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Evgeny Abramovich Baratynsky

Elegies (compilation)

“Your memory in this book…”

For your memory in this book
I write poems with a vague thought.
Alas! in your abode
I may be a guest of the moment!
With a weary soul,
To an unknown distance
More than once with a trembling hand
I shook hands with my friends.
Do you remember the dear country
Where life and joy we learned
Where the first spring ripened
Where did the first passion burn?
I left my native border!
So it is with you, my dear friend,
Here I will spend a day, another,
And how do you know? in a foreign country
I will end my sad age.
And you will arrive at the house of the fathers,
And you will see the native fields
And past happy years
Remember they were gold.
But where is the comrade, where is the poet,
Have you loved since childhood?
He made a covenant of love
Fate, hostile from a young age
And irreconcilable to the end!
When you find my poems
Where there is no warehouse, but the feeling is alive,
You read them thoughtfully.
Keep your eyes down in silence...
And quietly turn the leaf.

“He is close, the day of rendezvous is near…”

He is close, the day of rendezvous is near,
You, my friend, I will see!
Say: the delight of anticipation
Why doesn't my chest tremble?
Do not grumble for me; but days of sadness
Maybe it's too late:
With longing for joy I look, -
Her radiance is not for me,
And I hope in vain
I wake up in my sick soul.
Fate's caressing smile
I don't quite enjoy:
Everything is dreaming, I'm happy with a mistake
And fun does not suit me.

“We parted; for a moment of charm ... "

We parted; for a moment of charm
For a brief moment I had my life;
I will not listen to the words of love,
I will not breathe love with the breath!
I had everything, suddenly lost everything;
The dream had just begun... the dream disappeared!
One now dull embarrassment
All that's left is my happiness.

“Believe me, my dear friend, we need suffering…”

Believe me, my dear friend, we need suffering:
Without experiencing it, it is impossible to understand happiness, -
Living source of pleasure
Granted in him to his sons.
Are joys alone delightful and delightful?
Does fun alone make you happy?
The inactivity of the souls of the fortunate weighs;
The forces of life are unknown to them.
It is not for us to envy their lazy feelings:
What is windy in friendship, in monotonous love
And in the sensations of the blind
A scattered and idle soul?
Lucky imaginary, are you able to understand
Participation gentle cordial service?
Can you feel how sweet it is to believe
The sadness of the soul of his attentive friend?
Are you capable of feeling how precious a true friend is?
But who is comprehended by angry fate,
Whose soul is weighed down by a painful illness,
He cherishes the spiritual doctor.
What, what gives love to merry naughty ones?
Light fun, momentary oblivion;
In it, the best blessing is given to us by the gods
And the needs of the liveliest satisfaction!
How sweet it will be, my dear,
Believe the tenderness of a sensitive friend,
Will I say? All wounds, all ailments,
All the relaxation of your soul is sick;
Forgetting both light and harsh rock,
Desires vague in one desire to merge
And on her lips, in her breath to drink
Healing air of a new life!
Praise be to the all-seeing gods!
Let imaginary happiness for the world we are miserable,
The lucky ones are poorer than us, and the righteous gods
They were given sensibility, and feeling was given to us.

Dreams are magical, you hid from the eyes!
Threats have come true!
Life grows cold in my heart, and my youth
Faded morning roses!
Fragrant May resurrected in the meadows,
And Philomela woke up,
And dear Flora, on rainbow wings,
The updated one flew to us.
Wow! Valleys and forests are not for me
Inspired by beauty
and the heavens shine with bright joy!
I wilt - everything wilts with me!
Oh, where are you, ghosts of irretrievable years,
Wealth of life - faith in happiness?
Where are you, young day captivating dawn?
Where are you, living sensuality?
In the breath of spring all young life drinks
And the bliss of secret desire!
Everything breathes with joy and, it seems, is waiting with someone
Promised goodbye!
Only I seem to be a stranger to nature and spring:
The winged clock flickers
But they can't bring me joy
And, it seems, they fly by.

Finland

Into your clefts you received a singer,
Finnish granites, age-old granites,
Ice Crown Lands
Guard warriors.
He is with a lyre between you. Bow to him, bow
Gromads, the modern world;
Like them, let him be
Unchanged throughout the years!
How wonderfully my gaze captivates me!
There by the boundless waters
The sea has merged with the sky;
Here from the stone mountain to him a dense forest
Came down with heavy feet
Came down - and looks in the mirror of smooth nodes!
It's late, the day has gone out: but the sky is clear,
Night descends on the Finnish rocks without darkness,
And just clean up
Diamond stars unnecessary choir
It takes her to the sky!
And the fatherland of Odin's children,
Thunderstorms of distant peoples!
So here is the cradle of their restless days,
Robbery loud initiates!
The summoning shield is silent, the voice of the skald is not heard,
The flaming oak is extinguished,
The violent wind dispelled the solemn cliques;
Sons do not know about the deeds of their fathers,
And in the valley dust of their gods
Downcast faces lie!
And all around me in deep silence!
O you who carried battles from shore to shore,
Where have you gone, police heroes?
Your trace has disappeared in your native country.
Are you, staring at her mournful eyes on the rocks,
Are you floating in the clouds in a foggy crowd?
Are you? Give me an answer, hear my voice
Calling to you in the silence of the night.
Mighty sons of these formidable eternal rocks!
How did you separate from the stone homeland?
Why are you sad? Why did I read
On the faces of the gloomy smile of reproach?
And you hid in the realm of shadows!
And time has not spared your names!
What are our exploits, what is the glory of our days,
What is our windy tribe?
Oh, everything will disappear in its succession in the abyss of years!
For all one law, the law of destruction,
In everything I hear a mysterious hello
The promised oblivion!
But I, in obscurity, love life for life,
I, carefree soul,
Shall I tremble before fate?
Not eternal for times, I am eternal for myself:
Not by imagination alone
Does the storm say something to them?
The moment belongs to me
How I belong to the moment!
What needs to past or future tribes?
I do not strum unvoiced strings for them,
I, unrepentant, rather rewarded
For sounds with sounds, and for dreams with dreams.

Elysian fields

Wrong health runs
And every hour I prepare
Fulfill the last condition
The last law of being;
You won't save me, Cyprida!
The hour will strike,
And descend to the shores of Hades
Singer of fun and beauty.
Sorry, windy friends,
With whom is carefree in this life
I shared noisy leisure
My wild youth!
I'm not afraid of housewarming;
Wherever I live, I don't care
There, too, praise from idleness
I will become friendship and wine.
Unchanged in the underworld.
And there on the playful lyre
I will exalt again
The late Daphne and Temir
Unpretentious love.
Oh Delvig! I don't need tears
Believe in the cocytic side
A warm welcome will be for me:
The muses were friendly with me!
There, in the enchanted shadow,
Where poets thrive
Read Catullus and the Guys
My careless couplets
And they smile at me.
When from the mysterious canopy,
From the dark Orc fields,
Here to visit your friends
Sometimes our shadows can.
I will visit, oh others, you,
Sons of fun and merriment!
When for a noisy hangover
You will gather at an idle hour,
I will come with you to praise Bacchus;
And one prayer for you:
Leave the device for the dead
Don't forget at the table.
Meanwhile, beyond the secret shores
Friends of wine, friends of feasts,
Merry, good dead
I will make friends in absentia with you.
And you, in a day or another,
Zeus' destructive law
Orders to leave the earthly world;
We will meet you at the gates of Aydes
Familiar friendly crowd;
Let's fill the cups of joy
Praise rendezvous with a rendezvous,
And our greetings will be announced
All the unstoppable Hades!

1820 or 1821

"It's time to leave, dear friend..."

It's time to leave, dear friend,
Windy Cyprian Banners
And the inevitable resentment
Warn while leisure.
Whose exhortations to expect!
We are deprived of the old ways
On the willfulness of fun,
On the willfulness of desires.
A young age is already flying away,
The heart has become more experienced:
Nothing now, my dear
We are not in a frenzy!
Let's leave it to the young rascals
Blind thirst for voluptuousness,
Not ecstasy, but happiness
We must seek for the heart.
Satiated with exuberant pleasure,
Satisfied with the caresses of the circus,
I whisper often with tenderness
In my pensive anguish:
Is it possible to find reliable love?
Is it possible to find a tender friend,
With whom could in a happy wilderness
Indulge in serene bliss
And pure joys of the soul,
In whose constant participation
I would confidently believe
Will a bucket or bad weather happen
At the crossroads of life?
Where is the doomed one?
On whose chest will I rest
Your weary head?
Or with excitement and longing
Am I calling her in vain?
Or in lonely sadness
I'll spend the rest of my days
And the quiet light of her eyes
Do not illuminate their deep darkness,
It won't light my soul!

