in order!
They return our notebooks.
We are watching.
And what's in them?
There are four of them...
For two!
Petka looks guilty...
I didn't hit him, guys.
He didn't do this out of spite.
I was not lucky!
I'm so unlucky
Such an unlucky one!
Take this case for example:
Giving up on everything,
I did my homework honestly
I did it sparing no effort!
So what?
Useless!
So no one asked!
And usually there is not even a day,
So that they don't call me.
At least climb under the desk - and here
They will definitely find it!
There is no salvation
From such bad luck!
And what’s most offensive?
Nobody sympathizes!
It happened early in the morning.
I got on the tram while it was moving.
I decided not to take a ticket
I think I'll go soon.
Well, where at this time?
Was it possible for the controller to take it?
Stopped the carriage
And they take me out!
I said, of course, right away:
No luck, as ordered!
And everyone around will laugh!
That's right, says the people,
Since he doesn’t want to carry the tram,
It's clear here
Things are not going my way!
What's that noise in the back?
Nothing can be understood!
Someone there hisses in excitement:
A-six.
It's Vova and Petya again
Forgot everything in the world:
In class all day long
They are fighting at sea!
Two war fleets are fighting
On pieces of paper from a notebook.
Vova and Petya are not pirates,
They won't board you
And they point at the squares
Long-range
Pencil!
And they will catch up with the enemy
Well-aimed volleys everywhere!
Here is a battle cruiser sinking
In lined water,
Victory is already close:
Destroyers are hitting point blank...
Well, another torpedo
And the battleship will go to the bottom!
But suddenly everything disappeared:
Sea, waves, ships...
Thundered
Louder than a squall:
Head to the board, admirals!
Admirals are broke...
Petka, friend, save me - I’m drowning!
I myself am going down!
Often fails
The bravest admiral
If there is a place for battle
He chose poorly!
My neighbor is a violinist,
Yes, what else!
At least cry!
He recently moved in with us.
He is also a boy.
Studying at some place
In musical school.
I invited him to play football
But of course he didn’t go:
"I'm busy, unfortunately.
I'm getting ready to perform."
What to expect from a violinist!..
He's probably afraid of the ball!
At least he could play
On your violin!
I would play all sorts of things
Pretty little things
And then he saws all day
The same rubbish.
You're still walking up the stairs,
And you hear in the distance:
"Tili-dili, tili-dili,
Tili-pili-pili..."
What is he sawing there, our neighbor?
I ask my mother.
“He doesn’t saw,” was the answer,
And he plays the scale.
Then mom began to explain,
What you need to practice
What would I rather than chase balls,
I could also work out
That without studying it’s okay
You won't even become a violinist.
In general, because of these scales
I sat down for the lessons myself.
I thank him for these scales
I'll ask again sometime!
And the other day they gave me a ticket
To the concert in the Hall of Columns.
It was a wonderful concert!
I wasn't bored at all.
It's almost at the end,
This Tolka comes out.
In a suit
With a collar
With a violin
And with a bow...
Shaking right:
Will begin
Let's leave quickly
I'm pushing my neighbor
Otherwise it will start to itch
Won't finish until lunch!
Ti-i-she! - they shouted from behind.
I didn’t even have time to get up.
I hear it became quiet in the hall.
I heard someone suddenly start singing.
Is this really a violin?
There's some kind of mistake here!
I'm looking at the stage
No, there is no error!
Standing there with a violin
Tolya, my neighbor!
He plays and is not afraid!
But there are people all around...
The violin is like a bird
Sings, sings, sings...
And suddenly she fell silent,
And the hall thundered!
I'll shout:
Well, why did you stop?
The neighbor nudged me with his shoulder:
Do you know the violinist?
And I answered triumphantly:
Yes, we live with him!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
We were on our way home.
He gave me
Carry the violin!
Two and three
Seryozha went to first grade.
Don't joke with Seryozha!
He can do it with us
To ten!
It's no sin for such a wise man
Turn up your snub nose!
Once upon a time at my father’s table
And he asked a question:
There are two pies here, dad, right?
Do you want to bet?
