Posts tagged with "Pushkin"

Today is a special day. «Вы знаете, что случилось в этот день в далёком 1799-ом году [Do you know what happened on this day in the distant year of 1799?]  If you Google this date in Russian – «6 июня 1799 года» – the top result is the birth of «Александр Сергеевич Пушкин» [Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin].

Pushkin is the Zeus of Russian poetic Olympus. He’s Russian Dante. No, Russian Shakespeare! He is admittedly «величайший русский поэт» [the greatest Russian poet], solely responsible for creating «современный литературный русский язык» [the contemporary Russian literary language]. But don’t take my word for it, check it out for yourself in this Wiki page about Pushkin.

Russians start listening to Pushkin’s poetry «с младых ногтей» [from early childhood]. Remember the mythical «Лукоморье»? Pushkin not only defined it in the opening verses of «Руслан и Людмила» [Ruslan and Lyudmila], but wrote many of the now-classic fairy tales, including «Сказка о рыбаке и рыбке» [The Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish] and «Сказка о царе Салтане» [The Tale of Tsar Saltan].

To say that Pushkin wrote a lot would be an understatement. In addition to poems he wrote no-less brilliant and famous «романы» [novels], «рассказы» [short stories], «афоризмы» [maxims], and «эпиграммы» [quips]. Russians quote his «бессмертные строки» [immortal lines] in everyday speech, sometimes without knowing the author.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Few Russians can «декламировать» [recite] any of Pushkin’s poems «от начала до конца» [from start to finish]. But if you were to ask to recite «что-нибудь из Пушкина» [some of Pushkin’s works], they will recall at least a line or two. Most popular in my unofficial survey seem to be:

«Я помню чудное мгновенье, передо мной явилась ты» [I remember the magic moment when you appeared to me]

«Мороз и солнце – день чудесный!» [Frost and sunshine: day of wonder!]

«У Лукоморья дуб зелёный» [A green oak grows in Lookomorie]

«Я к вам пишу, чего же боле? Что я могу ещё сказать?» [I write to you - no more confession is needed, nothing’s left to tell]

As for the «крылатые фразы» [popular quotations], the ones I hear or say most often include:

«А счастье было так возможно, так близко!» [And happiness was so possible, so near!]

«И сердце вновь горит и любит» [And the heart once again is ablaze and in love]

«К беде неопытность ведёт» [Inexperience leads to misfortune]

«Ещё одно последнее сказанье» [Just one last tale]

«Кто раз любил, тот не полюбит вновь» [Who loved once shall never love again]

«Любви все возрасты покорны» [To love all ages surrender]

«Я сам обманываться рад!» [I am glad to be made a fool!]

«Быть можно дельным человеком и думать о красе ногтей» [One can be both a sensible person and care about one’s nails]

«Жизнь, зачем ты мне дана» [Life, why were you given me?]

Pushkin has become ubiquitous in Russian life – streets, squares and theaters named after him, children committing his works to memory all through high school, references to Pushkin’s work throughout contemporary Russian literature, etc. So it’s no surprise that when one is expected to do something and doesn’t, he might be asked «а делать кто будет? Пушкин?» [Do you think Pushkin is going to do this?]:

«Коля, кто за тебя будет домашнюю работу делать, Пушкин что-ли?» [Kolya, do you think Pushkin is going to do your homework for you?]

«Сломать-то ты сломал, а чинить кто будет? Пушкин?» [Of course, you broke it, but who’s going to fix it? Pushkin?]

And now I have questions for you:

  1. What is one phrase that springs to mind when you hear the name Pushkin?
  2. Which American movie features General Pushkin (hint: General Gogol is also in it)?
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As promised, here’s the second and final post that provides some linguistic and cultural background for appreciation of one of the masterpieces of Soviet animation, Winter in Prostokvashino.