“The merry noise dispels the sadness of the feasts…”

A cheerful noise dispels the sadness of the feasts.
Yesterday, behind a circular bowl,
Among the regimental brothers, drowning my mind in it,
I wanted to resurrect my soul.
The midnight mist lay on the hills;
The tents dozed over the lake,
Only we did not know sleep - and a foamy glass
They drained it with wild joy.
But what? Out of myself I wanted to live in vain:
We praised wine and Bacchus,
But I joylessly sang joy with my friends:
Their enthusiasm was foreign to me.
You can't buy what the heart doesn't give you.
Rock is vicious towards us, jealously vicious,
One sadness, one despondency
A dull person is capable of feeling.

"I will return to you, the fields of my fathers..."

I will return to you, the fields of my fathers.
Oak forests are peaceful, shelter sacred to the heart!
I will return to you, home icons!
Let others respect the laws of decency,
Let others honor the jealous judgment of the ignorant;
Free at last from vain hopes,
From restless dreams, from windy desires,
Having drunk untimely the whole cup of trials,
Not a ghost of happiness, but I need happiness.
Tired worker, I hasten to my native country
Fall asleep with the desired sleep under the roof of your dear.
O father's house! O edge, always loved!
Native heaven! my silent voice
In pensive verses you sang in a foreign country, -
You will give me peace and happiness.
Like a swimmer in the pier, tested by bad weather,
He listens with a smile, sitting over the abyss,
And the thunderous whistle of the storm, and the rebellious roar of the waves, -
So, the sky is not praying for honors and gold,
Calm homebody in my unknown hut,
Hiding from the crowd of discerning judges,
In the circle of your friends, in the circle of your family,
I will watch the storms of light from afar.
No, no, I will not cancel the sacred vow!
Let the intrepid hero fly to the tents;
Let the bloody battles lover young
He studies with excitement, destroying the golden clock,
Science to measure battle trenches
Since childhood I have loved the sweetest works.
A diligent, peaceful plow that blows the reins,
More honorable than a sword - useful in a modest share,
I want to cultivate my father's field.
Oratay, who reached the old days over the plow,
In sweet cares, my mentor will be;
To me a decrepit father sons are industrious
Will help fatten hereditary fields.
And you, my old friend, my faithful well-wisher,
My zealous nurse, you, the first garden
On the father's fields, reconnoitered in the days of old!
You will lead me to your thick gardens,
Trees and flowers you will tell the names;
I myself, when from heaven a luxurious spring
Breathe in the resurrected nature,
With a heavy spade I will appear in the garden, -
I will come with you to plant roots and flowers.
Oh, good deed! you will not be in vain:
The goddess of pasture is more grateful than fortune!
For them, an unknown age, for them the flute and strings;
They are available to everyone and easy work for me.
Juicy fruits will be richly rewarded.
From the ridges and the spade I hasten to the fields and the plow;
And where the brook through the velvet meadow
Rolls thoughtfully desert jets,
On a clear spring day, I myself, my friends,
I will plant a solitary forest near the shore,
And fresh linden, and silver poplar, -
In their shade my young great-grandson will rest;
There friendship will once hide my ashes
And instead of marble put on the tomb
And my peaceful spade, and my peaceful forearm.

No, not to be what was before!
What's in my happiness? My soul is dead!
"Hope, friend!" friends told me.
Is it too late to give me hope
When I am almost unable to wish?
I am burdened by their immodest fate,
And every day, poor faith in them.
What is in the void of their incoherent speeches?
A long time ago I said goodbye to happiness,
Desirable to my blind soul!
Only after him with dull voluptuousness
I look along my past days.
So gentle friend, in insensible oblivion,
Still looking at the swell of blue waves,
On a wet path, where in the dark distance
Long gone departed friendly canoe.

disbelief

Don't tempt me unnecessarily
The return of your tenderness:
Alien to the disappointed
All the delusions of the old days!
I don't believe in assurances
I don't believe in love
And I can't surrender again
Once changed dreams!
Do not multiply my blind longing,
Do not start a word about the former
And, a caring friend, sick
Do not disturb him in his slumber!
I sleep, sleep is sweet to me,
Forget old dreams
In my soul there is one excitement,
And you will not awaken love.

“Were you, proud Rome, the sovereign of the earth…”

Were you, proud Rome, sovereign of the earth,
Have you been, O free Rome?
To your mute ruins
Their alien visitor approaches with sadness.
Why did you lose the greatness of former days?
Why, sovereign Rome, have the gods forgotten you?
Splendid city, where are your halls?
Where are your strengths, O homeland of men?
Did a powerful genius cheat on you?
Are you at the crossroads of time
You stand in the disgrace of the tribes,
Like a magnificent sarcophagus of dead generations?
Who else do you threaten from your seven hills?
Are you a formidable herald of the fate of all powers?
Or, like a ghost accuser,
do you look sad before the eyes of your sons?

"Farewell, fatherland of bad weather..."

Farewell, fatherland of bad weather,
Sad country
Where, beloved daughter of nature,
Lifeless spring;
Where the sun reluctantly shines
Where pines eternal noise
And the seas roar, and everything feeds
Madness of dark thoughts:
Where, excommunicated from the fatherland
hostile fate,
Exhausted without reproach
Young exile;
Where, forgotten by thundering rumors,
But all the soul drinks,
Flying with your muse
He has not been forgotten!
Now, for a sweet date,
I hasten to my native country;
In imagination the edge of exile
Follow me:
And mossy masses of stones,
And the sight of the naked fields,
And ancient waterfalls
And their sullen noise!
I will remember with secret sweetness
desert country,
Where am I in a quarrel with quiet happiness
Spent my spring
But where at times, inhabitant of the sky,
Against fate
Phoebe's pet didn't change
Not to the muses, not to myself.

“Why, Delia! You are young hearts...

Why, Delia! you are young hearts
The game of love and voluptuousness
Fulfill your painful dream
Unattainable happiness?
I saw your fans around you,
Half withered in greedy passion;
Having reached their love, their love vows
You listen with a coldpoi smile.
Deceive the blind and laugh at their fate
Now your soul is at rest;
You'll have to get to know sometime
Fatal charm!
Don't be afraid of mocking nets
Perhaps your chosen one
I no longer trust the fire of your love,
Do not be touched by her longing.
When the time comes, and beauty roses.
Poor freshness every day,
perish, answer: what will you resort to,
Why, you infamous Circe?
With art you will round your withered chest,
You blush your thin cheeks,
Winged child you want somehow
To lure again ... but not to lure!
In exchange for the dreams of the young, you will not grow
Peace, late years of joy;
Wherever you go, they will explode on the way
Selfish annoyances!
A restless soul on a peaceful bed of sleep
So sleep escapes,
And where silence is available to everyone,
The sufferer is waiting for one excitement.

falling leaves

(From C. Milvois)

The grain of the fields turned yellow sadly.
Brega was blown up by a muddy source,
And a vociferous nightingale
He fell silent in the grove of the homeless.
To a premature end
Doomed by severe fate,
I'm so young singer
With an oak forest, precious to the heart:
"My destiny has been fulfilled,
Forgive me, dear refuge!
O fateful prophecy!
I remember your terrible voice:
"Get ready, unfortunate young man!
In the darkness of rainy autumn
Deep darkness threatens you
Already it gapes from Erev,
The last leaf will fall from the tree -
Your last hour will sound!"
And I wither: the rays of the day
Every day is harder on the eyes;
You flew away, golden dreams
My moment of youth!
I will leave everything that is dear to my heart.
The sky has already been covered with darkness,
Already the late winds are heard whistling!
What to delay? The time has come:
Fall, fall, faded leaf!
Powerless to resist fate
I crave the night of the grave.
Get down, get down! My mound is grave
Hide from a sad mother!
When in the evening
To him the desert path,
Along the unforgettable stream
Come cry for me
My tender friend
Your light rustle in a sensitive canopy,
On the banks of the Stygian waters,
My happy shadow
May her coming be heralded!"
It came true! Alas! the fate of anger
The poor did not soften with humility,
The last leaf fell from the tree -
The last hour has struck.
Near that grove is his grave!
With its heavy burden
Her mother often visited her...
The maiden did not come to her!

“Providence gave two shares ...”

Providence gave two shares
The choice of human wisdom:
Or hope and excitement
Ile hopelessness and peace.
Believe that seductive hope,
Who, cheerful with an inexperienced mind,
Only by rumor diversifying
fate mocking sign.
Hope young men seething!
Fly, wings are given to you;
For you and brilliant plans,
And hearts fiery dreams!
But you, who have experienced fate,
The vanity of comfort, the power of sorrow,
You. who received the knowledge of life
Yourself on the painful part!
Drive away their seductive swarm:
So! live life in silence
And take care of the saving cold
Your inactive soul.
Blessed by their insensibility.
Like the corpses of the dead from the coffins,
Magus words awakened.
Stand up with gnashing of teeth,
So you, warming desire in the soul,
Madly falling into their deceit,
Wake up only to suffer
For the pain of new old wounds.