I can always prove
That there are not two, but three!
Let's count together:
Here's ONE
And here are TWO, look!
ONE and TWO,” the son finished,
There will be just THREE!
Well done! - said the father.
And actually three!
I'll take two
And take the third one!
TWO TALES
Grunt on the Christmas tree
Believe it or not, there lived, they say, a little pig named Khruk, and he was extraordinary: he could walk on his hind legs.
It used to be that he would go out for a walk, and all the kids - lambs, calves, kids - would follow him like that:
Little Piggy, show me your skills!
Grunt will stand on his hind legs, fold his front legs on his belly, and stand out looking very important.
Everyone just gasps:
Well, Grunt! Oh yes Grunt!
Lived once…
Once upon a time, in truth, everything in the world lived. And this fairy tale is just about them - ABOUT EVERYONE IN THE WORLD. But since it’s very difficult to tell about everyone in the world at once, it’s better to try to talk about the lamb first. And then, you see, we’ll get to everyone in the world...
Well, once upon a time there was a lamb, a little, pretty lamb named Lamb. He lived with his mother, not far from a large meadow where Kashka grew (many call it clover), and he loved her very much. And by the way, I ate this Porridge (any kind: white, pink and even purple) without any tricks or whims, without persuasion or fairy tales. Not like SOME!
And he also loved his great friend, Smack (his great friend was little puppy named Smack).
Once upon a time there lived a Rhinoceros,
Unlike others:
With amazingly thin skin.
Lived in the jungle
Among the beasts of prey,
And the poor guy had skin
Really
Thinner than paper
And very, very sensitive!
In appearance he was
Rhinoceros by rhinoceros,
In an open field, in a white field
Everything was white and white
Because it's a field
Covered with white snow.
And stood in that white field
Snow-white house,
With a white roof, with a white door,
With a white marble porch.
The ceiling was white, white
The floor shone white,
There were many white stairs
White rooms, white halls.
My neighbor is a violinist,
Yes, what else!
At least cry!
He recently moved in with us.
He is also a boy.
Studying at some place
In musical school.
I invited him to play football
But of course he didn’t go:
"I'm busy, unfortunately.
I'm getting ready to perform."
What to expect from a violinist!..
He's probably afraid of the ball!
Lesson objectives:
- To introduce students to the works of B.V. Zakhodera.
- To develop a love for Russian literature.
- Cultivate a sustainable interest in reading.
1st page
Hello guys! Look at the books presented at our exhibition. Usually the author signed them like this: “Your old comrade, Boris Zakhoder.” And it's not a joke. The writer truly was and remains a friend of his readers - the guys. It’s not for nothing that one of his books is called: “To Comrade Children.” This is what was written on the very first page:
Usually
They're keeping it from you
In secret
And I don't hide it
Comrades children:
Want you to,
Dear readers,
No wonder
While reading wasted time,
Want,
I confess frankly and honestly,
For a book
You had to read
Interesting.
And if you want
Laugh
This too
Do not be afraid:
After all, if they laugh
Comrades children,
It becomes immediately
Lighter in the world.
Perhaps your grandparents read this book when they were little. Let's not even talk about your dads and moms. After all, Boris Zakhoder wrote for children more than half a century ago. Back in 1947, the magazine "Zateinik" published a poem by a poet who had recently returned from the war, "Battleship." Eight years later, his first book of poems, “On the Back Desk,” was published. It was followed by new books: “The Whale and the Cat”, “Ringing Day”, Little Rusachok” and others, you can’t count them all.
Readers were given a lot of joy by meeting the magical English nanny Mary Poppins, Peter Pan, the boy who did not want to grow up, and Alice's adventures in Wonderland. All these books were superbly retold by B. Zakhoder.
Are you familiar with Winnie the Pooh bear? The book about his adventures is called “Winnie the Pooh and Everything.” It was written by the English writer Alan Milne, and Boris Zakhoder taught Winnie the Pooh and his friends to speak Russian. He called him his adopted son. This little bear had sawdust in his head.