«фломастер» – You might recognize the brand name Flo-Master. If you are teaching (or studying) a marketing course, this is a perfect example of brand dilution or overuse. The word «фломастер» in Russian means any type of marker regardless of the actual brand. The same happened to other brands, including

  • Pampers – «ты ребёнку когда последний раз памперс меняла?» [when was the last time you changed the baby’s disposable diaper?]
  • Xerox – «нам в офисе цветной ксерокс поставили» [we got a color copier in our office]
  • Jeep – «да по этой грязи и джип не проедет!» [even an SUV won’t make it in this mud!]
  • Keds – «у нас зимой в кедах даже студенты не ходят» [in winter, even students don’t wear athletic shoes]
  • Unitas – «в нашей коммуналке всегда проблемы с унитазом – то треснет, то забьётся» [The toilet in our communal flat is always a problem; it either cracks or gets clogged].

If you are looking for more examples of brand names becoming «имена нарицательные» [appellatives, common nouns], check out this Wikipedia article.

«Что это за народное творчество?»«народное творчество» is a term that describes both folk art and folklore. In this case, however, Matroskin, the Cat uses it sarcastically to emphasize the crudeness and lack of artistic quality in Sharik, the Dog’s response. It’d be better translated into English as “what’s with the cave art?”

«Индейская национальная изба, фиг вам называется» – this is a play on words «вигвам» [a teepee] and «фиг вам» that can be best translated as “screw you” or “go to hell”. Of course, Native Americans had many types of dwellings, but the one that most Russians think of is «вигвам». By the way, in Russian «индеец» means a Native American while «индиец» means a person from India.

«бестолковый» – a wonderful word, so descriptive! Literally, someone who is «без толку» [without smarts] – a clueless, thick-headed individual. The noun, by the way, is «бестолочь» as in «да этой бестолочи математику хоть бы на тройку вытянуть» [this dimwit would be lucky to simply pass his math class].

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«а о нас кто подумает – Адмирал Иван Фёдорович Крузенштерн?» [and who’s going to think about us? Admiral Ivan Fyodorovich Krusenstern?] – to me this is about the funniest phrase in the whole cartoon. Why? You see, typically the famous Russian who’s invoked in such rhetorical questions is «Александр Сергеевич Пушкин» [Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin], as in

  • «а кто за тебя домашнюю работу делать будет – Пушкин?» – Are you waiting for Pushkin to do your homework for you?
  • «а свет в туалете кто гасить будет – Пушкин?» – Do you think Pushkin will shut off the bathroom light for you?
  • «а порядок здесь кто наведёт – Пушкин что-ли?» – Do you suppose Pushkin will straighten things up here?

But Matroskin, being his intellectual self, doesn’t go for the common and «избитый» [trite]. By the way, here’s the «пароход» [ship] Matroskin refers to in his explanation about who this Krusenstern was.

«человек и пароход» [lit. the man and the ship] – while Prostokvashino cartoon gave rise to countless sayings, this is not one of them. Instead, it is a phrase from a poem “To Comrade Nette – The Steamship And The Man” by Vladimir Mayakovsky. In general, the expression refers to someone with gravitas who is «широко известен в узких кругах» [lit. widely known in narrow circles].

«ездовые академики» – while “sled-pulling academicians” is a joke, the Russian saying «в каждой шутке есть доля правды» [there’s a grain of truth in every joke] holds true since it was common to use university professors and research scientists, along with students, as field hands at harvest times.

«совместный труд для моей пользы» [cooperative work for my personal gain] – this phrase pokes fun at one of the frequently-used Soviet catch-phrases, «совместный труд для общественной пользы» [cooperative work for the benefit of society].

«главное украшение столателевизор» [the most important thing on a table is… a TV] – apparently, TV addiction was a big problem even when Russians only had 2 TV channels. Notice that Matroskin’s song also mentions TV that replaces all other experiences.

«самодеятельность» – Soviet authorities directed and encouraged citizens’ involvement in various community projects. One type of projects was «кружки художественной самодеятельности» [amateur talent groups] that were usually directed or led by a professional artist.

