Now the current generation sees everything clearly, marvels at the delusions, laughs at the foolishness of its ancestors, it is not in vain that this chronicle is scribbled with heavenly fire, that every letter screams in it, that a piercing finger is directed from everywhere at him, at him, at the current generation; but the current generation laughs and arrogantly, proudly begins a series of new delusions, which will also be laughed at by descendants later. "Dead Souls"
To what? Like an inspiration
Love the given subject!
Like a true poet
Sell your imagination!
I am a slave, a day laborer, I am a merchant!
I owe you, sinner, for gold,
For your worthless piece of silver
Pay the divine price!
"Improvisation I"
Literature is a language that expresses everything that a country thinks, wants, knows, wants and needs to know.
In hearts simple feeling the beauty and grandeur of nature is stronger, more alive a hundred times than in us, enthusiastic storytellers in words and on paper.
"Hero of our time"
Everywhere there is sound, and everywhere there is light,
And all the worlds have one beginning,
And there is nothing in nature
No matter how love breathes.
In the days of doubt, in the days painful thoughts about the fate of my homeland - you are my only support and support, O great, powerful, truthful and free Russian language! Without you, how not to fall into despair at the sight of everything that happens at home? But one cannot believe that such a language was not given to a great people!
Poems in prose "Russian language"
So, complete your dissolute escape,
Prickly snow flies from the bare fields,
Driven by an early, violent blizzard,
And, stopping in the forest wilderness,
Gathering in silver silence
Deep and cold bed.
Listen: shame on you!
It's time to get up! You know yourself
What time has come;
In whom the sense of duty has not cooled down,
Who has an incorruptible heart,
In whom is talent, strength, accuracy,
Tom shouldn't sleep now...
"Poet and Citizen"
Is it possible that even here they will not allow and will not allow the Russian organism to develop nationally, by its organic strength, but certainly impersonally, servilely imitating Europe? But what to do with the Russian organism then? Do these gentlemen understand what an organism is? Separation, "split" from their country leads to hatred, these people hate Russia, so to speak, naturally, physically: for the climate, for the fields, for the forests, for the order, for the liberation of the peasant, for Russian history, in a word, for everything, hate for everything.
Spring! the first frame is exposed -
And noise broke into the room,
And the blessing of the nearby temple,
And the talk of the people, and the sound of the wheel ...
Well, what are you afraid of, pray tell! Now every grass, every flower rejoices, but we hide, we are afraid, just what kind of misfortune! The storm will kill! This is not a storm, but grace! Yes, grace! You are all thunder! Northern lights it will light up, one should admire and marvel at the wisdom: “the dawn rises from the midnight countries”! And you are horrified and come up with: this is for war or for the plague. Whether a comet is coming, I would not take my eyes off! The beauty! The stars have already looked closely, they are all the same, and this is a new thing; Well, I would look and admire! And you are afraid to even look at the sky, you are trembling! From everything you have made yourself a scarecrow. Eh, people! "Thunderstorm"
There is no more enlightening, soul-purifying feeling than the one that a person feels when he gets acquainted with a great work of art.
We know that loaded guns must be handled with care. But we do not want to know that we must treat the word in the same way. The word can both kill and make evil worse than death.
Known trick American journalist, who, in order to increase the subscription to his magazine, began to publish in other publications the most harsh, brazen attacks on himself from fictitious persons: some printed him out as a swindler and perjurer, others as a thief and murderer, and still others as a libertine on a colossal scale. He did not skimp on paying for such friendly advertisements, until everyone thought - yes, it’s obvious that this is a curious and remarkable person when everyone shouts about him like that! - and began to buy up his own newspaper.
"Life in a Hundred Years"
I ... think that I know the Russian person in his very depths, and I do not put myself in any merit for this. I didn’t study the people from conversations with St. Petersburg cabbies, but I grew up among the people, on the Gostomel pasture, with a cauldron in my hand, I slept with him on the dewy grass of the night, under a warm sheepskin coat, and on Panin’s zamashnaya crowd behind circles of dusty manners ...
Between these two colliding titans - science and theology - there is a stunned public, quickly losing faith in the immortality of man and in any deity, quickly descending to the level of a purely animal existence. Such is the picture of the hour illuminated by the radiant midday sun Christian and scientific era!
