Yesenin goes well with the autumn freshness. Online reading of a book, a collection of poems, is good for the autumn freshness. Analysis of the poem "Autumn"
1918
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Good for autumn freshness
Shake off the apple tree soul with the wind
And watch how it cuts over the river
The blue water of the sun is plowed.
Good to knock out of the body
Nail incandescent with songs
And in festive white clothes
Wait for the guest to knock.
I'm learning, I'm learning with my heart
Cherish the color of bird cherry in your eyes,
Only in stinginess do feelings warm themselves,
When the ribs are broken by a leak.
The starry belfry hoots silently,
Every leaf is a candle at dawn.
I won't let anyone into the upper room,
I won't open the door for anyone.
Read by Yu. Bogatyrev
Yesenin Sergei Alexandrovich (1895-1925)
Yesenin! Golden name. Murdered youth. Genius of the Russian land! None of the Poets who came into this world had such spiritual strength, enchanting, omnipotent, soul-grabbing childish openness, moral purity, deep pain-love for the Fatherland! So many tears were shed over his poems, so many human souls sympathized and empathized with every Yesenin line, that if it were counted, Yesenin’s poetry would outweigh any and much more! But this method of assessment is not available to earthlings. Although from Parnassus one could see that the people have never loved anyone so much! With Yesenin’s poems they went into battle in the Patriotic War, for his poems they went to Solovki, his poetry excited souls like no other... Only the Lord knows about this holy love of the people for their son. Yesenin’s portrait is squeezed into wall family photo frames, placed on the shrine along with icons...
And not a single Poet in Russia has ever been exterminated or banned with such frenzy and tenacity as Yesenin! And they banned, and kept silent, and belittled, and threw mud at them - and they are still doing this. It is impossible to understand why?
Time has shown: the higher Poetry is in its secret lordship, the more embittered the envious losers are, and the more imitators there are.
Another great gift of God from Yesenin - he read his poems as uniquely as he created them. They sounded like that in his soul! All that remained was to say it. Everyone was shocked by his reading. Please note, great Poets have always been able to read their poems uniquely and by heart - Pushkin and Lermontov... Blok and Gumilyov... Yesenin and Klyuev... Tsvetaeva and Mandelstam... So, young gentlemen, a poet mumbling his lines on a piece of paper from the stage is not a Poet, but an amateur... A poet may not be able to do many things in his life, but not this!
The last poem, “Goodbye, my friend, goodbye...” is another secret of the Poet. In the same year, 1925, there are other lines: “You don’t know that life in the world is worth living!”
Yes, in the deserted city alleys, not only stray dogs, “lesser brothers,” but also big enemies listened to Yesenin’s light gait.
We must know the real truth and not forget how childishly his golden head was thrown back... And again his last wheeze is heard:
“My dears, good ones...”
It's already evening. Dew Where the cabbage beds Winter sings and echoes Under the wreath of forest daisies The night is dark, I can’t sleep Tanyusha was good, there was no more beautiful woman in the village, Behind the mountains, behind the yellow valleys Spread out again in a pattern Play, play, little Talyanochka, crimson furs. IMITATION OF A SONG The scarlet light of dawn was woven on the lake. Mother walked through the forest in Bathing Suit, The reeds rustled over the backwater. Trinity morning, the morning canon, A cloud has tied the lace in the grove, The smoke of the flood is pouring snow over the bird cherry trees, Bagels are hanging on the fences, KALIKS The evening is smoking, the cat is dozing on the beam, Beloved land! The heart dreams I will go to Skufia as a humble monk The Lord came to torture people in love, AUTUMN It is not the winds that shower the forests, IN THE HUT Through the village along a crooked path Goy, Rus', my dear, I am a shepherd, my chambers - Is it my side, side, The melted clay is drying, I smell God's rainbow - praying mantises are walking along the road, You are my abandoned land, The drought has drowned out the seeding, A black, then smelly howl! Swamps and swamps, Behind the dark strand of copses, In the land where the yellow nettles I am here again, in my dear family, Do not wander, do not crush in the crimson bushes The road thought about the red evening, Night and field, and the crowing of roosters... Oh the land rains and bad weather, DOVE Silver-ringed bell, The hewn horns began to sing, The winds did not blow in vain, COW Under the red elm, the porch and yard, THE LOST MONTH HERD About merry comrades, Spring is not like joy, Scarlet darkness in the heavenly mob Farewell, native forest, The rowan tree turned red , Your voice is invisible, like smoke in a hut. Stealthily in the lunar lace Where the secret always slumbers, Clouds from the foal FOX O Rus', flap your wings, I will look into the field, I will look into the sky - It’s not the clouds wandering behind the barn