Birthday of the poetess, prose writer, translatorMarina Tsvetaeva was noted at the next meeting of the Living Book Club

Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva was born in Moscow on September 26, 1892 in the family of a village priest, who later became a famous philologist, art critic, director of the Rumyantsev Museum and founder of the Museum fine arts(now the Pushkin Museum). Her mother – from a Russified Polish-German family, an artistically gifted person, a musician, a student of Rubinstein.

Marina began writing poetry from the age of six (not only in Russian, but also in French and German), printed from the age of sixteen, and in 1910, without taking off her gymnasium uniform, secretly from her family, she released a rather voluminous collection " Evening Album. The strict Bryusov praised the young author: “Undoubtedly, the talented Marina Tsvetaeva can give us real poetry…”

Very young and no one else famous Marina expressed unshakable confidence in her poetic future:

Scattered in the dust at the shops

(Where no one took them and does not take them),

my verses,

like precious wines

Your turn will come.

Over the years, proud confidence turned into complete disbelief: “In modern times and in the future, I – there is no place." But in trying to oppose itself to its age, it has proved, in the final analysis, to be inseparable from that age. Her fate, character and poetry became the subject of close attention of several generations.

At the meeting of the Living Book, a slide presentation helped Tsvetaeva make a journey into the world, where her poems, notes and photographs were a guide.

Tsvetaeva's poems were read by Lidia Kaputsyna, Rozalia Sharipova and other members of the club. A candidate philological sciences Evgenia Baturina spoke about difficult relationship Marina Tsvetaeva and Anna Akhmatova. Remembered that on early work Tsvetaeva was significantly influenced by Nikolai Nekrasov, Valery Bryusov and Maximilian Voloshin. We also read an excerpt from the publication in the magazine "Aleph" about the creative friendship of Marina Tsvetaeva with the poet Pavel Antokolsky.

The strong but complex poetry of Marina Tsvetaeva has become public domain. Many songs have been written on her poems, some of them were performed at the evening by Elena Kim and Vitaly Burik.

A vivid impression was left by the personality of Tsvetaeva in the works of other poets, including those of Birobidzhan. There was a poem by Aron Vergelis “Marina Tsvetaeva returned from exile. Moscow. 1939":

Knitted beret -

to the eyebrows - and went.

As in Jerusalem, the domes are burning...

You walk lightly in Moscow.

The Slavic rain warms the soul.

Regal. More beautiful than all goddesses.

But climb out of the skin:

“Where is the husband? Where is the son?

I knew it was yours

last step,

And deeds are on the scales of Eternity ...

Remembered that in different years Maria Glebova also dedicated her poems to her beloved poetess - in her only collection “From September to September” two poems found a place: “The Word about Marina Tsvetaeva” and “In Memory of Marina Tsvetaeva”. Here are two excerpts from them:

How many poets in the world

clearer, more pleasant and quieter,

poetically mature, decent -

do not smoke, do not drink,

but Marina's rhythms

I hear my roads in the rumble.

Marina's world of feelings...

Their bitter comfort is strangely dear.

And when the September rowan

Will blaze in a frowning forest,

I will answer, I will answer:

"Yes Marina"

So, as I would remember my sister ...

As a gift - a book

According to the tradition of the club, each meeting has its place not only for the classics of Russian literature, but also for a local author, whose work has long been recognized by readers.

This time, Valery Petrovich Fomenko was worthy in the center of attention. With his poems, stories and journalism, he has been familiar to literature lovers since the sixties of the twentieth century.

Valery was born in Gorny Altai in 1939. As a sixth grader, he typed notes on topics school life in the Altai regions. At the end of the decade, he tried himself in different professions, but preferred literary work. Valery Petrovich graduated Faculty of Philology Khabarovsk Pedagogical Institute. He was a literary worker in the "Birobidzhan Star", a radio journalist, deputy editor-in-chief of "Birobidzhaner Stern", published the newspaper "Community", worked as a teacher at the Faculty of Journalism in the Amur state university them. Sholom Aleichem, researcher in Regional Institute teacher improvements.

