Fairy tale buckwheat - Hans Christian Andersen. The formation of simple participles "Name by example"

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Often, when you walk through a field after a thunderstorm, you see that buckwheat has been seared black, as if fire had run through it; peasants in such cases say: “It scorched her with lightning!” But why?

And this is what I heard from a sparrow, who was told about this by an old willow growing near a buckwheat field - a tree so big, respectable and old, old, everything is clumsy, with a crack in the middle. Grass and brambles grow from the crack; the branches of the tree, like long green curls, hang down to the ground.

The fields around the willow were sown with rye, barley and oats - wonderful oats that, when ripe, look like twigs dotted with small yellow canaries. The bread was excellent, and the fuller the ears were, the lower they bowed their heads to the ground in humility.

Right there, near the old willow, there was a field with buckwheat; buckwheat did not bow its head like other breads, but held itself proudly and straight.

I am not poorer than grain ears! she said. - Yes, and even more beautiful. My flowers will not yield to apple blossoms. It's worth seeing! Do you know, old willow, anyone more beautiful than me?

But the willow only shook her head, as if to say, "Of course I know!" And the buckwheat haughtily said:

Stupid tree, from old age, grass grows from its stomach!

Suddenly a terrible storm arose; all the wildflowers rolled up their petals and bowed their heads; one buckwheat flaunted as before.

Bow your head! the flowers told her.

No need! - answered buckwheat.

Bow your head like us! - the ears shouted to her. - Now the angel of the storm will rush under the clouds! His wings reach to the ground! He'll blow your head off before you can beg for mercy!

Well, I still won't bow my head! - said buckwheat.

Roll up the petals and bow your head! said the old willow to her. - Do not look at the lightning when it tears apart the clouds! The person himself does not dare to do this: at this time one can look into the very heaven of the Lord, and for such a sin the Lord punishes a person with blindness. What then awaits us? After all, we, poor field cereals, are much lower, more insignificant than a man!

Below? - said buckwheat. - So I'll take it and look into the sky of God!

And she really decided on this in her proud obstinacy. Here such lightning flashed, as if the whole world was on fire, but when it cleared up again, the flowers and bread, refreshed and washed by the rain, happily inhaled the soft, fresh air. And the buckwheat was all scorched by lightning, it died and was no longer good for anything.

The old willow gently stirred its branches in the wind; large raindrops fell from the green leaves; the tree seemed to cry, and the sparrows asked him:

What are you talking about? Look how glorious it is around, how the sun is shining, how the clouds are running! And what a fragrance rushes from flowers and bushes! What are you crying about, old willow?

Then the willow told them about arrogant pride and about the execution of buckwheat; pride is always punished. I also heard this story from the sparrows: they chirped it to me one evening when I asked them to tell me a fairy tale.

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Often, when you walk through a field after a thunderstorm, you see that the buckwheat has been burned black, as if fire had run through it; peasants in such cases say: "It scorched her with lightning!" But why?

And this is what I heard from a sparrow, who was told about this by an old willow growing near a buckwheat field - a tree so big, respectable and old, old, all clumsy, with a crack in the middle. Grass and brambles grow from the crack; the branches of the tree, like long green curls, hang down to the ground.

The fields around the willow were sown with rye, barley and oats - wonderful oats that, when ripe, look like twigs dotted with small yellow canaries. The bread was excellent, and the fuller the ears were, the lower they bowed their heads to the ground in humility.

Right there, near the old willow, there was a field with buckwheat; buckwheat did not bow its head like other breads, but held itself proudly and straight.

I am not poorer than grain ears! she said. - Yes, and even more beautiful. My flowers will not yield to apple blossoms. It's worth seeing! Do you know, old willow, anyone more beautiful than me?

But the willow only shook her head, as if to say: "Of course I know!" And the buckwheat haughtily said:

Stupid tree, from old age, grass grows from its stomach!

Suddenly a terrible storm arose; all the wildflowers rolled up their petals and bowed their heads; one buckwheat flaunted as before.

Bow your head! the flowers told her.

No need! - answered buckwheat.

Bow your head like us! - the ears shouted to her. - Now the angel of the storm will rush under the clouds! His wings reach to the ground! He'll blow your head off before you can beg for mercy!

Well, I still won't bow my head! - said buckwheat.

Roll up the petals and bow your head! said the old willow to her. - Do not look at the lightning when it tears apart the clouds! The person himself does not dare to do this: at this time one can look into the very heaven of the Lord, and for such a sin the Lord punishes a person with blindness. What then awaits us? After all, we, poor field cereals, are much lower, more insignificant than a man!