Wake me up early tomorrow, Where are you, where are you, father’s house, O Mother of God, O arable lands, arable lands, arable lands, The fields are compressed, the groves are bare, I am wandering through the first snow with a green hair, Silvery road, Open to me, guardian above the clouds, Oh, I believe, I believe, there is happiness! Songs, songs, what are you shouting about? Here it is, stupid happiness The spring rain danced, cried, O muse, my flexible friend, I am the last poet of the village My soul is sad about heaven, I am tired of living in my native land Oh God, God, this depth - I left my dear home, It’s good in the autumn freshness SONG ABOUT THE DOG Golden foliage began to spin Now my love is not the same The owl hoots in autumn SONG ABOUT BREAD HULIGAN All living things have a special purpose The world is mysterious, my ancient world, Are you my side, side! Do not swear. Such a thing! I don’t regret, I don’t call, I don’t cry, I won’t deceive myself, Yes! Now it's decided. No return They drink here again, fight and cry Rash, harmonica. Boredom... Boredom... Sing, sing. On a damned guitar This street is familiar to me, Young years with forgotten glory, LETTER TO MOTHER I have never been so tired. This sadness can’t be scattered now. I have only one fun left: A blue fire has been rushing around, You are as simple as everyone else, Let others drink you, Darling, let’s sit next to you, I’m sad to look at you, Don’t torment me with the coolness The evening has raised black eyebrows. We are now leaving little by little PUSHKIN Low house with blue shutters, SON OF A BITCH The golden grove dissuaded Blue May. Glowing warmth. TO KACHALOV'S DOG Unspeakable, blue, tender... SONG Dawn calls out to another, Well, kiss me, kiss me, Goodbye, Baku! I won't see you. I see a dream. The road is black. The feather grass is sleeping. Dear plain, I will not return to my father’s house, There is a month above the window. There is wind under the window. Bless every work, good luck! Apparently, it’s been this way forever - Leaves are falling, leaves are falling. Shine, my star, don't fall. Life is a deception with enchanting melancholy, Rash, talyanka, ringing, rash, talyanka, boldly I have never seen such beautiful ones Oh, how many cats there are in the world You sing me that song that before In this world I am only a passer-by PERSIAN MOTIVES Oh you, sleigh ! And the horses, the horses! The snow crush is crushed and pricked, You hear - the sleigh is rushing, you hear - the sleigh is rushing. Blue jacket. Blue eyes. The snowy mush spins briskly, In the blue evening, in the moonlit evening, Don’t twist your smile, fiddling with your hands, Poor writer, is that you Blue fog. Snow expanse, The wind whistles, the silver wind, Small forests. The steppe and the distance. Flowers say goodbye to me, Addition 1
Sergei Aleksandrovich Yesenin is a magnificent Russian poet who went down in the history of world literature as a soulful and sophisticated author of lyrical works. His poetry is imbued with sincerity and spontaneity; these criteria distinguish the famous poet from other authors.Yesenin expressed his feelings perfectly, choosing each rhyme competently. Reading his poems, you are transported into the world described by the author, a distinct landscape filled with living colors and harmony becomes noticeable. His work is like a sincere conversation with listeners. The poet himself admitted that he writes his lyrical works as if for close friends, putting all his soul and frankness into his lines.
And at the same time, Yesenin was a deep thinker with complex and sometimes contradictory feelings that injected passionate notes into his extraordinary lyrics. The Russian author is revered in different countries world, and the magnificent poet gained this fame well deservedly!
The theme of nature in the work of the great poet
Sergei Yesenin was a great patriot of his homeland; he could not imagine life away from it. His mad love and devotion to the Russian land was always expressed in his creativity, which is why most of the works of this author tell about the colorful and sometimes foggy landscapes of his native land. Many lyrical authors have covered the theme of nature, but no one has been able to glorify its beauty and unique views with such enthusiasm and devoted romanticism. Yesenin presents Russian nature in the most original genre. His poems, like a pleasant melody, reveal to readers the vulnerable soul of natural phenomena, the feelings of which are comparable to human emotions.
Detailed descriptions of landscapes, often found in Yesenin’s works, are not an artistic rendering of the visual background. The author described the beauties of nature, passing them through the very soul. Often the impetus for the lyrical mood was childhood memories that remained with the poet forever.
The work of Sergei Alexandrovich is recognized by the world community. Hundreds of critics admire his ability to colorfully convey natural motifs in rhymed form. Yesenin, like no one else, was able to revive Russian nature in the eyes of the reader, to show the natural beauty and uniqueness of colors, especially highlighted in the autumn period of the year...
