What do poets of the 19th century have in common. Russian poetry of the 19th century
Lesson 59 A. T. TVARDOVSKY: BIOGRAPHY PAGES
25.01.2013 27460 1576Lesson 59 A. T. TVARDOVSKY: BIOGRAPHY PAGES
Lesson Objectives: to acquaint students with the main milestones of the military and creative path of Tvardovsky; learn to convey colloquial intonations while reading a poem.
During the classes
I. Organizational moment.
II. Checking homework.
Expressive reading an excerpt from Astafiev's story "A photograph in which I am not."
III. Work on a new topic.
1. Introductory speech of the teacher(without announcing the topic of the lesson) followed by a conversation to find out the impression of the students.
- You read a very emotionally, expressively excerpt from Astafiev's story, and now I will read it to you by heart, but this is an excerpt from a poem ...
Teacher reading an excerpt and from the chapter "On a halt" to the words:
- It's good that he got it.
Terkin, to our company.
(p. 140–146, textbook.)
- Did you like this passage?
- Is the name familiar - Vasily Terkin? Where did you hear it? In connection with what?
(If one of the students says that in their family the father, grandfather or great-grandfather loved this poem, one should dwell on this issue in more detail, since it has great educational value.)
2. Writing in the notebook of the topic of the lesson.
- The name of Alexander Trifonovich Tvardovsky is already familiar to you.
What is it associated with in your mind? What works of this poet have you already read?
3. Individual task: write a short introductory article for study guide about the life and work of Tvardovsky.
4. The word of the teacher.
In the 7th grade, we already talked about the bitter time in the life of Tvardovsky, when his dispossessed father and brother were exiled to Stalinist camps, and Alexander Trifonovich himself gradually became a popularly known poet thanks to the publication of the poem and the poem "Country Ant".
Tvardovsky's military path began in 1939, when, as a war correspondent, he participated in the campaign of the Red Army in Western Belarus, and then in the Finnish campaign (1939–1940). In the editorial office of the newspaper "On Guard of the Motherland" - some of the best poets of that time. The Finnish campaign turns out to be very difficult, and in order to cheer up the fighters, war correspondents have an idea to create a series of entertaining drawings about the exploits of a cheerful heroic soldier. Now we call such drawings the American word "comics". In Russia, this tradition began during the years of the revolution agitation Demyan Bedny and Vladimir Mayakovsky.
In the article “How Vasily Terkin Was Written,” Tvardovsky said: “And so we, the writers who worked in the editorial office of On Guard for the Motherland, decided to choose a character who would act in a series of amusing pictures, provided with poetic captions. It was supposed to be a kind of cheerful, successful fighter, a conditional figure, popular print. They began to come up with a name. They came from the same tradition of the “corners of humor” of the Red Army newspapers, where their Pulkins, Mushkins and even Protirkins were then in use (from the technical word “rubbing” - an object used when lubricating weapons). The name should be meaningful, with a mischievous, satirical undertone. Someone suggested calling our hero Vasya Terkin, namely Vasya, and not Vasily. There were proposals to name Vanya, Fedya, somehow, but settled on Vasya. This is how the name was born." (see note).
“I was instructed to write an introduction to the proposed series of feuilletons,” Tvardovsky continues, “I had to give at least the most general “portrait” of Terkin and determine, so to speak, the tone, the manner of our further conversation with the reader. Before that, I published in the newspaper "On Guard of the Motherland" a small poem "On a Halt", written under the direct impression of visiting one division.
This poem contained, among other things, the following lines:
Delicious, what to say
There was the same old man
What did he come up with to cook soup ...
On wheels straight"2 (see note).
Vasya Terkin? Who it?
Let's be frank:
The man is himself
Unusual.
With a surname like this,
At all unprepossessing
Glory loud - hero -
I got along with him quickly.
And let's add here
If asked:
Why is his name
Vasya is not Vasily!
Because everyone is dear
Because people
Get along with Vasya like no one else,
Because they love.
Bogatyr, fathom in the shoulders,
Well-tailored small.
Joyful by nature
Experienced man.
All subsequent feuilletons, created by a team of authors, had headings beginning with the words: "Like Vasya Terkin ..." and were written for finished drawings. Here, for example, is the feuilleton “How Vasya Terkin got the language”:
The snow is deep and the pine trees are rare.
Vasya Terkin on reconnaissance.
Snow-white, without patches
Camouflage coat.
Terkin sees, Terkin hears -
Belofinn flies on skis:
To know that he does not feel trouble, he
Climbs right on the rampage.
Terkin, weighing the situation,
Applies disguise:
He buried himself face down in the snow -
It looked like a snowball.
View of the tempting "springboard"
Attracts the White Finn.
So in intelligence is very clever,
Applying disguise,
Got the language terkin
And delivered to the headquarters of the regiment.
The Finnish war was over, and Tvardovsky had an idea to create a poem about the people who participated in it. "Penetrate them spiritual world, to feel them as one's generation" - this is the task that Tvardovsky set himself. He wrote: “I was delighted with their spiritual beauty, modesty, high political consciousness, readiness to resort to humor when it comes to the most difficult trials that they themselves had to meet in combat life”3 (see note).
The poet collected materials about the Finnish war, stories about the exploits of the fighters, went to see the battlefields, pondered the size and rhymes. Several fragments of future chapters had already been written, but it seemed to Tvardovsky that there was no “electricity” in the lines. The poet could doubt and think as much as he considered necessary: the time was peaceful, and no one hurried him.
