The theme of Persia in the work of Yesenin. "Persian motifs" by Sergei Yesenin

Persian motifs

Yesenin, like his great predecessors Pushkin and Lermontov, who also dreamed of traveling to the wonderland of Persia, did not get into the real Shiraz, as well as into the real-geographic Khorossan, and nevertheless rode it all - from border to border - on pink horse of imagination, because he was looking for and finding "Persia" in Baku, and in Tiflis, and in Batumi, he knew how to turn his room in a wretched Moscow communal apartment into a turquoise teahouse, scattering and hanging everywhere oriental and Persian fabrics brought from the Caucasus , bought with the last money of fabulous beauty shawls ...

My former wound has subsided,

Drunk delirium does not gnaw at my heart.

Blue colors of Tehran

I am treating them today in a teahouse.

The teahouse owner himself with round shoulders,

To be famous before the Russian teahouse,

Gives me red tea

Instead of strong vodka and wine.

Treat, master, but not very much.

Many roses bloom in your garden.

Suddenly my eyes blinked

Pulling back the black veil.

We are spring girls in Russia

We do not keep on the chain, like dogs,

We learn to kiss without money,

Without dagger tricks and fights.

Well, this is for the movement of the camp,

With a face like the dawn

I will give a shawl from Horossan

And I'll give you a Shiraz carpet.

Pour, master, stronger tea,

I will never lie to you.

I am responsible for myself now.

I cannot answer for you.

And you don't look at the door very much,

Anyway, there is a gate in the garden ...

Suddenly my eyes blinked

Pulling back the black veil.

I asked the money changer today

What gives a ruble for half a fog,

How to tell me for the lovely Lala

In Persian gentle "I love"?

I asked the money changer today

Lighter than the wind, quieter than the Van jets,

How to call me for the beautiful Lala

Affectionate word "kiss"?

And I also asked the money changer,

In the heart of shyness is deeper,

How to tell me for the beautiful Lala,

How to tell her that she is "mine"?

And the changer answered me briefly:

Words don't talk about love

About love sigh only furtively,

Yes, eyes, like yachts, burn.

The kiss has no name

A kiss is not an inscription on coffins.

Red rose kisses blow,

Petals melt on the lips.

Love does not require bail,

With her know joy and trouble.

"You are mine" only hands can say,

That tore off the black veil.

Shagane you are mine, Shagane!

I'm ready to tell you the field

About wavy rye in the moonlight.

Shagane you are mine, Shagane.

Because I'm from the north, or something,

That the moon is a hundred times bigger there,

No matter how beautiful Shiraz is,

It is no better than Ryazan expanses.

Because I'm from the north, right?

I'm ready to tell you the field

I took this hair from the rye,

If you want, knit on your finger -

I don't feel any pain at all.

I'm ready to tell you the field.

About wavy rye in the moonlight

You can guess by my curls.

Darling, joke, smile

Do not wake up only the memory in me

About wavy rye in the moonlight.

Shagane you are mine, Shagane!

There, in the north, the girl too,

She looks a lot like you

Maybe he's thinking about me...

Shagane you are mine, Shagane!

You said that Saadi

Kissed only on the chest.

Wait, for God's sake

I'll learn someday!

You sang: "Beyond the Euphrates

Roses are better than mortal maidens."

If I were rich

Then the other added a chant.

I would cut these roses

After all, one consolation to me -

To not be in the world

Better than dear Shagane.

And do not torment me with a covenant,

I have no promises.

If I was born a poet,

I kiss like a poet.

I have never been to the Bosphorus

You don't ask me about him.

I saw the sea in your eyes

Blazing blue fire.

I did not go to Baghdad with a caravan,

I did not take silk and henna there.

Bend over with your beautiful figure,

Let me rest on my knees.

Or again, no matter how much I ask,

There is no business for you forever

What is in the distant name - Russia -

I am a famous, recognized poet.

Talyanka rings in my soul,

In the moonlight, I hear a dog barking.

Don't you want, Persian,

To see the distant, blue edge?

I didn't come here out of boredom.

You called me, invisible.

And me your swan hands

Wrapped around like two wings.

I've been looking for peace in fate for a long time,

And although I do not curse my past life,

Tell me something

About your funny country.

Drown in your soul the anguish of talyanka,

Drink the breath of fresh spells,

So that I'm talking about a far northerner

I didn’t sigh, I didn’t think, I didn’t get bored.

And although I have not been to the Bosphorus -

I'll think of it for you.

Anyway - your eyes are like the sea,

Blue swaying fire.

Evening light of the saffron edge,

Silently roses run through the fields.

Sing me a song my dear

The one that Khayyam sang.

Silently roses run through the fields.

Shiraz is illuminated by moonlight,

A swarm of moths circles the stars.

I don't like Persians

Keep women and virgins under the veil.

Shiraz is illuminated by moonlight.

Or they froze from the heat,

Closing the body copper?

Or to be loved more

They don't want to burn their faces

Closing the body copper?

Dear, do not be friends with the veil,

Learn this commandment briefly,

After all, our life is so short,

Little happiness is given to admire.