Thanks to his knowledge of Yiddish, Valery Fomenko translated into Russian the works of many Jewish writers and poets who lived in the Jewish Autonomous Region. One of his latest translations- an essay by Moses Khashchevatsky "Amurzet".

Friends and colleagues read at the evening his gariki, or, as they are also called, leriki, by analogy with the name of the author – Valery. In 2009, his little book "Gariki in Birobidzhan" was published in Vladivostok. And although the form of these works is not new, but inspired by the work of Igor Huberman, they show the creative individuality of the author, hear his own voice and desire to tell people something valuable and important.

In 2007, his poems for children were published in the literary almanac "Birobidzhan". The audience agreed that this complex genre is easy for Valery Petrovich – the author understands the soul of the child and he himself knows how to virtually enter the children's world.

Club members noted that Fomenko's miniature stories testify to intellectual baggage and life experience writer, and his "Etudes on Nature" introduce the reader to the spheres of spiritualized nature and reveal the laws and secrets of life...

Evening of writers in regional library became not only time have a nice chat each other, but also an hour of unexpected discoveries.

Alla Akimenko

“To my poems written so early…” Marina Tsvetaeva

To my poems written so early
That I did not know that I am a poet,
Ripped off like spray from a fountain
Like sparks from rockets

Bursting like little devils
In the sanctuary where sleep and incense
My poems about youth and death,
- Unread verses! —

Scattered in the dust at the shops
(Where no one took them and does not take them!),
My poems are like precious wines
Your turn will come.

Analysis of Tsvetaeva's poem "To my poems written so early ..."

It is no secret that many poets have the gift of foresight, and this can be judged by their works, each line in which turns out to be prophetic. Among these authors is Marina Tsvetaeva, who was famous for her innate intuition and often uttered mysterious phrases in the circle of her loved ones, which later came true with amazing accuracy.

The poetess herself has repeatedly said that she does not know who or what controls her mind during the creation of poems. As if the hand in which the pencil is clamped is led by an otherworldly force. That is how, according to her, in 1913 a work called “To my poems written so early ...” was born, in which Tsvetaeva predicted her own fate and predetermined the fate creative heritage in which she did not really believe.

However, in this poem by Marina Tsvetaeva, one can trace her thorny path poetess, whose first collections really gathered dust on the shelves in stores, "where no one took them and does not take them." At the beginning of the 20th century, women in literature were perceived with a great deal of skepticism, so the outstanding poetesses of this period, Marina Tsvetaeva and Anna Akhmatova, were forced to literally words to win back their place under the sun. However, if Akhmatova managed to conquer the public with her love lyrics, which turned out to be very frank and devoid of affectation, then the work of Tsvetaeva was in for a completely different fate. Indeed, her poems delighted many symbolists, but were not particularly popular with a wide range readers. Later there was emigration and long 17 years spent abroad, during which Russian symbolism completely outlived itself, and the name Tsvetaeva was deleted from Russian literature. All this the poetess not only foresaw, but also stated in her poem, emphasizing that "my poems, like precious wines, will have their turn." And this really happened, but already in the 60s of the last century, when more than 20 years have passed since the tragic death of the poetess. Her poems have not changed at all during this time, but they have become understandable and accessible to a new generation of readers who have found them truly talented and original. And, most importantly, capable of very accurately and vividly conveying thoughts and feelings, which could not be said about the works of many Soviet poets that time.

The work "To my poems written so early ..." has another distinguishing feature. It consists of only one sentence, so it seems that this poem was created as if in one breath. As if Marina Tsvetaeva was in a hurry to write down elusive thoughts and put into the lines what was dictated to her from above. One way or another, this work turned out to be truly prophetic. The poetess was not mistaken in how exactly her poems will be perceived through the years. Today, they still resemble “fountain spray” and “rocket sparks,” because Tsvetaeva was able to breathe life into them, which she loved so much. At the same time, the topic afterlife, which the poetess was fond of, gave her works a magical charm and instilled confidence that even after death people continue to exist, if not in their own physical shell then in the memory of others. Or in their own poems, which are the best reminder of those who have left.