June 22, 1941 interrupted the search and doubts of Tvardovsky. All notebooks, sketches, plans, intentions were left. Tvardovsky took up what the military situation demanded immediately and urgently.
As a correspondent, he arrived at Southwestern Front, to the editorial office of the newspaper "Red Army", and began to write essays, poems, feuilletons, slogans, leaflets, songs, articles, notes - everything that was required for the newspaper. In a special thick notebook, Tvardovsky pasted and pinned his daily “products”. Later he confessed how much he did with his newspaper work for the future "Terkin".
Newspapers continued to publish feuilletons with heroes like the Finnish Vasya Terkin (the Red Army had a department called Direct Fire), but they no longer had the success they had in the Finnish war. Firstly, this was not a novelty, and secondly, the war was not positional, and the whole atmosphere at the front was determined not only by the difficulties of a soldier's life, but also by "the whole enormity of the terrible and sad events of the war: retreat, the abandonment of relatives and friends by many soldiers behind enemy lines, the stern and concentrated thought inherent in all about the fate of the motherland, which was going through the greatest trials.
Tvardovsky's poems are successful, but the poet is worried: it seems to him that he is speaking with the soldiers in the wrong language through the newspaper, saying the wrong words that he most needs. In the winter of 1942, the idea arises to expand the Direct Fire department to a weekly leaflet - an appendix to the newspaper. And here Tvardovsky feels that his work on the poem about Terkin, begun before the war, is exactly what is needed. In the spring of 1942, he quickly finishes the already begun chapters, creates new ones, moving the hero from the situation of the Finnish campaign to the situation of the Great Patriotic War: “the depth of the nationwide historical disaster and the nationwide historical feat in Patriotic war from the first day distinguished it from any other wars, and even more so military campaigns.
By itself, the designation of the genre was born - "A book about a fighter." When the first chapters of "Vasily Terkin" appeared in print, it became clear that "The Book of a Fighter" would become Tvardovsky's main and main work at the front.
5. Expressive reading prepared by students of the chapters "From the author", "On a halt" (from p. 180) with teacher's comments.
- Note: main character poems are not Vasya Terkin, but Vasily Terkin. Do you think the change of the hero's name from a diminutive to a full name makes a difference? Why?
- What do you think, what meaning did the words have for the retreating and defending troops in the spring and summer of 1942:
And more than anything else
Not to live for sure -
Without which? without the truth,
Truth, straight into the soul beating,
Yes, she would be thicker,
No matter how bitter.
b) The chapter "On a halt."
- Sabantuy. As Tvardovsky explained the meaning of this word: “The word “sabantuy” exists in many languages and, for example, in the Turkic languages it means a holiday for the completion of field work: saban is a plow, tui is a holiday.
I first heard the word "sabantuy" at the front in the early autumn of 1941, somewhere in the Poltava region, in one unit that held the defense there. This word, as is often the case with affectionate words and expressions, was used by both staff commanders, and artillerymen on the front line battery, and residents of the village where the unit was located. It also meant a false intention of the enemy in some sector, a demonstration of a breakthrough, and a real threat on his part, and our readiness to arrange a "treat" for him. The latter is closest to the original meaning, and the soldier's language is generally characterized by the ironic use of the words "treat", "snack", etc.
Remember: in the epigraph to one of the chapters “ captain's daughter» Pushkin quotes the lines of an old soldier's song:
We live in a fort
We eat bread and drink water;
And how fierce enemies
They will come to us for pies,
Let's give the guests a feast,
Let's load the cannon.
- Why do you think Vasya Terkin, during the Finnish war, is “a man ... extraordinary”, and the second Vasya is “a guy ... ordinary”?
6. Work with the chapter "Before the fight": brief retelling chapter content teacher.
She (chapter) is about that tragic time when Soviet troops I had to fight my way out of the encirclement, from the territories already occupied by the Germans, on the “hateful road”:
That was a great sadness
As we wandered to the east.
The leitmotif of this chapter becomes a disturbing question:
What is where it is, Russia,
What is your own line?
The plot of the chapter is a bitter story about how a detachment leaving the encirclement passes through the village where the commander's family lives:
That's how it was with our brother
What came home from the war:
Come into your home
Walking along the wall.
Fighters feel humiliated and thrill grief: relatives remain in the rear, and it is not known what will become of them, whether they will remain alive or not:
And he was sick, an honest guy,
Understood, the father of the family,
Who is in captivity unknown
Left his wife and kids...
The commander could not sleep that night: until dawn he chopped wood, tried to somehow help the family remaining in the occupied territory:
Bale yes bale. Cuts to the light.
The night is short for a soldier.
To know, he regrets his wife, loves,
Doesn't know how to help.
Cuts, cuts. At dawn
The fighter leaves the house.
And the children woke up under the light,
Look - the father has come.
Look - alien fighters,
Shotguns are different, belts.
And the guys are big
As if they understood.
And the children cried.
And think about this:
Maybe now in this house
Germans with guns will enter...
And to this day that child's cry
In the early hour of a dashing day
From that German, from that Zaretskaya
The side is calling me.
Homework: prepare a dramatization of the chapters "On the award", "Two soldiers", etc., at the choice of students; individual messages: “The image of the author in the chapter “From the Author” and “About Me”; draw or pick up illustrations for episodes from the poem.
