in one big and beautiful theater lived musical instruments. In the evenings, when the theater was filled with smart dressed people, the orchestra excitedly tuned in for the performance. Fanfare solemnly heralded the beginning of the performance. The instruments performed with their numbers, got upset at failures, rejoiced at the applause. When people left the theater, the chandeliers changed from a bright glow to a gentle Moonlight, and the instruments began to live their own special life.
II. Beauty Violin
So... Musical instruments lived in one large and beautiful theater. Among them was the beautiful Violin, the most graceful of the String family. The curls of a curved neck adorned her chiseled head. Her waist was such that even a prima ballerina could not compete with her. She dressed with the most exquisite taste. Her clothes shone like finely polished expensive wood. No one could say that there is at least one extra line in the appearance of the Violin. In addition, she sang very sweetly. Connoisseurs praised Violin's voice and singing technique. Only occasionally did someone dare to notice that she sings rather dryly, without a soul. But Violin did not think about it. She had many fans. No one could resist her beauty, and no one could get an answer in the beauty's cold heart.
She was capricious and pampered. Her house was upholstered inside with silk, velvet pillows lay in the bedroom. Every day the chambers were fumigated with fragrant rosin. When Violin went for a walk, her admirers bowed respectfully to her. In response, she languidly said something like: "Oh, what dampness in the air today. I'm afraid to chill my throat." - and retired to the house.
III. Bassoon and violin
(Duet bickering)
The instruments were often assembled together. Violas came - Violin's cousins. Aunt Cello looked in. She was somewhat plump, but every movement reminded her of her former grace. She had a pleasant low voice and a lot of genuine dignity. The piano, even at a party, worried about its wonderful keys. They caused a lot of trouble. Sometimes one of the keys sank and broke all the beauty. I had to go to the doctor, and who is pleased? Fagot grumbled good-naturedly on every occasion. He found the violin too haughty, so their conversation sometimes resembled a duet of wrangling.
IV. Brass March
Slightly self-satisfied Brass instruments were constantly careful not to let any speck mar the surface of their golden robes. Forgetting the proverb "All that glitters is not gold," they considered themselves to be pure gold and were very fond of brilliant marches. Ringing Trumpets began the march. It was picked up by straight-hearted Trombones. This was followed by the golden move of French Horns. It was wonderful!
V. Flute Piccolo
The woodwinds - oboes, clarinets, flutes - kept decorously, in pairs. But the sharp-tongued Flute Piccolo loved to gossip. Every now and then she would stick her head out curiously and tease someone, but not too viciously. Therefore, almost no one was offended by her, and many appreciated her wit.
The drum was a strict guardian of order and followed the observance of tact. When order was violated, he somehow especially knocked on his echoing stomach, and everything immediately fell into place. But this rarely happened, because usually everything was harmonious in the society of instruments.
VI. Declaration of love
(Letter from the double bass to the Violin)
Everything was harmonious in the society of instruments, but this is what happened one day. The modest courageous double bass fell in love with the beautiful Violin with all his heart. For a long time he could not admit this even to himself, but you cannot command the heart, and it did not stop loving. The double bass sighed intermittently in the far corner of the orchestra and finally made up his mind - he wrote a letter to the Violin about his love for her, that there was no one for him whom he dreamed of so much, whose image and singing would be as dear to him as violin shape.
VII. Polite refusal
(Violin's answer to double bass)
That evening the double bass played like never before. Love raised his art to such heights that even the indifferent Violin was surprised and, inviting him to visit, said that she was touched by his attention. But doesn’t he know, she asked, how many admirers seek her favor, but she still hasn’t loved anyone, and even more so the Double Bass, she thought to herself, is so huge and clumsy, he can hardly count on her favor . Yes, - Violin continued, - I appreciate your feelings, but I ask you to understand me ... Our hearts are not in tune ... Please forgive me, but NO!
Violin said all this in her clear voice in an elegant manner, which testified to her good breeding. 0but this polite refusal she completely broke the heart of poor Contrabass. He sighed sadly and walked away with his head bowed low.
VIII. Farewell Double Bass
Who knows what the Contrabass was thinking about when he returned home. Perhaps he recalled the sounds of Violin's voice, or the hope with which he wrote his letter of confession to her, or perhaps he said goodbye forever to the dream of happiness ... His heart beat unevenly and with pain. The light in his window flickered for a moment and went out. Did he tore all his strings, fell and died?! One way or another, but the double bass disappeared. In the following days, the place in the far right corner of the orchestra, the last in the row of the Contrabass brothers, was empty.
