Snow Maiden Russian folk tale
Once upon a time there lived an old man and an old woman. We lived well, amicably. Everything would be fine, but one misfortune - they didn’t have children.
Now the snowy winter has come, there are snowdrifts up to the waist, the children pour out into the street to play, and the old man and the old woman look at them from the window and think about their grief.
“Well, old woman,” says the old man, “let’s make ourselves a daughter out of snow.”
“Come on,” says the old woman.
The old man put on his hat, they went out into the garden and began to sculpt a daughter out of the snow. They rolled a snowball, fitted the arms and legs, and placed a snowy head on top. The old man sculpted a nose, mouth, and chin.
Lo and behold, the Snow Maiden’s lips turned pink and her eyes opened; she looks at the old people and smiles. Then she nodded her head, moved her arms and legs, shook off the snow - and a living girl came out of the snowdrift.
The old people were delighted and brought her to the hut. They look at her and can’t stop admiring her.
And the old people’s daughter began to grow by leaps and bounds; every day it becomes more and more beautiful. She herself is as white as snow, her braid is brown to the waist, but there is no blush at all.
The old people are not overjoyed at their daughter; they dote on her. My daughter is growing up smart, smart, and cheerful. Affectionate and friendly with everyone. And the Snow Maiden’s work is progressing in her hands, and when she sings a song, you will be heard.
Winter has passed. The spring sun has begun to warm up. The grass in the thawed patches turned green and the larks began to sing.
And the Snow Maiden suddenly became sad.
- What's wrong with you, daughter? - asks the old man. - Why have you become so sad? Or can't you?
“Nothing, father, nothing, mother, I’m healthy.”
The last snow has melted, flowers have bloomed in the meadows, and birds have flown in.
And the Snow Maiden is becoming sadder and more silent day by day. Hiding from the sun. All she needs is some shade and some cool air, or even better, some rain.
Once a black cloud moved in, large hail fell. The Snow Maiden rejoiced at the hail, like rolling pearls. And when the sun came out again and the hail melted, the Snow Maiden began to cry, so bitterly, like a sister by a brother.
After spring, summer came. The girls gathered for a walk in the grove, calling the Snow Maiden:
- Come with us, Snow Maiden, for a walk in the forest, sing songs, dance.
The Snow Maiden didn’t want to go into the forest, but the old woman persuaded her:
- Go, daughter, have fun with your friends!
The girls and the Snow Maiden came to the forest. They began to collect flowers, weave wreaths, sing songs, and lead round dances. Only Snow Maiden is still sad.
And as soon as it got light, they gathered some brushwood, built a fire, and started jumping over the fire one after another. Behind everyone, the Snow Maiden stood up.
She ran in her turn to fetch her friends. She jumped over the fire and suddenly melted and turned into a white cloud. A cloud rose high and disappeared in the sky. All the girlfriends heard was something plaintively moaning behind them: “Aw!” They turned around - but the Snow Maiden was not there.
They began to call her:
- Hey, hey, Snow Maiden!
Only the echo in the forest responded to them.
Ill. E. Vikhoreva, Y. Isaikin
Snow Maiden read
Once upon a time there lived an old man and an old woman. We lived well, amicably. Everything would be fine, but one misfortune - they didn’t have children.
Now the snowy winter has come, there are snowdrifts up to the waist, the children pour out into the street to play, and the old man and the old woman look at them from the window and think about their grief.
“Well, old woman,” says the old man, “let’s make ourselves a daughter out of snow.”
“Come on,” says the old woman.
The old man put on his hat, they went out into the garden and began to sculpt a daughter out of the snow. They rolled a snowball, fitted the arms and legs, and placed a snowy head on top. The old man sculpted a nose, mouth, and chin.
Lo and behold, the Snow Maiden’s lips turned pink and her eyes opened; she looks at the old people and smiles. Then she nodded her head, moved her arms and legs, shook off the snow - and a living girl came out of the snowdrift.
The old people were delighted and brought her to the hut. They look at her and can’t stop admiring her.
And the old people’s daughter began to grow by leaps and bounds; every day it becomes more and more beautiful. She herself is as white as snow, her braid is brown to the waist, but there is no blush at all.
The old people are not overjoyed at their daughter; they dote on her. My daughter is growing up smart, smart, and cheerful. Affectionate and friendly with everyone. And the Snow Maiden’s work is progressing in her hands, and when she sings a song, you will be heard.
Winter has passed. The spring sun has begun to warm up. The grass in the thawed patches turned green and the larks began to sing.
And the Snow Maiden suddenly became sad.
- What's wrong with you, daughter? - asks the old man. - Why have you become so sad? Or can't you?
“Nothing, father, nothing, mother, I’m healthy.”