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etc.) and dactylic rhymes. If earlier 3-syllables were used only in small genres, then Nekrasov and other poets also write large poems and poems with them (III,,,). 3-syllables become universal. If in the XVIII century. iambs made up more than 80% of all poetic lines, and 3-syllables less than 1%, if in the first quarter of the 19th century. - respectively 3/4 and about 4%, then in the period under consideration iambic - about 2/3, 3-syllables - 13% ( ). And Nekrasov has iambs - about 1/2, 3-syllables - about 1/3. 3-syllables are dominated by 3-foot (III, , , , , , ,), less often 4-foot (III, , ,) and alternation of different stops; 5-foot single (III, ).
Comparing the 3-foot anapaests of Nekrasov (III, , , , , ) given here, you can see how diverse they are rhythmically and intonationally - from song verse to colloquial verse.
Dactylic rhymes in the 40s were used even more often in comic verse, couplet or feuilleton, for example, in iambic 3-foot with cross alternation with masculine: A? bA? b (III,). From the middle of the century, dactylic rhymes become as universal as feminine ones (III, , , , , , , , , ). The only size they have not been grafted to is iambic 4-foot. In the form of a single experiment, they appear even in the Alexandrian verse, instead of female ones (III, ).
Experiences of imitation of folk verse become few - and only in small genres (III, , , ). From the second third of the XIX century. imitation of the Russian folk song in many ways begins to approach the gypsy romance (cf. II,,; III,). The poet, Nekrasov, who most organically assimilated the poetics of folklore, absorbed folk poetic vocabulary, syntax, imagery, but from the features of folk verse he perceived only dactylic rhymes - and made them the property of literary verse.
Nekrasov is the only one 19th poet c., 15 times allowed omissions of metric stress (tribrachs) in 3-syllables (III, , , ), which will develop after half a century. In Nekrasov, there are interruptions in meter, anticipating the achievements of the poets of the 20th century, in particular Mayakovsky. In several works, among the usual 3-syllables, he allows contractions, introducing separate dolnikov verses (III, , ); or highlights the ending by putting a dactyl instead of an anapaest (III, ); or adds an extra syllable, turning the dactyl into a tactician - at the same time, again, into a “dactylic” tactician instead of an anapaest (III,).
Few contemporaries appreciated these innovations. The editor of the first posthumous edition of Nekrasov corrected the imaginary mistakes of the poet. N. G. Chernyshevsky rightly wrote: “The usual reason for amendments gives him an “irregularity in size”; but in fact the meter of the verse he corrects is correct. The fact is that Nekrasov sometimes inserts a two-syllable foot into the verse of a play written in three-syllable feet; when this is done the way Nekrasov does, it does not constitute an irregularity. I will give one example. In The Wanderer's Song, Nekrasov wrote:
I'm already in the third: man! Why are you beating your grandmother?
In the Posthumous Edition, the verse is corrected:
... why are you hitting a woman?
Nekrasov, not through an oversight, but deliberately, made the last foot of the verse two-syllable: this gives special power to expression. The amendment corrupts the verse."
Tyutchev's metrical interruptions are few, but extremely expressive, moreover, in the most traditional, and therefore the most conservative size - iambic 4-foot (III,,). The innovation of Nekrasov and Tyutchev was duly appreciated in our days, against the backdrop of Blok, Mayakovsky and Pasternak, when dolniks, and tacticians, and tribrachs, and metric interruptions have become familiar. Single examples of free verse (III, ) are a foreshadowing of the 20th century.
Rhyme. During this period, approximate rhyme begins to develop ( birch - tears); theoretically it was substantiated and often used in all genres by A. K. Tolstoy (III,,), but the main background remains the exact rhyme. Lyrics, folklore stylizations are satisfied with familiar rhymes, in dactylic rhymes the percentage of grammatical ones is especially high: consolation - salvation and so on.
Composite rhymes are frequent in satire, with proper names, barbarisms (III,,,). D. D. Minaev was nicknamed the king of rhyme: his punning rhymes, like the compound rhymes of Nekrasov the feuilletonist, anticipate the achievements of Mayakovsky.
The sound instrumentation of the verse, in particular the inner rhyme (III, , , , , , , , ), begins to acquire greater significance than in the previous period.
strophic. The proportion of strophic works is increasing. If in the XVIII and the first quarter of the XIX century. their number was approximately one third of all poetic works, but now it noticeably exceeds half ( ). 4-verses predominate. Huge complex stanzas, like those of Derzhavin and Zhukovsky, come to naught. But Fet and some other poets virtuously vary 6-verses (III, , , , , ,), 8-verses (III, , ), odd stanzas are unusual (III, , , ), even 4-verses sound unusual (III , ). Of particular note are the stanzas with blank verses. There are two types. One is a 4-verse with only even verses rhymed haha (III,,), which became very popular from the middle of the century under the influence of translations from Heine. The other is individual stanzas. For the early Tyutchev, they were similar to Derzhavin's (III,,), for Fet they were peculiar (III,,).
Diverse stanzas continue to develop, first of all - 4-verses (III, , , , ). The extreme degree of contrasting diversity - rhyme-echo (III,) and the combination in the stanza of different meters (III,) - so far only in satire.