This is what the writer says about Winnie the Pooh: “Winnie the Pooh is a teddy bear who composes songs himself, and in addition, not just songs, but Noisemakers, Grumplers, Puffers and even Nozzles. I loved them very much, and that’s why I want him to those who haven’t read books about Winnie the Pooh read a few songs.”
(students read songs)
Grumpy. Vinny composed this grumble while he was looking for a pot of honey, which he himself ate.
Where could my honey go?
After all, it was a full pot!
There was no way he could escape!
After all, he has no legs!
He couldn't sail down the river
(He has no tail or fins!)
He couldn't bury himself in the sand.
He couldn’t and yet he was!
He could not go into the dark forest.
Couldn't fly into the sky.
He couldn’t, but he disappeared anyway!
Well, these are pure miracles!
Winnie the Pooh and Piglet sang this Noisemaker when it snowed.
I'm moving forward
(Terlim - bom - bom)
And it's snowing
(Terlim - bom - bom)
Even though we are completely
Not at all on the road!
But only here
(Terlim - bom - bom)
Tell me from -
(Terlim - bom - bom)
Tell me from -
Why are your feet so cold?!
Who comes to visit in the morning,
He acts wisely!
I come to my friends
The morning has barely dawned.
It's time to go to bed soon in the evening
The owners yawn:
Now, if the guest comes in the morning -
This doesn't happen!
Yes, if the guest arrived in the morning,
He doesn't need to rush!
The owners shout: “Hurray!”
(They are terribly happy!)
No wonder the Sun comes to visit us
Always comes in the morning!
Taram - param, param - taram.
Come visit in the morning!
Make up some kind of Noisemaker yourself. How he composed them.
2nd page
Boris Zakhoder wrote many fairy tales. Listen to one of them.
A student reads the fairy tale "The Whale and the Cat."
- Who swam on the ocean? (cat)
- What animals did the whale catch? (mice)
- Who meowed? (whale)
- In what place did the whale sleep from its enemies? (on the fence)
- Where did the whale sing songs at night? (on the roof)
- What did the whale eat? (sour cream)
- "There is no order in this tale." What is there? (error, typo)
What's wrong with this fairy tale?
To whom can these words be applied?
(children answer in unison)
meows scary at night wanders, snores during the day, eats sour cream, loves to swim, is small, does not want to swim, swims in the ocean, is afraid of water, puffs
3rd page
Animals - dogs and cats - have always lived in Boris Zakhoder's house. Many of his poems are dedicated to cats, there is even a book - “A Brief Cat Book”, which contains Zakhoder’s poems about cats. Do you know poems about cats?
To the cat Vyushka.
There are many famous cats
(not to mention the Cats!)
Illustrious in different time
And in a variety of places.
And here is our Vyushka bravely
Joins their chosen circle -
A simple red cat
Almost without any merit:
Glorious names
Decorated cat family!
: The Cat Who Cried:
: Cat Scientist: Cheshire Cat:
: Cat from Koshkina house:
(How to forget about her fate)
: The First Cat (Which Wandered By Itself):
IN ancient Egypt Cats
They were even listed among the Gods:
Is there an ignoramus in the world?
Unfamiliar with Puss in Boots?
"And to these nice Cats"
(And to the famous Cats)
Vyushka joins,
Who doesn't sleep there.
There is no room in our apartment,
Wherever she sleeps -
From A(lampshade)
To Ya(schika) desk)
You can list
(If you can!) the entire alphabet, -
I guarantee, on every letter
This red cat is sleeping!
No wonder there are crowds of fans
So they follow on her heels,
And they ask for an autograph from the Cat
which
Sleeping
Not there!
They also had dogs in their house: Doberman Dar, Airedale Terrier Barry, Doberman Pinscher Lord, and mongrel dog Katka. When one of the pets, the Doberman Dar, died, Boris Zakhoder dedicated a poem to him: “In memory of my dog”
What is this, you son of a dog?
Where
Your vaunted loyalty?
How dare you run in -
One! -
To these distant lands? -
To those lands
Where you call, don’t call -
No answer, no no review,
To no one -
Even our love:
Where the roads back are from
You can’t find it even with a dog’s sense, -
You will completely forget
Brother,
About his old owner:
But life is not nice for the owner.