IX. Experiences of the Violin and advice of the Harp
It seemed that Violin calmly accepted the news of the disappearance of the double bass, but, in fact, something broke in her. Even the ever-brilliant technique of her singing has faded. Nothing brought her relief, nothing distracted her from the shock, even the most fashionable and elegant ffs that she ordered for herself from the best Masters did not help her. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Late at night, when many instruments were already sleeping peacefully, Violin got out of her cozy house and ran to the old sorceress Harp. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” Harp said sternly and somehow solemnly, letting her into her strange home, “I know that the Treasured doors of Art do not open before you. there is no soul who does not know love.If you want to become a real artist, you must travel the world three times a hundred years.It will be difficult for you, pampered and capricious, but if you go through all the trials, remaining faithful to art, recognition awaits you ". So said the wise Harp and fell silent.
X. Trials of the Violin
Returning home, Violin, without delay, got ready for the road. That very night she left the theatre. Yes, the fragile, spoiled Violin found the strength to go towards unknown trials. From now on, time counted the beat for her. Weeks followed weeks, months followed months, years followed years, and years turned into centuries.
In the first hundred years, Violin learned loneliness, in which there is always so much room for reflection, memories ... Loneliness - a harsh and merciless teacher - taught Violin a lot. She spent the second century in continuous, almost backbreaking work. Her beauty faded, but her voice began to fill with warmth and sound deeper.
Violin has had the hardest time in the last hundred years. The cold fettered her, making the strings brittle, and sometimes the heat made the air so hot that there was nothing to breathe. Having lost her outward brilliance, she recognized contempt and hatred, she was persecuted, but it was in the midst of adversity that Violin learned to appreciate compassion, generosity, and love. She got a soul!
XI. Return to the theater
Three hundred years later, almost exhausted, Violin returned to her theater. The harp greeted her with joy, immediately realizing how the wanderer had changed. In the evening Violin came on stage and sang. How she sang! Strong and gentle, deep and quivering, her voice smoothed out the wrinkles of fatigue and grief, connected loving hearts into one big heart, and made the evil good. Everyone listened to her with bated breath, and the modest little singer sang and sang, not expecting either payment or worship. And the gratitude of warmed hearts healed the wounds inflicted on her by centuries of wandering.
***
Since then, people have understood that the longer the violin lives, the more wonderfully it sings, the more it is valued and even called the Queen of Music.
Listening to the silence
Children have increased emotionality, and they do everything loudly: they don’t speak, but scream, if they are happy, then they squeal with delight, if they are upset, they sob uncontrollably. This is fine. They cannot do otherwise. For this they cannot be blamed. But sometimes invite them to sit down, stop, freeze and listen to ... silence. Which they don't hear. They are unable to hear.
This can be done at home, but it is better somewhere in nature. In the field, in the forest, in the park, near the river. Or just on the street or in the yard.
So, the rules of the game.
Hush, you say. - Quieter. Quite quiet. Let's play - who will hear the silence better and name more sounds. We speak in turn.
The car has passed. Here the bird sang. Train whistle. Someone's conversation. Trees rustled branches.
The child listens to the silence, to the surrounding sounds. He begins to understand that among these sounds there are also such beautiful and bewitching ones as the singing of birds, the sound of a forest, river or sea.
By the way, silence, pause - quite a musical category. Sustaining exactly a pause (another moment and it will break off) is a great art. Both in music and in life...
Three to five years old
From the age of three or four, we repeat, rivalry and gambling excitement are included in the game. Draw five or seven circles in a row on a thick sheet of paper. Separately for you and for the child. If there are more than two participants, then the number of rows increases. Put chips of different colors on the first circles. For most of our games these simple preparations enough.
story-play
Any of the stories (for example, about musical instruments) can be built in the form of a game. To do this, before starting the game, put the mugs with chips already prepared by us on the table and tell the baby:
Now I will tell you a fairy tale about the Drum and the Violin. It's a game. After the story, I will ask a few questions. If you listen carefully, you will easily answer them. If the answer is correct, you move the chip. Wrong - me. The one who advances the most circles wins. After such a warning, the child listens to the story with special interest and attention. The game is sacred.
Naturally, the story should be short and, if possible, entertaining. For example, here's one we came up with...
Tale of the Drum and the Violin
Drum lived in one kingdom. A variety of musical instruments lived in this musical realm: violins, pianos, accordions. But the Drum was one of the most famous and beloved. Because everyone understood his language. Because he woke up the whole city in the morning with his sonorous and clear song:
The sun rose early in the morning
The voice of the Drum is heard,
Tra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta,
Open the gate.