Today, Marina Tsvetaeva is rightfully considered one of the outstanding Russian poetesses. silver age", his works have been translated into many languages ​​of the world, and the rhymed prediction "To my poems written so early ..." is carved on one of the buildings in the Dutch city of Leiden as a symbol that poetry is immortal.

The relationship between the poet and the reader has never been simple and radiant, and especially in the catastrophic 20th century. At poetic heritage M. Tsvetaeva difficult fate. For a long time her poems were banned, hushed up. And even now, when all prohibitions have been lifted, understanding her poems is a problem not only for ordinary readers, but also for literary critics.

Indeed, the lyrics of M. Tsvetaeva are very complex. Her poems, like "precious wines", are not available to everyone. After all, she never identified herself with any literary direction and not with any social group. She liked to be alone - "against everyone", she was "a rebel with her forehead and womb", she felt the one and only.

For his uniqueness, a person, as a rule, pays with loneliness. So it was with M. Tsvetaeva. She feels lonely and misunderstood even during her youthful years:

However, I know that even then

You would not know - if you knew -

Why are my speeches harsh

In the eternal smoke of my cigarette, -

How much dark and formidable melancholy

In my blonde head.

And, of course, the “supreme hour of loneliness” came when M. Tsvetaeva left Russia. She wrote about this in the poem "Longing for the Motherland."

I don't care which ones

Persons - bristling tribal lion, from

What kind of human environment

To be repressed - by all means -

Into oneself, in the unity of feelings...

The loneliness of life was exacerbated by the loneliness of literature. “My reader stayed in Russia,” M. Tsvetaeva mourned in one of her letters. Having lost his homeland, soil, reader, the poet was left alone with his tragedy. And at this time, the complexity of Tsvetaeva's poems becomes especially noticeable precisely because this is the only way - in an intricate, tongue-tied, not generally accessible way - to talk about the most painful and tragic.

Although some of the difficulties in her poems are understandable. For example, unlike many poets, the dominant principle in her poems is rhythm. "Invincible rhythms" (A. Bely's expression) are diverse and very complex. Not only the phrase has its own rhythm, but also the word. Therefore, the unit of Tsvetaev's speech is not a line, but a syllable. Helping the reader to enter into its rhythms, to feel their spring, it highlights not only individual words(that's why she uses a dash so often) and syllables (using a hyphen), when reading M. Tsvetaeva's poems, one must keep this in mind.

And another very important point. There are poets who perceive the world through sight. M. Tsvetaeva is fascinated by sounds. The world opens up to her not in colors, but in sounds. She said about herself: "I write exclusively by ear" and admitted to "complete indifference to visuals." Therefore, reading many of her poems, it is absolutely impossible to imagine anything, because they do not paint any picture, but create a sound image of the world. For example, the poem "Train":

Papillotok, diapers, Red-hot tongs, Burnt hair, Caps, oilcloths...

In general, the complexity of many of M. Tsvetaeva's poems was caused, paradoxically, by the desire for accuracy and brevity. For example, the thought is this: the praises lavished on the poet are a laurel wreath, but this wreath is heavy for the poet, like blocks of stone. In M. Tsvetaeva, all this is contained in two extremely short and expressive lines:

Lumps - the forehead of the Lavra of praise.

But, despite all the difficulties, these verses affect the reader with their expressiveness, powerful energy, even when the poet's thought is not entirely clear. This is probably connected with the infinite openness of the poet, with his appeal to the whole world. Constantly "forced out into herself, in the soleness of feelings", despite the bravado, a daring challenge, M. Tsvetaeva desperately sought sympathy, understanding. It is hardly possible to find such a frequent direct appeal to the reader, to posterity, in another poet:

To all of you - what to me,

Knowing nothing of the measure,

Aliens and yours?!

I make a claim of faith

And asking for love.