“I yearn for happiness from infancy…”

Yearning for happiness from infancy,
I'm poor with happiness
Or I will never find it
In the desert of being?
Young dreams flew away from the heart,
I don't recognize the world
I am deprived of my former goal,
There is no new target.
You are mad and all your desires,
I have a secret voice of rivers;
And the best dreams of my creation
I rejected forever
But why the souls disbelief
Didn't quite finish?
Why does she have blind regret
Lives about old times?
So once thought with murmuring
I am my heavy lot,
Suddenly the Truth (that was not a dream)
I saw in front of me.
"My lamp will show the way to happiness! -
Broadcast. I want -
And, passionate, gratifying dispassion
I will teach you.
Let with me you will destroy the heat of the heart,
Let, knowing people,
You may be afraid, fall out of love
And neighbors and friends.
I will destroy all the delights of life,
I will instruct your mind:
I will pour severe coldness on my soul,
But I will give you peace of mind."
I trembled, listening to her words,
And sadly in response
He said to her: "O unearthly guest!
Your hello is sad
Your lamp is a funeral lamp
My last blessings!
Your world, alas! graves sad world
And terrible for the living.
No, I'm not yours! In your strict science
I will not find happiness;
Leave me: somehow my dear
I will go alone.
Sorry! or not: when my light
In the starry sky
Everything that is sweet to the heart will begin to turn pale,
I will have to forget
Show up then! Open my eyes then
Enlighten my mind
So that, having despised life, I could go to the abode of the night
Get off without complaint."
Do not demand feigned tenderness from me,
I will not hide the sadness of my heart.
You're right, it no longer has a beautiful fire
My original love.
In vain I reminded myself
And your sweet image, and former dreams:
My memories are lifeless
I swore oaths, but I gave them beyond my strength
I am not captivated by another beauty, -
Jealous dreams are removed from the heart,
But long years have passed in separation,
But in the storms of life, I am a little darling -
You already lived as an unfaithful shadow in her;
Already I called out to you rarely, forcibly,
And my flame, gradually weakening,
He himself went out in my soul.
Believe me, I'm pathetic alone. The soul of love desires
But I will not love again;
Again I will not forget: it completely intoxicates
We are only first love.
I'm sad, but sadness will pass, signifying
Fate complete victory over me;
Who knows? With my opinion I will merge with the crowd;
A friend without love - who knows? - I will choose.
For a thoughtful marriage, I will give her a hand
And in the temple I will stand next to her,
Innocent, devoted, perhaps to the best dreams,
And I will call her mine;
And the news will come to you, but do not envy us:
There will be no exchange of secret thoughts between us,
We will not give free rein to spiritual whims,
We are not hearts under marriage crowns
We will join our lots.
Goodbye! We walked along the same road for a long time;
I have chosen a new path, choose a new path;
Sorrow barren mind pacify
And do not enter, I pray, into a vain judgment with me.
We are powerless in ourselves
And, in our young lots.
We make hasty vows
Funny, maybe all-seeing fate.

"Decidedly sad lines of mine ..."

My decidedly sad lines
Do not you want to answer honor;
You were not touched by their tender feeling
And scorned to calm my heart!
I won't live in your memory
I will not beg a petition from a cruel one!
I am guilty: I was unfaithful to her;
No pity for my deep anguish!
I am guilty: I praised the wives of others ...
So! but when their ears are prejudiced
I seduced by the play of my strings,
I flew to you with a touched thought,
I sang you under their names.
I am guilty: at city balls,
Among the crowd, lively with fun,
With the rumble of strings, in a crazy waltz rushing
Now Delia, then Daphne, then Lilet
And all three are ready in a rush
To pronounce on a passionate vow,
Touching their fragrant curls
With my face, embracing with a greedy hand
Their slender figure - so! in my memory
There was no girlfriend of the old days,
And I was devoted to a new dream!
But did I love them?
No, honey! When in solitude
Then I quietly believed myself
Finding them in my imagination
I found you alone in my heart!
Friendly, obedient without antics,
Smiling for young pranks,
From around the corner of the Paphos pilgrims
I guarded the evening time;
For a moment one of their willful captive,
I was only a naughty, but not a traitor.
Not! more haughty than gentle
You are still full of your grievances ...
Forgive me forever! But know that the two guilty
Not one, there are names
In my poems, in love stories.

Elegy occupies a central place in Boratynsky's early work. It was in this genre that the individual originality of his poetic skill first manifested itself.

From Parny and other French elegiacs of the late 18th - early 19th centuries, Boratynsky adopted a new and progressive for that time principle of individual rethinking of the elegiac genre: an expression of what the poet himself experienced as his poetic confession. Based on the stylistic achievements of K. N. Batyushkov, whose elegies have biographical overtones, reflect certain facts of everyday and spiritual biography, Boratynsky, from the very first steps of his poetic activity, followed the path of psychological interpretation of elegiac themes. His attention is no longer attracted by the general lyrical characterization of this or that elegiac "feeling" - despondency, sadness, joy, love, disappointment - but by those changeable and contradictory shades that it acquires in its concrete psychological manifestations. The lyrical theme receives in the early poems of Boratynsky an internal movement and psychological disclosure.

Most of Boratynsky's "dull" and love elegies are masterfully made "psychological miniatures" in which the subtlest emotional nuances are no longer elegiac feelings in general, but quite specific human experiences in certain psychological situations. The first printed titles of Boratynsky's elegies are "Hopelessness", "Consolation", "Despondency", "Recovery", "Reassurance", "Farewell", "Parting", "Squabble", "Justification", "Recognition", "Murmuring", " Vigil”, “Guess” express the psychological diversity of lyrical experiences.

A subtle analysis of the very psychology of feeling, its movement and variability, determines basically the new sound that elegiac themes and genres received in Boratynsky's early work. Particularly indicative in this regard are "Recognition" and "Justification", which are the most mature of Boratynsky's early elegies. In "Justification" the theme of infidelity develops in a typical way of emotional escalation and in the conclusion receives a new and unexpected psychological turn, which almost removes the motive of the hero's guilt.

Peculiarities of Baratynsky's Poetics on the Example of the Analysis of an Elegy "Reassurance"

At first glance, we see in this elegy the conflict of the lyrical hero with the outside world, which is characteristic of all romantics, the departure of the lyrical hero into the dream world:

...sick

Do not disturb him in his slumber!

I sleep, my sleep is sweet...

The theme of the elegy is the experiences of the lyrical hero, who experienced disappointment in this life. But on closer examination, it turns out that experiences are subject to analysis. Already from the first lines it becomes clear that the lyrical hero, addressing a woman, is well aware that she does not love him, this is just a whim, she does not need his sincere feelings:

Don't tempt me unnecessarily

The return of your tenderness ...

Feelings are gone, it's just an imitation. Those feelings, deep and strong, apparently, once turned out to be a deception, a dream:

And I can't surrender again

Once changed dreams!

and the lyrical hero does not want to be in this "deception" again. He is not to blame for not believing in “assurances”, “does not believe in love”, does not believe in “experienced dreams”. He just submits to the general course of life, in which happiness is impossible, true love is also impossible:

In my soul there is one excitement

And you will not awaken love.

"Excitement" instead of love. High feelings turned into a deception for him, and only some half-feelings remained. Therefore, the lyrical hero is disappointed, and the “former” only “multiplies” his already “blind longing”. The lyrical hero does not want to remember what he experienced, since these experiences only bring him pain, so he calls himself "sick" and asks him "not to disturb" in his "drowse".

We see how throughout the poem the feeling loses its spirituality. The semantic series built in the elegy convinces us of this: tenderness - seduction - assurances - love - dreams - blind longing - sick - drowsiness - experienced dreams - one excitement. In order to build it, you need a deep analysis of your experiences. Perhaps that is why literary scholars and critics have repeatedly expressed the idea that “in Baratynsky’s elegies, a complete “history” of feeling is given, as it were, from its fullness to the disappearance and the emergence of a new emotional experience.” (V.I. Korovin)

The elegy is clearly divided into two parts. If in the first part (1.2 quatrains) the lyrical hero talks about what was, about former feelings (tenderness, love, etc.), then in the second part (3.4 quatrains) we see what has become, Or rather, what is left of these feelings. And the hero does not reflect on the past, but on what this “past” has led to (longing, drowsiness, etc.) Former feelings are important only because they need to be understood, thought over, understood, comprehended and concluded: love is already do not return, do not "awaken".

If you pay attention to the syntax, you can see that the lyrical hero speaks of past feelings with enthusiasm, excitedly: this is evidenced by the exclamation marks that end the first two quatrains. Memories of these feelings cause a storm of emotions in the hero, but cause pain. He seems to be trying to convince or justify his current state. In the third quatrain, which also ends with an exclamation point, the subject has already changed, but the hero has not yet calmed down, he is still under the power of emotions. And in this light, the appeal "caring friend" sounds even sarcastic. But at the end of the poem, we see that the lyrical hero is already cold and reasonable. He made a decision: he does not want to return to that deceitful world of "dreams" in which he had previously been. The lyrical hero, albeit disappointed, albeit without love, remains in the real world. And even if life without love is also “sleeping”, “drowsiness”, nevertheless the hero remains in it with his thoughts, with his “blind longing”. Therefore, at the end of the elegy there is no longer an exclamation point, but there is a period, indicating that the last quatrain is a kind of conclusion from the previous analysis of one's own experiences.

