Young lover of literature, we are firmly convinced that you will be pleased to read the fairy tale "Shurale (Tatar fairy tale)" and you will be able to learn a lesson and benefit from it. The plot is simple and old as the world, but each new generation finds in it something relevant and useful for itself. Each time, reading this or that epic, one feels the incredible love with which the images of the environment are described. It is sweet and joyful to plunge into a world in which love, nobility, morality and selflessness always prevail, with which the reader is edified. "Good always conquers evil" - this foundation is built on, like this one, and this creation, from an early age laying the foundation of our worldview. All images are simple, ordinary and do not cause youthful misunderstanding, because we encounter them daily in our everyday life. Faced with such strong, strong-willed and kind qualities of the hero, you involuntarily feel the desire to change yourself for the better. The fairy tale "Shurale (Tatar fairy tale)" is worth reading for everyone online for free, here is deep wisdom, philosophy, and simplicity of the plot with a good ending.
There was a brave woodcutter in one village.
One winter he went to the forest and began chopping wood. Suddenly Shurale appeared in front of him.
- What's your name, little man? Shurale asks.
“My name is Byltyr**,” the woodcutter replies.
“Come on, Byltyr, let’s play,” says Shurale.
“I’m not up to the game right now,” the woodcutter replies. - I won't play with you!
Shurale got angry and shouted:
- Ah well! Well, then I won't let you out of the woods alive!
The woodcutter sees - it's a bad thing.
“Okay,” he says. - I'll play with you, but first help me split the deck.
The woodcutter struck the log with an ax once, struck twice, and said:
"Put your fingers into the gap so it doesn't get pinched until I hit it a third time."
He stuck his fingers into the crack in Shurale, and the woodcutter pulled out an axe. Here the deck closed tightly and pinched Shurale's fingers. That was all the lumberjack needed. He collected his firewood and left as soon as possible for the village. And Shurale, let's shout to the whole forest:
- Byltyr pinched my fingers! .. Byltyr pinched my fingers! ..
Other shurales came running to the cry, asking:
- What's happened? Who pinched?
- Bytyr pinched! Shurale answers.
“If so, we can’t help you,” other shurales say. “If it happened today, we would help you. Since it was last year, where can you find it now? Silly you! You should have screamed not now, but last year!
And stupid Shurale could not really explain anything to them.
They say that Shurale put the deck on his back and still carries it on himself, while he himself shouts loudly:
“Byltyr pinched my fingers!”
* Shurale - goblin.
** Byltyr - last year
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There is an aul near Kazan, named Kyrlay.
Even the chickens in that Kyrlai know how to sing... Wonderful land!
Although I'm not from there, but I kept love for him,
He worked on his land - he sowed, reaped and harrowed.
Is he reputed to be a big aul? No, on the contrary, it is small,
And the river, the pride of the people, is just a small spring.
This side of the forest is forever alive in memory.
Grass spreads like a velvety blanket.
There the people never knew neither cold nor heat:
The wind will blow in its turn, and the rain in its turn
will go.
From raspberries, strawberries, everything in the forest is variegated, variegated,
You pick up a full bucket of berries in an instant.
Often I lay on the grass and looked at the heavens.
Boundless forests seemed to me a formidable army.
Like warriors stood pines, lindens and oaks,
Under the pine - sorrel and mint, under the birch - mushrooms.
How many blue, yellow, red flowers are there
intertwined
And from them the fragrance flowed in the sweet air.
Moths flew away, flew in and landed,
It was as if the petals were arguing and reconciling with them.
Bird chirping, sonorous babble were heard in silence
And filled my soul with piercing joy.
Here and music, and dances, and singers, and circus performers,
Here are boulevards, and theaters, and wrestlers, and violinists!
This fragrant forest is wider than the sea, higher than the clouds,
Like the army of Genghis Khan, noisy and powerful.
And the glory of grandfather's names rose before me,
And cruelty, and violence, and tribal strife.