Below? - said buckwheat. - So I'll take it and look into the sky of God!

And she really decided on this in her proud obstinacy. Here such lightning flashed, as if the whole world was on fire, but when it cleared up again, the flowers and bread, refreshed and washed by the rain, happily inhaled the soft, clean air. And the buckwheat was all scorched by lightning, it died and was no longer good for anything.

The old willow gently stirred its branches in the wind; large raindrops fell from green leaves; the tree seemed to cry, and the sparrows asked him:

What are you talking about? Look how glorious it is around, how the sun is shining, how the clouds are running! And what a fragrance rushes from flowers and bushes! What are you crying about, old willow?

Then the willow told them about arrogant pride and about the execution of buckwheat; pride is always punished. I also heard this story from the sparrows: they chirped it to me one evening when I asked them to tell me a fairy tale.

Hello young writer! It's good that you decided to read the fairy tale "Buckwheat" by Hans Christian Andersen in it you will find folk wisdom, which is edified for generations. All descriptions environment created and presented with a feeling of deepest love and appreciation for the object of presentation and creation. Of course, the idea of ​​the superiority of good over evil is not new, of course, many books have been written about it, but every time it is still pleasant to be convinced of this. It is amazing that with sympathy, compassion, strong friendship and unshakable will, the hero always manages to resolve all troubles and misfortunes. Simple and accessible, about nothing and everything, instructive and instructive - everything is included in the basis and plot of this creation. An important role for children's perception is played by visual images, with which, quite successfully, this work abounds. The story takes place in ancient times or "Once upon a time" as the people say, but those difficulties, those obstacles and difficulties are close to our contemporaries. The fairy tale "Buckwheat" by Hans Christian Andersen should be read for free online thoughtfully, explaining to young readers or listeners the details and words that are incomprehensible to them and new to them.

Often, when you walk through a field after a thunderstorm, you see that the buckwheat has been burned black, as if fire had run through it; peasants in such cases say: It scorched her with lightning! But why?

And this is what I heard from a sparrow, who was told about this by an old willow growing near a buckwheat field - a tree so big, respectable and old, old, all clumsy, with a crack in the middle. Grass and brambles grow from the crack; the branches of the tree, like long green curls, hang down to the ground.

The fields around the willow were sown with rye, barley and oats - wonderful oats that, when ripe, look like twigs dotted with small yellow canaries. The bread was excellent, and the fuller the ears were, the lower they bowed their heads to the ground in humility.

Right there, near the old willow, there was a field with buckwheat; buckwheat did not bow its head like other breads, but held itself proudly and straight.

I am not poorer than grain ears! she said. - Yes, and even more beautiful. My flowers will not yield to apple blossoms. It's worth seeing! Do you know, old willow, anyone more beautiful than me?

But the willow only shook her head, as if to say: Of course I know! And the buckwheat haughtily said:

Stupid tree, from old age, grass grows from its stomach!

Suddenly a terrible storm arose; all the wildflowers rolled up their petals and bowed their heads; one buckwheat flaunted as before.

Bow your head! the flowers told her.

No need! - answered buckwheat.

Bow your head like us! - the ears shouted to her. - Now the angel of the storm will rush under the clouds! His wings reach to the ground! He'll blow your head off before you can beg for mercy!

Well, I still won't bow my head! - said buckwheat.

Roll up the petals and bow your head! said the old willow to her. - Do not look at the lightning when it tears apart the clouds! The person himself does not dare to do this: at this time one can look into the very heaven of the Lord, and for such a sin the Lord punishes a person with blindness. What then awaits us? After all, we, poor field cereals, are much lower, more insignificant than a man!

Below? - said buckwheat. - So I'll take it and look into the sky of God!

And she really decided on this in her proud obstinacy. Here such lightning flashed, as if the whole world was on fire, but when it cleared up again, the flowers and bread, refreshed and washed by the rain, happily inhaled the soft, clean air. And the buckwheat was all scorched by lightning, it died and was no longer good for anything.

The old willow gently stirred its branches in the wind; large raindrops fell from green leaves; the tree seemed to cry, and the sparrows asked him:

What are you talking about? Look how glorious it is around, how the sun is shining, how the clouds are running! And what a fragrance rushes from flowers and bushes! What are you crying about, old willow?