Learn this commandment briefly.

Even everything ugly in rock

It overshadows its grace.

That's why beautiful cheeks

It is a sin to close before the world,

Kohl gave them mother nature.

Silently roses run through the fields.

The heart dreams of another country.

I'll sing to you myself, dear

The fact that Khayyam never sang...

Silently roses run through the fields.

The air is clear and blue

I'll go out to the flower beds.

Traveler, leaving in the azure,

You won't reach the desert.

The air is clear and blue.

You will pass through the meadow like a garden,

Garden in bloom wild,

You can't keep your eyes on

So as not to fall for the carnations.

You will walk through the meadow like a garden.

Is it a whisper, a rustle or a rustle -

Tenderness, like the songs of Saadi.

Instantly reflected in the eyes

Month yellow charm,

Quiet as Hassan's flute.

In the strong embrace of the camp

No worry, no loss

Only Hassan's flute.

Here it is, the desired destiny

All those who are tired on the way.

Fragrant wind

I drink with dry lips

Fragrant wind.

Cold gold of the moon

The smell of oleander and levkoy.

It's good to wander among peace

Blue and affectionate country.

Far, far away is Baghdad,

Where Shahrazada lived and sang.

But now she doesn't need anything.

The ringing garden rang for a long time.

ghosts of distant lands

Overgrown with graveyard grass.

But you, traveler, do not heed the dead,

Do not bow your head to the slabs.

Look around how good it is:

Lips to roses and pulls, pulls.

Reconcile only in the heart with the enemy -

And saffron you with bliss.

To live - to live like this, to love - so much

fall in love.

Kiss and walk in moonlight gold

If you want dead

to worship,

Do not poison the living with that dream.

In Horossan there are such doors,

Where the threshold is strewn with roses.

A pensive peri lives there.

In Horossan there are such doors,

But I couldn't open those doors.

I have enough strength in my hands

I have enough strength in my hands

But I couldn't open the door.

And why? To whom should I sing songs? -

If you became jealous Step,

If I couldn't open the door,

Courage is useless in my love.

Persia! Am I leaving you?

I'm parting with you forever

Out of love for my native land?

It's time for me to go back to Russia.

Let me not be able to open the door,

You gave beautiful suffering

About you in my homeland I sing.

Goodbye, peri, goodbye.

The blue homeland of Firdusi,

You can't, with a cold memory,

Forget about affectionate urus

And thoughtfully simple eyes,

The blue homeland of Firdusi.

You are good, Persia, I know

Roses burn like lamps

And again to me about a distant land

They say elastic freshness.

You are good, Persia, I know.

I'm drinking for the last time today

Aromas that are intoxicating, like mash.

In this difficult parting hour

I'm listening for the last time.

But will I forget you?

And in my wandering destiny

To people close and far to me

I will talk about you

And I will never forget you.

I'm not afraid of your misfortunes

But just in case your sullen

I leave a song about Russia:

Singing, think of me

And I will answer you in a song ...

Being a poet means the same

If the truth of life is not violated,

Scarring your soft skin

To caress other people's souls with the blood of feelings.

To be a poet means to sing at length,

To be known to you.

The nightingale sings - it does not hurt him,

He has the same song.

Pathetic, funny trinket.

The world needs a song word

Sing in your own way, even like a frog.

Mohammed outwitted in the Koran,

Prohibiting strong drinks

Because the poet will not stop

Drink wine when going to torture.

And when the poet goes to his beloved,

And the beloved with another lies on the bed,

Stored by life-giving moisture,

He won't put a knife in her heart.

But, burning with jealous courage,

Will whistle aloud to the house:

“Well, well, I’ll die a tramp.

On earth, and we know it."

August 1925

Sweet hands - a pair of swans -

Dive into the gold of my hair.

Everything in this world of people

The song of love is sung and repeated.

I sang and I was once far away

And now I sing about the same thing again

That's why I breathe deeply

Tenderness impregnated word.

If you love the soul to the bottom,

The heart will turn into a block of gold,

Only Tehran moon

Will not warm the songs with warmth.

I don't know how to live my life

Whether to burn out in the caresses of the sweet Steps

Or under old age anxiously grieve

About past song courage?

Everything has its own gait:

What is pleasing to the ear, what is to the eye.

If a Persian composes a bad song,

So he is never from Shiraz.

About me and for these songs

Talk like this among people:

He would sing more tenderly and more wonderfully,

Yes, killed a couple of swans.

"Why does the moon shine so dimly

On the gardens and walls of Horossan?

As if I walk the Russian plain

Under the rustling canopy of fog,

So I asked, dear Lala,

By the silent cypresses at night,

But their army did not say a word,

Heads proudly raised to the sky.

"Why does the moon shine so sadly?" -

I asked the flowers in a quiet thicket,

And the flowers said: "You feel

By the sadness of a rustling rose.

Rose petals spilled,

Secretly told me with petals:

“Your Shagane caressed with another,

Shagane kissed another.

She said: "The Russian will not notice ..."