2
I depicted the summer forest - my verse has not yet been sung
Our autumn, our winter and young beauties,
And the fun of our festivities, and the spring Sabantuy ...
O my verse, do not excite my soul with remembrance!
But wait, I was daydreaming... Here is the paper on the table...
After all, I was going to tell you about the tricks of the shurale.
I'll start now, reader, don't blame me:
I lose all reason, only I remember Kyrlai.
Of course, that in this amazing forest
You will meet a wolf, and a bear, and an insidious fox.
Here, hunters often saw squirrels,
Now a gray hare will rush, then a horned elk will flash.
There are many secret paths and treasures here, they say.
There are many terrible beasts and monsters here, they say.
Many fairy tales and beliefs walk in their native land
And about genies, and about peri, and about terrible shurals.
Is this true? Endless, like the sky, the ancient forest,
And no less than in heaven, maybe in the forest of miracles.
About one of them I will begin my short story,
And - such is my custom - I will sing verses.
Somehow in the night, when, shining, the moon glides in the clouds,
A jigit went from the aul to the forest for firewood.
I drove quickly on the cart, immediately took up the ax,
Knock and knock, he cuts down trees, and all around is a dense forest.
As often happens in summer, the night was fresh and damp.
Silence grew as the birds slept.
The woodcutter is busy with work, know he knocks for himself, knocks,
For a moment, the enchanted horseman forgot.
Chu! A terrible scream resounds in the distance.
And the ax stopped in a swung hand.
And our agile woodcutter froze in amazement.
He looks and does not believe his eyes. Who is this? Human?
Genie, rogue or ghost this twisted freak?
How ugly he is, involuntarily takes fear.
The nose is curved like a fishhook
Hands, legs - like branches, they will frighten even the daredevil.
Eyes flash angrily, they burn in black cavities.
Even during the day, not like at night, this look will frighten.
He looks like a man, very thin and naked,
The narrow forehead is adorned with a horn the size of our finger.
He has half a arshin fingers on the hands of curves, -
Ten fingers ugly, sharp, long
and straight lines.
And looking into the eyes of a freak that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked boldly, "What do you want from me?"
“Young horseman, don’t be afraid, robbery doesn’t attract me,
But although I am not a robber, I am not a righteous saint.
Why, when I saw you, did I let out a cheerful cry?
Because I'm used to tickling people.
Each finger is adapted to tickle more viciously,
I kill a man, making him laugh.
Well, with your fingers, my brother, move,
Play ticklish with me and make me laugh!”
“Okay, I’ll play,” the woodcutter answered him.
Only under one condition... Do you agree or not?
“Speak, little man, please be bold,
I will accept all the conditions, but let's play soon!
"If so - listen to me, how you decide -
I don't care.
Do you see a thick, large and heavy log?
Forest spirit! Let's work together first.
Together with you, we will transfer the log to the cart.
Did you notice a big gap at the other end of the log?
There, hold the log stronger, all your strength is needed! .. "
Shurale squinted at the indicated place.
And, without contradicting the horseman, the shurale agreed.
His fingers are long and straight, he put them in the mouth of the log...
Sages! Can you see the lumberjack's simple trick?
The wedge, pre-plugged, knocks out with an ax,
Knocking out, performs a clever plan in secret.
Shurale will not move, will not move his hand,
He stands, not understanding the clever inventions of man.
So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle, disappeared into the darkness ...
Shurale's fingers pinched and remained in the crack.
Shurale saw the deception, shurale yells, yells.
He calls the brothers for help, he calls the forest people.
With repentant prayer, he says to the jigit:
"Have pity, have pity on me! Let me go, dzhigit!
I will never offend you, dzhigit, or my son.
I will never touch your entire family, O man!
I won't hurt anyone! Do you want me to take an oath?
I will tell everyone: “I am a friend of a horseman. Let him walk
In the woods!"
My fingers hurt! Give me freedom! let me live
on the ground!
What do you want, jigit, for the profit from the torment of the shurale?
