1
1. Many wildlife habitats will be destroyed, if man keeps polluting the environment.
2. If we dump all sorts of chemicals into rivers, we will not be able to swim in them in the future.
3. If we do not stop cutting down so many trees, we will be endangered our oxygen supply
2
1. If another student asked to copy my homework, I would say «No».
2. I would call the police, if I lost in the forest at night.
3. If my mobile phone fell in the toilet, I would ask some help.
3
1. If the government had given more money to the factory, it would not have been closed.
2. If we had listened to the weather-forecast, we would have known it was going to rain.
3. If you had prepared for the exam, you would have passed it.
4. If Bill had seen the house, he would not have bought it.
1.Periodic table of chemical elements divides them into several classes. Elements in ... classes have similar properties.
-these
2.I liked Istanbul, I still remember ... narrow streets where I got lost one time.
-those
3,What shall I do, this hat is too expensive and ... one is too big.
-that
4.Avoid watering your cactus too much, ... may kill it.
-this
5.I would like to drink orange juice. Please, bring me …
-some
6.There isn’t … cheese in our fridge
-any
7.We had … American magazines in our library. It was difficult to find them.
-no
8.Are there … interesting books to read?
-any
9.Jim has … got any musical instruments.
-not
10.Does he have a new car?- Yes, he ... .
-does
11.This is not her book, … is at home.
-hers
12.It’s not my money. It’s … .
-theirs
13.My father is taller than ... .
-yours
14.Have you got a pen?- No, I ... .
-haven't
15.Do they have dinner at 6?- Yes, they ...
-do
16.My parents ... got four children.
-have
17 brother or sister?
-have you got
Поделитесь своими знаниями, ответьте на вопрос:
But I love you, the Motherland is meek!
And for what, I can not solve.
(S. Yesenin)
In the work of many literary figures throughout the history of Russia, one of the central places was given to the Motherland. After all, the Motherland is a comprehensive concept. This is where you were born. This is the land in which you live. This and all the open spaces that surround you, that is, forests, fields, rivers, mountains, steppes - all this is the Motherland. A poet who has not said a word about his homeland is not a poet. Since it is simply impossible to remain indifferent to your country, to your Fatherland, whatever it may be. One cannot fail to see the shortcomings of one's country, but at the same time one cannot but notice all that beauty that is hiding from us at every step. After all, every affectionate word, even the smallest trifle, said about his native country, is so pleasant to its inhabitant. Reading the poems of Sergei Yesenin, you can see that in the center of his work is precisely his homeland. He chants every grain of sand, every blade of grass, every pebble of his native land.
For each person, the Homeland begins from the place where you were born, where you grew up and spent your childhood. The village of Konstantinovo was such a place for the poet. More than once he turns to his piece of the globe in his poems:
Beloved Land! Heart dreaming
Scyrds of the sun in the pubic waters.
I would like to get lost
In the greens of your bells.
Yesenin always aspired to his homeland, to the village. He scooping up new strengths, gained energy, freed himself from the accumulated worries among the pictures sweet to his heart.
I'm here again, in my own family,
My land, thoughtful and gentle!
Curly Dusk Over the Mountain
Hand waved snow-white.
Often in his poems the image of his native home in Konstantinovo pops up:
I loved this wooden house.
Terrible power glowed in the logs
Our stove is somehow wild and strange
I forgot on a rainy night ...
This house still stands there. It now houses the Esenin Museum.
But the Motherland is endless for Yesenin. She has no boundaries. For the poet, the forest is the homeland, the field is the homeland, the river is also the homeland. The boundless expanses of Great Russia are sweet to him:
About Russia - Raspberry Field
And the blue that fell into the river
I love to joy and pain
Your lake longing.
In every poem Yesenin feels love for the motherland. It is expressed not abstractly, but specifically, in visible images, through paintings of the native landscape.
I love the homeland.
I really love my homeland!
Although it contains the sadness of willow neighing.
Pleased to me pigs stained faces
And in the silence of the night ringing voice of toads.
The poet sees the bright colors of Russian nature: in many of his poems about the Motherland. Russia appears in different colors. Now it is crimson, now blue, now white, now blue. Indeed, color for Esenin meant a lot. Each shade had its own specific meaning.
“Rus is blue” - in blue, he has hidden the vast boundless expanses of his native land. Immediately there is a feeling of freedom and freshness.
The poet shows all the beauty and charms of his native country through nature.
Oh, forest, dense dregs!
Oh, the fun of snowy fields! ...
So I want to close my hands
Above the tree thighs willow.
Yesenin is close and inseparable from him all those paintings that surround him everywhere. Whether it is a field with no end or edge, a river gurgling in the forest coolness, or a small tree that attracted the poet. He admires sunrises and sunsets, clouds slowly floating across the sky, the sun playing with its rays. Yesenin is ready to forget about everything and just look and look at all the beauties that are sometimes hidden from our eyes:
Good for autumn freshness
Soul - shake the apple tree
And watch it cut over the river
Water blue sun plow.
Sergei Alexandrovich can not exchange his homeland for any other in the world. As we know, he traveled to Europe. At that time, the situation in Russia was not the best. The poet saw this, he saw devastation, poverty, hunger and all the many calamities that, one after another, fell on the heads of the Russians. And what? Almost every day he wrote home, to Russia, finding this his only outlet. In each of his letters he poured out his feelings, poured out his longing in his homeland. Here is an excerpt from his letter from America: “They eat and drink here, and again the foxtrot. I haven’t met a person yet and I don’t know where it smells. In a terrible fashion, Mr. Dollar, spitting on art is the highest music hall. Let us beggars, let us be hungry and cannibalism, but we have a soul, which we have