The heart is a song, and the song is life and body ...

That's why the moon shines so dimly

That’s why she turned sad.”

Seen too much betrayal

Tears and torments, who were waiting for them, who do not want.

But still blessed forever

Lilac nights on earth.

August 1925

Foolish heart, don't beat!

We are all deceived by happiness

The beggar only asks for participation ...

Foolish heart, don't beat.

Month yellow spell

They pour over the chestnuts into the forest.

Lale leaning on the shalwars,

I will hide under the veil.

Foolish heart, don't beat.

All of us sometimes, like children,

Laughing and crying often

Came out to us in the light

Joy and failure.

Foolish heart, don't beat.

I have seen many countries

Happiness was looking everywhere.

Only the desired destiny

I won't search anymore.

Foolish heart, don't beat.

Maybe he will mark us

Rock that flows like an avalanche

And love will answer

The song of the nightingale.

Foolish heart, don't beat.

August 1925

Blue and cheerful country.

My honor for the song is sold.

Do you hear the nightingale calling the rose?

Do you hear, the rose bends and bends -

This song will resonate in your heart.

Wind from the sea, quieter blow and vey -

Do you hear the nightingale calling the rose?

You are a child, there is no dispute about this,

And am I not a poet?

Wind from the sea, quieter blow and vey -

Do you hear the nightingale calling the rose?

Dear Helia, I'm sorry.

Many roses are on the way

Many roses bend and bend

But only one will smile with her heart.

Let's smile together, you and me

For such lovely places.

Wind from the sea, quieter blow and vey -

Do you hear the nightingale calling the rose?

Blue and cheerful country.

Let my whole life be sold for a song,

But for Helium in the shadows of the branches

Nightingale hugs a rose.

Night, but it seems clear.

So it's always great.

Night, but it seems clear

And on the lips of the innocent

Ah, the moon is

Shines - at least throw yourself into the water.

I don't want peace

In this blue weather.

Ah, the moon is

Shines - at least throw yourself into the water.

Honey, are you? is it?

These lips are not tired.

These mouths, as in jets,

Life is quenched in kisses.

Honey, are you? is it?

Did the roses whisper to me?

I myself do not know what will happen.

Close, maybe somewhere

A cheerful flute is crying.

In the quiet evening buzz

I love the lilies of the breast.

A merry flute is crying,

I myself do not know what will happen.

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1924 I have never been to the Bosphorus
You don't ask me about him.
I saw the sea in your eyes
Blazing blue fire.

I did not go to Baghdad with a caravan,
I did not take silk and henna there.
Bend over with your beautiful figure,
Let me rest on my knees.

Or again, no matter how much I ask,
There is no business for you forever
What is in the distant name - Russia -
I am a famous, recognized poet.

Talyanka rings in my soul,
In the moonlight, I hear a dog barking.
Don't you want, Persian,
See the distant blue edge?

I didn't come here out of boredom.
You called me, invisible.
And me your swan hands
Wrapped around like two wings.

I've been looking for peace in fate for a long time,
And although I do not curse my past life,
Tell me something
About your funny country.

Drown in your soul the anguish of talyanka,
Drink the breath of fresh spells,
So that I'm talking about a far northerner
I didn’t sigh, I didn’t think, I didn’t get bored.

And although I have not been to the Bosphorus -
I'll think of it for you.
Anyway - your eyes are like the sea,
Blue swaying fire.

***
Evening light of the saffron edge,
Silently roses run through the fields.
Sing me a song my dear
The one that Khayyam sang.
Silently roses run through the fields.

Shiraz is illuminated by moonlight,
A swarm of moths circles the stars.
I don't like Persians
Keep women and virgins under the veil.
Shiraz is illuminated by moonlight.

Or they froze from the heat,
Closing the body copper?
Or to be loved more
They don't want to burn their faces
Closing the body copper?

Dear, do not be friends with the veil,
Learn this commandment briefly,
After all, our life is so short,
Little happiness is given to admire.
Learn this commandment briefly.

Even everything ugly in rock
It overshadows its grace.
That's why beautiful cheeks
It is a sin to close before the world,
Kohl gave them mother nature.

Silently roses run through the fields.
The heart dreams of another country.
I'll sing to you myself, dear
The fact that Khayyam never sang...
Silently roses run through the fields.


My former wound subsided -
Drunk delirium does not gnaw at my heart.
Blue colors of Tehran
I am treating them today in a teahouse.

The teahouse owner himself with round shoulders,
To be famous before the Russian teahouse,
Gives me red tea
Instead of strong vodka and wine.

Treat, master, but not very much.
Many roses bloom in your garden.
Suddenly my eyes blinked
Pulling back the black veil.

We are spring girls in Russia
We do not keep on the chain, like dogs,
We learn to kiss without money,
Without dagger tricks and fights.

Well, this one is for the movement of the camp,
With a face like the dawn
I will give a shawl from Horossan
And I'll give you a Shiraz carpet.

Pour, master, stronger tea,
I will never lie to you.
I am responsible for myself now.
I cannot answer for you.