Armed with all this knowledge and supported by the most helpful native Russian experts on the blog and on our Facebook fanpage, you should be set for getting the most out of the other 2 episodes of Prostokvashino – «Трое из Простоквашино» [The Three from Prostokvashino] and «Каникулы в Простоквашино» [Vacation in Prostokvashino].

So what other Soviet and Russian cartoons should we watch and learn from?

I would advice you all to continue doing what I always do – and sort of have instructed you to also take pleasure in – look for signs of Russian literature EVERYWHERE! I found this bumper sticker on a car in downtown San Francisco today: “What would Taras Bulba do?” [«Что бы делал Тарас Бульба?»] Don’t recognize where it’s from? But of course you do! It’s the main character of the novel with the same name «Тарас Бульба» [“Taras Bulba”] by «Николай Васильевич Гоголь» [Nikolai Vasil’evich Gogol’].

«Всему есть предел» [there's a limit to everything], the Russians say. All good things come to an end, people speaking other languages claim. No matter what your native languages might have been, «дорогие читатели» [dear readers], it has been a pleasure for me to have been able to guide you through «сложности и весёлости русского языка» [the difficulties and the gaieties of Russian language] here on the Russian blog since November 2007. As many of you already know, in June this year I left Russia «после 6 (шести) лет» [after six years] of living, studying, working there. Perhaps not a few of you also are aware that currently «я проживаю в США (Соединённых штатах Америки)» [I am living in the USA] and «учусь в аспирантуре университета Беркли» [studying in graduate school at Berkeley]. Thus my reality has changed drastically in the past couple of months – not only have I met a new country, but an entire new world of responsibilities, opportunities and adventures has opened up before me. And no matter how much it makes me sad to say so, I realize that this is «перекрёсток» [the crossroads] of my personal road and the road of the Russian blog.

This is my last «пост» [post – even though some of the nit-pickier might say that this word in Russian should be used only for talking about different kinds of fasts, «великий пост» [lent], for example, and not be confused with texts submitted to blogs of various kinds]. But before I take my final bow, I really want to say «спасибо» [thank you] to all of you, the readers, «мои милые друзья» [my sweet friends], for the essential contribution you have made by way of your comments – as well as guest posts – to this blog. It is true that nothing written ever comes into existence before it is read; and thus only through you can I some day in a very distant future say that once upon a time, when I was a young girl and living in Russia, did I work as a professional blogger… I want to say «спасибо» [thank you] for every time anyone of you have corrected my spelling or my grammar – in Russian as well as in English (I wouldn’t be the kind of writer I am today if it wasn’t for such corrections!) –  and for all the times we have connected on a deeper level through Russia as a country, Russia as culture, Russia as literature, and Russian language as a way of life. It is my innermost wish that you all continue «ваши усердные занятия русским языком» [your zealous studies of the Russian language], and that you learn also to treasure every little step forward.

«Ведь изучению языка нет предела!» [For the study of a language has no limit!]

My life, though located outside of Russia geographically, continues to move inside of Russia on several levels. I’ll continue to teach Russian here at the university; and master more and more while traveling along on the magical mystery tour known as a career «в науке» [in science/academia]… And one day – which now seems so distant and far – I will become that «профессор русской литературы» [professor of Russian literature] I dreamed of becoming when I was a teenager. And one day – who knows, right? – you might send your kids to college and as you do, urge them to take a class in Russian language or literature, and – once again, who knows? – I might turn out to be the one to teach them. I promise I’ll go easy on them and take it one «падеж» [case] at a time…

If there were more time, I would stay on and blog for infinity. They say that there’s always a «выбор» [choice], but in this case «мне и не придётся выбирать» [I don’t even have to choose], for «я уже выбрала» [I have already chosen].