The fate of M. Tsvetaeva is tragic, and her poems are not easy. It is impossible to read them casually, without deep inner concentration. But in the life of every person there comes a moment when the lines from the early prophetic poem of the poet are justified:

Scattered in the dust at the shops

(Where no one took them and does not take them!),

My poems are like precious wines

Your turn will come.

Literary and musical composition

"My poems will have their turn"

Goals:

- to acquaint with the life and work of M Tsvetaeva ; reveal the originality of her poetics; show the tragic attitude of the poet, doomed to wandering, his disharmony internal state With surrounding life;

To teach children a deep respect for the history and culture of their country, attentive and careful attitude to the feelings of a person, his soul;

Develop the ability and skills of perception and interpretation of a poetic text;

Equipment: multimedia projector, presentation “My poems will have their turn”, recordings of the songs “I like that you are not sick of me”, “Requiem”, “Who is made of stone”, voiced poem by A. Akhmatova “Late response”; exhibition of books by Tsvetaeva.

Plan.

1. Organizational part.

Teacher: Tonight we will dedicate great poetess Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva ( slide 1)

As an epigraph to today's literary and musical composition, I took the words from the song "In Memory of Viktor Tsoi" (slide 2)

Poets are not born by accident

They fly to the ground from a height,

Their lives are surrounded deep secret,

Although they are open and simple.

What mystery surrounds the life of Marina Tsvetaeva? We learn about this by flipping through the pages of our joint work - the oral journal "My poems will have their turn." You suggested several titles: “The mountain ash lit up with a red brush”, “Housesickness”, “I don’t need anything but my soul”, “If the soul was born winged” ... Why did we call the magazine “My poems will have their turn”? This is no coincidence.

Creativity of Marina Tsvetaeva - bright Star that flared up in Russian poetry of the early twentieth century. Home country, so dearly and truly loved by this great poet, did not manage and did not want to notice in time the original, unprecedented talent of M. Tsvetaeva. Recognition, fame, fame were never criteria for her talent, but she deeply believed that her homeland would eventually understand and appreciate endless love his poet, resulting in poetry.

We hear Tsvetaeva every year on December 31, when again show all of us favorite film "The Irony of Fate or Enjoy Your Bath". The song "I like that you are not sick of me" performed by Alla Pugacheva was written to the verses of M. Tsvetaeva .(slide 3)

2. Listening to a song to the words of M. Tsvetaeva from the movie "Irony of Fate"

Teacher."Thank you for loving me - not knowing yourself - so much." I hope that after our event you will fall in love with M. Tsvetaeva, just as you love Pushkin, Yesenin, Blok ... Let our evening be the answer to this song.

Back in 1913, M. Tsvetaeva foresaw the fate of her poems. She wrote:

To my poems written so early

That I did not know that I am a poet,

Ripped off like spray from a fountain

Like sparks from rockets

Bursting like little devils

In the sanctuary where sleep and incense

To my poems about youth and death,

- Unread verses! -

Scattered in the dust at the shops

(Where no one took them and does not take them!)

My poems are like precious wines

Your turn will come.

The prophecy of M. Tsvetaeva came true. Now her poems are firmly established in national culture, occupied high place in the history of poetry. “I don’t need anything but my soul,” the poetess said. And she wove her soul into the lines of her poems.

So, let's open our magazine. We took the words of Shakespeare as the epigraph to the magazine:

"Receive them well: they are a mirror and a brief record of our time."

3. Opening the 1st page: "Childhood, youth" (slide 4)

Epigraph: Oh days where the morning was paradise

And noon paradise, and all the sunsets!

1st student: (slide 5)

red brush

The rowan lit up.

Leaves were falling.

I was born.

Hundreds argued

Bells.

The day was Saturday:

John the Theologian.

Me and until now

I want to gnaw

hot rowan

Bitter brush.

2nd student. So the poetess wrote about her birthday, as if she wanted to remember not only the year, but also the month. M. Tsvetaeva was born in Moscow on September 26, 1892 in a family of working scientific and artistic intelligentsia. (slide 6) Her father did not see her boots in the eye until she was 12. He was the son of a poor rural butt. With his labor and talent, he made his way in life, became a famous philologist and art critic, professor at Moscow University, founder of the Museum of Fine Arts (now the Pushkin Museum). The mother of the poetess is from a Russified Polish-German family, a musician.