And you don't look at the door very much,
There is still a gate in the garden...
Suddenly my eyes blinked
Pulling back the black veil.


Shagane you are mine, Shagane!



Shagane you are mine, Shagane.

Because I'm from the north, or something,
That the moon is a hundred times bigger there,
No matter how beautiful Shiraz is,
It is no better than Ryazan expanses.
Because I'm from the north, or something.

I'm ready to tell you the field
I took this hair from the rye,
If you want, knit on your finger?
I don't feel any pain at all.
I'm ready to tell you the field.

About wavy rye in the moonlight
You can guess by my curls.
Darling, joke, smile
Do not wake up only the memory in me
About wavy rye in the moonlight.

Shagane you are mine, Shagane!
There, in the north, the girl too,
She looks a lot like you
Maybe he's thinking about me...
Shagane you are mine, Shagane.


I asked the money changer today
What gives a ruble for half a fog,
How to tell me for the lovely Lala
In Persian gentle "I love"?

I asked the money changer today
Lighter than the wind, quieter than the Van jets,
How to call me for the beautiful Lala
Affectionate word "kiss"?

And I also asked the money changer,
In the heart of shyness is deeper,
How to tell me for the beautiful Lala,
How to tell her that she is "mine"?

And the changer answered me briefly:
Words don't talk about love
About love sigh only furtively,
Yes, eyes, like yachts, burn.

The kiss has no name
A kiss is not an inscription on coffins.
Red rose kisses blow,
Petals melt on the lips.

Love does not require bail,
With her know joy and trouble.
"You are mine" only hands can say,
That tore off the black veil.

***
You said that Saadi
Kissed only on the chest.
Wait, for God's sake
I'll learn someday!

You sang: "Beyond the Euphrates
Roses are better than mortal maidens."
If I were rich
Then the other added a chant.

I would cut these roses
After all, one consolation to me -
To not be in the world
Better than dear Shagane.

And do not torment me with a covenant,
I have no promises.
If I was born a poet,
I kiss like a poet.
December 19th

1925 In Horossan there are such doors,
Where the threshold is strewn with roses.
A pensive peri lives there.
In Horossan there are such doors,
But I couldn't open those doors.


There is gold and copper in the hair.
Peri's voice is soft and beautiful.
I have enough strength in my hands
But I couldn't open the door.


And why? To whom should I sing songs? -
If you became jealous Step,
If I couldn't open the door,
Courage is useless in my love.


Persia! Am I leaving you?
I'm parting with you forever
Out of love for my native land?
It's time for me to go back to Russia.

Goodbye, peri, goodbye,
Let me not be able to open the door,
You gave beautiful suffering
About you in my homeland I sing.
Goodbye, peri, goodbye.

***
Blue and cheerful country.
My honor for the song is sold.

Do you hear, the rose bends and bends -
This song will resonate in your heart.
Wind from the sea, quieter blow and vey -
Do you hear the nightingale calling the rose?

You are a child, there is no dispute about this,
And am I not a poet?
Wind from the sea, quieter blow and vey -
Do you hear the nightingale calling the rose?

Dear Helia, I'm sorry.
Many roses are on the way
Many roses bend and bend
But only one will smile with her heart.

Let's smile together - you and me -
For such lovely places.
Wind from the sea, quieter blow and vey -
Do you hear the nightingale calling the rose?

Blue and cheerful country.
Let my whole life be sold for a song,
But for Helium in the shadows of the branches
Nightingale hugs a rose.


The blue homeland of Firdusi,
You can't, with a cold memory,
Forget about affectionate urus
And eyes, thoughtfully simple,
The blue homeland of Firdusi.

You are good, Persia, I know
Roses burn like lamps
And again to me about a distant land
They say elastic freshness.
You are good, Persia, I know.

I'm drinking for the last time today
Aromas that are intoxicating, like mash.
And your voice, dear Shaga,
In this difficult parting hour
I'm listening for the last time.

But will I forget you?
And in my wandering destiny
To people close and far to me
I will talk about you
And I will never forget you.

I'm not afraid of your misfortunes
But just in case your sullen
I leave a song about Russia:
Singing, think of me
And I will answer you in a song ...
March


Cold gold of the moon
The smell of oleander and levkoy.
It's good to wander among peace
Blue and affectionate country.

Far, far away is Baghdad,
Where Shahrazada lived and sang.
But now she doesn't need anything.
The ringing garden rang for a long time.

ghosts of distant lands
Overgrown with graveyard grass.
But you, traveler, do not heed the dead,
Do not bow your head to the slabs.

Look around, how good a friend:
Lips to roses and pulls, pulls.
Reconcile only in the heart with the enemy -
And saffron you with bliss.

To live is to live like this, to love is to fall in love like that
Kiss and walk in moonlight gold
If you want to worship the dead,
Do not poison the living with that dream.

Even Scheherazade sang it, -
So the copper leaves will say a second time.
Those who don't need anything
Only one can regret in the world.