The city woke up, and everyone said: "It's good that Drum lives in our city. Otherwise, we could be late for work."
When the Drum grew up, the king of this kingdom Royal took him to work. sentry. Now the Drum not only woke everyone up in the morning, but also guarded the royal palace. And during the parade, the soldiers marched to his music.
In the same kingdom, the king had a daughter - Violin. As soon as the Drum saw the Violin, he immediately fell in love with her. When Violin rode in a carriage past the gate he was guarding, Drum greeted her with his knock.
Princess Drum liked it too. One day she came up to him and sang on the highest of her four strings "mi".
Do, re, mi, fa, salt, la,
Tomorrow is the king's ball.
Come, mi, fa, salt, la.
I'll be waiting for you.
The drum put on a new leather uniform and came to the ball. When the dancing began, the Violin played cheerful music on all its four strings, and the Drum played along with it. Then other instruments began to play, and they danced the waltz together and liked each other even more. Drum invited Violin to become his wife. She agreed.
At the wedding, King Royal played Mendelssohn's "Wedding March" to celebrate. It was a very fun wedding.
It's good if after final words fairy tales you turn this popular music Mendelssohn.
And now the questions for the child. For example, these:
- What were the soldiers doing when the drum was playing?
- Why did the inhabitants of the city love Drum?
- How many strings does the violin have?
- What is the name of the highest string?
- What dance did the Violin and the Drum play at the ball?
- What is the name of the music that was played after the wedding? Etc. and so on.
Of course, the questions may be different. As, however, and a fairy tale, which you, perhaps, compose better than us.
Thanks to such fairy tale games, the child not only learns more about, composers, musicians, but will also develop such important qualities like attention and focus.
This story happened a very, very long time ago. In the evenings, musicians gathered in one town. Their small orchestra played by candlelight in the spacious ballroom. The crystal clear parquet floor reflected the lights of luxurious candelabra. The gentlemen sported velvet suits, and the ladies shone with their outfits. Couples whirled in dance to the enchanting music of the orchestra.
After the next dance, people clapped loudly, shouting "bravo", and praised the orchestra so much that some musical instruments took all the applause to their own. personal account. Violin and Drum were especially proud. Each of them decided that he deserved to be the main instrument in the orchestra. The violin began to pour out its soul in music even louder and more piercingly. Trembling, she sang about sadness and sadness. Trembling, as if from cold, spoke of the pain and suffering of unrequited love. Every string, every note spoke of the depth of human feelings.
But suddenly her emotional outburst was broken by the monotonous beat of the Drum. After all, he, too, took the applause only at his own expense, and decided to show Violin who was in charge in the orchestra. The noise of the Drum grew. The violin hung offendedly at the half-bar and, to spite the Drum, began to play even louder, not listening to the accompaniment. And the Drum, in turn, rhythmically hummed and rustled in response to her. He was calm, full of confidence and smiled slightly. Everything was easy and simple. His calmness was so obvious that it seemed that somewhere in the depths of its overtones, in the heart of its rhythm, the very meaning of life was hidden. So obvious and simple, but known only to him alone. That's how their melody turned into an argument, then into a curse, and then into a real conflict.
The violin was already shouting, addressing the Drum:
- I'm the most important in the orchestra! Listen, how can I convey feelings, how can I arouse emotions in people. You will never be able to do that!
But Drum confidently objected to her:
- I am constant, I calmly count the time, I am the eternal rhythm of life. I look to the core of things. There will be no music without me, I am the most important!
In the heat of the argument, the Drum and the Violin did not notice that the other musical instruments had not been playing for a long time. They looked at them without making a sound. The orchestra music stopped. The people stopped dancing and stared dumbfounded at the stage, trying not to listen to the cacophony of the Violin and the Drum. And those, not noticing everyone else, continued to argue. The musicians waved their hands and dispersed. People went home angry. The candles went out. And Violin and Drum argued with each other all night. At dawn, having decided nothing, the Violin and the Drum parted offendedly. The orchestra did not perform again.
Each of us sees the world in our own way. Everyone has their own role in the orchestra. But let us all have enough wisdom and patience to listen and hear each other.
Tale of the violin
Marina Holeeva
New Year's Adventures of the Violin
WalkOnce Violin woke up early. She cleaned herself up and hurried to the window. What did she see?
All houses, roofs and trees were covered with snow. The violin was delighted and clapped her hands.
After breakfast, she went for a walk in the forest. Approached New Year, and Violin wanted to find a small Christmas tree for herself.
