Associative series and beauty. Associative series and beauty Together, the path is more fun, let's climb onto the cloud
Moritz Junna
Crow
The crow was sitting on the bench,
And Mitya saw
Raven.
He didn't offend
Crow,
But only
I stroked her paws.
But she shouted
Crow,
And rushed off into the sky
Crow!
There is no crow on the bench,
There is no crow on the roof,
There is no crow and taller!
Where are her wings and paws?
There is no crow in the square,
Mitya doesn't hear the crow,
But Mitya doesn’t believe in this:
- Voro-o-o-na! - he calls. - Voro-o-o-na!
A dog and a cat come out
Take a short walk to the park,
And the cat meows to Mitya:
Take me by the paw
Three is more fun,
Let's climb onto the cloud, baby,
On a cloud in the sky, -
It's glowing there
Bread crumb
And your crow jumps!
(verse reading by T. Zhukov)
Yunna Petrovna (Pinkhusovna) Moritz (b. June 2, 1937, Kyiv), Russian poetess.
The poems of Yunna Petrovna Moritz have been translated into all major European languages, as well as Japanese, Turkish, and Chinese. Many songs have been written and performed based on her poems, for example “When We Were Young” by Sergei Nikitin. She writes a lot for children, ever since she published several poems in the magazine “Youth” (at that time Moritz was banned from publishing for independence and inflexibility in his work and was even expelled from the Gorky Literary Institute). Children's poems - kind, humorous and paradoxical - are immortalized in cartoons ("Rubber Hedgehog", "Big Secret for a Small Company", "Favorite Pony"). Yunna Moritz puts her thoughts not only in letters and lines, but also in graphics and paintings, “which are not illustrations, they are such poems, in such a language.”
“Writing poetry is like climbing a mountain: with each step there is significant experience, more perfect skill. Another effort - and the height is taken!.. The height is taken, but the fact is that true poetry begins precisely after this, it begins with soaring, with magic, and this is a secret accessible to few. Junna Moritz was lucky: she discovered a magical land, she didn’t invent it, but discovered it. She populated it with living inhabitants, not fairy tales, but living ones.
Yunna Moritz discovered a new magical land. Here everything is fair, kind, loving and full of correspondence between one another: the music could not be different, and it is probably impossible to read and sing these poems differently.
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“What…” Tolik wanted to ask, but stopped short. He realized that Timur did not want to talk about it anymore.
Chapter twenty nine
"Crow"
The crow was sitting on the bench,
And Mitya saw
Crow.
He didn't offend
Crow,
But only
I stroked her paws.
But she screamed
Crow,
And rushed off into the sky
Crow!
There is no crow on the bench,
There is no crow on the roof,
There is no crow and taller!
Where are her wings and paws?
There is no crow in the park,
Mitya doesn't hear the crow,
But Mitya doesn’t believe in this:
- Voro-o-o-na! - he calls. - Voro-o-o-na!
A dog and a cat come out
Take a short walk to the park,
And the cat meows to Mitya:
- Take me by the paw,
The path is more fun with three.
Let's climb onto the cloud, baby,
On a cloud in the sky, -
It's glowing there
Bread crumb
And your crow jumps!
Yunna Moritz
It was scary in the city. It was as if a war had passed, and everyone died, but the houses remained. Houses, shops, mushrooms on playgrounds, ominous ivy falling out of the windows of dead apartments. Scary.
And everywhere there is such a musty smell, like from a dead home. I don’t know what smells like that—whether it’s wet plaster, or maybe things that people have thrown away. The Long Boulevard was probably once a favorite place for local residents to walk. Tall poplars, under them there are fragments of benches every five meters. I just imagined how the residents of Pripyat were walking along the boulevard, how parents were sitting on benches, and children were running around among the trees nearby. Now it was empty and quiet. Although, after walking a little along the path, I realized that it was not so quiet. The space began to fill with quiet sounds. Muffled exclamations, a slight rustle, a small stomp, as it seemed to me, of small feet. I looked questioningly at Timur. He put his finger to his lips and said quietly:
“The main thing is that Bruno doesn’t bark now.”
- What is this? - I whispered.
- Look up, just raise your head very slowly. “Timur showed with his eyes where to look.
That's exactly what I did. And I even felt unwell. There were thousands, maybe tens of thousands of crows sitting in all the trees above us. They sat silently on the branches, just shifted from paw to paw and from time to time flapping their wings for some reason. Some jumped up in muffled voices out of some sort of crow-like impatience. I looked questioningly at Timur, but he only said with his lips: “Later.” And then I realized why this place seemed so neglected. The ground, broken benches, asphalt - everything was covered with spots of white bird droppings. Together with many years of neglect, they gave the boulevard a particularly unkempt, uninhabited appearance.
Timur understood what I saw, pointed his fingers at the droppings and again put his finger to his lips. I guessed what he meant: an extra sound, a careless movement - and we risk ending up under the same layer of crow droppings. Bruno was imbued with the seriousness of the moment and trotted nearby in silence. Tolik and Yurka watched my communication with Timur and also understood everything. So we walked, almost on tiptoe, to the end of the boulevard, where the alley of pyramidal poplars ended. When we reached the roadway, the former roadway, Timur breathed a sigh of relief.
- What an abomination! One wrong step, and you’ll never get rid of it in life. The black-winged ones arrived.
- What do you mean they arrived? “I didn’t understand what Timur meant.”
