Analysis of the work: Winds are blowing, violent winds are blowing

External External Tutor Ukrainian (ANALYSIS OF THE WORK): Marusya Churai – Winds are blowing, storms are blowing

• in the genre “Winds are blowing, violent winds are blowing” is a lyrical song;
• in the direction – neo-romanticism;
• in the form of intimate lyrics that have elements of social and domestic;

Topic: the suffering of a girl who longs for her lover.

Idea: the elevation of love as a feeling.

The main idea is given in the line “Who was happy for a while, will not forget after death” – that is, if someone once felt happy, will want to feel it again all my life.

Artistic means:

• epithets: “Happy epic”, “angry grief”, “hard to live”;
• metaphors: “winds blow”, “trees bend”;
• rhetorical questions: “Is the eel growing in the field happy?”, “What in the field, on the sands, without dew, in the sun?” Where are you?”.
• rhetorical exclamation: “Find yourself!”.

Poetic size: seven-foot choir.

Rhyming: parallel.

In the song “Winds are blowing, violent winds are blowing” the story comes from a girl who finds it difficult to endure separation from her “cute black-bearded man” and describes her condition and feelings. She compares her loneliness to a lonely thirsty herb in a field. The lyrical heroine rhetorically addresses her lover to see how bad she is without him.

Lyrics “Winds are blowing, storms are blowing”

Winds are blowing, violent winds are blowing,

As long as the trees bend,

Oh, how my heart aches,

And tears do not flow.

I spend summers in February grief

And I do not see the end.

Only then and easier,

As a secret cry.

Do not shed tears of happiness,

It will be easier for the heart,

Who was happy for a while,

He will not forget after death…

 

There are people like mine

Envy fate,

Is that herb happy?

What grows in the field?

What in the field, what in the sands,

Without dew, in the sun?

It’s hard to live without a sweetheart

And in his side!

Where are you, darling, black-bearded?

Where are you? Find yourself!

How I, poor thing, grieve here,

Come see.

I would fly to you,

But I have no wings,

To see how without you

I am drying up from grief.

Who will I cling to,

And who will dove,

If you don’t have it now,

Who loves me?

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