The poor fellow cries, rushes about, whines, howls, he is not himself.
The woodcutter does not hear him, he is going home.
“Is it possible that the cry of the sufferer will not soften this soul?
Who are you, who are you, heartless? What is your name, jigit?
Tomorrow, if I live to see our brother,
To the question: “Who is your offender?” - whose name shall I name?
“So be it, I say, brother. Don't forget this name:
I was nicknamed "The God-Minded One" ... And now -
it's time for me to go."
Shurale screams and howls, wants to show strength,
He wants to escape from captivity, to punish the woodcutter.
"I will die. Forest spirits, help me quickly!
I pinched Vgoduminuvshiy, the villain ruined me!
And in the morning shurales came running from all sides.
"What's wrong with you? Are you crazy? What are you upset about, you fool?
Calm down! Shut up! We can't stand screaming.
Pinched in the past year, what are you doing this year
are you crying?"
Tatar folk tale with pictures. Illustrations: K Kamaletdinov
1. Gabdulla Tukay - Gabdulla Mukhamedgarifovich Tukay (April 14, 1886, the village of Kushlavych, Kazan district, Kazan province - April 2, 1913, Kazan). Tatar folk poet, literary critic, publicist, public figure and translator.April 20, 1912 Tukay arrives in St. Petersburg (stayed 13 days) to meet with Mullanur Vakhitov, later a prominent revolutionary. (See more about the trip to St. Petersburg: chapter 5 from the book of I.Z. Nurullin's book "Tukai")
In his life and work, Tukay acted as a spokesman for the interests and aspirations of the masses, a herald of the friendship of peoples and a singer of freedom. Tukay was the initiator of new realistic Tatar literature and literary criticism. Tuqay's first poems appeared in the handwritten journal Al-Gasr al-Jadid (New Age) in 1904. At the same time, he translates Krylov's fables into Tatar and offers them for publication. ()
2. The poem "Shurale"
- a poem by the Tatar poet Gabdulla Tukay. Written in 1907 based on Tatar folklore. According to the plot of the poem, the ballet "Shurale" was created. In 1987, Soyuzmultfilm filmed the animated film Shurale.
The prototype of Shurale existed not only in Tatar mythology. Different peoples of Siberia and Eastern Europe (as well as the Chinese, Koreans, Persians, Arabs and others) believed in the so-called "halfs". They were called differently, but their essence remained almost the same.
These are one-eyed, one-armed creatures, to which various supernatural properties were attributed. According to Yakut and Chuvash beliefs, soul mates can change the size of their body. Almost all peoples believe that they are terribly funny - they laugh until their last breath, and they also love to make others laugh, often tickling livestock and people to death. The "laughing" voices of some birds (the order of owls) were attributed to the halves. The Udmurts use the word "shurali" or "urali" to call the eagle owl. And the Mari call the humming night bird "shur-locho", which means "half-dwarf". An evil forest spirit, having only half a soul, could inhabit people. In the Old Chuvash language, the word "surale" was formed - a person who was possessed by a "sura" (devil-half). In the northern dialects of the Chuvash language and in the Mari, the sound "s" sometimes turns into "sh" - this explains the appearance of "shurele".
The image of Shurale was very widespread in Tatar and Bashkir mythology. The stories about Shural had many variants. As early as the end of the 19th century, they were recorded by researchers. It is worth mentioning the book of the Hungarian scholar Gabor Balint "Studying the language of the Kazan Tatars", published in 1875 in Budapest, the work of the famous Tatar educator Kayum Nasyri "The beliefs and rituals of the Kazan Tatars", published in 1880, as well as the collection of fairy tales by Taip Yakhin "Defgylkesel min essabi ve sabiyat" published in 1900. One of these options (where the resourcefulness and courage of the Tatar people are most clearly shown) formed the basis of the famous work of Gabdulla Tukay. With the light hand of the poet, Shurale stepped from the realm of superstition into the world of Tatar literature and art. In a note to the poem, G. Tukay wrote: "I wrote this fairy tale" Shurale "using the example of the poets A. Pushkin and M. Lermontov, who processed the plots of folk tales told by folk storytellers in the villages."