Marina spent her childhood and youth in Moscow, the Moscow region, as well as in Italy, Switzerland, Germany, France, because her mother fell ill with consumption and she had to be treated abroad. Tsvetaeva studied a lot, but haphazardly because of the constant moving. Her mother died of consumption when Marina was 14 years old. From her mother, Marina has a love for music, for Pushkin.

3 student: In her memoirs about her mother, M. Tsvetaeva writes: “When instead of the desired, predetermined, almost ordered son Alexander, only I was born, the mother, proudly swallowing a sigh, said: “According to at least When my first, clearly meaningless and quite distinct word was the word "gamma", my mother only confirmed: "I knew it," and immediately began to teach me music, endlessly singing this very scale to me : "Do, Musya, do, and this is re, do - re ..." (slide 7) My mother rejoiced at my hearing and involuntarily praised for it, immediately, after each broken "well done!", Coldly added: "However, you have nothing to do with it. The rumor is from God." So it is with me forever and it remains that I have nothing to do with it, that the rumor is from God. This protected me from self-conceit and self-love. With the piano - do-re-mi - keyboard - I also agreed immediately. I have an amazingly flexible arm.

When, two years after Alexander - that is, me, the notorious Kirill was born - that is, Asya, the mother, accustomed at one time, said: "Well, well, there will be a second musician." But when the first, already quite meaningful word of this Asya, entangled in the blue mesh of the bed, turned out to be "ranka`" (leg), the mother was not only upset, but indignant: "The leg? So - a ballerina!" (slide 8)

The years went by. "Leg", as if, came true. In any case, Asya, who was very light on her feet, played the piano terribly - completely out of tune, but, fortunately, so weakly; that nothing could be heard from the adjoining living room. When it came to the ear, it cut like a razor.

Mother filled us with music. (From this Music, which turned into Lyrics, we never emerged - into the light of day!) After such a mother, there was only one thing left for me: to become a poet ”

4 student: The name Marina means "marine". Tsvetaeva loved the sea very much, wrote many poems dedicated to the sea and her sea name, for example, the poem "Who is created from stone" (slide 9)

4. Listening to the song "Who is made of stone"

4 student: Tsvetaeva began writing poetry at the age of 6 in Russian, French, German. She published from the age of 16, and at the age of 18, while still a high school student, secretly from her family released the first collection of poems "Evening Album" with a circulation of 500 copies. The collection was not lost, it was noticed by Bryusov, Gumilyov and other critics. The poems were still immature, but bribed with their talent and spontaneity. The first collection was followed by two more: "Magic Lantern" and from two books "Milestones". Sergey Efronson helped in their publishing house revolutionary figures (slide 10)

Sergei Yakovlevich Efron was also born on September 26, only a year later. They met, 17-year-old and 18-year-old on the deserted Koktebel, Voloshin coast, dotted with small pebbles. She was collecting pebbles - he began to help her - a handsome, sad young man ... with amazing, huge eyes half the size of his face. Looking into them and reading everything in advance, Marina thought: if he comes up and gives me a carnelian, I will marry him. Of course, he found the carnelian immediately, by touch. (slide 11)

Seryozha and Marina got married in January 1912, and the short interval between their meeting and the beginning of the First World War was the only period of worry-free happiness in their lives. These 5-6 years were the happiest in the life of the poetess. She has a wonderful family, a beloved husband, a lovely daughter Ariadna, many meetings, spiritual uplift in her work, a lot of friends: O. Mandelstam, M. Voloshin, A. Akhmatova, Blok, Mayakovsky, I met with some, corresponded with others. And she wrote about each in her poems.

Teacher: A happy life... But still... In her poems, she has both a feeling of loneliness and an anxious expectation of something inevitable, something unknown, tragic. One of these poems became the title of the next page.

5. Opening the 2nd page of the magazine: "The end of the fairy tale" (slide 12)

Epigraph: Over the city rejected by Peter,

The bell thunder rolled.