Examples of strophic free verse are becoming more frequent (III,,). The sonnet fades into the background; from other solid forms, a sextine suddenly appears - in L. A. Mey (III,), L. N. Trefolev. Unlike the canonical form, both of them are rhymed.
Unusual strophoids of white iambic 3-foot are created by Nekrasov in the poem "Who Lives Well in Rus'" and in the poem "Green Noise" (III,), written simultaneously with the beginning of the poem. The alternation of dactylic and masculine clauses is not set by the stanza model, but depends on the syntactic structure. Within one sentence, which can cover from 2 to 7 verses in a poem (from 2 to 5 in a poem), all endings are dactylic; the end of a phrase is indicated by a masculine clause. This is just as individual a structure as, for example, Onegin's stanza, and if it occurs in someone, it sounds like a rhythmic quotation.
F. I. Tyutchev (1803–1873)
As the ocean embraces the globe,
Earthly life is surrounded by dreams;
Night will come - and sonorous waves
The element hits its shore.That is her voice; he urges us and asks...
Already in the pier the magic boat came to life;
The tide is rising and taking us fast
Into the immensity of dark waves.vault of heaven; burning with star glory,
Mysteriously looks from the depths, -
And we are sailing, a flaming abyss
Surrounded on all sides.
2. Two sisters
I saw both of you together -
And I recognized all of you in her ...
The same look of silence, the tenderness of the voice,
The same charm of the morning hour,
What blew from your head!And everything, as in a magic mirror,
Everything is redefined:
Past days of sadness and joy
Your lost youth
My lost love!
3. Madness
Where with the scorched earth
Disappeared like smoke vault of heaven, -
There in carefree fun? Loy
Madness miserable lives on.Under fiery rays
Buried in the fiery sands
It has glass eyes
Looking for something in the clouds.It suddenly springs up and, with a sensitive ear
Falling to the cracked earth
Hearing something with a greedy ear
With secret contentment on the forehead.And he thinks that he hears boiling jets,
What hears the current of underground waters,
And their lullaby singing
And a noisy exit from the earth! ..
Let the pines and firs
All winter stick out
In the snow and blizzard
Wrapped up, they sleep.
Their skinny greens
Like hedgehog needles
Though it never turns yellow,
But never fresh.We are a light tribe
Bloom and shine
AND short time
We are guests on branches.
All red summer
We were beautiful
Played with rays
Bathed in dew!But the birds sang
The flowers have faded
The rays faded
The Zephyrs are gone.
So what do we get for free
Hang and turn yellow?
Isn't it better for them
And we'll fly away!O wild winds,
Hurry, hurry!
Rip us off
From boring branches!
Rip it off, rip it off
We don't want to wait
Fly, fly!
We fly with you!
Be silent, hide and hide
And your feelings and dreams -
Let in the depths of the soul
They get up and come in
Silently, like stars in the night,
Admire them - and be silent.How can the heart express itself?
How can someone else understand you?
Will he understand how you live?
Thought spoken is a lie.
Exploding, disturb the keys, -
Eat them - and be silent.Only know how to live in yourself -
There is a whole world in your soul
Mysterious magical thoughts;
Outside noise will deafen them
Daytime rays will disperse, -
Listen to their singing - and be silent! ..
6. Spring calm
(From Uhland)Oh don't put me down
Into the damp ground
Hide, bury me
Into the thick grass!Let the breath of the breeze
move the grass,
The flute sings from afar,
Light and quiet clouds
Float over me!
7. Sleep on the sea
And the sea and the storm rocked our boat;
I, sleepy, was betrayed by every whim of the waves.
Two infinities were in me,
And they arbitrarily played with me.
Rocks sounded around me like cymbals,
The winds called and the billows sang.
I lay stunned in the chaos of sounds,
But my dream hovered over the chaos of sounds.
Painfully bright, magically mute,
It blew lightly over the thundering darkness.
In the rays of the flame, he developed his world -
The earth turned green, the ether glowed,
Lavirinth gardens, halls, pillars,
And hosts seethed silent crowd.
I learned a lot of unknown faces,
Ripe creatures magical, mysterious birds,
On the heights of creation, like a god, I walked,
And the world under me motionless shone.
But all dreams through and through, like a wizard's howl,
I heard the roar of the deep sea,
And into the quiet realm of visions and dreams
The foam of roaring shafts burst in.
My soul is Elysium of shadows,
Shadows silent, bright and beautiful,
Nor the thoughts of this violent year,
Not involved in joys or sorrows.My soul, Elysium of shadows,
What is common between life and you!
Between you, ghosts of the past, better days
And this insensitive crowd? ..
10. Day and night
On the world of the mysterious spirit?
Above this nameless abyss,
The cover is thrown over with gold-woven
High will of the gods.
Day - this brilliant cover -
Day, earthly revival,
Souls of the aching healing,
Friend of men and gods!But the day fades - the night has come;
Came, and from the fatal world
The fabric of the fertile cover
Tearing off, throwing away...
And the abyss is naked to us
With your fears and darkness
And there are no barriers between her and us -
That's why we are afraid of the night!
11. Russian woman
Far from the sun and nature
Far from light and art
Far away from life and love
Your younger years will flash,
Feelings that are alive will die,
Your dreams will shatter...And your life will pass unseen
In a land deserted, nameless,
On unseen land,
How the cloud of smoke disappears
In the sky dim and misty,
In the autumn endless haze ...