"Isis Unveiled"
Sit down, I'm glad to see you. Cast away all fear
And you can keep yourself free
I give you permission. You know one of these days
I was elected king by the people,
But it's all the same. They confuse my thought
All these honors, greetings, bows...
"Crazy"
- What do you need abroad? - I asked him at a time when in his room, with the help of servants, his things were being packed and packed for shipment to the Varshavsky railway station.
- Yes, just ... to come to your senses! - He said confusedly and with a kind of dull expression on his face.
"Letters from the Road"
Is it really a matter of going through life in such a way as not to offend anyone? This is not happiness. Hurt, break, break, so that life boils. I am not afraid of any accusations, but a hundred times more than death I am afraid of colorlessness.
Verse is the same music, only combined with the word, and it also needs a natural ear, a sense of harmony and rhythm.
You experience a strange feeling when, with a light touch of your hand, you make such a mass rise and fall at will. When such a mass obeys you, you feel the power of a person ...
"Meeting"
The feeling of the Motherland should be strict, restrained in words, not eloquent, not chatty, not “waving your arms” and not running forward (to show yourself). The feeling of the Motherland should be a great ardent silence.
"Solitary"
And what is the secret of beauty, what is the secret and charm of art: in a conscious, inspired victory over torment or in the unconscious anguish of the human spirit, which sees no way out of the circle of vulgarity, squalor or thoughtlessness and is tragically condemned to seem self-satisfied or hopelessly false.
"Sentimental Remembrance"
Since my birth I have been living in Moscow, but by God I don’t know where Moscow came from, why it is, why, why, what it needs. In the Duma, at meetings, I, along with others, talk about urban economy, but I don’t know how many miles there are in Moscow, how many people there are, how many are born and die, how much we receive and spend, for how much and with whom we trade ... Which city is richer: Moscow or London? If London is richer, then why? And the jester knows him! And when some question is raised in the thought, I shudder and the first one starts shouting: “Submit to the commission! To the commission!
Everything new in the old way:
The modern poet
In a metaphorical outfit
Speech is poetic.
But others are not an example for me,
And my charter is simple and strict.
My verse is a pioneer boy
Lightly dressed, barefoot.
1926
Influenced by Dostoevsky and foreign literature, Baudelaire and Poe, my fascination began not with decadence, but with symbolism (even then I already understood their difference). A collection of poems, published at the very beginning of the 90s, I entitled "Symbols". It seems that I was the first to use this word in Russian literature.
The run of changeable phenomena,
Past those flying, speed up:
Merge into one sunset of accomplishments
With the first gleam of gentle dawns.
From the lower life to the origins
In a moment, a single review:
In the face of a single smart eye
Take your twins.
Immutable and wonderful
Blessed Muse gift:
In the spirit of the form of slender songs,
There is life and heat in the heart of the songs.
"Thoughts on Poetry"
I have a lot of news. And all are good. I'm lucky". I am writing. I want to live, live, live forever. If you only knew how many new poems I have written! More than a hundred. It was crazy, a fairy tale, new. I publish new book, quite different from the previous ones. She will surprise many. I changed my understanding of the world. No matter how funny my phrase sounds, I will say: I understood the world. For many years, perhaps forever.
K. Balmont - L. Vilkina
Man is the truth! Everything is in man, everything is for man! Only man exists, everything else is the work of his hands and his brain! Man! It's great! It sounds... proud!
"At the bottom"
I'm sorry to create something useless and no one needs now. Collection, book of poems given time- most useless useless thing... I do not want to say by this that poetry is not needed. On the contrary, I affirm that poetry is necessary, even necessary, natural and eternal. There was a time when whole books of poetry seemed necessary to everyone, when they were read in full, understood and accepted by everyone. This time is past, not ours. The modern reader does not need a collection of poems!
Language is the history of a people. Language is the path of civilization and culture. Therefore, the study and preservation of the Russian language is not an idle occupation with nothing to do, but an urgent need.
What nationalists, patriots these internationalists become when they need it! And with what arrogance they sneer at the "frightened intellectuals" - as if there is absolutely no reason to be frightened - or at the "frightened townsfolk", as if they have some great advantages over the "philistines". And who, in fact, are these townsfolk, "prosperous philistines"? And who and what do the revolutionaries care about, if they so despise the average person and his well-being?