She walked for a long time and admired the snow-white dresses of birches and pines, but for some reason she did not come across Christmas trees.
Imperceptibly, she got lost. The violin was frightened and began to scream, but suddenly the trees thinned out, and she went out to the edge.
Lock
In the very center, Violin saw a large castle, near which a multitude of musical instruments crowded. They argued loudly, shouted, and therefore there was a terrible noise.
What happened here? Violin asked.
- The evil sorcerer Shumus-Gamus-Tram-Tararamus threatens us with war! -The instruments answered her excitedly. – He is very dissatisfied with the fact that Music exists in the world. He does not like any, even the shortest motive. Hiswith a roar, a clang and a rattle, he wants to drown out our beautiful sounds!
Then the ringing fanfare of the Court Trumpets sounded, and the Drum King appeared at the door of the castle.
- Let me through, let me through! Violin squeezed through the crowd.
Meanwhile, the Drum King began to ask:
- Who will go with me against Shumus-Gamus-Tram-Tararamus?
Amidst the sudden silence, Violin's thin voice rang out:
I will go with you! I really want to help you!
And then the King proclaimed:
- I appoint the commander of the brave Violin! All instruments line up!
Battle
The enemy detachment of Shumus-Gamus-Tram-Tararamus appeared. On his head was a rusty saucepan, in his hand was a pewter ladle with a broken handle. Bent aluminum plates rolled behind him, some broken pots ran, rusty knives, spoons and forks were in a hurry and barely kept up with everyone.
Skrypka had a plan in his head: “To throw snow at the enemy army!” She is right thereordered all the instruments to make snowballs and aim better.
The battle lasted two days and two nights.
Harmony was especially distinguished. She got so excited that she put on boxing gloves. Of course, it was inconvenient to make snowballs in them, but she
brandishing her huge fists threateningly and loudly cheering everyone on.
The evil sorcerer Shumus-Gamus-Tram-Tararamus with all his army was taken prisoner.
royal plans
Hooray, we won! Violin rejoiced.
"Thank you," the Drum King thanked her. - I'm throwing a ball to celebrate the victory. There will be grand concert! In the front row I will order to plantShumus-Gamus, what do you call him? Let him retrain as a court composer! I even came up with a name and patronymic for him! His name will be Maestro Ton Polutonovich. Sounds like? Re-education must begin immediately! All his rusty retinue has already been sent for melting down. From them we will put on a lot of new shiny Christmas decorations!
Present
Oh! After all, tomorrow is the New Year, and I don’t have a Christmas tree! Violin thought suddenly and was distressed.
- Do not worry, I will give you the best of the royal garden! said the Drum King to her.
"And all I have to do is dress her up?" Violin asked hopefully.
And as soon as she managed to utter these words, her head began to spin, and she suddenly felt that she was flying somewhere.
Violin woke up at home. There was a tree in the corner of the room. The violin was delighted and began to dress it up. And the very next day she met
New Year.
On the holiday
The Christmas tree winked at her with all its lights. Its green twigs with prickly needles seemed soft and fluffy.
The samovar hummed merrily on the table. The violin danced waltz after waltz with Bow, but some thought disturbed her all the time.
What if Shumus-Gamus-Tram-Tararamus cannot be a court composer? All of a sudden he just can't do it? - The violin did not notice how
said these words aloud.
But then you can make him the Chief Overseer of the Royal Falls, -
suggested the Bow.
Oh yeah! Violin exclaimed. - The sound of falling water may be more pleasant for him, and he will gradually understand that the sounds of nature are also Music!
We must tell the King about this! After all, the prisoners must be treated with mercy!
The violin calmed down and cheered up. It was already starting to get light outside. Titmouse knocked on her window. Tired Bow lay down to rest.
It was the morning of the first day of a very new year.
Drawings: Natalia Kukonina
Tales online. Tale of the violin
New Year's tales
Musical instruments lived in one large and beautiful theater.
In the evenings, when the theater filled with smartly dressed people, the orchestra excitedly tuned in to perform. Fanfare solemnly heralded the beginning of the performance. The instruments performed with their numbers, got upset at failures, rejoiced at the applause.
When people left the theatre, the instruments took on a life of their own.
So…
Musical instruments lived in one large and beautiful theater. Among them was the beautiful Violin, the most graceful of the stringed family. The curls of a curved neck adorned her chiseled head. Her waist was such that even a prima ballerina could not compete with her. No one could say that there is at least one extra line in the appearance of the Violin. In addition, she sang sweetly. Connoisseurs praised Violin's voice and singing technique. Only sometimes someone dared to notice that she sings rather dryly, without a soul. But Violin did not think about it. She had many admirers, but none of them could get an answer in the cold heart of the beauty.