Rattler capsized surf

Over the woman you rejected.

5th student: Marina Tsvetaeva "The end of the fairy tale."

"The princess is melting like a candle,

Crossed her hands

On a golden ring

Looks sad." - "And then?"

“Suddenly, behind the fence - pipes!

The knight flies with a shield.

He kissed her on the lips.

Pressed to my heart." - "And then?"

“The wedding was played and marvelously

In her castle with gold.

Time is spent happily

Children are raised." - "And then?".

6- student: And then the tragic wheel of history began to spin. M. Tsvetaeva was far from politics, she was not interested in imperialist war(although her husband traveled on the ambulance train as a nurse, and she was very worried about him), nor February Revolution. She lived her spiritual life, but Time and History burst into her life.

In April, the second daughter, Irina, was born to the poetess. M. Tsvetaeva thought about her poems, and to where to live, how to live, she showed complete indifference. “Everything will work out,” she writes in letters. But nothing "worked out". A long separation from her husband began, which lasted 4 years. He is in the army of Kornilov - white officer. (slide 13) M. Tsvetaeva calls him a white swan, beautiful and doomed.

And from Tsvetaeva's pen, poems about the "White Camp" appear. During the years of the revolution, the drama of her fate was aggravated by the dangerous ambiguity of the position in which she found herself due to the fact that her husband was in the ranks of the white army. Without going into politics, she glorifies this army simply because her beloved was in its ranks. However, over time, she began to feel more and more sympathy for "red" Moscow.

When 1917 was completed October Revolution, the government became the sole owner and distributor of goods. It introduced ration cards. Only workers or well-known intellectuals and artists were entitled to them. Intellectuals like Tsvetaeva often went without food or warmth, selling books and exchanging things for food and firewood.

Marina had no one to turn to for support. Alya's younger sister remained in the south; her half-brother and sister Andrei and Valeria lived in Moscow, but she completely lost contact with them. The most painful was the lack of news from Efron. Absolutely one Tsvetaeva had to provide the family with food, firewood and clothes. She chopped up furniture to heat rooms, sold everything she could, accepted food and clothes from friends and neighbors. .(slide14)

In the fall of 1919, Marina Tsvetaeva sends her daughters to an orphanage, where the eldest Ariadna falls seriously ill. Mother picks her up and nurses her, and during this time on March 2, 1920, the youngest, Irina, dies of longing and hunger.

7th student.

Two hands, lightly lowered

On a baby's head!

There were - one for each -

I have been given two heads.

But both - clamped -

Furious - as she could! -

Snatching the elder from the darkness -

Didn't save the little one.

Two hands - caress, smooth

Delicate heads are lush.

Two hands - and here is one of them

The night turned out to be too much.

Light - on a thin neck -

Dandelion on a stem!

I still don't quite understand

That my child is in the ground.

This poem is the cry of a mother's soul. After the death of her daughter, Tsvetaeva achieved ration cards for herself and Ariadne, which gave her the opportunity to devote more time to creativity. In a frenzy, she wrote many poems, although only a few were published.

6. Opening of the 3rd page: "Life in a foreign land" (slide 15)

Epigraph: Through the slums of the earth's latitudes

We were scattered like orphans.

8th student. For almost three years, living in starving Moscow, in poverty, having lost a child, she had no information about her husband. Only later it turned out that Efron, along with the retreating white army, ended up in the Czech Republic and became an emigrant. Tsvetaeva loved her husband very much. Separation from him was torture for her. And yet in 1922 Tsvetaeva, drawn by love and fidelity, was forced to go abroad to find her husband. He lived in Prague, was a university student. She immediately decides to go to her husband.

Poems about Moscow, about the Motherland, poems, plays remain in the homeland; he takes with him only poems about the "White Stan", about the White Guard, because they are not needed in Russia.

Wanderings along the borders began: Germany, the Czech Republic, France. But M. Tsvetaeva does not lose touch with the poets who remained in their homeland: with Mayakovsky, Pasternak, she writes a requiem for Bryusov, she conceived a poem on the death of Yesenin.