Now the title of the poem becomes clear. To disbelieve means to deprive of confidence, to deprive of faith. Consequently, the lyrical hero ceases to believe in bright sincere feelings, in ideals, in human relationships. And he puts an end to the question of his experiences. After all, the story is told in the first person, which means that the hero speaks about his own experiences. He lost faith in the existence of happiness and chose for himself "a different path."

Thus, we can say that the very thought of the death of a genuine feeling becomes the subject of the poem. And elegiacity is achieved precisely by the fact that the logical development of the thought of the death of feelings is accompanied by a deep emotional experience.

"Confession" (1823). In this, one of the most famous elegies, faith in love and its very possibility turns out to be an illusion, a “deceit”, and not at all because the hero is a traitor (“I am not captivated by another beauty ...”) or he has no desire to love. On the contrary, he appreciates “the beautiful fire of My original love” and wants to love (“The soul of love desires…”). Baratynsky "builds a paradoxical situation of a love elegy already without love."

The love elegy is dedicated not to a declaration of love, but to a declaration of dislike. In a sad story about a lost feeling, both ardent initial love, and a sweet image of a beloved, and former dreams are a sad story of two people. The hero's love perishes in the most ordinary circumstances, and the hero who lives in them is also ordinary. This everydayness of life deprives the situation and the lyrical hero, as well as the elegy, of conventions, giving it a typical generalization: the hero is like everyone else, and what happened to him is a pattern. Not without reason, concluding the elegy, Baratynsky directly passes from the lyrical “I” to the lyrical “we” (“We are not in power in ourselves ...”), giving a generally significant meaning to the psychological analysis of individual experience.

The immersion of the situation and the hero in ordinary life, in ordinary circumstances, however, has one peculiarity. Their action is independent of the hero and is equated with the power of fate. They gravitate over the hero as a fatal and ruthless force, depriving him of the will to freely dispose of himself (“We are not powerful in ourselves ...”). The hero feels that the "complete victory" of the "all-seeing fate" over him will soon come. The bitterness he feels is unconditional: he is forced to submit to the common fate. Typical generalization, therefore, appears with a negative sign - a person loses originality, originality. But it is also foolish to oppose the universal lot, since it is inevitable. The heroine must also obey the general laws of human existence, and she must pacify the “barren sadness” with her mind.

Baratynsky, earlier than other romantics, saw the limit placed on the personal will of a person. In his illustrious elegies, he cast aside any illusion that man, by his right and whim, is capable of creating a personal destiny or changing the face of the world. On the contrary, he himself is a fertile and malleable material for the "laws" and circumstances that mold his spiritual image, so suspiciously similar to others. The psychologically accurate transmission of the secret twists of the soul, their fearless rational analysis and the uncompromisingness of the bleak results distinguish Baratynsky's elegies from examples of this popular genre in the 1820s.

In the elegies of Baratynsky, a complete history of feeling is given - from its fullness to its disappearance. The moment of experiencing is always psychologically dramatic and ends with hopeless sadness, but not hopeless - the loss of a feeling opens a new life path. Analyzing the psychological state in its variability, Baratynsky directly compares and collides similar and even fused concepts, restoring the lost meanings of words. The combination “excitement of love”, which is common in elegiac lyrics, for example, breaks up into two words, partly opposed to each other (“There is only excitement in my soul, And you will not awaken love”). According to the same principle, co- and oppositions are formed: “a scoundrel, not a traitor”, “happiness” - “embarrassment”, “hearts” - “lots” (cf.: “connect hearts”, “connect destinies”), “not tenderness" - "whim". Thanks to their analytical nature, love elegies moved from the genre of erotic poetry to the genre of psychological lyrics.

In the elegies of Baratynsky, it was not only about personal love experience - the elegies turned into lyrical reflections on the fate of a person in general, on the death of beautiful ideals, regardless of the will of the individual. The loss of love is motivated by the position of the hero, who changed his soul "in the storms of life", and is inserted into a wider frame of human destinies and relationships. This content, which included philosophical overtones, restructured the love elegy, expanded its genre possibilities and linked it with the meditative-philosophical elegy.

Thus, the love elegy, saturated with psychological and philosophical content, turned into a philosophical and psychological elegy. The poet discovered real contradictions in the soul of a contemporary person and made them the subject of an objective analysis. The result of the analysis was a broad generalization: no matter how much modern man consoles himself with sweet illusions, the truth emerges regardless of his will. Thanks to its philosophical understanding, elegiac sadness is understood by Baratynsky not as a temporary and private feeling of a person of his era, but as a universal sign of human existence, a universal emotional sign of human destiny. From this point of view, Baratynsky's work is fundamentally elegiac, and elegy became for the poet not one of the many genres or dominant among others equal to him, but the philosophical, moral and philosophical and psychological aspect of comprehending life, which Pushkin immediately noticed (“Hamlet-Baratynsky "). The elegy, having determined the dominant tone of the lyrics, outgrew the boundaries of the genre and became the principle of understanding and expressing life. According to N. Melgunov, the lover of wisdom, Baratynsky turned from a singer of personal sadness into "an elegiac poet of modern humanity."

Scientific work on the topic

"Genre of elegy in the work of E.A. Baratynsky and A.S. Pushkin"

Content

IIntroduction ……………………………………………………………………………………….3
IIMain part

The genre of elegy in the works of E. Baratynsky and A. Pushkin……………………………….4

Artistic principles of Baratynsky E.A. and Pushkin A.S.………………...5

Comparative analysis of poems ………………………………………………..7

IIIConclusion………………………………………………………………………………….11

IVReferences ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Introduction

The history of the elegy has more than one millennium. Being a dynamic genre, the elegy differs significantly in certain historical epochs and in different national traditions. One should not be embarrassed by the fact that the elegy genre can be immediately represented by several genre varieties. Thus, the elegy, the most widespread lyrical genre of the era of romanticism, in Russian poetry of the early nineteenth century appears mainly in the form of a cemetery elegy (in the spirit of T. Gray's Rural Cemetery). In the 1810s-1820s, the form of a dull elegy begins to dominate, which received its classical expression in lyrics. By the mid-1820s, the crisis of the elegiac genre was already palpably evident.

Addressing this topic seems relevant to us, primarily because interest in the creative heritage of Pushkin and Baratynsky always remains unchanged. In addition, in recent years, tendencies to rethink the love content of the works of many authors are increasingly manifested.

Target:

– to identify the features of the love genre in the lyrics of E. Baratynsky and A. Pushkin

– be able to analyze text

-ideological and thematic (images and motives)

-lexico-stylistic (vocabulary and syntax)

- metric-rhythmic (metric and rhythmic)

Ah, he loved, as in our summers

They no longer love; as one

The mad soul of a poet

Still condemned to love ...

A.S. Pushkin

The genre of elegy in the work of E. Baratynsky and A. Pushkin

Beginning of the 19th century. This time is characterized by an orientation against the dogma of classicism, established art forms and attitudes towards reality. It was at this time that a new trend in literature and art arose - romanticism, for the artistic system of which the main value is a person and his inner world, the relationship of a person with the outside world.

The man felt himself a bearer of lofty and humane ideas. The feeling of freedom, independence, personal dignity inspired a person. Historical events began to be viewed through the prism of personal consciousness. This new consciousness led to a radical restructuring of the entire former poetic system. At this time, a new, romantic type of thinking appears. Therefore, the most popular lyrical genre at that time was the elegy - a lyrical poem imbued with sad moods.

Elegy is a very dynamic genre and differs significantly in different historical eras. In addition, the elegy genre can be immediately represented by several genre varieties. So, at the beginning of the 19th century it was mainly a cemetery elegy, in the 1810s - 1920s the form of a dull elegy began to dominate (V.A. Zhukovsky), at the same time there is a historical (or epic) elegy (K.N. Batyushkov) . By the middle of the 1920s, the crisis of the elegiac genre had already begun to manifest itself tangibly due to the isolation of the elegiac type of consciousness, its exclusive focus on itself. However, the work of the leading poets of the era, A. Pushkin and E. Baratynsky, showed that the elegy has not yet exhausted all its possibilities.

But it is one thing to theoretically recognize the historical variability of the genre, its dynamic nature, and another (and much more complicated) thing is to explain the very mechanism of this variability in the individual artistic practice of poets, in the concretely unfolding dynamics of the "essential life of the work."