The instruments were often assembled together. The Violas, Violin's cousins, came.
Her aunt Cello, the owner of a pleasant chest voice, looked in. She was somewhat plump, but every movement spoke of her former grace.
The piano was constantly worried about its many wonderful keys.
Fagot grumbled good-naturedly on every occasion. He found the violin too haughty, so their conversation sometimes resembled a duet of wrangling.
Slightly self-satisfied tools from the Brass family constantly took care that some speck did not darken the surface of their golden robes.
Forgetting about the saying “not all that glitters is gold,” they considered themselves to be the purest gold and were very fond of brilliant marches.
Ringing Trumpets began the march. It was picked up by straight-hearted Trombones. Horns entered. It was wonderful!
The woodwinds - oboes, clarinets, flutes - kept decorously, in pairs.
Piccolo's sharp-tongued Flute loved to gossip, and now and then with curiosity, she stretched her head and teased someone, but not very evil. Therefore, no one was offended by her, and many appreciated her wit.
Everything was harmonious in the society of instruments, but this is what happened one day.
The modest courageous double bass fell in love with the beautiful Violin with all his heart. For a long time he could not admit this even to himself, but you can’t command the heart, but it never stopped loving.
The double bass sighed intermittently in his far corner of the orchestra and finally made up his mind - he wrote a letter to Violin, in which he confessed his love to her.
That evening the double bass played like never before. Even the indifferent Violin was surprised and, inviting him to visit, said that she was touched by his attention. But doesn’t the Double Bass know, she said, how many admirers have sought her favor, but she still hasn’t fallen in love with anyone, and even more so the Double Bass, so huge and clumsy, can hardly count on her favor.
Who knows what the Contrabass was thinking about returning home. Perhaps he recalled the sounds of Violin's voice or the hope with which he wrote his letter to her - a confession, or maybe he parted forever with the dream of happiness. His heart beat unevenly and painfully.
Dark was the night of farewell. The light flashed for a while in the window of his house and went out ...
Nobody has seen him since. The brothers were looking for him, but the place in the far right corner was empty.
Violin seemed to take the news of the Double Bass calmly, but in fact something broke in her. Even the invariably brilliant technique of singing has faded. Nothing gave her relief.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Late at night, when everyone was already asleep, Violin quietly got out of her cozy house and ran to the old sorceress Harp.
Come in, - the Harp said sternly, - I know that the cherished doors of Art do not open before you. They are closed to those who do not know life, who do not have a soul, who do not know love.
If you want to become a real artist, you must travel the world three times a hundred years. It will be difficult for you, pampered and capricious, but if you go through hardships, remaining faithful to art, recognition awaits you.
So said the wise Harp and fell silent.
The violin returned home and, without delay, got ready for the road. That night, she stepped into a frightening, vast world.
Yes, the fragile, spoiled Violin found the strength to meet unknown trials.
Weeks followed weeks, months followed months, years followed years, and years turned into centuries.
In the first hundred years, Violin learned loneliness, in which there is always so much room for reflection, memories ...
She spent the second century in continuous work. Her beauty faded, but her voice began to fill with warmth and sounded deeper.
Violin has had the hardest time in the last hundred years. The cold fettered her, making the strings brittle, and sometimes the heat made the air so hot that there was nothing to breathe. Having lost appearance, she recognized contempt, was persecuted, but it was in the midst of adversity that the Violin learned to appreciate kindness, compassion, love. She got a soul.
Three hundred years later, almost exhausted, Violin returned to her theater. Harp greeted her with joy, immediately realizing how the Violin had changed.
In the evening Violin came on stage and sang. How she sang!
Her songs smoothed out the wrinkles of fatigue and grief, united loving hearts into one big heart, and made the evil ones kind.
She sang without expecting payment, nor the worship and gratitude of warmed hearts, she healed the wounds inflicted by centuries of wandering.
Since then, the older Violin is, the more wonderfully she sings, the more she is loved, and even called the queen of music.
Music begins with the silence of the morning or the noise of a busy day, the whistle of the wind, the roar of the crowd or the gentle speech of a loved one. From here, it gathers drop by drop in the tunes of a popular song, in dance and heartfelt romance, in various music of work and rest, holiday and entertainment.
Subdue the formidable element
Words full of love
You are the whole boundless Russia