9th student: (reads a poem dedicated to B. Pasternak).

Distance: versts, miles...

We were separated, seated,

To be quiet

On two different ends of the earth.

Distance: versts, gave ...

We were glued, unsoldered,

In two hands they parted, crucified,

And they did not know that it was an alloy.

Inspirational and sinewy…

Not quarreled - quarreled,

Stratified…

Wall and moat.

They settled us like eagles.

Conspirators: miles, gave ...

Not upset - lost.

Through the slums of the earth's latitudes

Dispersed us like orphans.

Which is already - well, which - March ?!

They smashed us like a deck of cards!

10-student. In exile, Tsvetaeva did not take root. She was far from politics. Differences between it and the bourgeois émigré circles quickly became apparent. The situation worsened and vigorous activity her husband and daughter Ariadne in the Union of Friendship with Soviet Union. Further events her life developed in such a way that she could no longer work fruitfully. If in 1922-1923 she published 5 books, then in 1924 - only one.

In 1925, her long-awaited son George was born. (slide 16)

Sergei Efron is graduating from the university, changing many things. Tsvetaeva is more and more eager to return to her homeland. Her reader is there ... Her fate is there ... Tsvetaeva is afraid to return to her homeland, but she always pulls her (slide 17)

11-student:

Oh, stubborn tongue!

Why would it be simple - a man,

Understand, he sang before me:

Russia, my homeland!

But also from the Kaluga hill

She opens up to me

Far away, distant land!

Foreign land, my homeland!

Distance, born like pain,

So motherland and so-Rock

that everywhere, throughout

I carry it all with me!

The distance that moved me near,

Dal saying "Come back

Home!" From all - to the mountain stars -

Me taking off places!

Not without reason, doves of water,

I furrowed my forehead.

You! I will lose this hand of mine,

At least two! I'll sign with my lips

On the chopping block: strife of my land-

Pride, my homeland!

7. Opening the 4th page: “On native land» (slide 18)

E pygraph: Tired of you, enemies, of you, friends.

And from the pliability of Russian speech, -

I will put a silver cross on my chest,

I will cross myself and quietly set off on my way.

Teacher: In 1937, first the daughter, then the husband leaves for the USSR. In July 1939, after 17 years, Tsvetaeva returned to her homeland. The family was reunited, but ... not for long: in August, the daughter was arrested, in October - the husband, the son fell ill. And as if everything returned 20 years ago: poverty, disorder, loneliness. Russia was needed by Tsvetaeva, but Tsvetaeva is not needed new Russia (slide 19)

Anna Akhmatova, who faced the same trials, dedicated her poem "Late Response" to Tsvetaeva ( slide 20)

8. Listening to M. Akhmatova’s poem “Late Answer” ...

12th student. In 1940, they were allowed to print a small collection of Tsvetaeva's poems. She carefully selected poems, but the collection was rejected. The last poem printed in the Motherland during his lifetime dates back to 1920.

In 1941, finally, Tsvetaeva was accepted into the trade union committee of writers, but then the war began. Fear also for her son seized the desperate woman. In August, Tsvetaeva and her son go on an evacuation to Yelabuga, a small quiet town in Tatarstan, where no one knows her, she knows no one, and her attempt to get a job did not work.

And then her strength left her, she writes that she was at an impasse. Her husband is executed, all the people she loves are in danger, she is without a job, without a livelihood, her son will probably go to war. She decides to take the last exceptional step - commits suicide.

Teacher. In Yelabuga there is a conditional grave of Tsvetaeva - is it real or not? Nobody knows for sure. And the poems of the poetess are remembered (slide 21):

You go, you look like me

Eyes looking down.

I dropped them too!

Walker, stop!

Read - chicken blindness

And poppies typing a bouquet,

That they called me Marina

And how old was I.

Don't think that this is a grave.

That I will appear, threatening ...

I loved myself too much

Laugh when you can't!

And the blood rushed to the skin

And curls curled ...

I was too, passerby!