Let us continue the conversation that has already begun about the genre of elegy in the poetry of Pushkin and Baratynsky. An analysis of the specific lyrical works of these authors will make it possible to clarify the very definition of the nature of the elegiac genre, because the idea of ​​an elegy widely held in the school environment as a "song of sad content" (V. G. Belinsky), from our point of view, cannot withstand any serious criticism.

What new things did Baratynsky and Pushkin bring to the genre of elegy? What are the features of his elegiac genre? These are the questions that, in our opinion, determine the relevance of the chosen topic. And these are the questions we will try to answer.

2. Artistic principles of Baratynsky E.A. and Pushkin A.S.

The work of E. Baratynsky is one of the most peculiar phenomena of the Russian romantic movement.

On the one hand, Baratynsky is a romantic, a poet of modern times, who exposed the internally contradictory, complex and bifurcated spiritual world of a contemporary person, reflecting the loneliness of this person in his work. After all, the deep social contradictions of Russian and European life, which led to the crisis of enlightenment thought and to a romantic reaction to it, did not pass by the mind of the poet. But on the other hand, this is a poet, whose works are characterized by the desire for a psychological disclosure of feelings, philosophy. Unlike romantics, he prefers the truth obtained by reason, and not "dream" and "dream", which perish at the first collision with real life. The lyrical hero of Baratynsky does not escape reality into the world of dreams and dreams, most often he is sober and cold, and not passionate.

In the elegies, the hero of Baratynsky not only expresses his emotions, but also analyzes and reflects; he appears as a person full of hesitation, contradictions, inner turmoil:

I am filled with passionate longing,

But no! I won't forget my mind...

(“To me with a noticeable rapture…”)

One of the main themes of his elegies is the collision of a lyrical hero, full of dreamy ideals, with harsh reality, with a cold life experience that only causes disappointment:

Deception has disappeared, there is no happiness! and with me

One love, one despair...

("This kiss, bestowed by you...")

The hero of his poetry can no longer entertain himself with illusions and self-deception. He looks at the world soberly and warily.

On the other hand, another key theme of Baratynsky's lyrics can be considered an analysis of his own duality, inconsistency, and hesitation:

With longing for joy I look,

Her radiance is not for me,

And I hope in vain

In my sick soul I wake up ...

Everything seems to me: I'm happy with a mistake,

And fun does not suit me.

(“He is close, the day of rendezvous is near…”)

Thus, we can conclude that the lyrics of E. Baratynsky are very personal, psychological, but at the same time philosophical.

How is this synthesis of lyrics and philosophy achieved? In his work, Baratynsky primarily focuses on the semantic expressiveness of the word, its content. Hence the capacity of phrases, the depth of metaphors and generalizations, which sometimes take the form of aphorisms:

May life give joy to the living,

And death itself will teach them how to die.

("Scull")

Powerless in themselves

And, in our young years,

We make hasty vows

Funny, maybe all-seeing fate.

("Confession")

Critics note the high intelligence of Baratynsky's poems. Baratynsky believed that his poetry is not serving the vain needs of society, but the desire to understand the essence of life

Pushkin A.S. also works in the genre of love elegy, he completes the era of this genre, since he has already exhausted all images and ideas. Pushkin's love lyrics are extremely rich and diverse. She has a number of features. One of them is outwardness. In other words, the poet violates the canons that existed before and completely subordinates the form to the content (there is no clear division into elegy, message, romance, etc.). This applies to all of Pushkin's lyrics, and in particular to love lyrics. For example, the famous poem "K ****" (to Anna Petrovna Kern) on the one hand is a message, but on the other has certain features of a romance and even an elegy.

In addition to innovation in the field of form, Pushkin creates a completely new system of values, and here he first of all moves in the direction opposite to romanticism, starting from it and opposing worldly wisdom to it. The poet recognizes the beloved's right to choose, even if it is not in his favor. A typical example is the poem "I loved you ..." (1829). The standard situation, when it turns out that the chosen one of the poet has fallen out of love with him, is covered in a completely different way than among romantics (and sentimentalists). For romantics, such a plot is a source of tragedy, giving rise to a whole whirlwind of passions, when the enemy is stabbed to death in a duel, and sometimes they themselves sacrifice their lives, and so on. This situation receives a completely different light from Pushkin. The poet does not curse his beloved for leaving him, he understands that "you cannot command the heart." On the contrary, he is grateful to her for the bright feeling with which she lit up his soul. His love is, first of all, love for his chosen one, and not for himself and his feelings.

According to Pushkin, love is not an anomaly, not a psychosis (as is often the case with romantics), but the natural state of a person's soul. Love is a feeling, even if it is not mutual, that brings joy, not suffering. Pushkin treats life with reverence, perceiving it as an amazing divine gift, and love as a kind of concentrated, heightened sense of life.

3. Comparative analysis of poems

We preferred the poems "Confession" by Pushkin and "Confession" by Baratynsky as the basis for the comparative characteristics of love lyrics.

Before me are two works with the same title: "Confession" by Pushkin and "Confession" by Baratynsky.

The similarities of both poems are as follows: by nature, both works are lyrical poetry, by genre - elegy. In both poems, lyrical heroes express them very frankly, open the innermost corners of their souls.

The difference between the poems lies in the fact that if the "Confession" of the lyrical hero Pushkin is a touching, tender confession of true love, then Baratynsky's love has already passed:

And, no urine, I want to say

My angel, how I love you!

And your sweet image

And old dreams

My memories are lifeless

In the works, a different attitude of lyrical heroes can be traced both to life and to the beloved. So, Pushkin's lyrical hero is an endless romantic, longing for life, love:

My angel, I'm not worthy of love

But pretend! This look

Everything can express such a miracle!

Oh, it's not hard to deceive me!

I'm glad to be deceived!

Favorite for the lyrical hero of Pushkin - "heavenly deity".

I am in tenderness, silently, gently

I love you like a child!

And Baratynsky is sad:

Sorrow barren mind pacify

And do not enter, I pray, in a vain court

With me

We are not in control of ourselves

And, in our young dreams,

We make hasty vows

Funny, maybe all-seeing fate

It seems to amuse him that the once beloved will be upset

And the news will come to you, but do not envy us

There will be no exchange of secret thoughts between us

The traditional elegy generally avoided motivating the situation: it was set from the beginning, and its background, as a rule, was insignificant for the poet. In Baratynsky, the artistic emphasis lies on psychological motivation. The elegy ceases to be static; it turns into a kind of biography of the hero in miniature. “Confession” (1823) is one of the most perfect examples of such a biography, about which Pushkin wrote: ““Recognition” is perfection. After him, I will never print my elegies ... ". In this elegy, Baratynsky refers to the traditional theme of love cooling, but unlike the “dull elegiacs”, he does not so much describe it as explain it. The fading of the feeling of love is not a consequence of "guilt", "betrayal" or even "loss of youth"; it comes about by itself, by the force of time and distance, because the most spiritual life is subject to the operation of the fatal and universal law of life. This feeling of an irresistible beginning - "fate", dominating the personality, gives Baratynsky's elegies a special philosophical coloring. The lyrical theme of painfully resisting, but yielding and fading emotion accompanies the "voice of reason", the elegy becomes internally dramatic.

Pushkin, in his poem "Confession", reproduces with amazing accuracy, sometimes reaching emblematic expression, the genre face of the elegy: a bizarre combination of tears that have not yet dried up in the eyes and a smile already blooming on the lips. The very transitivity of the elegiac state, the mixed nature of the feelings of the lyrical subject, is emphasized in Pushkin by the grammatical form of the imperative mood, promising a desirable, but in many ways still inaccessible perspective (“Alina! have pity on me; / But pretend! This look / Everything can be expressed so wonderfully! / Ah , it’s not difficult to deceive me! .. / I’m glad to be deceived myself!”), which indicates the instability of the acquired harmony, the fragility of the poetic dream itself.

Consider the features of the artistic system and poetics of E. Baratynsky and A.S. Pushkin on the example of the analysis of the elegies "Reassurance" and "I loved you."

At first glance, we see in these elegies the conflict of the lyrical hero with the outside world, which is characteristic of all romantics, the departure of the lyrical hero into the dream world

(... the patient / Do not disturb him in his slumber! / I sleep, sleep is sweet to me ...)

The theme of the elegies is the experiences of the lyrical hero, who experienced disappointment in this life. But on closer examination, it turns out that experiences are subject to analysis. Already from the first lines it becomes clear that the lyrical hero, addressing a woman, is well aware that she does not love him, this is just a whim, she does not need his sincere feelings:

Don't tempt me unnecessarily

The return of your tenderness ...

Feelings are gone, it's just an imitation. Those feelings, deep and strong, apparently, once turned out to be a deception, a dream (And I can’t indulge again / Once I changed my dreams!) And the lyrical hero does not want to be in this “deception” again. He is not to blame for not believing in “assurances”, “does not believe in love”, does not believe in “experienced dreams”. He just submits to the general course of life, in which happiness is impossible, true love is also impossible:

In my soul there is one excitement

And you will not awaken love.