Then the willow told them about arrogant pride and about the execution of buckwheat; pride is always punished. I also heard this story from the sparrows: they chirped it to me one evening when I asked them to tell me a fairy tale.

Food, in general, is a very delicate topic. Rabbits, like people, are different. Everyone has different tastes and food priorities. Some like carrots, others like bananas. Rabbits can be picky eaters, so a rabbit's diet should be balanced according to its tastes. Of course, the food should also be healthy.

It is better to give dried vegetables and fruits if you are going to give succulent foods as a daily diet to avoid indigestion.

Because grains are saturated with carbohydrates and pectins, they have a stimulating effect. It is better to give no more than 150 grams per day.

Among vegetables, carrots can be given in sufficient quantities without fear of consequences. The rest of the vegetables are best given in small quantities, and if the rabbit does not eat, then do not give at all.

Among fruits, you need to be especially careful with exotic ones, that is, with tangerines, they can be allergic to them, bananas and apricots, from them - indigestion. In general, any fruit of foreign origin. Apples can be given in small quantities without fear of consequences.

Grass is better to give field. It is obligatory to choose grass only in a clean place, outside the city. Or buy ready-made, especially for rabbits.

Chocolate contains theobromine. It may be toxic to animals. The average lethal dose, for example, for a cat or dog is 200-300 mg/kg of theobromine.

The proportions of the ratio of feed components depend on the age, activity level, size and tastes of the rabbit. The more the rabbit moves, the more he needs energy products. The older the rabbit, the less salts, carcinogens, and cholesterol should be in the feed.

A tale of proud Buckwheat, which did not bow its head to the ground, unlike other plants on the field. She counted her flowers prettier colors apple trees and grain ears. When a thunderstorm began, Buckwheat decided to look directly into the sky, for which lightning scorched her.

Fairy tale Buckwheat download:

Tale Buckwheat read

Often, when you walk through a field after a thunderstorm, you see that buckwheat has been seared black, as if fire had run through it; peasants in such cases say: “It scorched her with lightning!” But why?

And this is what I heard from a sparrow, who was told about this by an old willow growing near a buckwheat field - a tree so big, respectable and old, old, everything is clumsy, with a crack in the middle. Grass and brambles grow from the crack; the branches of the tree, like long green curls, hang down to the ground.

The fields around the willow were sown with rye, barley and oats - wonderful oats that, when ripe, look like twigs dotted with small yellow canaries. The bread was excellent, and the fuller the ears were, the lower they bowed their heads to the ground in humility.

Right there, near the old willow, there was a field with buckwheat; buckwheat did not bow its head like other breads, but held itself proudly and straight.

I am not poorer than grain ears! she said. - Yes, and even more beautiful. My flowers will not yield to apple blossoms. It's worth seeing! Do you know, old willow, anyone more beautiful than me?

But the willow only shook her head, as if to say, "Of course I know!" And the buckwheat haughtily said:

Stupid tree, from old age, grass grows from its stomach!

Suddenly a terrible storm arose; all the wildflowers rolled up their petals and bowed their heads; one buckwheat flaunted as before.

Bow your head! the flowers told her.

No need! - answered buckwheat.

Bow your head like us! - the ears shouted to her. - Now the angel of the storm will rush under the clouds! His wings reach to the ground! He'll blow your head off before you can beg for mercy!

Well, I still won't bow my head! - said buckwheat.

Roll up the petals and bow your head! said the old willow to her. - Do not look at the lightning when it tears apart the clouds! The person himself does not dare to do this: at this time one can look into the very heaven of the Lord, and for such a sin the Lord punishes a person with blindness. What then awaits us? After all, we, poor field cereals, are much lower, more insignificant than a man!

Below? - said buckwheat. - So I'll take it and look into the sky of God!

And she really decided on this in her proud obstinacy. Here such lightning flashed, as if the whole world was on fire, but when it cleared up again, the flowers and bread, refreshed and washed by the rain, happily inhaled the soft, clean air. And the buckwheat was all scorched by lightning, it died and was no longer good for anything.

The old willow gently stirred its branches in the wind; large raindrops fell from the green leaves; the tree seemed to cry, and the sparrows asked him:

What are you talking about? Look how glorious it is around, how the sun is shining, how the clouds are running! And what a fragrance rushes from flowers and bushes! What are you crying about, old willow?

Then the willow told them about arrogant pride and about the execution of buckwheat; pride is always punished. I also heard this story from the sparrows: they chirped it to me one evening when I asked them to tell me a fairy tale.