The fairy tale poem by Gabdulla Tukay was a huge success. It was in tune with its time and reflected the enlightenment tendencies in literature: it glorified the victory of the human mind, knowledge, skill over the mysterious and blind forces of nature. It also reflected the growth of national self-consciousness: for the first time in the center of a literary poetic work was not a common Turkic or Islamic plot, but a Tatar fairy tale that existed among the common people. The language of the poem was distinguished by richness, expressiveness and accessibility. But not only this is the secret of its popularity.
The poet put his personal feelings, memories, experiences into the narrative, making it surprisingly lyrical. It is no coincidence that the action takes place in Kyrlai, the village where Tukay spent his happiest childhood years and, by his own admission, "began to remember himself." A huge, wonderful world, full of secrets and mysteries, appears before the reader in a pure and direct perception of a little boy. The poet sang with great tenderness and love the beauty of his native nature, and folk customs, and the dexterity, strength, cheerfulness of the villagers. These feelings were shared by his readers, who perceived the fairy tale "Shurale" as a deeply national work, truly vividly and fully expressing the very soul of the Tatar people. It was in this poem that the evil spirits from the dense forest for the first time received not only a negative, but also a positive assessment: Shurale became, as it were, an integral part of his native land, its virgin flowering nature, inexhaustible folk fantasy. It is not surprising that this bright, memorable image then inspired writers, artists, composers for many years to create significant and original works of art.
But wait, I was daydreaming... Here is the paper on the table...
After all, I was going to tell you about the tricks of the shurale.
G. Tukay "Shurale"
In Kazan, near the theater. Kamala cultural composition "Mysteries of Shurale".
Shurale is a famous character in Tatar and Bashkir fairy tales. Something like a goblin that tickles lonely travelers in the forest with its long fingers to death.
How would it be now you said "cults th" Tatar poet Gabdulla Tukay wrote a poem "Shurale" based on folkth fairy tales. I remember her very well from my childhood.
A young woodcutter met a cunning shurale in the forest.
He looks and does not believe his eyes. Who is this? Human?
Genie, rogue or ghost this twisted freak?
Shurale - the classic "trickster" - a deity, a demon, a person or an anthropomorphic animal that commits "hooliganism" or, in any case, does not obey the general rules of behavior. As a rule, it is the antipode of the hero, the anti-hero.
He looks like a man, very thin and naked,
The narrow forehead is adorned with a horn the size of our finger.
He has half a arshin fingers on the hands of curves, -
Ten fingers ugly, sharp, long
and straight lines.
The young man is not afraid, but he does not climb on the rampage.
And looking into the eyes of a freak that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked boldly, "What do you want from me?"
I want to play a game with you
Each finger is adapted to tickle more viciously,
I kill a man, making him laugh.
Well, with your fingers, my brother, move,
Play ticklish with me and make me laugh!
The key point for understanding the Tatar mentality.
The dzhigit does not enter into an open struggle with an opponent who is superior to him.
How did, perhaps, the hero from Russian fairy tales. He takes savvy.
"Okay, I'll play," the woodcutter answered him, Only under one condition...
Forest spirit! Let's work together first.
Together with you, we will transfer the log to the cart.
Did you notice a big gap at the other end of the log?
There hold the log stronger, all your strength is needed! ..
Fight fire with fire.
Shurale squinted at the indicated place.
And, without contradicting the horseman, the shurale agreed.
His fingers are long and straight, he put them in the mouth of a log...
Sages! Can you see the lumberjack's simple trick?
The wedge, pre-plugged, knocks out with an ax,
Knocking out, performs a clever plan in secret. --
Shurale will not move, will not move his hand,
He stands, not understanding the clever inventions of man.
Checkmate, shurale!