"Cursed Days"
In the struggle for their ideal, which is “freedom, equality and fraternity”, citizens must use such means that do not contradict this ideal.
"Governor"
“Let your soul be whole or split, let your understanding of the world be mystical, realistic, skeptical, or even idealistic (if you are unhappy before that), let the creative techniques be impressionistic, realistic, naturalistic, the content be lyrical or fabulous, let there be a mood, an impression - whatever you want, but, I beg you, be logical - may this cry of the heart be forgiven me! – are logical in design, in the construction of the work, in syntax.
Art is born in homelessness. I wrote letters and stories addressed to a distant unknown friend, but when a friend came, art gave way to life. Of course I'm not talking about home comfort but about life, which means more than art.
"We are with you. Diary of love"
An artist can do nothing more than open his soul to others. It is impossible to present him with predetermined rules. He is still unknown world where everything is new. We must forget what captivated others, here it is different. Otherwise, you will listen and not hear, you will look without understanding.
From Valery Bryusov's treatise "On Art"
Well, let her rest, she was exhausted - they exhausted her, alarmed her. And as soon as it's light, the shopkeeper will rise, she will begin to fold her goods, she will grab a blanket, she will go, pull out this soft bedding from under the old woman: she will wake the old woman, raise her to her feet: it's not light or dawn, if you please get up. Nothing to do about. In the meantime - grandmother, our Kostroma, our mother, Russia!
"Whirlwind Russia"
Art never speaks to the crowd, to the masses, it speaks individual person, in the deep and hidden recesses of his soul.
Mikhail Andreevich Osorgin (Ilyin) (1878 - 1942)
How strange /.../ How many cheerful and cheerful books there are, how many brilliant and witty philosophical truths - but there is nothing more comforting than Ecclesiastes.
Babkin dared, - read Seneca
And, whistling carcasses,
Take it to the library
In the margins, noting: "Nonsense!"
Babkin, friend, is a harsh critic,
Have you ever thought
What a legless paraplegic
Light chamois is not a decree? ..
"Reader"
.jpg)
A critic's word about a poet must be objectively concrete and creative; the critic, while remaining a scientist, is a poet.
"Poetry of the word"
Only the great is worth thinking about, only big tasks the writer must set himself; set boldly, without being embarrassed by your personal small forces.
“It’s true, there are both goblin and water ones here,” I thought, looking in front of me, “or maybe some other spirit lives here ... A mighty, northern spirit that enjoys this wildness; maybe real northern fauns and healthy, blonde women wandering in these forests, eating cloudberries and lingonberries, laughing and chasing each other.
"North"
You need to be able to close a boring book...leave a bad movie...and part with people who don't value you!
Out of modesty, I will be careful not to point out the fact that on the day of my birth the bells were rung and there was a general rejoicing of the people. Gossips They associated this jubilation with some great holiday that coincided with the day of my birth, but I still don’t understand what else is there to do with this holiday?
That was the time when love, good and healthy feelings were considered vulgar and a relic; no one loved, but all were thirsty and, like poisoned ones, fell to everything sharp, tearing apart the insides.
"The Road to Calvary"
- Well, what's wrong, - I say to myself, - at least in a short word for now? After all, exactly the same form of farewell to friends exists in other languages, and there it does not shock anyone. great poet Walt Whitman, shortly before his death, said goodbye to readers with a touching poem "So long!", Which means in English - "Bye!". The French a bientot has the same meaning. There is no rudeness here. On the contrary, this form is filled with the most gracious courtesy, because here the following (approximately) meaning is compressed: be prosperous and happy until we see each other again.
"Live Like Life"
Switzerland? This is a mountain pasture for tourists. I've traveled all over the world myself, but I hate those ruminant bipeds with a Badaker for a tail. They chewed through the eyes of all the beauties of nature.
"Island of Lost Ships"
Everything that I wrote and will write, I consider only mental rubbish and do not respect my literary merits. And I wonder, and I wonder why in appearance smart people find some meaning and value in my poems. Thousands of poems, whether mine or those poets whom I know in Russia, are not worth one chanter of my bright mother.
I am afraid that Russian literature has only one future: its past.
