Презентация к внеклассному мероприятию "Музыкально-литературная гостиная, посвященная творчеству шотландского поэта XYIII века Роберта Бернса"

Литературно-музыкальная гостиная, посвященная творчеству шотландского поэта XVIII века Роберта Бёрнса

Роберт Бёрнс (1759 – 1796) Национальный поэт Шотландии

Шотландия – родина Роберта Бёрнса

СТОЛИЦА ШОТЛАНДИИ - ЭДИНБУРГ

ЭДИНБУРГСКИЙ ЗАМОК

ЗАМОК ХОЛИРУД

Улица КОРОЛЕВСКАЯ МИЛЯ

Кафедральный собор в Эдинбурге

ШОТЛАНДСКИЙ МУЗЕЙ ДЕТСТВА

«Из всех малочисленных наций на Земле, возможно, только древние греки превосходят шотландцев по их вкладу в развитие человечества.»

Уинстон С.Черчилль

Eldar Ryasanov’ s film “Office romance”.

J. Blackie “ When Scotland forgets Burns, then history will forget Scotland .”

Мавзолей Р. Бёрнса,

Дамфриз, Шотландия

Творчество Роберта Бёрнса

Стихотворения

Песни

Баллады

Эпиграммы

Эпитафии

Оды

Хижина, в которой поэт родился и провел первые 7 лет жизни

Alloway in Ayrshire

Роберту Бёрнсу посвящается…

В доме-музее в Эллоувэй

Сцена из жизни Бёрнса

Агнесс Браун,

мать Роберта Бёрнса

My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border,

And carefully he bred me in decency and order;

He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing;

For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding.  

No help, nor hope, nor view had I, nor person to befriend me;

So I must toil, and sweat, and moil, and labour to sustain me;

To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early;

For one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for Fortune fairly.  

When sometimes by my labour, I earn a little money,

Some unforeseen misfortune comes gen'rally upon me;

Mischance, mistake, or by neglect, or my goodnatur'd folly:

But come what will, I've sworn it still, I'll ne'er be melancholy.  

Роберт полюбил книги, прочел лучшие произведения Шекспира, Мильтона, Стерна, Фергюссона и других гениев пера.

" Coming Through The Rye"

Comin’ thro’ the rye, poor body,

Comin’ thro’ the rye,

She draigl’t a’ her petticoatie

Comin’ thro’ the rye.

Chorus:

Oh Jenny’s a’ weet, poor body,

Jenny’s seldom dry;

She draigl’t a’ her petticoatie

Comin’ thro’ the rye.

Gin a body meet a body

Comin’ thro’ the rye,

Gin a body kiss a body

Need a body cry?

Chorus.

Gin a body meet a body

Comin’ thro’ the glen;

Gin a body kiss a body

Need the warld ken?

Chorus

O, my Love's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June. O, my Love's like a melody That's sweetly played in tune. As fair as you, my bonnie lass, So deep in love am I; And I will love you still, my dear, Till all the seas go dry. Till all the seas go dry, my dear, And the rocks melt with the sun: I will love you still, my dear, While the sands of life shall run.

“ O, my Love’s like a red rose”

Джин и Роберт Бёрнс

O were my love yon Lilac fair,  Wi" purple blossoms to the Spring,  And I, a bird to shelter there,  When wearied on my little wing!  How I wad mourn when it was torn  By Autumn wild, and Winter rude!  But I wad sing on wanton wing,  When youthfu" May its bloom renew"d.  O gin my love were yon red rose,  That grows upon the castle wa";  And I myself a drap o" dew,  Into her bonie breast to fa"!  O there, beyond expression blest,  I"d feast on beauty a" the night;  Seal"d on her silk-saft faulds to rest,  Till fley"d awa by Phoebus" light!

“ Lilac fair”

После выхода

в свет

Эденбургского

издания

стихов

к поэту пришла

слава. ..

O wert thou in the cauld blast,

On yonder lea, on yonder lea,

My plaidie to the angry airt,

I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee;

Or did Misfortune's bitter storms

Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,

Thy bield should be my bosom,

To share it a', to share it a'.

Or were I in the wildest waste,

Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,

The desert were a Paradise,

If thou wert there, if thou wert there;

Or were I Monarch o' the globe,

Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign,

The brightest jewel in my Crown

Wad be my Queen, wad be my Queen.

MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,

My  heart's in  the  Highlands   a-chasing the deer,

A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe

— My heart's. In the Highlands, wherever I go!

All hail to the Highlands, all hail to the North,

The birthplace of valour, the country of worth!

Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,

The hills of the Highlands for ever I  love.

Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow,

Farewell to the straths and green valleys below,

Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods,

Farewell    to    the    torrents     and     loud-pour ing floods!

Adieu for a while, I can never forget thee,

The land of my fathers, the soil of the free,

I sigh for the hour that shall bid me retrace

The path of my childhood, my own native place.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,

My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer,

A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe —

My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go!

The monument to

Robert Fergusson

« Поэт народный и великий»

(Т.Г.Шевченко )