"Excitement" instead of love. High feelings turned into a deception for him, and only some half-feelings remained. Therefore, the lyrical hero is disappointed, and the “former” only “multiplies” his already “blind longing”. The lyrical hero does not want to remember what he experienced, since these experiences only bring him pain, so he calls himself "sick" and asks him "not to disturb" in his "drowse".

We see how throughout the poem the feeling loses its spirituality. The semantic series built in the elegy convinces us of this: tenderness - seduction - assurances - love - dreams - blind longing - sick - drowsiness - experienced dreams - one excitement. In order to build it, you need a deep analysis of your experiences. Perhaps that is why literary scholars and critics have repeatedly expressed the idea that “in Baratynsky’s elegies, a complete “history” of feeling is given, as it were, from its fullness to the disappearance and the emergence of a new emotional experience.” (V.I. Korovin)

The elegy is clearly divided into two parts. If in the first part (1.2 quatrains) the lyrical hero talks about what was, about former feelings (tenderness, love, etc.), then in the second part (3.4 quatrains) we see what has become, Or rather, what is left of these feelings. And the hero reflects not on the past, but on what this “past” has led to (longing, drowsiness, etc.). Former feelings are important only because they need to be comprehended, thought over, understood, comprehended and concluded: love can no longer be returned, not “awakened”.

If you pay attention to the syntax, you can see that the lyrical hero speaks of past feelings with enthusiasm, excitedly: this is evidenced by the exclamation marks that end the first two quatrains. Memories of these feelings cause a storm of emotions in the hero, but cause pain. He seems to be trying to convince or justify his current state. In the third quatrain, which also ends with an exclamation point, the subject has already changed, but the hero has not yet calmed down, he is still under the power of emotions. And in this light, the appeal "caring friend" sounds even sarcastic. But at the end of the poem, we see that the lyrical hero is already cold and reasonable. He made a decision: he does not want to return to that deceitful world of "dreams" in which he had previously been. The lyrical hero, albeit disappointed, albeit without love, remains in the real world. And even if life without love is also “sleeping”, “drowsiness”, nevertheless the hero remains in it with his thoughts, with his “blind longing”. Therefore, at the end of the elegy there is no longer an exclamation point, but there is a period, indicating that the last quatrain is a kind of conclusion from the previous analysis of one's own experiences.

Now the title of the poem becomes clear. To disbelieve means to deprive of confidence, to deprive of faith. Consequently, the lyrical hero ceases to believe in bright sincere feelings, in ideals, in human relationships. And he puts an end to the question of his experiences. After all, the story is told in the first person, which means that the hero speaks about his own experiences. He lost faith in the existence of happiness and chose for himself "a different path."

Thus, we can say that the very thought of the death of a genuine feeling becomes the subject of the poem. And elegiacity is achieved precisely by the fact that the logical development of the thought of the death of feelings is accompanied by a deep emotional experience.

The poem "I loved you ..." is a short story about unrequited love. It strikes us with its nobility and true humanity of feelings. The unrequited love of the poet is devoid of any selfishness:

I loved you: love still, perhaps

In my soul it has not completely died out;

But don't let it bother you anymore;

I don't want to make you sad.

Letters to Caroline Sobanskaya (the poem is dedicated to her), the poet admits that he experienced all her power over himself, moreover, he owes her that he knew all the shudders and torments of love, and to this day he feels fear in front of her, which he cannot overcome, and begs for friendship , which he craves, like a beggar begging for a slice.

Realizing that his request is very banal, he nevertheless continues to pray: "I need your closeness", "my life is inseparable from yours."

The lyrical hero in this poem is a noble, selfless man, ready to leave his beloved woman. Therefore, the poem is permeated with a feeling of great love in the past and a restrained, careful attitude towards the beloved woman in the present. He truly loves this woman, takes care of her, does not want to disturb and sadden her with his confessions, he wants her future chosen one's love for her to be as sincere and tender as the poet's love.

I loved you silently, hopelessly,

Either timidity or jealousy languish;

I loved you so sincerely, so tenderly,

How God forbid you loved to be different.

The poem "I loved you ..." is written in the form of a message. It is small in size. The genre of a lyrical poem requires brevity from the poet, causes compactness and at the same time capacity in the ways of conveying thoughts, special pictorial means, and increased accuracy of the word.

To convey the depth of his feelings, Pushkin uses such words as: silently, hopelessly, sincerely, tenderly.

The poem is written in two-syllable size - iambic, the rhyme is cross (1 - 3 lines, 2 - 4 lines). Of the visual means in the poem, the metaphor “love has faded” is used.

The lyrics, which glorified love for a woman, are closely connected with the universal culture. Joining the high culture of feelings through the work of our great poets, learning examples of their heartfelt experiences, we learn spiritual subtlety and sensitivity, the ability to experience.

Conclusion

So, the examples of Pushkin's and Baratynsky's elegies we have examined convince us that the genre of elegy in its historical development reveals extraordinary dynamism, joining with various themes, from love to philosophical. Being subjected to a significant transformation, changing almost beyond recognition (if we proceed from the canonical ideas about the genre), the elegy in all its individual modifications still remains a single genre. Here is what Yu. N. Tynyanov wrote about the laws of genre development: “It is impossible to imagine a genre as a static system, if only because the very consciousness of a genre arises as a result of a collision with a traditional genre (i.e., the feeling of replacing at least a partial traditional genre with a “new ", taking its place). The whole point here is that the new phenomenon replaces the old, takes its place and, not being a "development" of the old, is at the same time its deputy. When this "replacement" is absent, the genre as such disappears , breaks up."

At the same time, here's what is remarkable: renewing everything in new and new forms, in other words, constantly "shifting", the elegy presupposes something stable and unchanging. This is what M. M. Bakhtin called "memory of the genre." Figuratively, this could be represented as follows: there is no genre proper in the structure of the work under study, but there is a “shadow” that this genre casts. No matter how unrecognizable the genre face of this or that work may seem to us, the "memory of the genre" still remains in it: it forms the stable background of the genre tradition, against which emerging structural and content innovations are more clearly shaded.

And one more very important consideration. The mechanism of genre dynamics in modern poetry is the phenomenologization of genre consciousness. The life of the genre takes place in the creative mind of the poet. This, in fact, is the reason for the constant "displacement" of the genre in the process of its existence (what V. N. Turbin called "the reversibility of the genre, its ability to turn into other genres, the ability to be born, grow stronger, assert itself, and then die, preventing others from living "). The history of Pushkin's elegy eloquently testifies that the task worthy of a modern poet is not the reproduction of stable canonical models, not the slavish imitation of classical models (all this would look like more or less successful stylization at best), but the search for an individual authorial genre, revealing it. unique phenomenological experience.

Bibliography

O. V. Zyryanov Pushkin's phenomenology of the elegiac genre Izvestiya uralskogo gos. University No. 11 (1999) Problems of education, science and culture. Release 6

Materials from the site

Materials from the site

Vatsuro V.E Lyrics of Pushkin's time. "Elegiac School" 1994.

Gukovsky G.A. Pushkin and Russian Romantics.

Baratynsky E.A. Poems. Poems. - M., 1982.

Elegy (And cramped and stuffy...)

Nikolay Yazykov

And it's cramped and stuffy for me in the mountains -
In deep caves, in granite hollows;
I grew up in bright hills and plains
Used to wander, roam my eyes;
To me the vaults of heaven so high, high
They shone open - back and forth,
Along the edge of heaven so that the ridge stretches
Wooded hillocks, blue in the distance,
Long away; the chest breathes more freely there!
And mountains and mountains ... they press like that
My soul, severe: as if forced
They are the way to my homeland!

Elegy(Crush, crush, night wave...)

Mikhail Lermontov

Crush, crush, night wave,
And irrigate the shores in the foggy darkness with foam.
I am standing here near the sea on a rock;
I stand, thoughtful.
One; leaving the world, and alien to people,
And not wanting to believe anyone longing.
Near me are the fishermen's tents;
A hospitable fire shines between them,
The careless family sits around the light;
And, listening to the story of the old man,
He is preparing a smoky dinner for himself!
But I'm far from happy with their soul,
I remember the glitter of the deceitful capital,
Merry pernicious irretrievable swarm.
So what? - a tear runs from the eyelashes.
And my regret disturbs my chest,
The years of the lost are hourly;
And this look, thoughtful and clear -
I repeat, I repeat to my soul: forget it.
He is all in front of me: I repeat everything in vain! ..
Oh, if I was born in this place,
Where insidiousness does not live among people: -
How much I would have been borrowed by fate -
- Now she has no right to gratitude!
How pitiful is the one whose youth brought
An extra wrinkle for an old brow,
And taking away all sweet desires,
She gave one sad repentance;
Who felt like me - to feel suffering,
Who soon recognized the light - and with a terrible emptiness
How I left the shore of my native land
For voluntary exile!