***
Foolish heart, don't beat!
We are all deceived by happiness
The beggar only asks for participation ...
Foolish heart, don't beat.

Month yellow spell
They pour over the chestnuts into the forest.
Lale leaning on the shalwars,
I will hide under the veil.
Foolish heart, don't beat.

We are all like children sometimes.
Laughing and crying often
Came out to us in the light
Joy and failure.
Foolish heart, don't beat.

I have seen many countries.
Looking for happiness everywhere
Only the desired destiny
I won't search anymore.
Foolish heart, don't beat.

Life hasn't been completely deceiving.
Let's get drunk with new strength.
Heart, at least you fell asleep
Here, on the knees of my dear.
Life hasn't been completely deceiving.

Maybe he will mark us
Rock that flows like an avalanche
And love will answer
The song of the nightingale.
Foolish heart, don't beat.
August

Being a poet means the same
If the truth of life is not violated,
Scarring your soft skin
To caress other people's souls with the blood of feelings.

To be a poet means to sing expanse,
To be known to you.
The nightingale sings - it does not hurt him,
He has the same song.

Mohammed outwitted in the Koran,
Prohibiting strong drinks
Because the poet will not stop
Drink wine when going to torture.

And when the poet goes to his beloved,
And the beloved with another lies on the bed,
Blessed with life-giving stored,
He won't put a knife in her heart.

But, burning with jealous courage,
Will whistle aloud to the house:
"Well, well, I'll die a tramp,
On earth, and we know it."
August

***
"Why does the moon shine so dimly
On the gardens and walls of Horossan?
As if I walk the Russian plain
Under the rustling canopy of fog "-

So I asked, dear Lala,
By the silent cypresses at night,
But their army did not say a word,
Heads proudly raised to the sky.

"Why does the moon shine so sadly?" -
I asked the flowers in a quiet thicket,
And the flowers said: "You feel
By the sadness of a rustling rose.

Rose petals spilled,
Secretly told me with petals:
“Your Shagane caressed with another,
Shagane kissed another.

She said: “The Russian will not notice ...
The heart is a song, and the song is life and body ... "
That's why the moon shines so dimly
That's why she turned sad.

Seen too much betrayal
Tears and torments, who were waiting for them, who do not want.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
But still blessed forever
Lilac nights on earth.
August


Sweet hands - a pair of swans -
Dive into the gold of my hair.
Everything in this world of people
The song of love is sung and repeated.

I sang and I was once far away
And now I sing about the same thing again
That's why I breathe deeply
Tenderness impregnated word.

If you love the soul to the bottom,
The heart will turn into a block of gold,
Only Tehran moon
Will not warm the songs with warmth.

I don't know how to live my life
Whether to burn out in the caresses of the sweet Steps
Or under old age anxiously grieve
About past song courage?

Everything has its own gait:
What is pleasing to the ear, what is to the eye.
If a Persian composes a bad song,
So he is never from Shiraz.

About me and for these songs
Talk like this among people:
He would sing more tenderly and more wonderfully,
Yes, killed a couple of swans.
August

The originality of the cycle "Persian motifs"

In 1924 - 25 he wrote such famous poems as "Russia is leaving", "Letter to a woman", "Letter to mother", "Stans"; a special place is occupied by "Persian motifs". In his poetry, Yesenin managed to express ardent love in his land, nature, people, but there is also a sense of anxiety, expectation and disappointment in it.

Probably, no writer portrays the East as romantic and mysterious as Sergei Yesenin. One has only to read his "Persian Motifs" to be convinced of this. What epithets the author does not use! The "blue and cheerful country" attracts the poet with pictures of moonlit nights, where "moth swarms the stars" and "cold gold of the moon" shines, "the glass haze of Bukhara" and "the blue homeland of Firdousi" beckon. Probably, the originality of Yesenin's poetry lies in the fact that he is able to perceive the beauty of foreign lands as sharply as his own homeland.

The cycle "Persian motives" is an unsurpassed example of Yesenin's love lyrics. Here sounded a sincere feeling of the renewed heart of the author. The structure of the verses is melodious and melodic. Yesenin does not imitate either Saadi or Firdousi... The poet creates poems according to traditional canons. The East itself breathes and speaks through Yesenin.

I asked the money changer today What gives a ruble for half a fog, How to tell me for the lovely Lala In Persian gentle "I love"? I asked the money changer today Lighter than the wind, quieter than the Van jets, How to call me for the beautiful Lala The affectionate word "kiss"? But here, too, the poet remains a singer of Russia, a patriot of his homeland, which from a distance seems to him even nicer and more beautiful in his discreet attire. Talyanka is ringing in my soul, In the moonlight I hear a dog barking. Don't you want, Persian, To see the distant blue land?

The author of "Persian Motives" is convinced of the fragility of serene happiness away from his native land. And distant Russia becomes the main heroine of the cycle: "No matter how beautiful Shiraz is, it is no better than the expanses of Ryazan."