So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle, disappeared into the darkness ...
Shurale's fingers pinched and remained in the crack.
I saw the shurale deception, the shurale yells, yells.
He calls the brothers for help, he calls the forest people.
With a penitent prayer, he says to the jigit:
"Have pity, have pity on me! Let me go, zhigit!
Ivan the Terrible, in the 16th century defeated the Kazan Khanate, which became part of Russia.
Since then, the Tatars have not undertaken active uprisings. However, they realized that their goals and well-being can be achieved in other, less radical, but more effective ways.
President of Tatarstan Mintemir Shaimiev, like the leaders of many regions, once managed to take as much sovereignty as he could. However, Tatarstan, unlike other regions, then did not lose the republican property, but also increased it.
All the main assets - oil, petrochemistry, energy, belong to the owners within the republic, and not to "Muscovites"
In addition, they learned how to work with large federal projects, which are the locomotives of the economy. Having worked out the technology for the reconstruction of dilapidated housing, the Millennium of Kazan, then the Universiade, then they can no longer stop and make Innopolis.This is one of the regions where e-government really works.
Why beg the federals for money, if you can come up with something that Moscow itself will ask you to take, and even set an example for others? :)
The Tatar horseman, pretending to be a simpleton, did not argue and fight, but pinched Shurala's fingers.
The sculptural composition "Mysteries of Shurale" was donated by MegaFon to the city of Kazan in August 2011
There is an aul near Kazan, named Kyrlay.
Even the chickens in that Kyrlai know how to sing ... A wondrous land!
Although I'm not from there, but I kept love for him,
He worked on his land - he sowed, reaped and harrowed.
Is he reputed to be a big aul? No, on the contrary, it is small,
And the river, the pride of the people, is just a small spring.
This side of the forest is forever alive in memory.
Grass spreads like a velvety blanket.
There the people never knew neither cold nor heat:
The wind will blow in its turn, and the rain in its turn
will go.
From raspberries, strawberries, everything in the forest is variegated, variegated,
You pick up a full bucket of berries in an instant.
Often I lay on the grass and looked at the heavens.
Boundless forests seemed to me a formidable army.
Like warriors stood pines, lindens and oaks,
Under the pine - sorrel and mint, under the birch - mushrooms.
How many blue, yellow, red flowers are there
intertwined
And from them the fragrance flowed in the sweet air.
Moths flew away, flew in and landed,
It was as if the petals were arguing and reconciling with them.
Bird chirping, sonorous babble were heard in silence
And filled my soul with piercing joy.
Here and music, and dances, and singers, and circus performers,
Here are boulevards, and theaters, and wrestlers, and violinists!
This fragrant forest is wider than the sea, higher than the clouds,
Like the army of Genghis Khan, noisy and powerful.
And the glory of grandfather's names rose before me,
And cruelty, and violence, and tribal strife.
2
I depicted the summer forest - my verse has not yet been sung
Our autumn, our winter and young beauties,
And the fun of our festivities, and the spring Sabantuy ...
O my verse, do not excite my soul with remembrance!
But wait, I was daydreaming... Here is the paper on the table...
After all, I was going to tell you about the tricks of the shurale.
I'll start now, reader, don't blame me:
I lose all reason, only I remember Kyrlai.
Of course, that in this amazing forest
You will meet a wolf, and a bear, and an insidious fox.
Here, hunters often saw squirrels,
Now a gray hare will rush, then a horned elk will flash.
There are many secret paths and treasures here, they say.
There are many terrible beasts and monsters here, they say.
Many fairy tales and beliefs walk in their native land
And about genies, and about peri, and about terrible shurals.
Is this true? Endless, like the sky, the ancient forest,
And no less than in heaven, maybe in the forest of miracles.
About one of them I will begin my short story,
And - such is my custom - I will sing verses.
Somehow in the night, when, shining, the moon glides in the clouds,
A jigit went from the aul to the forest for firewood.