Autumn in Yesenin's works
Each poet idolized his own season. Some were close to winter landscapes, other authors sang of spring streams and the ringing singing of birds. Yesenin gave preference to autumn; it seemed that this time of year somehow inspired the talented poet in a special way to create his next poem, and he was right! The autumn lyrics sunk into the reader’s soul. Great rhymes are studied with interest in the school curriculum, even by children preschool age they quickly grasp melodic lines glorifying the autumn landscapes of their native country.
Autumn, in the poems of Sergei Yesenin, is always mysterious and lyrical, sometimes sad and somewhat thoughtful. The poet conveys the mood of tired nature with special inspiration, although, for this time of year, the feeling of fatigue, anxiety and some depression is more relevant. It seems that these feelings do not tire the author, but, on the contrary, give unrealistic strength to create brilliant poems that are loved by the entire world community.
Yesenin, like no one else, was able to describe this wonderful time of year in a special, sophisticated form. According to his lyrical works, autumn is perceived as a young and tender time, but at the same time wise and purposeful. In this incredible melancholy, different emotions and feelings are intertwined: passionate love and indescribable loneliness, insane joy and bitter disappointment, great mood and stormy melancholy...
Sergei Aleksandrovich Yesenin always selected successful rhymes. His poems about autumn are full of touching and warm words, emphasizing the magnificent beauty and harmony of Russian nature.
What is autumn characterized by? A cold stream of air, a chilly breeze, lingering clouds and sudden rain. This time of year prepares nature for winter, which is inexorably approaching its native land. It is not always possible to consider all the beauty of the autumn season, however, the talented Russian poet of the 20th century, Sergei Yesenin, brilliantly succeeded!
Good for autumn freshness
Good for autumn freshness
Shake off the apple tree soul with the wind
And watch how it cuts over the river
The blue water of the sun is plowed.
Good to knock out of the body
A nail that intensifies the songs.
And in festive white clothes
Wait for the guest to knock.
I'm learning, I'm learning with my heart
Cherish the color of bird cherry in your eyes,
Only in stinginess do feelings warm themselves,
When the ribs are broken by a leak.
The starry belfry hoots silently,
Every leaf is a candle at dawn.
I won't let anyone into the upper room,
I won't open the door for anyone.
Foggy weather, golden foliage, rainy romance and the invigorating power of a light autumn breeze are skillfully described by the author, infusing the most vivid and pleasant emotions on the reader. Yesenin superbly depicts every phenomenon relevant for a given time.
Describing atmospheric phenomena, the poet chooses a pictorial representation, expressing his observations graphically. Anthropomorphic and zoomorphic comparisons are clearly visible in the work. In the poetry of another famous author, Alexander Alexandrovich Blok, the wind is presented as an astral and even cosmic phenomenon. And in Yesenin’s poems, he acquires a certain animation.
In many of Sergei Alexandrovich’s lyrical works there is a beautiful description of the celestial month and the enchanting moon. The poet masterfully emphasizes its unique shape, excellent silhouette and simply stunning “subtle lemon” or “lunar blue” light.
According to critics, detailed descriptions The moons introduce special romance and elegiac motifs into the poems of the great Russian author. But rhymes about the picturesque month are compared with folklore, because this heavenly body appears in Yesenin’s work as a glorious character from a good fairy tale.
Yesenin touched on different elements in autumn poetry surrounding nature: picturesque Russian forest, beautiful trees in golden outfits, animals preparing for hibernation and other, no less important and quite natural images. His autumn poetry is impressive and inspiring!
Golden leaves swirled
Golden leaves swirled
In the pinkish water of the pond,
Like a light flock of butterflies
Freezingly, he flies towards the star.
I'm in love this evening,
The yellowing valley is close to my heart.
The wind boy up to his shoulders
The hem of the birch tree was stripped.
Both in the soul and in the valley there is coolness,
Blue twilight like a flock of sheep,
Behind the gate of the silent garden
The bell will ring and die.
I've never been thrifty before
So did not listen to rational flesh,
It would be nice, like willow branches,
To capsize into the pink waters.
It would be nice, smiling at the haystack,
The muzzle of the month chews hay...
Where are you, where, my quiet joy,
Loving everything, wanting nothing?
Analysis of the poem “Leaves are falling, leaves are falling...”
The poem “Leaves are falling, leaves are falling” was written by the author at the end of summer, in 1925. During this period, Yesenin was experiencing a difficult crisis in his personal life, which was clearly reflected in the written lyrical work. Reading the lines of this verse, one morally senses the total fatigue of the author, his confusion in relation to himself and those around him. The semantic plan of the work is based on the transfer of emotional experiences; Sergei Yesenin boldly declares his regrets associated with his lost youth. It's like he's trying to sum up his own life...