Like a pillar of smoke brightens in the sky! -
How the shadow below glides elusively! ..
“This is our life,” you said to me,
Not light smoke, shining in the moonlight,
And this shadow running from the smoke ... "
Human tears, oh human tears,
You pour early and late sometimes ...
Flow unknown, flow invisible,
Inexhaustible, innumerable, -
Pour like rain streams pour
In autumn, deaf, sometimes at night.
14. Poetry
Among thunders, among fires,
Among the seething passions,
In spontaneous, fiery discord,
She flies from heaven to us -
Heavenly to earthly sons,
With azure clarity in your eyes -
And on the stormy sea
Pours conciliatory oil.
I don't know if grace will touch
Of my painfully sinful soul,
Will she be able to rise and rise,
Will spiritual fainting go away?But if the soul could
Here on earth find peace
You would be a blessing to me -
You, you, my earthly providence! ..
16. Last love
Oh, how in our declining years
We love more tenderly and more superstitiously ...
Shine, shine, parting light
Last love, evening dawn!Half the sky was engulfed by a shadow,
Only there, in the west, radiance wanders,
Slow down, slow down, evening day,
Last, last, charm.Let the blood run thin in the veins,
But tenderness does not fail in the heart ...
Oh you last love!
You are both bliss and hopelessness.Between 1852 and 1854
Is in the autumn of the original
Short but wonderful time -
The whole day stands as if crystal,
And radiant evenings ...Where a peppy sickle walked and an ear fell,
Now everything is empty - space is everywhere, -
Only cobwebs of thin hair
Shines on an idle furrow.The air is empty, the birds are no longer heard,
But far from the first winter storms -
And pure and warm azure pours
On the resting field…
Nature is a sphinx. And the more she returns
With his temptation, he destroys a person,
What, perhaps, no from the century
There is no riddle, and there was none.
I. S. Turgenev (1818–1883)
19. (On the road)
Foggy morning, gray morning
Fields sad, covered with snow,
Reluctantly remember the time of the past,
Remember faces long forgotten.Remember abundant passionate speeches,
Looks, so greedily, so timidly caught,
First meetings, last meetings,
Quiet voice favorite sounds.Remember separation with a strange smile,
You will remember a lot of distant native,
Listening to the unceasing murmur of the wheels,
Looking thoughtfully at the wide sky.
With missing eyes
I see an invisible light
By missing ears
I will hear the chorus of silent planets.
With missing hands
I will paint a portrait without paints.
missing teeth
Eat an immaterial pate,
And I will talk about
Non-existent mind.
Goes-buzzes Green Noise,
Green Noise, spring noise!
Playfully disperse
Suddenly the wind is riding:
Shakes alder bushes,
Raise flower dust
Like a cloud, everything is green:
Both air and water!
Green Noise is coming,
Green Noise, spring noise!
My hostess is humble
Natalya Patrikeevna,
Water will not stir!
Yes, she got in trouble.
As a summer I lived in St. Petersburg ...
She said, stupid
Pip on her tongue!
In the hut he is a friend with a deceiver
Winter has locked us up
Into my eyes are harsh
Looks - the wife is silent.
I am silent ... but the thought is fierce
Does not give rest:
Kill ... so sorry heart!
Endure - there is no strength!
And here the winter is shaggy
Roars day and night:
"Kill, kill the traitor!
Get the villain out!
Not that you will miss the whole century,
Neither day nor long night
You won't find peace.
Into your shameless eyes
Neighbors spit! .. "
To the song-blizzard winter
The fierce thought got stronger -
I have a sharp knife in store ...
Yes, suddenly spring crept up ...
Green Noise is coming,
Green Noise, spring noise!
Like drenched in milk
There are cherry orchards,
Quietly noisy;
Warmed by the warm sun
The merry ones make noise
Pine forests;
And next to the new greenery
Babbling a new song
And the pale-leaved linden,
And white birch
With a green braid!
A small reed makes noise,
Noisy high maple ...
They make new noise
In a new way, spring ...
Green Noise is coming,
Green Noise, spring noise!
The fierce thought is weakening,
Knife falls out of hand
And all I hear is a song
One - in the forest, in the meadow:
"Love as long as you love,
Endure as long as you endure
Goodbye while goodbye
And God be your judge!
62. About the weather. Epiphany frosts
(Excerpt)
“My lord! where are you running?"
- “To the office; What a question?
I don't know you! - Rub it, rub it
Hurry, for God's sake, your nose!
Turned white! - "A! very grateful!”
- "Well, what about mine?" - "Yes, yours is radiant!"
- “That's it! - I took measures ... "-" What-with?
- "Nothing. Drink vodka in cold weather -
Save your nose
Roses will appear on the cheeks!
63. Recently
(Excerpt)
Harmless, peaceful themes!
They won't get angry, they won't quarrel...
We all have personal interests
Do more in those days.
However, we had Russophiles
(Those who saw the Germans as enemies),
Slavophiles came to us,
Their secular type then was as follows:
Petersburg champagne with kvass
Drinking from ancient ladles
And in Moscow they praised with ecstasy
pre-Petrine order of things,
But, living abroad, owned
Very bad native language
And they didn't understand
About his Slavic vocation.
I laughed my ass off once,
Hearing Prince NN say:
"I, my soul, am a Slavophile."
- "And your religion?" - "Catholic".