Anyone happen to know if they sell bumper stickers with “What would Tatiana do?” [«Что бы делала Татьяна?»] anywhere? You know, the leading lady from the ‘novel in verse’ by «Александр Сергеевич Пушкин» [Alexandr Sergeevich Pushkin] «Евгений Онегин» [“Eugene Onegin”] is probably my favorite character in all of Russian literature. And to think that I spent almost three years blogging without even mentioning her! Russian literature is indeed an abyss… And with that disturbingly thrilling picture I leave you once and for all, repeating as I go «спасибо!» [thank you!] and «прощайте!» [farewell!]…

For some reason every time I see this picture of Vasilisa the Most Beautiful, I am reminded of the Snow White and her woodland critters.

«У Лукоморья дуб зелёный…» – do you know the rest by heart yet? One of the most famous lines from Alexandr Pushkin’s opening to “Ruslan and Lyudmila” does not translate very well into English. “There grows a green oak in Lookomorie…” somehow doesn’t sound nearly as magical, don’t you think?

Yes, I’m back with more Russian fairy tale characters, as promised. Well, it took me long enough to write «продолжение» [continuation] of the post, but as they say in Russia, «обещанного три года ждут» [one must wait three years for what’s promised].

This time I’d like to talk about the heroes – male and female – of the «русские сказки» [Russian fairy tales]. I already mentioned «Алёнушка» [Alyonushka] and her little brother «Иванушка» [Ivanushka], but there are plenty of others, including

«Иван Дурак» [Ivan the Fool] – this guy is featured in countless tales. Sometimes he has two older brothers who are ambitious and cunning. Ivan, on the other hand, is «простак» [a simpleton] for which he’s teased a lot. His parents don’t seem to expect much from him. How else would you explain that in one of the fairy tales his own father consents to Ivan’s marriage to a frog. I guess they know him too well. After all, the dude is known for disregarding all sound advice he gets. And of course, he always «попасть из огня да в полымя» [is between the rock and the hard place].

Yet in the end it’s Ivan and not his brothers who ends up with all the goodies – riches, pretty girls, magical servants, etc – mostly by asking fairy tale creatures to do all the dirty work for him. How come? «Потому, что он – добросердечный» [Because he is kind-hearted]. Well, if by kind-hearted you mean not shooting a bear after the animal pleads for its life or not setting Baba Yaga’s house on fire after she feeds him, then yes – he is a nice guy.

«Василиса Прекрасная» [Vasilisa the Most Beautiful] and «Елена Премудрая» [Yelena the Wisest] – sometimes these two swap their last names and then you read about «Василиса Премудрая» [Vasilisa the Wisest] or «Елена Прекрасная» [Yelena the Most Beautiful].

Note the use of the prefix «пре» in both names. In this particular case, «пре» indicates the superlative. To be wise is to be «мудрый», but to be the wisest is «премудрый» [the wisest].

You can use «пре» to form some other superlative forms of adjectives, such as «преинтересный» [of outmost interest], «престранный» [the strangest], «препротивный» [the most disgusting], etc.

However, «пре» might also mean to make something differt, as in «преображать» [to transform into something different]. For example, «Василиса Премудрая преображается из лягушки в царевну» [Vasilisa the Wisest transforms herself from a frog into a tsarina].

Finally, «пре» can also have the meaning of “across” – «Иван Дурак преступил порог избы Бабы Яги» [Ivan the Fool crossed the threshold of the Baba Yaga’s cottage].

But back to the leading ladies… These are usually princesses of some sort, cared for by scores of «мамки-няньки» [nurses and nannies]. It seems that they divide their leisure time between «рукоделье» [crafts] at which they excel and «ученье» [learning], sometimes getting quite literally too smart to remain unpunished by their evil fathers. Their beauty is world-renown and gets them a stream of marriage proposals, mostly from old, ugly, rich foreign princes. They are also in constant danger of being abducted by either «Кащей Бессмертный» [Kashey the Deathless], «Змей Горыныч» [Zmey Gorinich] or any of their more evil and determined suitors.