Article "I'm afraid"
We have been looking for such a lentil-like task for a long time, so that common point the combined rays of the labor of artists and the labor of thinkers would meet in common work and could ignite even the cold substance of ice into a fire. Now such a task - a lentil that guides together your stormy courage and the cold mind of thinkers - has been found. This goal is to create a common written language...
"Artists of the World"
He adored poetry, tried to be impartial in his judgments. He was surprisingly young at heart, and perhaps even in mind. He always looked like a child to me. There was something childish in his clipped head, in his bearing, more like a gymnasium than a military one. He liked to portray an adult, like all children. He loved to play the “master”, the literary bosses of his “humil”, that is, the little poets and poetesses who surrounded him. Poetic children loved him very much.
Khodasevich, "Necropolis"
Me, me, me What a wild word!
Is that one over there really me?
Did mom love this?
Yellow-gray, semi-gray
And omniscient like a snake?
You have lost your Russia.
Did you resist the elements
Good elements of gloomy evil?
Not? So shut up: took away
Your fate is not without a reason
To the edge of an unkind foreign land.
What's the point of groaning and grieve -
Russia must be earned!
"What You Need to Know"
I never stopped writing poetry. For me, they are my connection with time, with new life my people. When I wrote them, I lived by those rhythms that sounded in heroic history my country. I am happy that I lived in these years and saw events that had no equal.
All the people sent to us are our reflection. And they were sent so that we, looking at these people, correct our mistakes, and when we correct them, these people either change too or leave our lives.
In the wide field of Russian literature in the USSR, I was the only one literary wolf. I was advised to dye the skin. Ridiculous advice. Whether a painted wolf or a shorn wolf, he still does not look like a poodle. They treated me like a wolf. And for several years they drove me according to the rules of a literary cage in a fenced yard. I have no malice, but I am very tired ...
From a letter from M. A. Bulgakov to I. V. Stalin, May 30, 1931.
When I die, my descendants will ask my contemporaries: "Did you understand Mandelstam's poems?" - "No, we did not understand his poems." "Did you feed Mandelstam, did you give him shelter?" - "Yes, we fed Mandelstam, we gave him shelter." "Then you are forgiven."
Maybe go to the Press House - there is one sandwich each with salmon caviar and a debate - "about the proletarian choral reading", or to the Polytechnic Museum - there are no sandwiches, but twenty-six young poets read their poems about the "locomotive mass". No, I will sit on the stairs, shivering from the cold and dream that all this is not in vain, that, sitting here on the step, I am preparing the distant sunrise of the Renaissance. I dreamed both simply and in verse, and the result was boring iambs.
"The extraordinary adventures of Julio Jurenito and his students"
Russian writers and poets, whose works are considered classics, today are world famous. The works of these authors are read not only in their homeland - Russia, but all over the world.
Great Russian writers and poets
A well-known fact that has been proven by historians and literary critics: the best works Russian classics were written during the Golden and Silver Ages.
The names of Russian writers and poets, who are among the world classics, are known to everyone. Their work has forever remained in world history as an important element.
The work of Russian poets and writers of the "Golden Age" is the dawn in Russian literature. Many poets and prose writers developed new directions, which subsequently became increasingly used in the future. Russian writers and poets, the list of which can be called endless, wrote about nature and love, about light and unshakable, about freedom and choice. In the literature of Golden, as well as later Silver Age, reflects the attitudes of not only writers to historical events but of the people as a whole.
And today, looking through the thickness of the centuries at the portraits of Russian writers and poets, every progressive reader understands how bright and prophetic their works were, written more than a dozen years ago.
Literature is divided into many topics that formed the basis of the works. Russian writers and poets spoke about war, about love, about peace, opening up completely to every reader.
"Golden Age" in Literature
The "golden age" in Russian literature begins in the nineteenth century. The main representative of this period in literature, and specifically in poetry, was Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin, thanks to whom not only Russian literature, but the whole of Russian culture as a whole acquired its special charm. Pushkin's work contains not only poetic works but prose stories.
Poetry of the "Golden Age": Vasily Zhukovsky
The beginning of this time was laid by Vasily Zhukovsky, who became a teacher for Pushkin. Zhukovsky opened such a direction for Russian literature as romanticism. Developing this direction, Zhukovsky wrote odes that received wide popularity their romantic images, metaphors and personifications, the ease of which was not in the directions used in Russian literature of past years.