Elegy(No, not to be what was before! ..)

Evgeny Baratynsky

No, not to be what was before!
What's in my happiness? My soul is dead!
"Hope, friend!" my friends told me. Is it too late to give me hope
When I am almost unable to wish?
I am burdened by their immodest fate,
And every day I am poorer in faith to them.
What is in the void of their incoherent speeches?
A long time ago I said goodbye to happiness,
Desirable to my blind soul!
Only after him with dull voluptuousness
I look into the distance of my past days.
So gentle friend, in insensible oblivion,
Still looking at the swell of blue waves,
On a wet path, where in the dark distance
Long gone departed friendly canoe.

Elegy(For a brief moment, joy captivates in life ...)

Evgeny Baratynsky

For a brief moment, joy captivates in life,
Days of happiness flash by invisibly;
As soon as they shine, they will disappear.
For a brief moment, I recognized love as a sweetness:
Oh dear friend, you are no longer with me!
He has already disappeared - instant bliss,
And I'm alone, and on a cramped chest
An annual longing for separation lies.

Where are you, where are you, charm love?
Hasn't eternity passed between us?
Has life been happiness to me for an hour?
Are there only desires left for me?
I had everything, suddenly lost everything;
As soon as the dream began, the dream disappeared.
One now dull embarrassment
It remains for me from my happiness!

Boris Pasternak

There were days: like knocked out skittles
They lay down in the snow for the twelfth day.
I saw moments of localism avoided,
There was every dusk around noon around me.

And in the wastelands of unintentional games
You were lost, your aiming eye.
Now the coming dumb paralysis
Your cruel refusal shook me.

Farewell. Let! I dedicate myself to a miracle.
Shuffle the days, I'll go for centuries.
Farewell. Let. Now I'll start from there
Holy dates to crush the ridge.

Elegy (The storm of the people is still silent...)

Nikolay Yazykov

The storm of the people is still silent,
The Russian mind is still bound,
And oppressed freedom
Conceals impulses of bold thoughts.
O! long chain age old
They will not fall from the ramen of the homeland,
Centuries pass ominously, -
And Russia will not wake up!

Elegy(The grove was dozing over the stream ..)

Evgeny Baratynsky

The grove dozed over the stream;
Silence fell on the hills;
Everything was dozing - but in vain sleep
I waited on a bed alone.
Sons of my sick soul,
Sons of the midnight vigil -
Around the obscure crowd
Vague visions flickered.
Everything is deceived, I thought,
What a fiery heart lived,
What delighted, what tormented,
And my youth withers!
Slave of the gloomy truth,
From now on with an idle soul,
Light swarm of live delights
I will be replaced by a cold thought
And the hearts of dead silence!
Then with a treacherous smile
Cupid suddenly appeared.
What are you sighing about, he said,
What are you sad about, ungrateful?
Forget sad dreams
I'm forever young - and I'm with you!
You are still a baby at heart;
You do not trust me? - Look at Chloe!

Elegy(The hour of goodbye is already near! ..)

Evgeny Baratynsky

The hour of goodbye is near!
I will see you, my friend!
How my chest agitates
Longing vague expectation!
Native hut, native land,
From the shrouds of familiar oak forests,
Where innocent fun
Flew to us at your voice -
I will see them! priceless friend,
Why is the prophetic heart sad?
Well, a clear day is not fun
Souls for the awakened happiness!
With longing for joy, I look:
Her radiance is not for me!
And I hope in vain
I wake up in my exhausted soul.
Sorrow exhausted all feelings,
The spirit is sick with a gloomy dream;
Maybe it's too late, dear friend,
And joy visited me:
I don't quite enjoy
Her captivating smile;
Everything seems to me, I'm happy with a mistake,
And fun does not suit me!

elegiac poem

Yaroslav Smelyakov

Have you ever fallen in love
I'm just sad if not -
When you were almost twenty
Is she almost forty years old?

And if it was
You never forgot
How hastily she loved
And you loved without memory.

When did we stop
Seek their response
They silently let us go
Without going back.

And yesterday, gloomy, dry,
Entering a small hall
I am a hopeless old woman
I saw among the young women.

And suddenly, even though it's in the old style,
Amidst the bustle and beauty
I was stunned like thunder
Half-forgotten traits.

And going to you through the noise of the market,
Like a fading dawn
I bow gratefully
And I don't say anything

Only with pleasure and torment,
Forgetting sorrows and deeds,
I kiss the old hand
What was a white pen.

Elegy

Anton Delvig

When, soul, you asked
Die or love
When wishes and dreams
You were crowded to live,
When I didn't drink tears
From the cup of life, -
Why then, in a wreath of roses,
I did not go to the shadows!

Why are you drawn like this
In my memory
A single youth sign
You songs of yesteryear!
I bitterly dales and forests
And I forgot the cute look, -
Why are your voices
Saved my hearing!

Do not return happiness to me
At least it breathes in you!
With him in flashed antiquity
I forgave a long time ago.
Don't break it, I pray
You are the sleep of my soul
And the terrible words "I love"
Don't tell her!

Elegy

Nikolai Nekrasov

Let the changing fashion tell us
What is the theme of the old "suffering of the people"
And that poetry must forget it.
Don't believe me guys! she doesn't age.
Oh, if years could age her!
God's world would flourish!... Alas! while the nations
Dragging in poverty, submitting to scourges,
Like lean herds across mowed meadows,
Mourn their fate, the muse will serve them,
And in the world there is no stronger, more beautiful union! ...
To remind the crowd that the people are in poverty,
While she rejoices and sings,
To excite the attention of the mighty of the world to the people -
What better service could the lyre serve?...

I dedicated the lyre to my people.
Perhaps I will die unknown to him,
But I served him - and my heart is calm ...
Let not every warrior harm the enemy,
But everyone go to battle! And fate will decide the battle ...
I saw a red day: there is no slave in Russia!
And I shed sweet tears in tenderness ...
"It's enough to rejoice in a naive passion, -
Muse whispered to me. - It's time to go forward:
The people are liberated, but are the people happy?

Do I listen to the songs of the reapers over the golden harvest,
Is the old man walking slowly behind the plow,
Does it run through the meadow, playing and whistling,
Happy child with father's breakfast,
Do the sickles sparkle, do the scythes ring together -
I'm looking for answers to my secret questions
Boiling in the mind: "In recent years
Have you become more tolerable, peasant suffering?
And the long slavery that came to replace
Has freedom finally made a difference
In people's destinies? into the tunes of rural maidens?
Or is their discordant melody just as sorrowful? .. "

Evening is coming. Driven by dreams
Through the fields, through the meadows lined with haystacks,
Thoughtfully wandering in the cool semi-darkness,
And the song itself is composed in the mind,
Recent, secret thoughts, a living embodiment:
I call blessings on rural labors,
I promise curses to the people's enemy,
And I pray to a friend in heaven of power,
And my song is loud!.. It is echoed by valleys, fields,
And the echo of distant mountains sends her feedback,
And the forest responded... Nature listens to me,
But the one about whom I sing in the evening silence
To whom are the dreams of the poet dedicated,
Alas! he does not heed - and does not give an answer ...

Elegy (God knows, is it not in vain ...)

Nikolay Yazykov

God knows, did not wander in vain
I have been in foreign countries for many years!
My rainy day did not clear up,
I have no consolation.
Sad, tremulous and languid
Back to my father's house
I hasten like a bird to a secluded bush
Hurrying, clogged with rain.

Psychodiachronology: Psychohistory of Russian Literature from Romanticism to the Present Day Smirnov Igor Pavlovich

6. Pushkin and Baratynsky: "Despondency", "Elegy" / "Elegy"

6. Pushkin and Baratynsky: "Despondency", "Elegy" / "Elegy"

6.1. In the poem "Fun of Crazy Years Faded Joy..." (1830), Pushkin intertextually synthesizes two elegies by Baratynsky (both written in 1821):

A cheerful noise dispels the sadness of the feasts.

Yesterday, behind a circular bowl,

Among the regimental brothers, drowning your mind in it,

I wanted to resurrect my soul.

The midnight mist lay on the hills;

The tents dozed over the lake,

Only we did not know sleep - and a foamy glass

They drained it with wild joy.

But what? I wanted to live outside myself in vain:

We praised wine and Bacchus,

But I joylessly sang joy with my friends:

Their enthusiasm was foreign to me.

You can't buy what the heart doesn't give you.

Rock is vicious towards us, jealously vicious,

One sadness, one despondency

A dull person is capable of feeling.

No, not to be what was before!

What's in my happiness? My soul is dead!

"Hope, friend!" my friends told me:

Is it too late to give me hope

When I am almost unable to wish?

I am burdened by their immodest fate,

And every day I am poorer in faith to them.

What is in the void of their incoherent speeches?

A long time ago I said goodbye to happiness,

Desirable to my blind soul!