Recall from "Persian Motifs": "I have never been to the Bosphorus, You don't ask me about it ..." You can not ask the poet about how "blue flowers of Tehran" he treated "a former wound ... in a teahouse" , - he was not in Tehran. No need to try to learn from him something detailed about the "blue homeland of Firdusi", about, for example, what reason the poet had to hope that Persia could not forget about him - about the "affectionate Urus". He was not in Persia at all. And "Shagane, you are mine, Shagane" is not from Shiraz at all. And not a "Persian", but a young Armenian teacher from Batumi (later honored teacher Shagandukht Nersesovna Talyan), whose passion caused the appearance of a collective image of a woman of the East, captivating lines about her.

In the flight of love and inspiration, the poet is above earthly boundaries and differences, who prays to whom, who is of what blood. "Persian motifs" were created in the neighborhood of Persia, by association, in the traditions of Eastern lyrics, rich in allegories, in the aesthetic manner of Persian poetry. Of course, there are not so many direct coincidences with her ideas and poetics in the cycle. But in it - a whole scattering of the finest observations from the life, customs, melodies of the East. Where are they from? The question is not idle, given that Yesenin's trip to Transcaucasia was predominantly urban and seaside. The poet was favored by the local elites, the press, admirers of his talent, mainly from, as they say today, the "Russian-speaking population." He did not have much room to comprehend the intricacies of national life. (No wonder there was a request from above to the poet's companions - to create for him the "illusion of Persia"). Then where did his well-aimed strokes about the Muslim East come from? But just from here - from his trip to Tashkent, where his long-standing interest in Asia, in oriental national poetics, was largely inspired by the circumstances in which he found himself there.

The cycle of poems, called "Persian Motifs", was inspired by the poet's exoticism of the East, the desire to look for new ways of expressing the images that are born in his soul. In the poems of this cycle, Yesenin refers to the theme of the East and its poetry, however, a significant place is occupied by his traditional love for a woman, nature and his native country. The works relating to the "Persian motifs" were written in the mid-twenties.

Turning to the Persian theme, Yesenin introduced oriental refinement into the poems written in this vein. In the poems of this cycle, he describes relationships with women more subtly than in other periods of creativity. The girls are depicted as mysterious and graceful, full of charm.

Persian images are related not so much to real Iran, which the poet never visited, although he wanted to, but rather to the fairy tales of Shaherizade.

In the poems of the Persian cycle, three colors beloved by the poet are constantly found. It's blue, cyan and gold. They serve to express a bright beginning and tenderness.

Russia appears blue, the lyrical hero, who found himself in distant Persia, longs for her. Persia is represented by blue. The poet emphasizes the transparent air of this land, which he sees as blue, tender and transparent. Yellow is associated with love. It is in such tones that Yesenin paints charms, charm and a heart in love. The black color, which in the poet always serves as an image of the negative and ugly, also occurs, but there is little colored by it. Light colors prevail.

Admiring Persia, painted by his poetic imagination, Yesenin never forgot about his love for Russia. By moving the scene to the mysterious East, he shows his love for the native fields of Ryazan. Even turning to the Persian Shagane, he still remembers not only the fields among which he grew up, but also Russian girls. Yesenin contrasts with the norms of morality in Persia and in his homeland, giving preference to his country.

The poet remains completely Russian. Experimenting with oriental themes, Yesenin does not get rid of Russian common words, such as “for good reason”, for example, since he did not create verbal constructions, but expressed what was in his soul.

Option 2

Persian motifs - a cycle of Yesenin's late poems, which was created under the influence of travel to the Caucasus and the territory of Central Asia. As the author himself wrote, this cycle was easy and pleasant for him, he could not often write so much and productively. In addition, Sergei Alexandrovich noted the general theme of these poems, which spoke of happiness and its transience.

Yesenin did not travel to Persia, so his image of the “blue country” is mostly collective, it is a kind of cultural cast, which is formed on the basis of information from the Koran and oriental tales, stories of travelers and common images, composed metaphors and even dreams. The poet does not claim to be factual, moreover, he often mixes up the content describing a distant country with his everyday details. For example, in "Blue and Merry Country" he intersperses the details of the dialogue with a small child, the daughter of his publisher friend Chagin, in "Shagan .." he talks about his northern roots.

Thus, in a sense, this cycle is a kind of dialogue of cultures. Here, a poem about the Bosphorus looks rather symbolic, while Yesenin himself appears as a kind of Bosphorus, which connects Eastern and Western cultures. It is in the mind of the poet himself that this border lies between his understanding of another country and the original northern roots, which determine his own imprint.

Confirmation of the fact about the dialogue of cultures is also observed in the presence of historical figures in these poems, which are actually representative images of the East, the most famous for Yesenin's time. Sergei Alexandrovich mentions Mohammed, Khayam, Saadi, Firduosi, and, in addition, there are folklore images, for example, Scheherazade. Thus, the poet, who throughout almost his entire career represented some kind of primordial Russianness, begins a dialogue with representatives of traditional Orientalism, so to speak.

The poet also seeks to assimilate and convey the wisdom of the East, he even structurally builds some of his poems following the example of typical oriental works, such as, for example, rubaiyat. The motive of the understood wisdom of life, the experience gained, which is of value for all time, is the main one in this cycle.