Mikhail Lermontov
Another great writer and poet for the "Golden Age" of Russian literature was Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov. His prose work"A Hero of Our Time" received great fame at one time, because it described Russian society the way it was in that period of time, about which Mikhail Yuryevich writes. But even more loved by all readers of Lermontov's poems: sad and sad lines, gloomy and sometimes eerie images - the poet managed to write all this so sensitively that every reader is still able to feel what worried Mikhail Yuryevich.
Prose of the Golden Age
Russian writers and poets have always been distinguished not only by their extraordinary poetry, but also by their prose.
Lev Tolstoy
One of the most significant writers of the "Golden Age" was Leo Tolstoy. His great epic novel "War and Peace" became known to the whole world and is included not only in the lists of Russian classics, but also of the world. Describing the life of the Russian secular society at the time Patriotic War 1812, Tolstoy was able to show all the subtleties and features of the behavior of St. Petersburg society, which long time since the beginning of the war, it seemed that they had not participated in the all-Russian tragedy and struggle.
Another novel by Tolstoy, which is still read both abroad and in the homeland of the writer, was the work "Anna Karenina". The story of a woman who fell in love with a man with all her heart and went through unprecedented difficulties for the sake of love, and soon suffered betrayal, fell in love with the whole world. A touching story about love, which can sometimes drive you crazy. Sad end for the novel unique feature- it was one of the first works in which the lyrical hero not only dies, but deliberately interrupts his life.
Fedor Dostoevsky
In addition to Leo Tolstoy, Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky also became a significant writer. His book "Crime and Punishment" has become not just a "Bible" of a highly moral person with a conscience, but also a kind of "teacher" for someone who has to make a difficult choice, foreseeing all the outcomes of events. Lyrical hero works not only made a wrong decision that ruined him, he took on a lot of torment that haunted him day and night.
In the work of Dostoevsky there is also the work "Humiliated and Insulted", which accurately reflects the whole essence of human nature. Despite the fact that a lot of time has passed since the moment of writing, those problems of mankind, which Fedor Mikhailovich described, are still relevant today. The protagonist, seeing all the insignificance of the human "darling", begins to feel disgust for people, for everything that people of rich strata are proud of, having great value for society.
Ivan Turgenev
Another great writer of Russian literature was Ivan Turgenev. Writing not only about love, he touched critical issues the surrounding world. His novel "Fathers and Sons" clearly describes the relationship between children and parents, which remains exactly the same today. Misunderstanding between the older generation and the younger is an age-old problem of family relations.
Russian Writers and Poets: The Silver Age of Literature
The Silver Age in Russian literature is considered to be the beginning of the twentieth century. It is the poets and writers of the Silver Age who acquire special love from readers. Perhaps this phenomenon is due to the fact that the lifetime of writers is closer to our time, while Russian writers and poets of the "Golden Age" wrote their works, living on completely different moral and spiritual principles.
Poetry of the Silver Age
The bright personalities that distinguish this literary period were, undoubtedly, poets. Many directions and currents of poetry appeared, which were created as a result of the division of opinions about the actions of the Russian authorities.
Alexander Blok
The gloomy and sad work of Alexander Blok was the first to appear on this stage literature. All Blok's poems are permeated with longing for something extraordinary, something bright and bright. Most famous poem"Night. The street. Lamp. Pharmacy” perfectly describes Blok’s worldview.
Sergey Yesenin
One of the brightest figures of the Silver Age was Sergei Yesenin. Poems about nature, love, the transience of time, one's "sins" - all this can be found in the poet's work. Today there is not a single person who would not find a poem by Yesenin that can please and describe the state of mind.
Vladimir Mayakovsky
If we talk about Yesenin, then I immediately want to mention Vladimir Mayakovsky. Sharp, loud, self-confident - that was exactly what the poet was. The words that came out from under the pen of Mayakovsky, and today amaze with their power - Vladimir Vladimirovich perceived everything so emotionally. In addition to harshness, in the work of Mayakovsky, who did not go well in his personal life, there is also love poetry. The story of the poet and Lily Brik is known throughout the world. It was Brik who discovered in him all the most tender and sensual, and Mayakovsky, in return for this, seemed to idealize and deify her in his love lyrics.