Walker, stop!

Pick yourself a wild stalk

And a berry after him, -

Cemetery strawberries

Bigger and sweeter there is none.

But just don't stand gloomy,

She lowered her head to her chest.

Think of me easily

It's easy to forget about me.

How the beam illuminates you!

You're covered in gold dust...

– And don't let it bother you

9. Listening to the song "Requiem" performed by A. Pugacheva.

10. Opening of the last 5th page of the magazine "The poet is always with people"

Epigraph: Dancing step passed on the ground! -

Heaven's daughter!

Teacher. Marina Tsvetaeva cannot be confused with anyone else. Her poems can be unmistakably recognized by a special chant, by intonation. Marina Tsvetaeva - great poet, and its contribution to the culture of Russian verse of the twentieth century is significant. The legacy of the poetess is great and difficult to see. Among the created by her, in addition to lyrics - 17 poems, 8 poetic dramas, auto-biographical, memoir, historian - literary and philosophical-critical prose. Time saw Marina Tsvetaeva, recognized her as necessary and called her. She came confidently, her hour has come, her real hour.

“My poems are a diary,” wrote M. Tsvetaeva. In poetry, the whole person is visible. It shines through everything. It is impossible to hide neither excitement, nor vulgarity, nor indifference. Marina Tsvetaeva wrote without concealment, prayerfully, takeaway. She delivers a monologue the length of a lyrical volume, the length of a lifetime.

It's time to put out the lantern

Overdoor…

Thus ends the "diary" of Tsvetaeva.

13 student:

Poets are not born by accident

They fly to the ground from a height,

Their life is surrounded by deep mystery,

Although they are open and simple.

They leave after completing their mission.

They are recalled higher worlds,

Unknown to our minds

According to the rules of the space game.

They leave without finishing the verse,

When the orchestra plays touches in their honor:

Actors, musicians and poets -

Healers of our weary souls.

Documentary
Creative association "Lentelefilm"
Director: Lev Tsutsulkovsky
Music: Eduard Artemiev
USSR, 1990

"My poems, like precious wines, will have their turn!"
Film about tragic fate Marina Tsvetaeva, which was attended by Anastasia Ivanovna Tsvetaeva, writer Maria Iosifovna Belkina, Director of the Museum fine arts named after A.S. Pushkin Irina Alexandrovna Antonova. Tsvetaeva's poems, fragments of her letters and memoirs are read by Valentina Panina. Landscapes of Elabuga, Tarusa, Koktebel, Berlin, Prague, Paris, Moscow are shown.

The film, in addition to the well-known facts of the biography of the MC, contains a number of interesting memories, in particular about how she read her poems.
The extraordinary, mildest temper A.I. Tsvetaeva (sister Asya) talks about the similarity in childhood of their voices with Marina ... andwriter Maria Belkina (1912-2008) recalls how Tsvetaeva read poetry in a circle of friends and acquaintances. I couldn’t resist not to take notes on a small passage... What a pity that history didn’t leave us at least a fragment of the recording of MI’s voice...

(23:33)
“People often ask me: “How did Marina Ivanovna read poetry?” I was very lucky, I often heard her read poetry.
...
Marina Ivanovna read very willingly, you didn't even have to ask her. Somehow by itself it turned out that she began to read her poems. She read surprisingly simply, without any theatrical embellishments, without the howling, eye-rolling habitual for poets ... Gestures ... She read as if she had just written and checked by ear what she had written. And at the same time, she did not pay attention to the audience at all. She read as if she were alone. Two readings of her poems made a huge impression on me ... That is, in general, she read everything perfectly, but this somehow stuck in my memory. One time it was at Christmas, she was reading The Poem of the End. Our fireplace was on fire, it was old house and old heating. M.I. sat on a small bench in front of the fireplace, someone put out the light, she was lit by burning logs ... and read. And when she finished reading, there was deathly silence. Everyone was somehow afraid to break the silence, because it made a grand impression. And she spoke first. She lit a cigarette and said: "Silence, you are the best of all that I have heard..." near and silent ... "