Only after him with dull voluptuousness

I look along my past days.

So gentle friend, in insensible oblivion,

Still looking at the swell of blue waves,

On a wet path, where in the dark distance

The friendly boat that had departed had long since disappeared.

Crazy years faded fun

It's hard for me, like a vague hangover.

But, like wine - the sadness of bygone days

In my soul, the older, the stronger.

My path is sad. Promises me labor and sorrow

The coming turbulent sea.

But I don't want, oh friends, to die;

I want to live in order to think and suffer,

And I know I will enjoy

Between sorrows, worries and anxiety:

Sometimes I'll get drunk again with harmony,

I will shed tears over fiction,

And maybe - at my sad sunset

Love will shine with a farewell smile.

From “Despondency” by Baratynsky, Pushkin assimilates the theme of intoxication, which does not bring joy to the lyrical subject: “feasts happy noise", "... foamy glass C fun violently drained”, “But I joylessly sang joy with my friends”? "extinct fun It’s hard for me, like a vague hangover” (Pushkin dates the posttext to the situation (hangover) that should come after the one that Baratynsky had in mind); "over the cup<…>in it drowning your mind» ? « Crazy years<…>fun"; " Despondency one Sad able to feel? "My way dull».

Pushkin’s Elegy intersects with Baratynsky’s Elegy, depicting a lyrical subject sadly recalling the past: “with dull voluptuousness I look along my past days» ? "sorrow past days” (cf. the intertextual rhyme “poorer / my / days” // “days / stronger”) and metaphorizing life as a sea route: “... tender friend<…>looks at the ripples of the blue waves, Wet path» ? "My path sad. Promises me the work and grief of the Coming rough sea».

6.2. Elegies in general and Baratynsky's elegies in particular report, as already mentioned, about the irreparability of any absence (in Baratynsky, "joy" and "happiness" are irreplaceable). In Pushkin's Elegy, the subject is not completely alienated from values, not plunged into despair, they are available to him, but either as a fictional world (“I will shed tears over fiction”; cf. above about sublimation and the castration complex), or as an object of short-term possession ( “... at my sad sunset Love will flash with a farewell smile”), Pushkin complicates the genre of elegy, turning it from a purely lamentation into an ambiguous apotheosis of being, so that the elegiac lack of value is eliminated, but at the same time it does not degenerate into a stable possession of a desired object.

6.3. Baratynsky, for his part, did not shy away (especially in his later work) from a reciprocal rivalry with Pushkin. We will only very briefly touch on one of the cases of such counter poetic competition (this intertextual reaction to the opponent's intertextual action can be called imitatio aemulationis).

Baratynsky's "Babe" (1835) reproduces the organization of Pushkin's "Demons". Both poems consist of seven stanzas, each of which has eight lines, both are written in four-foot trochaic; however, in "The Nedonoska" the alternation of masculine and feminine endings is reversed in relation to the rhyme sequence in "Demons". Lexico-motif coincidences with "Demons" are especially noticeable in the penultimate stanza of "Babe": " The clouds are rolling clouds are winding<…> Rushing swarm after swarm of demons boundless height, With a plaintive squeal and a howl Tearing my heart "? "Planning in longing, I rushing about in the fields of heaven <ср.: „бесы“. - I.S.> above me and in front of me Limitless - close sorrows! AT cloud I hide myself, and in it I'm rushing Alien to the earthly land, The terrible voice of human sorrows The voice of the storm<= эквивалент „визга“ и „воя“. - I.S.> drowning out. In terms of the syntactic structure of these passages, let us pay attention to the relative repetition in the second and sixth verses by Baratynsky (“... I am rushing around” / “I am rushing about, alien ...”), which transforms the complete anaphorism of the first and fifth lines by Pushkin (“Clouds are rushing” / “ Demons rush in).

For all that, in The Possessed, the indefinability of the world is given as a temporary, just-onset state of it; Baratynsky, on the other hand, depicts reality from the point of view of some intermediate being who never had the opportunity to comprehend anything, to partake of anything: “I am from a tribe of spirits<ср.: „Вижу: perfume gathered ... ">, But not an inhabitant of the Empyrean, And, barely up to the clouds Having risen, I will fall, weakening<…>Will I turn to heaven, Will I look back at the earth - Terrible, black here and there<…>I see the world as in darkness; Harp heavenly echo I can hardly hear ... ". Baratynsky's tendency to transcend pretext is that he speaks lyrically from a position from which the world is absolutely unknowable (and not just hie et nunc, as in Pushkin).

From the book Thank You, Thank You for Everything: Collection of Poems author Golenishchev-Kutuzov Ilya Nikolaevich

ELEGY Erato gentle, in the circle of your sisters, Not heeding them, I caught your sad babble. The half-lowered one loved the indistinct gaze And the slightly perceptible trembling of the heart of the roast. Among the late flower gardens, I met you more than once With a smile, both secretive and languishing. And the lyre wept, and your voice

From the book Ballad of Education author Amonashvili Shalva Alexandrovich

DALMATIAN ELEGY An invincible armada of clouds Floats solemnly over Adria at night, Over the hopelessness of deserted islands, Over this hard and bare rock. Let the legendary stars long-faded light, Flickering, silver the pride of vague decks - I lost hope for a long time

From the book Secrets of Geniuses-2, or Wave Paths to Music author Kazinik Mikhail Semenovich

1. Elegy Speak to me - Even if they fall, Even in Urdu! For a long time with you, my friend, we have exhausted the grievances of the burdu. Let my language be clear - Shoulder to shoulder, And so that there would be no white spots On the map of feelings. Why compare: A satellite lunar In the cold heights, I'm all with you,

From the book New Trinkets: A Collection for the 60th Anniversary of V. E. Vatsuro author Peskov Alexey Mikhailovich

Elegy The Wise Man Walks the World The Wise Man came to the big city and stopped at the skyscraper. Help is needed here, he thought. I got into the elevator and went up to the 100th floor. From the apartment, the sage heard his father's cry. The young mother opened the door and smiled sadly. - What do you want, old man? -

From the author's book

Elegy for Grandparents Our parenting will need to be strengthened, especially if we are inexperienced parents. It will need to be replaced when we are at work, on business trips. In this we will be helped, first of all, by our parents, with whom we live together or

From the author's book

Elegy A sage walks the world A woman saw a sage passing by her yard and invited her to rest under the canopy of a walnut tree. Many children played in the yard. The Wise Man asked the woman: - Why are there so many children here? - I adopted and adopted thirty homeless

From the author's book

Elegy The Wise Man Walks the World Pedagogy of the Jungle The Wise Man walked through the village to the East. People surrounded him. - Tell me, are we raising our children correctly? Then he answered them: - Listen to the parable. The king of the jungle, the Great Lion, announced a competition for the best parenting textbook

From the author's book

Elegy Walks the World Sage Divine PedagogyPeople again turned to the Sage: - We don't need jungle pedagogy. Tell us about another pedagogy. The Sage said: - Then listen to another parable. The King of Kings announced a competition for divine Pedagogy. Came to him

From the author's book

Elegy A Sage Walks the World A Sage appeared in the village. A woman gave him a jug of water. She complained: - The eyes of my Child are blind, they do not see parental care. The Sage said: - Anoint the eyes of the Child with your teardrop ten times a day for ten years. - Hardened

From the author's book

Elegy A sage walks around the world A sage sees: mother strongly presses the Child, smacks him on the cheeks, then on the neck, then on the armpits, licks, bites and says with passion: - Oh, you are my life ... My love ... My sun ... My happiness ... My joy ... And the child is suffering, crying,

From the author's book

Elegy A wise man walks around the world A wise man sees: two men in the early morning, each in their own yard, beat their sons with sticks. He asked the men: - What were they guilty of? - Nothing, - both answered. The day is long ... So as not to be guilty. - You do it

From the author's book

Elegy A sage walks around the world A sage passes by a house. He sees: a crowd of women has gathered in the yard, one is tearing the hair of the other, she is screaming, the rest are making noise - they are trying to separate them. They noticed the Sage and called to them. Help, they say, otherwise trouble will happen. The sage approached

From the author's book

Elegy The Wise Man Walks the World The Wise Man went into the park and sat on the edge of the bench. He is waiting. A boy came, sat on the same bench and plunged into sad thoughts. something! the boy suddenly said. The sage

From the author's book

Elegy A sage walks around the world A sage sits on a stone. The villagers gathered around him and complained about their ancestors: - They should have thought about the future when they built the bridge! Couldn't last a hundred years! Today it failed and the children who were returning from

From the author's book

MODULATION TWENTY-SIX. Elegy

From the author's book

A. M. Peskov Pushkin and Baratynsky (Materials on the history of literary relations) This summary of facts was compiled with the participation of Z. K. Kurchikova and is partially based on the already published “Experience of the Chronicle of the Life and Work of E. A. Baratynsky. 1800–1826” (see: Peskov A.M.