Honest fell silent, valiantly fallen,
Their lonely voices were silent,
Crying out for the unfortunate people,
But cruel passions are unbridled.A whirlwind of malice and rage rushes
Above you, unrequited country.
All living things, all good things squint ...
Heard only, O dawnless night!In the midst of the darkness you poured
Like enemies, triumphant, collide,
Like the corpse of a slain giant
Bloodthirsty birds flock
Poisonous bastards crawl ...Between 1872 and 1874
M. L. Mikhailov (1829–1865)
<Из Гейне>
How it trembles, reflecting
In the splashing sea, the moon;
And she walks across the sky
And calm and clear, -
So you go, calmly
And clear, in its own way;
But your bright image trembles
In my trembling heart.
They say spring has come
Bright days and warm nights;
The green meadow is full of flowers,
The nightingales sing in the woods.
I walk among the meadows -
I'm looking for your traces;
In more often I listen to the forest,
Your voice will not be heard.Where is spring and where are the flowers?
You don't go to pick them up.
Where is the song of the nightingale?
I can't hear your speech...
Spring has not yet come.
The day is gloomy, the night is cold.
A field of hoarfrost is being forged,
The birds cry, they don't sing.
67. Epigrams
MISUNDERSTANDINGWe talked a lot in the magazines about the free press.RECOVERY
The public understood this: rot us freely under the press!Even penal servitude and execution are called decrees penalty:
You are exacted (so understand!) by royal mercy.
V. S. Kurochkin (1831–1875)
I'm not a poet - and unbound by bonds
with the muses
I am not deceived by either false or right
Glory.
Devoted to the motherland with unknown love,
honest,
Without singing with jury singers
important
Evil and good, with equal chances,
stanzas,
I put my feeling filial
Everything is in her.But I can't cry for joy
With nastiness
Or look for beauty in ugliness
Asia,
Or smoke in the direction given
incense,
That is - to flirt with evil and adversity
Odami.Climbing with rhymes special happiness
To power I
I don't find it - whatever it is
Arrived.
My rhymes walk with firm steps,
Proud
Settling down in rich couples -
Barami!Well, they won't give me for them at the Academy
Prizes
They will not be given in examples of piitiki
Critics:
“There is nothing, they say, for “reading the people”
good,
No uplifting soaring
genius,
There is no warlike, brave and in old age,
Rage
And not one for Petrushka and Vasenka
Fables".Well? Mother nature left me
Rules,
Giving a simple feeling equally
Anyone.
If they find a book with different songs
Idle
Good people standing attention -
What else?
If I rhyme free and bold
I will do
In addition, the well-known impression
honest -
In it, and poetry will be plentiful,
strong
The fact that it is not even connected with the muses
By bonds.
D. D. Minaev (1835–1889)
(Excerpt)
From the German poet
Genius can't take over
Can our poets
Take the size of his creations.Let it rhyme through the line
Modern Russian Heine,
And in the water of such songs
You can swim like in a pool.I'm bad at poetry
But - I swear here before everyone -
I will write in that size
Every evening a poemEvery evening a poem
Without hard work
Where intertwined through the line
Along with the rhymes of wit.
70. Epigrams
I ate soup while sitting in a restaurant,
The soup was sweet like a subsidy
I sleep and think about
We tempt with a round sum.Can't trust hope
She lies terribly often:
He gave hope before
Now he gives denunciations.I'm not fit, of course, to be a judge,IN FINLAND
But not embarrassed by your question.
Let Tamberlik take do breast
And you, my friend, take do - with your nose.The area of rhymes is my element,OUR PEOPLE
And I write poetry easily;
Without hesitation, without delay
I run to line from line
Even to the Finnish brown rocks
Handling a pun.A thief will not say about another and aside:TO OFFICIAL GERMANS
"Crow!.."
Eyes, it is known, will not gouge out a crow
Crow.In Russia, everyone is German,AFTER THE BENEFIT
Chinov suffering from thirst,
For them five times
Let us crucify.
For this reason
Before you, ross,
He turns up his nose
With the order, with the rank:
For a German, after all, ranks
Tastier than ham.“Whose play was on today?”B. M<АРКЕВИ>BC
- Alexandrova. - "Was
Played with chic, without chic?
- "With chic, with chic: they hissed loudly."The other day, dragging with him two huge portacocks,IN THE ALBUM TO KRUPP JUNIOR, WHO COMED TO PETERSBURG
He dragged himself to the station; sweat dripped from his face...
"Don't tell him!" - all around regretted the people,
And just some bully
Said, "Don't worry - bring!.. "Do I eat semolina soup
Or I see horse croup -
Krupp comes to mind
And behind him - a large mass,
A pile of "cannon fodder" ...
Oh, let it not be thorny
The path of such a person:
He is a great humanitarian
Nineteenth century!
71. Rhymes and puns
(From the notebook of a mad poet) IGrooms, do not weigh your noses,II
Coming to his bride.Value gold by weightIII
And for pranks - hang.Don't go like everyone's openIV
Without a gift you to Rosina,
But, making visits to her,
Every time you bring a bouquet.Me, meeting with Isabella,V
I cherish a gentle look,
As a reward, and, for the white
Taking her hand, I tremble.Beautiful features, I prayVI
Depict me, painting them,
And I am written in pastel
I'll hang the portrait above the bed.With her I went to the garden,IX
And my annoyance is gone
And now I'm all over
Remembering the dark alley.You sadly exclaim: “Am I the one?XIII
My waist is a hundred centimeters ... "
Indeed, I will become
I won't give praise.In the midday heat on the SeineXIV
I searched in vain for the canopy,
Remembering the Volga, where, in the hay
Lying, listening to Senya's song:
“Oh, you, my canopy, my canopy! ..”At a picnic, under the shade of spruce
We drank more than we ate
And, knowing a lot about wine and ale,
Barely returned home.