My heart, you bastard, hurts and hurts:
: These are things, redhead:
The dog fell silent.
And the owner whines:
However, what about me?
He, as always, -
Fleet-footed,
Runs ahead
Chest pain says:
"You will catch up with him:
Wait a minute:"
This poem was written in 1967, and in 2000 Boris Zakhoder died. After 33 years, he caught up with his dog. B. Zakhoder was buried at the Troekurovsky cemetery. The Zakhoder monument is engraved with a drawing by E. Shepard to Winnie the Pooh, fairy tale characters Pooh and Piglet, moving away towards the setting sun.
Boris Zakhoder wrote many poems for children. He wrote in such a way that the lines of his poems immediately stuck in his head and remained there for a long time. His poems were heard by everyone.
What's that noise in the back?
Nothing can be understood!
Someone there hisses in excitement:
- E - one!
- A - six,
- K-five!
It's Vova and Petya again
Forgot everything in the world:
In class all day long
They are fighting at sea!
Two war fleets are fighting
On pieces of paper from a notebook:
Now let’s take a quiz on the works of B. Zakhoder
Round 1: Find the rhyme.
1. "Counting"
It's not a bad idea to go for lunch.
But by no means
Not in the form of: (dish).
2. "Whale and Cat"
The cat is swimming on the ocean
Whale
From the dish he eats: (sour cream).
3. "Kiskino grief"
Pussy crying in the hallway.
She has great grief:
Evil people
Poor pussy
Do not give
Steal: (sausages).
4. "Strange Incident"
One day
More precisely, sometime and somewhere
With a hungry cat
Met: (cutlet).
Round 2: Animal names. What animals have these names:
- Rusachok (bunny) - "Rusachok"
- Hermit (cancer) - "The Hermit"
- Gray star (toad) - Gray star"
- Smack (Puppy) - "a fairy tale about everyone in the world"
Round 3: Mysteries of Boris Zakhoder.
The sky has frowned
(probably not in a good mood!)
White flies are flying, flying!...
And there are rumors
What white flies
Not only do they fly,
But they don’t even melt! (first snow)
He drinks greedily -
And he doesn't feel thirsty.
He's white -
And he only bathes once:
He dives boldly
Into boiling water
To your own misfortune,
But to the delight of the people:
AND good people
(What a mystery!)
They won't say:
- What a pity:
And they will say:
- How sweet! (sugar cube)
Now let’s solve a few riddles (these are lines from B. Zakhoder’s poems “Who is like whom” and “The Shaggy Alphabet”):
Grate on it
Drawn clearly
And it suits you very well!
Cannibal bars! (tiger)Makes everyone laugh
Because
Don't rush! (turtle)He's wild and vicious
But it is quite edible.
There are advantages
Even such a pig! (boar)
Round 4: Favorite books (B. Zakhoder - translator)
What books do you know that B. Zakhoder translated?
(J. N. Barrie "Peter Pan or the Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up", L. Carroll "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland", A. Milne "Winnie the Pooh and All - All - All", P. Travers "Mary Poppins" ")
Now let’s check whether you read them carefully. Answer the questions:
- What is the best food for bears?
- Who is Winnie the Pooh? What does it consist of?
- Who was Vinny's friend? (Piglet, Rabbit, Owl, Donkey)
- What did Winnie and Piglet give Donkey? (pot and balloon)
- What did the owl give Donkey for his birthday? (tail)
- How could you get to the magical children's island?
- (Rub yourself with magic powder and fly)
- How did the missing boys know that Peter was coming?
- (this was announced by a loud rooster crow)
- Where did Alice go? (to the hole)
- What was in the Rabbit's vest pocket? (watch)
- Who is Mary Poppins?
How did the children treat her?
Summing up the quiz. Winner's reward ceremony.
Our meeting has come to an end. I hope that you have become friends with the heroes of Boris Zakhoder for many years. Let's say goodbye to one of your favorite songs, "About everything in the world."