I drove quickly on the cart, immediately took up the ax,
Knock and knock, he cuts down trees, and all around is a dense forest.
As often happens in summer, the night was fresh and damp.
Silence grew as the birds slept.
The woodcutter is busy with work, know he knocks for himself, knocks,
For a moment, the enchanted horseman forgot.
Chu! A terrible scream resounds in the distance.
And the ax stopped in a swung hand.
And our agile woodcutter froze in amazement.
He looks and does not believe his eyes. Who is this? Human?
Genie, rogue or ghost this twisted freak?
How ugly he is, involuntarily takes fear.
The nose is curved like a fishhook
Hands, legs - like branches, they will frighten even the daredevil.
Eyes flash angrily, they burn in black cavities.
Even during the day, not like at night, this look will frighten.
He looks like a man, very thin and naked,
The narrow forehead is adorned with a horn the size of our finger.
He has half a arshin fingers on the hands of curves, -
Ten fingers ugly, sharp, long
and straight lines.
And looking into the eyes of a freak that lit up like two fires,
The woodcutter asked boldly, "What do you want from me?"
“Young horseman, don’t be afraid, robbery doesn’t attract me,
But although I am not a robber, I am not a righteous saint.
Why, when I saw you, did I let out a cheerful cry?
Because I'm used to tickling people.
Each finger is adapted to tickle more viciously,
I kill a man, making him laugh.
Well, with your fingers, my brother, move,
Play ticklish with me and make me laugh!”
“Okay, I’ll play,” the woodcutter answered him.
Only under one condition… Do you agree or not?”
“Speak, little man, please be bold,
I will accept all the conditions, but let's play soon!
"If so - listen to me, how you decide -
I don't care.
Do you see a thick, large and heavy log?
Forest spirit! Let's work together first.
Together with you, we will transfer the log to the cart.
Did you notice a big gap at the other end of the log?
There, hold the log stronger, all your strength is needed! .. "
Shurale squinted at the indicated place.
And, without contradicting the horseman, the shurale agreed.
His fingers are long and straight, he put them in the mouth of the log...
Sages! Can you see the lumberjack's simple trick?
The wedge, pre-plugged, knocks out with an ax,
Knocking out, performs a clever plan in secret.
Shurale will not move, will not move his hand,
He stands, not understanding the clever inventions of man.
So a thick wedge flew out with a whistle, disappeared into the darkness ...
Shurale's fingers pinched and remained in the crack.
Shurale saw the deception, shurale yells, yells.
He calls the brothers for help, he calls the forest people.
With repentant prayer, he says to the jigit:
"Have pity, have pity on me! Let me go, dzhigit!
I will never offend you, dzhigit, or my son.
I will never touch your entire family, O man!
I won't hurt anyone! Do you want me to take an oath?
I will tell everyone: “I am a friend of a horseman. Let him walk
In the woods!"
My fingers hurt! Give me freedom! let me live
on the ground!
What do you want, jigit, for the profit from the torment of the shurale?
The poor fellow cries, rushes about, whines, howls, he is not himself.
The woodcutter does not hear him, he is going home.
“Is it possible that the cry of the sufferer will not soften this soul?
Who are you, who are you, heartless? What is your name, jigit?
Tomorrow, if I live to see our brother,
To the question: “Who is your offender?” - whose name shall I name?
“So be it, I say, brother. Don't forget this name:
I was nicknamed "Vgoduminuvshiy" ... And now -
it's time for me to go."
Shurale screams and howls, wants to show strength,
He wants to escape from captivity, to punish the woodcutter.
"I will die. Forest spirits, help me quickly!
I pinched Vgoduminuvshiy, the villain ruined me!
And in the morning shurales came running from all sides.
"What's wrong with you? Are you crazy? What are you upset about, you fool?
Calm down! Shut up! We can't stand screaming.
Pinched in the past year, what are you doing this year
are you crying?"
- END -
Tatar folk tale with pictures. Illustrations: K Kamaletdinov