L. N. Trefolev (1839–1905)
72. Song about the Kamarinsky peasant
(Excerpt)
Like on Varvarinskaya street
Sleeping Kasyan, peasant Kamarinsky.
His beard is tousled
And cheaply soaked;
Scarlet streams of fresh blood
Cover sunken cheeks.Oh, you dear friend, my dear Kasyan!
It's your birthday today, which means you're drunk.
There are twenty nine days in February
On the last day, the Kasyans sleep on the ground.
On this day for them green wine
Especially drunk, drunk, drunk.February twenty-ninth
A whole damask of damned wine
Kasyan poured into the sinful womb,
I forgot my dear wife
And my dear children,
Two twins, youngsters.Having famously twisted his hat on one side,
He went to his cousin's hut.
There the godfather baked his rolls;
Baba is kind, blush and white,
I baked him a hot bun
And respected ... more, more, more.
73. Cones fall on poor Makar
(Excerpt)
Makaram is not going well. Over poor Makars
Fate-villain amuses herself with cruel blows.
Our peasant, poor Makarushka,
There is no money for a rainy day, no woman, no lady.
In truth, there is money: a copper penny strums,
And there is a woman: she lies, withered and pale.
Help her, how can you help? Not affordable for the road
All doctors and healers, our dashing enemies ...
K. K. Sluchevsky (1837–1904)
74. At the cemetery
I lie on my tombstone,
I watch the clouds go high
How quickly the swallows fly under them
And in the sun their wings shine brightly.
I look like in the clear sky above me
Hugs green maple with pine,
How to draw on the haze of clouds
Movable pattern of fancy sheets.
I watch the long shadows grow
How quietly the twilight floats across the sky,
How beetles fly, bumping their foreheads,
Spiders spread their webs in the leaves...I hear, as if under a tombstone.
Someone shudders, turns the earth,
I hear how the stone is sharpened and scraped
And they call me in a barely audible voice:
“Listen, dear, I have long been tired of lying!
Let me breathe spring air
Give me, my dear, to look at the white light,
Let me straighten my crushed chest.
In the realm of the dead, only silence and darkness,
Tenacious roots, yes rot, yes sputum,
Sunken eyes are covered with sand,
My bare skull is worm-eaten,
I'm tired of silent relatives.
Will you lie down, my dear, for me?I was silent and only listened: under the stove
He pounded his bone head for a long time.
For a long time the dead man gnawed the roots and scraped the earth,
He fumbled and quieted down at last.
I lay myself on a tombstone,
I watched the clouds rush in the air,
Like a ruddy day burned out in the sky,
As a pale moon floated up into the sky,
How they flew, bumping their foreheads, beetles,
How fireflies crawled out on the grass ...
75. Winter landscape
Yes, amazing, right, light jokes
There is in the winter landscape, dear to us!
So sometimes the plain, covered with a veil of snow,
Richly reddened by the sunbeam,
Some kind of senile freshness shines.
A fast river that flows through the plain
And, in rings, twisting in bends,
Does not freeze in deep winter, -
Enters into a color connection with the sky!
Skies green bright coloring
She is absolutely incredibly green;
On the white snow she, green, runs,
Green like emerald, like duckweed...And so it seems then that in front of us
Earth and sky are joking, exchanging colors:
The sky shines, passing its blush to the snow,
The color of the green fields - it is accepted by heaven,
And, as if in memory of the past, like a trace of a trace,
Runs on white snow green water.
ABOUT! if it were possible for you, sky plains,
Taking in all the colors of summer and spring,
Take our sorrows, doubts, the need for bread -
Giving back a little of your silence
And your peace ... we need them!
A. N. Apukhtin (1840–1893)
When you will be, children, students,
Don't break your head over the moments
Over the Hamlets, Lyres, Kents,
Over kings and presidents
Over the seas and over the continents
Don't mess around with your opponents
Be smart with your competitors.
And how do you finish the course with eminents
And you will go to the service with patents -
Do not look at the service of assistant professors
And do not hesitate, children, with presents!
Surround yourself with partners
Always say compliments
Be clients for bosses
Comfort their wives with instruments,
Treat old women with peppermints -
They will pay you for these with interest:
They will sew your uniform with braids,
The chest will be decorated with stars and ribbons! ..
And when doctors with ornaments
They will call you, alas, patients
And they will kill you with medicines ...
The bishop will sing for you and the regents.
Bury will be carried with assistants,
Provide your children with rent
(So that they can be subscribers at the opera)
And they will cover your ashes with monuments.
M. N. Soymonov (1831–1888)
77. Woman's business
On the strip, I sting
Knitted sheaves of gold -
Young;
Tired, frustrated...
That's our woman's business -
Bad share!
It's heavy, - yes, it would be fine,
When there is no sweetness in the heart
Yes anxiety;
And with the sweetheart ... little sense! ..
On the sheaves I dozed off
By the road.