Analysis of the poem Persian motifs according to plan

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Yesenin has never been to Persia, although he has repeatedly met. The cycle "Persian motives" reflects impressions from the Caucasus and memories of Central Asia. "I feel enlightened..." he wrote in 1924 from Batumi. "So much and so easily written in life is very rare."

“What is your cycle about, Sergey Alexandrovich?” asked the young writer I. Rahillo. “About happiness in love,” answered Yesenin, smiling. And about the transience of this happiness. It is fleeting, my friend, fleeting ... "

S. Yesenin showed close attention to the poetic heritage of the East. Persia beckoned, emerging in his creative mind. The passion for the peculiar art of the classics of the East was also reflected in the very poetic structure of Persian poems. Yesenin's Persia, scientists note, in his Oriental cycle is the East, "created" not only "with a living eye"; this is the East and the Koran (“Mohammed outwitted in the Koran ...”), and Arabic tales (“Where Shahrazad lived and sang ...”), and attractive names and names (Shagane, Lala, Bosphorus, Tehran, Baghdad), and traditional folk-poetic representations, metaphors, images ("Kiss me with a red rose...").

This fact is also interesting - in "Persian Motifs", apart from Mohammed, there are three more real historical names - the poets Saadi, Khayyam, Ferdowsi. They live in "Persian motifs" among their historical realities and symbolically fill the world of Persia and the world of the Russian poet, who compares "his" Persia with their "blue country".

The dialogue that Yesenin conducts with Saadi, Khayyam, Firdowsi is built "two-tiered". At first, S. Yesenin emphasizes his respect for the worldview of Eastern poets, and then he reveals the similarity or difference between himself and the poet of the East. A kind of key to the "dialogue" - the name of an oriental poet, is included in a repeating line and runs through the entire stanza or poem. Elements of the figurative structure of Eastern poetry permeate Yesenin's poems, convey the realities, life, customs, landscape of the East. The instructive-philosophical stream of "Persian Motifs" brings the lyrical hero closer to Eastern poets who shared their experience, wisdom in instructive conclusions and crafty allegories in rubais and gazelles.

The cycle depicts an ideal world of beauty, harmony of happiness in another, exotic country. "Persian motives" are opposed to "Moscow tavern". However, being carried away by the East, the poet remembered his “country of birch calico”, and the image of Russia is present in his poems. In the poem "Shagane you are mine, Shagane! .." constantly there is a comparison of Persia and Russia. The poet "from the north" was next to the girl from the south. The poem is dedicated to Shagane Nersesovna Talyan, a teacher of literature in one of the Batum schools.

Used book materials: Literature: uch. for stud. avg. prof. textbook institutions / ed. G.A. Obernikhina. M.: "Academy", 2010

To "his" East, Yesenin went gradually and consciously over a number of years. He was deeply convinced that he needed ancient Eastern classical literature to improve his poetic skills ("I'm going to study," he wrote to G. A. Benislavskaya in April 1924). "Persian motifs", including 15 poems, arose as a result of Yesenin's trips to Tashkent in 1921, when he saw the "real" East, and in Transcaucasia in 1924-1925. The main theme in the cycle is love: for a woman, for the motherland, for nature, for the East and its ancient poetry.

Compared with the previous Yesenin works, love in "Persian Motifs" appears in a romantic halo. The poet generously uses the traditional artistic symbols of Persian lyrics (nightingale, moon, cypress, rose, flute, Koran, veil, shalvars; such names and titles as Saadi, Khayyam, Ferdowsi, Shiraz, Tehran, Baghdad, Bosphorus, Khorossan, etc.) . In "Persian Motifs" there are many superficial parallels with classical examples of Oriental poetry: many times varied images of a nightingale and a rose (Saadi, Hafiz), a comparison of a lover with a beggar (Saadi), a conversation with flowers (Rumi), etc. But the East in Yesenin's cycle is only a romantic background for that lyrical narrative, the main character of which is a Russian poet, a native of the Ryazan land. Hence the use of specifically Russian colloquial words and combinations in "oriental" poems ("not for nothing", "today", "terribly similar", etc.). Love for Russia is clearly felt in each of them. For example, in the poem that opens the cycle, "My former brine has subsided ...", the memory of the motherland is visible in the opposition of Russian customs to moral norms alien to the poet:

We in Russia do not keep spring girls On chains like dogs, We learn kisses without money, Without dagger tricks and fights.

However, already in the third poem of the cycle - "Shagane you are mine, Shagane! .." deep longing for the native fields and the distant northern woman sounds:

Shagane you are mine, Shagane! There, in the north, there is a girl too, She looks terribly like you. Maybe he's thinking about me...

The cycle consistently develops the techniques of metaphorical style. Metaphors of "Persian motives" are mobile, dynamic. Sometimes the poet forms new metaphors according to his own models:

Russian motif talianki also becomes a kind of metaphorical accessory of the cycle, a symbol of the distant homeland. In the initial poems, this motif does not exist at all, but then, having appeared, it intensifies (“A talyanka is ringing in my soul ...”) and becomes more and more insistent (“Suppress the melancholy of a talyanka in my soul ...”).