So guess what these chicks end up doing? Yep, they end up marrying Ivans (see above). Not only do they marry them, but they frequently help them in their quests as well. Ok, so Ivans are usually good-looking and young, but does that really justify changing one’s last name from Wise to Fool? I guess, as they say in Russia, «любовь зла, полюбишь и козла» [love makes you blind].

Well, why bother with Russian fairy tales anyway? «Сказки – для детей» [Fairytales are for the children]. A couple of reasons spring to mind. One is «сказка – ложь, да в ней намёк, добрым молодцам – урок» [fairy tale is a lie, but it has a hint and a lesson for all good lads]. Sometimes reading a tale about an old man who tries to break a golden egg, cries when it happens and gets consoled with a promise of no more golden eggs, just the regular ones can give you deep insights into the unfathomable Russian soul (can you name this fairy tale?).

Or, if you are into reading contemporary Russian literature, it might give you a better understanding of various works, from Brothers Strugatzkiy’s hilarious «Понедельник начинается в субботу» [A Monday Begins on a Saturday] to the dark and soulful “The Secret History of Moscow” by Ekaterina Sedia.

And if you are into Russian pop-culture, it might even shed some light onto the popularity of the Russian boy-band «Иванушки International».

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P.S. There’s a not-too-obvious link between this video clip and one of the reasons for reading fairy tales that I mentioned above. Can you guess? Here’s a hint – the title of the song is «Три белых коня» [Three White Horses] and it originally appeared in a 1982 Soviet movie, «Чародеи».

Almost a long time ago now, we had a post called Russian Grammar – «по-русски!» [in Russian!]. It explored what different «части речи» [parts of speech] are called in Russian and also tried to explain «почему [why?] a verb is called «глагол», a noun «существительное» and an adverb «наречие». Today I’m not asking you to remember that «глагол» [verb] comes from the Old Slavonic verb «глаголить» [to speak], «существительное» [noun] is derived from the verb «существовать» [to exist] and that «наречие» [adverb] can loosely be translated as to mean «на речи» [‘on/in speak’]. Today I’m suggesting we do something a little bit different, namely – take a closer look at «русский синтаксис» [Russian syntax]. The first question we all should ask ourselves is: «Что такое синтаксис вообще [What is syntax in general?] Syntax is what is always there for us when we need to find out about the principles and rules for constructing sentences. Syntax is a very helpful invention, especially when studying a foreign language as the rules for proper construction of sentences might differ – A LOT! – from your native language. A sentence in Russian is called «предложение». Don’t confuse this word in today’s context with the standard phrase:

«сделать/делать предложение + кому [to propose + to whom? (lit. To make an offer/sentence to someone)],

for in today’s post «мы будем делать предложения» [we're going to make sentences] of another kind. In today’s post we’re not going to explore the subject of Russian syntax all the way, so to speak, but instead try to create for ourselves a general idea of what this grammatical category can bring into our lives – just in what ways it might be enriching to our devout studies of the Russian language.

Every Russian sentence must usually contain TWO (2) so called «члены предложения» [parts of the sentence]:

In Russian syntax «подлежащее» means SUBJECT.

Think of «подлежащее» [neut. subject] as being derived (and it is!) from the verb «подлежать» [impfv. (with dative) to be subject (to); to be liable to], used in sentences like «товар не подлежит обмену» [the product is not subject to exchange].

In Russian syntax «сказуемое» means PREDICATE.

Because the predicate in a sentence is often the verb, think of «сказуемое» [neut. predicate] as being derived from the perfect verb «сказать» [to say, speak, tell]. And a sentence without a predicate – mostly it is a verb – «не так уж много и скажет» [doesn't really tell/say that much].

An example of a Russian sentence with one «подлежащее» [subject] and one «сказуемое» [predicate]:

«Пётр поёт» [Pyotr sings].