- Yes, these are not locals. Wandering flocks of crows. Why the hell go into the Zone? They are looking for free food. And the Zone is not rubber! Well, why don’t swans or peacocks fly towards us, but always the nastiest thing that flies in the sky.
- Why strays? - Tolik asked in a whisper. - They don’t wander, but fly?
- The bastards will pluck their feathers - they'll wander around! - Timur answered angrily.
I really liked reading poetry to my children when they were little, including the poems of this poetess
Bouquet of cats
I'm already ready
A bouquet of cats for you,
Very fresh cats!
They don't fade like flowers.
Roses and jasmine wither,
The dahlia flower beds are withering,
The flowers are withering in the garden,
In the meadow and on the pond,
And I have a bouquet of cats
Of amazing beauty,
And, unlike flowers,
He meows into his mustache.
I'm carrying a bouquet of cats
Give me the vase quickly.
Very fresh cats -
You can see it right away!
"Don't trust the wolf! (Junna Moritz)"
The wind blows with snow,
Santa Claus is walking
And he carries a big bag,
And in the bag lies a poem,
And in the poem there sits a lamb,
Tears are dripping from curls,
The nose is swollen, the lip is hanging!
Oh, unfortunate fate
From a fluffy lamb,
Because he's a fool
I heard the wolves at night
They laughed from under the tree,
The lamb was not allowed to sleep
And they howled maliciously:
Don't trust anyone, kids!
Santa Claus won't give you candy,
This is a fictional grandfather
That's the big secret!
We've been searching everywhere for a long time,
We are honestly looking for Santa Claus.
If he walked
Yes with a gift bag,
Yes, in a patterned sheepskin coat
Before the homeless wolf, -
We would eat the old man,
Without leaving a scrap,
No beard, no mustache,
No T-shirt, no panties!
This is a fictional grandfather
That's the big secret!
If he really were -
We would eat grandpa
Yes, they would untie the bag,
Yes, the hotels were licked off,
They didn't say a word to you!
Kids!
There is no such old man!
No bag and no sheepskin coat.
It's stupid to believe in Santa Claus!
This is a fictional grandfather
That's the big secret!
A lamb sits by the window,
Tears are dripping from curls,
And towards him, crunching the snow,
Santa Claus is walking
And he carries a big bag,
And in the bag lies a poem:
“I am not a hare, not a fox -
There's no way you can eat me!
Never trust a wolf
So as not to spoil your Christmas tree!”
Crow (Junna Moritz)
The crow was sitting on the bench,
And Mitya saw
Raven.
He didn't offend
Crow,
But only
I stroked her paws.
But she shouted
Crow,
And rushed off into the sky
Crow!
There is no crow on the bench,
There is no crow on the roof,
There is no crow and taller!
Where are her wings and paws?
There is no crow in the square,
Mitya doesn't hear the crow,
But Mitya doesn’t believe in this:
- Voro-o-o-na! - he calls. - Voro-o-o-na!
A dog and a cat come out
Take a short walk to the park,
And the cat meows to Mitya:
Take me by the paw
Three is more fun,
Let's climb onto the cloud, baby,
On a cloud in the sky, -
It's glowing there
Bread crumb
And your crow jumps!
Moritz Junna
Crow
The crow was sitting on the bench,
And Mitya saw
Crow.
He didn't offend
Crow,
But only
I stroked her paws.
But she shouted
Crow,
And rushed off into the sky
Crow!
There is no crow on the bench,
There is no crow on the roof,
There is no crow and taller!
Where are her wings and paws?
There is no crow in the square,
Mitya doesn't hear the crow,
But Mitya doesn’t believe in this:
- Voro-o-o-na! - he calls. - Voro-o-o-na!
A dog and a cat come out
Take a short walk to the park,
And the cat meows to Mitya:
Take me by the paw
Three is more fun,
Let's climb onto the cloud, baby,
On a cloud in the sky, -
It's glowing there
Bread crumb
And your crow jumps!
(verse reading by T. Zhukov)
Yunna Petrovna (Pinkhusovna) Moritz (b. June 2, 1937, Kyiv), Russian poetess.
The poems of Yunna Petrovna Moritz have been translated into all major European languages, as well as Japanese, Turkish, and Chinese. Many songs have been written and performed based on her poems, for example “When We Were Young” by Sergei Nikitin. She writes a lot for children, ever since she published several poems in the magazine “Youth” (at that time Moritz was banned from publishing for independence and inflexibility in his work and was even expelled from the Gorky Literary Institute). Children's poems - kind, humorous and paradoxical - are immortalized in cartoons ("Rubber Hedgehog", "Big Secret for a Small Company", "Favorite Pony"). Yunna Moritz puts her thoughts not only in letters and lines, but also in graphics and paintings, “which are not illustrations, they are such poems, in such a language.”
“Writing poetry is like climbing a mountain: with each step there is significant experience, more perfect skill. Another effort - and the height is taken!.. The height is taken, but the fact is that true poetry begins precisely after this, it begins with soaring, with magic, and this is a secret accessible to few. Junna Moritz was lucky: she discovered a magical land, she didn’t invent it, but discovered it. She populated it with living inhabitants, not fairy tales, but living ones.
Yunna Moritz discovered a new magical land. Here everything is fair, kind, loving and full of correspondence between one another: the music could not be different, and it is probably impossible to read and sing these poems differently.