A characteristic feature of "Persian Motifs" is lyrical repetitions as a means of enhancing emotional expressiveness. Repeated words placed at the beginning of the metric unit form anaphora. In the cycle there are syntactic (anaphoric parallelism), lexical, strophic-syntactic anaphoras with a predominance of the former. Especially often the anaphora is used by the poet in the most dramatic of the poems of the cycle - "Why does the moon shine so dimly ...", in which repeated words and sounds detain the reader's attention on phrases that carry a special semantic load.

The expressive sound writing of Yesenin's verse is as natural as it is natural in folk songs. A special sound expressiveness is given to the "Persian motifs" by the repetitions of the same vowels in neighboring words, the prolongation of vowels of one sound series, characteristic of this cycle. Such scales do not belong only to "Persian motives". The role of vowels in Yesenin's poetic language in the 1910-1925s. clearly perceptible. Basically, this is the harmony of sounds [o], [y], [and], less often - [e], even more rarely - [a]. Yesenin's verse from the very beginning of the author's poetic path developed as a melodious, emotional type, and the tendency to extend the vowels of one sound range can be traced in many of the poet's poems. But it is for Yesenin's "eastern" poems with their optimistic sound that the harmony of the sound [a] is characteristic - open, joyful, major, which can be illustrated by the example of any of the 15 poems of the cycle. So, in the poem "Evening light of the saffron edge ..." (lines are numbered), the sound [a] is most common:

  • 1. Evening light of the saffron edge (ah-ah) 3. Sing me a song, my dear (ah-ah) 6. Shiraz is illumined by moonlight (ah-ah) 10. Shiraz is illumined by moonlight (ah-ah)
  • 17. Memorize this commandment briefly (ah)
  • 18. After all, our life is so short (ah-ah-ah)
  • 19. Little happiness is given to admire (ah)
  • 20. Memorize this commandment briefly (ah-ah) 22. Overshadows its grace (ah-ah)
  • 27. The heart dreams of another country (ah-ah)
  • 28. I'll sing to you myself, dear (ah)

The harmony of consonant sounds is clearly perceptible in the "Persian Motifs". These are abundant alliterations pa [l], creating the impression of affectionate curiosity with which the lyrical hero perceives the environment:

Or are they frozen from the heat, Closing the bodily copper? Or, to be loved more, They don't want to tan their face, Closing their bodily copper?

("Evening light of the saffron edge")

The combination of hissing and whistling with a soft [l] gives rise to a premonition of the sad news about the betrayal of a loved one - sad, but not tragic:

"Why does the moon shine so sadly?" - I asked the flowers in a quiet thicket, And the flowers said: "You feel But the sadness of a rustling rose."

(Why does the moon shine so dimly...)

Yesenin is a master not only of sound writing, but also of verbal painting. "Persian motifs" seem to be painted with transparent watercolors. Blue, cyan and gold, the colors beloved by the poet, constantly found in his lyrics, associated with bright beginnings, always meant boundless tenderness for Yesenin. Color symbolism is continued by the poet in "Persian motifs". As in other Yesenin's poems, the colors-symbols in the cycle characterize the eternal confrontation between the light and dark sides of life. The bright sides of life in the cycle are indicated blue, blue, gold, yellow, lilac, red. The homeland, for which the poet's heart yearns even in the fabulous southern country, is "a distant blue land." Persia is "the blue homeland of Firdusi", "the blue affectionate country". The air there is transparent and blue, the nights are lilac, the moon has “yellow charms”, “yellow charm”, the moon casts “cold gold”, kisses are red roses, a heart in love is a “gold block”. The black color, concentrating in itself everything gloomy, ugly, destructive, evil ("black handful" of the iron guest in the poem "I am the last poet of the village ...", "black toad" in the poem "I have only one fun left ...") is found in the poems of the cycle "My former wound has subsided ..." and "Today I asked the money changer ...". This is a "black veil", however, in both works, this phrase is enclosed in a context that is optimistic in its mood: "It was not for nothing that my eyes blinked, / leaning back black veil" and ""You are mine" only hands can say, / What plucked black veil". As we can see, the color symbolism of the cycle shows the struggle between the light and dark sides of life with a clear predominance of the former.

Rich verbal painting, skillful instrumentation of sounds, lyrical repetitions of words and their combinations enhance the emotional richness of the poems of the cycle and characterize them as bright, cheerful, glorifying the joy of being. A variety of compositional-stylistic and rhythmic-intonation techniques give the "Persian Motifs" the characteristic features of song lyrics. It is no coincidence that all 15 poems of the cycle were set to music and became songs. Yesenin's "Persian motives" are not only and not so much living impressions of what he saw and experienced. The poet was so deeply imbued with the charm of this unique world that he himself partly believed in his stay in Persia: "Ah, I know these countries. / I myself have traveled a long way there" ("This street is familiar to me ...").