The last snow has melted, flowers have bloomed in the meadows, and birds have flown in.
And the Snow Maiden is becoming sadder and more silent day by day. Hiding from the sun. All she needs is some shade and some cool air, or even better, some rain.
Once a black cloud moved in, large hail fell. The Snow Maiden rejoiced at the hail, like rolling pearls. And when the sun came out again and the hail melted, the Snow Maiden began to cry, so bitterly, like a sister by a brother.
After spring, summer came. The girls gathered for a walk in the grove, calling the Snow Maiden:
- Come with us, Snow Maiden, for a walk in the forest, sing songs, dance.
The Snow Maiden didn’t want to go into the forest, but the old woman persuaded her:
- Go, daughter, have fun with your friends!
The girls and the Snow Maiden came to the forest. They began to collect flowers, weave wreaths, sing songs, and lead round dances. Only Snow Maiden is still sad.
And as soon as it got light, they gathered some brushwood, built a fire, and started jumping over the fire one after another. Behind everyone, the Snow Maiden stood up.
She ran in her turn to fetch her friends. She jumped over the fire and suddenly melted and turned into a white cloud. A cloud rose high and disappeared in the sky. All the girlfriends heard was something plaintively moaning behind them: “Aw!” They turned around - but the Snow Maiden was not there.
They began to call her:
- Hey, hey, Snow Maiden!
Only the echo in the forest responded to them.
(Illustration by E. Vikhoreva, Y. Isaikin)
Play: Snow Maiden
I first read this play back in school, and it was in the autumn of 1992. Back then, the availability of books was, to put it mildly, bad, but for some reason this rare play was included in the school curriculum. Only 3 people in the whole class got it, so we read it aloud in class, stumbling over incomprehensible words. I don’t know what our classmates understood from our chaotic reading. I seemed to like the play then, but I didn’t have to re-read it again. And I’ve never really seen the movie either. Recently, the Meshcheryakov Publishing House republished the book in its strange concept “Small Book with History,” and I wanted to have it, I was completely fascinated by the cover. However, the cover alone is not enough, and those who think that the inside of the book is just as beautiful are tragically mistaken. There are very few illustrations in it, they are of varying quality - sometimes just sketches for costumes. And yet, the main thing in a book is the text, isn’t it? And I once rated the text as excellent, it’s probably good. This is what I thought when I started re-reading. And this is where severe disappointment awaited me. The language seemed pretentious, deliberately distorted, pseudo-Russian, the incomprehensible words were absurdly irritating, the deciphering of which had to go to the end of the book, the characters were incredibly irritating - everyone except the Snow Maiden. And I once liked this so much that I rated it an A? But why? However, once the prologue was over, it became easier. And there were fewer incomprehensible words, and suddenly they began to emerge from the corners of my memory, it turns out that individual quotes that had been stored there for a long time - just like at school, we wrote them down in notebooks under the dictation of the teacher. And I was captivated by the plot. Poor, poor Snow Maiden! This whole story was created only so that she would melt beautifully... I think why Spring still endowed her daughter with love - after all, she knows that in this case the Snow Maiden will be in danger of death, because even in spring it is difficult to protect yourself from the sun, and summer is ahead... Apparently, the fact is that Spring knows in advance that her daughter is doomed, she understands with her mother’s heart how painful it is to live with a cold heart. And the fact is that love is valuable in itself - after all, who did the Snow Maiden fall in love with? A good fellow worthy of goodness, as in folk tales? No, the trading man Mizgir - the spider - whose wealth was probably acquired unjustly, for whom her love is only a reason to please his pride. She warned that the sun was dangerous for her, but he did not hear her... In the folk tale, the Snow Maiden jumps over a fire, in Ostrovsky the flame burns her from the inside. I understand everything about the symbolism and the eternal revival of nature, about the doom of the Snow Maiden, but how sad it is for me that not one of the girlfriends, nor the handsome Lel, nor the boys, nor the adoptive parents, nor even Mother Spring shed a tear over her, and the wise Tsar Berendey is even happy that she melted, for “for fifteen years the Sun was angry with us, now, with her miraculous death, Frost’s intervention has stopped.” Let us rejoice, dear Berendeys, and let us continue to live, just as this Snow Maiden disturbed us all... Which, in essence, is not to blame for anything. Ostrovsky turned out to be a beautiful fairy tale. And I remember other fairy tales in which there is no such sad ending - “Easy Steps” by Kaverin, “A Gift for the Snow Maiden” by Tokmakova and Prokofieva - where the Snow Maiden girls do not melt and become alive. Oh, if only there would be something like this, if a warm heart would not make the heroine melt, but would turn her into a living girl!
Read as part of the 3rd round of the Hopscotch Game (complicated version)