An example of a Russian sentence with one «подлежащее» [subject] and two «сказуемые» [predicates]:

«Алёна поёт и пьёт» [Alyona sings and drinks].

An example of a Russian sentence with two «подлежащие» [subject] and one «сказуемое» [predicate]:

«Пётр и Алёна гуляют» [here: Pyotr and Alyona are partying].

In English syntax, sentences «без подлежащего» [without a subject] are rare and sometimes not even possible. In Russian syntax, sentences with only a «сказуемое» [predicate] in the form of a verb are not rare at all and highly possible. Most often sentences of this kind informs about different weather conditions or other natural phenomena where it is not always too easy to say WHO the subject is:

«Вечереет» ['It is starting to get dark outside’/’the evening is approaching’] – a verb made from the noun «вечер» [evening].

«Похолодало» [‘It has become a little bit colder’] – a verb made from the noun «холод» [cold].

Russian sentences, just like sentences in all other languages of the world, would be rather boring if all they contained were a subject and a predicate. That’s why Russian syntax allows for yet another category:

In Russian syntax, «дополнение» means OBJECT.

Think of the verb «дополнять» [impfv. to expand, enlarge; to amplify, add to] and the adverb «дополнительно» [in addition] and thus the Russian «дополнение» [object] is something you add to a sentence that would’ve been correct and complete even without it – but a bit boring, right?

In Russian syntax, we have two kinds of objects – mainly, and this is true for many other languages as well, so if you remember your school syntax, then I’m not going to loose you as we did deeper into the wondrous world of syntax:

First there’s «прямое дополнение» which means DIRECT OBJECT.

In Russian language «прямое дополнение» [direct object] very often takes on the form of «винительный падеж» [accusative case], like in the following sentence:

«Пётр любит Алёну» [Pyotr loves Alyona].

In this sentence «Пётр» [Pyotr] is «подлежащее» [subject], «любит» [loves] is «сказуемое» [predicate] and «Алёна» [Alyona] is the «прямое дополнение» [direct object]. I don’t know why so many school kids think syntax is boring, difficult and not fun at all? It is really very easy! And what a great way to spend a relaxing Saturday afternoon – dissecting a poem by «Александр Сергеевич Пушкин» [Aleksandr Sergeevich Pushkin] «на члены предложения» [according to parts of the sentences]…

Secondly, there’s «косвенное дополнение» which means INDIRECT OBJECT.

In Russian language «косвенное дополнение» [indirect object] is often expressed by the noun – if it is as noun – taking the form of «дательный падеж» [dative case]. This isn’t ALWAYS the case, though, so be sure to be aware of this rule not always applying. But in the following sentences it is:

«Алёна наливает вино Петру» [Alyona pours Pyotr wine].

In this sentence «Алёна» [Alyona] is «подлежащее» [subject], «наливает» [pours] is «сказуемое» [predicate], «вино» [wine] is «прямое дополнение» [direct object] and «Петру» [(to) Pyotr] is «косвенное дополнение» [indirect object]. Did you all follow that?

Of course, Russian syntax is much more complicated – deep, if you’d like – than what I have tried to illustrate above. There are plenty of more difficult constructions of sentences in Russian, and a whole lot more for us to discuss in the future. But I think we’ve done enough for one day today. And so as not to leave you simply longing for more, try and pick these two sentences apart and tell me what’s subject, predicate and direct/indirect objects in the comments:

1. «Хорошо (yes, it is a tricky one!)

2. «Мне нравится классическая музыка» (yeah, this is tricky too…)

Want people to know «ты владеешь русским языком» [you speak Russian] even when you’re not within the Russian Federation? Wear a «Чебурашка» ['Cheburashka'] on your purse – like I’m doing here in San Francisco – and you’ll see the proverb «русские всегда рядом» [Russians are always close/around] is true indeed! Russians in the USA always talk to me when they see my «Чебурашка» ['Cheburashka'] – don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!

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