On September 9, 1918, Boris Zakhoder was born - one of those poets who mint a line once and for all - perfect, like an oak leaf or a red lingonberry, and absolutely necessary in its place.
And it seems that these embossed lines have always been there - that there was no time when “ evil people poor pussy is not allowed to steal sausages,” or “NOBODY will go on a visit or to the cinema today,” or “everyone, everyone, everyone, the miracle-Yudo-fish-cat is coming at us,” or “but give the Dog a piece of cookies , and all sorrows will immediately end”... Each line is an exact hit on the target, pure poetic gold.
Usually such talent reveals itself quite early; and in fact, Zakhoder composed his first fairy tales at the age of six, and wrote his first poem at eleven: he himself translated Goethe’s “The Forest King” because Zhukovsky’s translation seemed too inaccurate to him. Boris's mother, translator Polina Naumovna, knew several languages; The boy was given a German teacher, and German culture became native to him from childhood.
However, they made him famous English translations- here there was room to develop: peculiar English humor, English absurdity, play on words - and at the same time the most severe internal discipline of the text turned out to be up to him, he loved it and knew how. Zakhoder translated a lot: he knew, in addition to German, English, Polish, Bulgarian, Ukrainian; translations made his name, translations fed him in difficult years, translations made it possible to remain human and write human things at a time when it was barely possible to say a living word.
Translations and children's literature even in the most unbearable times historical eras they leave a niche in which they can remain faithful to their beliefs and principles, simply because they are dealing with eternity, and not with modernity.
Zakhoder had difficult times - and for whom was the 20th century easy? Zakhoder was born in 1918 in Bessarabia; the family then moved to Odessa, then to Moscow - it seems that at this time the whole country, having taken off, was going somewhere in search of food, work and safety. In Moscow, my father worked as a lawyer, my mother translated; she unexpectedly committed suicide when Boris was fourteen years old - and heartache stayed with him for the rest of his life. My father then married several more times.
Boris Zakhoder loved classical music, read not only poetry and prose, but also Brem and Fabre. He grew up as a quiet, bookish boy - but with character. One time he tried to leave home. I got into a fight with a bully who was torturing a cat. Another time, as a child, I changed five schools, and in my youth I could not decide on a profession for a long time. After school, he worked as a turner's apprentice, then in three years he changed three universities: first he studied at the Aviation Institute, planning to become an aircraft designer, then at the biological faculty of Kazan University, then transferred to Moscow. His love for biology helped him out later, when he was not published, and he bred aquarium fish for sale. In 1938, he entered the IFLI, but first one war, the Finnish one, then another, the Patriotic War, intervened in his plans. Both times he went to the front as a volunteer, he went through both wars from beginning to end, and received two medals “For Military Merit.” He graduated from the Literary Institute only in 1947, nine years after admission. At the same time, his first children's poem, “Battleship” (under the pseudonym “Boris West”) appeared in print:
Vova and Petya are not pirates,
They won't board you
And they point at the squares
Long-range
Pencil!
And they will catch up with the enemy
Well-aimed volleys everywhere!
Here is a battle cruiser sinking
In lined water...
When he showed his poems “The Letter I” to Lev Kassil, he predicted that soon all the children in the country would know them by heart. And he turned out to be right: poems about a letter that always yaks were published eight years later in Novy Mir and soon became an integral part of almost everyone school holidays ABC books all over the country. But then, in the late forties, at the height of the struggle against rootless cosmopolitans, it was almost impossible to publish under a Jewish surname. He did everything - from technical translation and translations of German writers for Foreign Literature (they were published under pseudonyms) to those very aquarium fish. In his tiny room in the communal apartment there were 24 aquariums, each containing fish of the same species. Zakhoder, the first in Moscow, managed to achieve the reproduction of pearl gouramis, lovely fish with white polka dots, which came to our country only in 1949. They say that he got up at four in the morning and drove across the entire capital to sell fish at the Bird Market. 