In his rhymes one can hear a malicious premonition of his own death. From the very first lines one can read the author’s pessimism, his melancholy and heartache. He longs for joyful changes or typical tranquility, but the windy weather seems to confuse all the thoughts of the creator, not allowing the mind to make the right decision and decide on own desires.
In the last lines of the poem, the poet expresses his distrust of the female sex; one feels some contempt for crafty human relationships and unjustified love. Now the author is thinking about what could radically change internal contradictions and calm the soul. The lyrical character is trying to find his beloved, who has the power to pacify the sick soul and broken heart of the distressed poet.
Yesenin for a long time he was looking for such a woman, but, apparently, like the hero of this poem, he was unable to make his wish come true...
"Leaves are falling, leaves are falling..."
Leaves are falling, leaves are falling.
The wind is moaning
Extended and dull.
Who will please your heart?
Who will calm him down, my friend?
With heavy eyelids
I look and look at the moon.
Here the roosters crow again
Into the surrounded silence.
Pre-dawn. Blue. Early.
And the grace of flying stars.
Make a wish,
I don't know what to wish for.
What to desire under the burden of life,
Cursing your lot and home?
I would like a good one now
Seeing a girl under the window.
So that she has cornflower blue eyes
Only me -
Not to anyone -
And with new words and feelings
Calmed my heart and chest.
So that under this white moon,
Accepting a happy destiny,
I didn’t melt over the song, I didn’t get thrilled
And with someone else's cheerful youth
I never regretted mine.
Analysis of the poem "Autumn"
The first lines of the poem “Autumn” are based on the author’s imaginary comparison “autumn is a red mare, scratching her back...”. Literary image horse - freedom, it was the poet who chose it for comparison in order to convey to the reader the elusive character of this time of year. However, the dynamism of a real animal is absent in Yesenin’s lyrical work. He exposes it from a different angle, captured for one moment, to announce to the whole earth about the approaching changes. The poet fills autumn with bright colors, but at the same time points out the characteristic fading of nature at this time. If we combine all the images presented in the poem, we can reveal the main essence laid down by the lyricist: the image of the autumn season conveys to us an understanding of the transience of human life, it, like a dull time, cannot be stopped in order to be held for a long time...
The life of nature is comparable to the life of every person. Nature loses its colors and the summer aroma of fragrant plants, like our life, leaves without looking back, leaving pleasant memories of the lost years of youth.
The wind in the lyrical work of Sergei Yesenin represents the image of freedom, and the red rowan berries can be compared with the bloody wounds of Jesus Christ. These lines convey the idea of redemption, based on the mistakes made and the sins of youth.
“Autumn” is a wonderful poem by the talented poet Sergei Yesenin, filled with deep philosophical meaning. By carefully reading the rhymes, you can extract the main essence of the lyrical work, conveyed by the brilliant author to every listener...
Autumn
Quietly in the juniper thicket along the cliff.
Autumn, a red mare, scratches her mane.
Above the river bank cover
The blue clang of her horseshoes can be heard.
The schema-monk-wind steps cautiously,
Crumples leaves along road ledges.
And kisses on the rowan bush,
Red ulcers for the invisible Christ.
Good for autumn freshness
Shake off the apple tree soul with the wind
And watch how it cuts over the river
The blue water of the sun is plowed.
Good to knock out of the body
A nail that intensifies the songs.
And in festive white clothes
Wait for the guest to knock.
I'm learning, I'm learning with my heart
Cherish the color of bird cherry in your eyes,
Only in stinginess do feelings warm themselves,
When the ribs are broken by a leak.
The starry belfry hoots silently,
Every leaf is a candle at dawn.
I won't let anyone into the upper room,
I won't open the door for anyone.
1918-1919
Notes
A. B. Mariengof attributed the creation of the poem to the winter of 1919/20. He said that during the particularly severe cold of this winter, he and Yesenin moved from their unheated room to the bathroom: “We covered the bathtub with a mattress - a bed; washbasin with boards - desk; the water heating column was heated with books. The warmth from the speaker inspired the lyrics. A few days after moving into the bathroom, Yesenin read to me:
The starry belfry hoots silently,
Every leaf is a candle at dawn.
I won't let anyone into the upper room,
I won't open the door for anyone.
Indeed, we had to defend the “promised bath” that we had discovered with teeth and a heavy castle. The whole apartment, looking with envy at our warm, carefree existence, held meetings and passed resolutions demanding the establishment of a queue to live under the favorable auspices of the column and the immediate eviction of us, who had seized a public square without an appropriate warrant” (Vosp., 1, 317).