Darling, how did it happen here,
Smiled, leaned over
Started caressing
Kiss ... but the strip
So it remained, unfinished,
crumble…
The husband and mother-in-law waited a long time:
“The whole wedge, tea, - they reasoned -
Masha will survive.
And the night grew dark over Masha...
That's our woman's business -
Our stupidity!
Chernyshevsky N. G. Full coll. op. T. 1. M., 1939, p. 751.
So people call the awakening of nature in the spring. (Author's note).
Many of the talented Russian lyricists (F.I. Tyutchev, A.A. Fet, N.A. Nekrasov, A.K. Tolstoy, A.N. Maikov) began their journey in the late 1830s - early 1840s . It was a time very unfavorable for lyricists and for poetry. After the death of Pushkin and Lermontov, A.I. Herzen, "Russian poetry has become numb". The muteness of Russian poetry was due to various reasons. The main one was the one about which V.G. Belinsky in the article "A Look at Russian Literature of 1843": "After Pushkin and Lermontov, it is difficult to be not only remarkable, but also some kind of poet." An important role was played by another circumstance: prose takes possession of the minds of readers. Readers were waiting for stories and novels, and the editors of magazines, responding to the "spirit" of the era, willingly provided pages of prose, publishing almost no lyrical poems.
In the 1850s poets, it would seem, overcame the indifference of readers. It was in this decade that the first collection of F.I. Tyutchev, who attracted everyone's attention: readers finally recognized the brilliant poet who began his creative way back in the 1820s. Two years later, in 1856, a collection of Nekrasov's poems was published, almost instantly sold out. But interest in the poetic word soon fades away, and new books by A.K. Tolstoy, A.N. Maykova, Ya.P. Polonsky, F.I. Tyutcheva, A.A. Fet attract the attention of critics and a few lovers of poetry.
Meanwhile, Russian poetry is the second half of XIX lived a very busy life. The originality of aesthetic positions, a special understanding of the purpose of the poet and poetry breed Russian lyricists into different "camps" (according to A.K. Tolstoy). This is “civil poetry”, the purpose of which is “to remind the crowd that the people are in poverty” (N.A. Nekrasov), and “pure poetry”, designed to sing the “ideal side” of life. F. Tyutchev, A. Fet, Ap. Maykova, A.K. Tolstoy, Ya. Polonsky, Ap. Grigoriev. Civic poetry was represented by Nekrasov. Endless discussions between supporters of the two “camps”, mutual accusations of pseudo-poetry or indifference to the life of society explain a lot in the atmosphere of the era. But, defending the correctness of only their aesthetic ideas, poets from different “camps” often turned out to be close in their poetic vision of the world, close to the values that they sang. The work of each talented poet served as one high purpose- affirmation of the ideal of beauty, goodness and truth. All of them, to use Nekrasov's expression, "preached love", understanding it in different ways, but equally seeing in it the highest purpose of man. In addition, the work of every true poet, of course, could not fit into the Procrustean bed of straightforward schemes. So, A.K. Tolstoy, who declared his belonging to the poets of "pure" art, in epics, epigrams and satirical poems, managed to speak very sharply about the problems of contemporary life. ON THE. Nekrasov - deeply and subtly reflected the "internal, mysterious movements of the soul", which the supporters of "pure" art considered one of the main subjects of poetry.
Although the poets of the second half of the 19th century could not overcome the indifference of readers to the lyrics and make them wait anxiously for their poetry collections (as, for example, the new novels of I. Turgenev, I. Goncharov, F. Dostoevsky, L. Tolstoy were expected), however, they made them sing their poems. Already in the 1860s. M.E. Saltykov-Shchedrin said that Fet's romances "are sung by almost all of Russia." But Russia sang not only Feta. The amazing musicality of the works of Russian lyricists attracted the attention of outstanding composers: P.I. Tchaikovsky, N.A. Rimsky-Korsakov, M.P. Mussorgsky, S.I. Taneeva, S.V. Rachmaninov, who created musical masterpieces that the Russian people remembered and loved. Among the most famous, popular ones are “Song of a Gypsy” (“My fire in the fog shines”), “The Recluse”, “Challenge” by Ya.P. Polonsky, “Oh, at least you speak with me”, “Two guitars, ringing ...” A. Grigoriev, “In the midst of a noisy ball”, “That was in early spring ...” A.K. Tolstoy, "Pedlars" N.A. Nekrasov and many, many other poems by Russian poets of the second half of the 19th century.
Time, erasing the acuteness of disputes about the appointment of the poet and poetry, found that for the next generations both "pure" lyricists and "civilian" poets turn out to be equally significant. Reading their works now, we understand: those images that seemed to contemporaries "lyrical audacity" are a gradual but clear emergence of poetic ideas that are preparing the flowering of Russian lyrics. Silver Age. One of these ideas is the dream of “ascending” love, love that transforms both man and the world. But the Nekrasov tradition became no less significant for the poets of the Silver Age - his “cry”, according to K. Balmont, the cry that “there are prisons and hospitals, attics and basements”, that “at this very minute, when we are with you breathe, there are people who are suffocating.” Acute awareness of the imperfection of the world, Nekrasov's "hostile word of denial" organically combined in the lyrics of V. Bryusov and F. Sologub, A. Blok and A. Bely with longing for the Unspeakable, for the ideal, giving rise not to the desire to get away from the imperfect world, but to transform it according to Ideal.