In the first post-war years, Eckermann's memoirs about Goethe fell into his hands, and since then he has been inseparable from the poems of the great German. Goethe became his constant interlocutor - a “privy adviser,” as, according to his wife’s recollections, Zakhoder called him. Goethe's translations were not published. It was not possible to publish adult poems. And children's poetry made it possible to live and earn money; Now his work has become poetry, fairy tales, scripts, and translations of children's books. Quite soon, the nation's children's love fell upon him. The children wrote letters to him, and he answered them carefully. “I love your poems very much, because I always smile when I read them. Write more poems - then all the children will be cheerful,” one reader wrote to him.
In children's poems and with children, he allowed himself to fool around and generously shared his happy discoveries:
People called the poor thing “Echidna.”
People, come to your senses!
Shame on you?!
In the fifties, a happy time of great hopes, he found Milnov’s “Winnie the Pooh” and recreated it in Russian - with all the necessary chants and puffs, with all the charming songs and hilarious aphorisms, completely equal to the original in its genius.
Two more of his famous translations - “Alice in Wonderland” and “Mary Poppins” - are distinguished by their extraordinary translation courage. In “Alice”, he also recreated Carroll’s world anew, in Russian, using the material of Russian songs, children’s poems and rhymes familiar from childhood:
Animals, in get ready for school,
The cockerel crowed a long time ago.
No matter how you resist there -
Even bite, even kick, -
It won't help anyway.
He did a radical thing with Mary Poppins: he seriously shortened it. In post-Soviet times, when the book became available in other translations and in the original, it became clear to the thoughtful reader that Zakhoder knew what he was doing and was not so wrong in his disrespect for the original. However, it was in his translation that “Mary Poppins” acquired living, harsh intonations - “one more word from this area, and I’ll call a policeman,” and Willoughby, who said nothing to the Russian ear, turned out to be the sweetest Bartholomew - “half Airedale, half pointer, and both halves the worst." Children of our generation remember it by heart and can quote it in large chunks. In general, quite a lot of Zakhoder’s formulas have grown into our speech: whoever goes to visit in the morning acts wisely; a heartbreaking sight; Why are you so prickly, hedgehog? - this is me, just in case... this is a southern someone, I came up with it myself...
“The Furry ABC” is generally replete with excellent formulas: “little brain, a lot of poison”, “there is no reason to keep a bison, since it is a ruminant, rough and gloomy”...
This is almost an adult Zakhoder: in adult poems he is sharp, tough, sometimes on the verge of a foul, instead of unbridled childish fun there is bitter irony.
Our ancestors did not eat everything -
And they left us leftovers.
But the descendants will not lose either -
God willing, we’ll leave them the wreckage.
He, perhaps, had reasons for bitterness - somehow he received little recognition and understanding. He was not even allowed to go abroad to receive the Andersen Prize - practically a Nobel prize for children's writers. Someone else received it and brought it to the USSR. Perhaps there was something frivolous in the general attitude towards him: children's writer- it seems like a smaller discharge. "Title" children's poet“Blocked my path to adult poetry,” he once said.
Few people knew about his many years of work on Goethe, about the serious poems that he only last years published his life, and gave one of the collections the sad and sarcastic title “Almost Posthumous.” The second was called “Insolence.” The zakhoder here is really sharp and impudent; his view of the world is malicious, ironic, without any condescension. Discussions about the nature of creativity reveal a demanding, almost merciless attitude, first of all, towards oneself:
But for him it’s worse than hellish torment
Empty words and wrong sound.
...As if this sound is uninspired
Will destroy all the harmony of the universe.
But perhaps the most interesting thing is Zakhoder’s translations of Goethe. They were released in 2008, seven years after Zakhoder’s death. A two-volume book of translations and notes about Goethe was prepared by Boris Vladimirovich’s widow Galina Zakhoder, and this work, while undervalued, still awaits attentive readers and researchers. Here Zakhoder is no longer a sarcastic and sarcastic old man, offended by the indifference of those around him and annoyed at the unfulfilled destiny of a writer. Here he straightens up to his full height; here we are present at a long, leisurely conversation between two mighty old men - sharp, mournful and wise.
Again and again I cry to the Creator:
- O send me Your grace -
Let me see the truth, let me see!.. -
And I hear:
- Am I hiding something?