Marina Tsvetaeva
The personality of Marina Tsvetaeva is also known to the whole world. The poetess herself had peculiar character traits, which is immediately evident from her poems. Perceiving herself as a deity, she even in her love lyrics made it clear to everyone that she was not one of those women who are able to offend themselves. However, in her poem “How many have fallen into this abyss,” she showed how unhappy she had been for many, many years.
Prose of the Silver Age: Leonid Andreev
Great contribution to fiction made by Leonid Andreev, who became the author of the story "Judas Iscariot". In his work, he put it a little differently biblical history betrayal of Jesus, exposing Judas not just a traitor, but a man suffering from his envy of people who were loved by all. Lonely and strange Judas, who found rapture in his tales and tales, always received only ridicule in his face. The story tells about how easy it is to break a person’s spirit and push him to any meanness if he has neither support nor close people.
Maksim Gorky
For the literary prose of the Silver Age, the contribution of Maxim Gorky is also important. The writer in each of his works hid a certain essence, understanding which, the reader realizes the full depth of what worried the writer. One of these works was the short story "Old Woman Izergil", which is divided into three small parts. Three components, three life problems, three types of loneliness - all this was carefully veiled by the writer. A proud eagle thrown into the abyss of loneliness; noble Danko, who gave his heart selfish people; an old woman who has been looking for happiness and love all her life, but never found it - all this can be found in a short, but extremely vital story.
Another important work in the work of Gorky was the play "At the Bottom". The life of people who are below the poverty line - that's what became the basis of the play. The descriptions that Maxim Gorky gave in his work show how much even very poor people, who basically do not need anything, just want to be happy. But the happiness of each of the heroes is in different things. Each of the characters in the play has its own values. In addition, Maxim Gorky wrote about the "three truths" of life that can be applied in modern life. Lies for good; no pity for the person; truth, necessary for man, - three views on life, three opinions. The conflict, which remains unresolved, leaves each character, as well as each reader, to make his own choice.
Now the current generation sees everything clearly, marvels at the delusions, laughs at the foolishness of its ancestors, it is not in vain that this chronicle is scribbled with heavenly fire, that every letter screams in it, that a piercing finger is directed from everywhere at him, at him, at the current generation; but the current generation laughs and arrogantly, proudly begins a series of new delusions, which will also be laughed at by descendants later. "Dead Souls"
To what? Like an inspiration
Love the given subject!
Like a true poet
Sell your imagination!
I am a slave, a day laborer, I am a merchant!
I owe you, sinner, for gold,
For your worthless piece of silver
Pay the divine price!
"Improvisation I"
Literature is a language that expresses everything that a country thinks, wants, knows, wants and needs to know.
In the hearts of the simple, the feeling of the beauty and grandeur of nature is stronger, more alive a hundred times than in us, enthusiastic storytellers in words and on paper."Hero of our time"
Everywhere there is sound, and everywhere there is light,
And all the worlds have one beginning,
And there is nothing in nature
No matter how love breathes.
In days of doubt, in days of painful reflections on the fate of my homeland, you alone are my support and support, O great, powerful, truthful and free Russian language! Without you, how not to fall into despair at the sight of everything that happens at home? But one cannot believe that such a language was not given to a great people!
Poems in prose "Russian language"
So, complete your dissolute escape,
Prickly snow flies from the bare fields,
Driven by an early, violent blizzard,
And, stopping in the forest wilderness,
Gathering in silver silence
Deep and cold bed.
Listen: shame on you!
It's time to get up! You know yourself
What time has come;
In whom the sense of duty has not cooled down,
Who has an incorruptible heart,
In whom is talent, strength, accuracy,
Tom shouldn't sleep now...
"Poet and Citizen"
Is it possible that even here they will not allow and will not allow the Russian organism to develop nationally, by its organic strength, but certainly impersonally, servilely imitating Europe? But what to do with the Russian organism then? Do these gentlemen understand what an organism is? Separation, "split" from their country leads to hatred, these people hate Russia, so to speak, naturally, physically: for the climate, for the fields, for the forests, for the order, for the liberation of the peasant, for Russian history, in a word, for everything, hate for everything.
Spring! the first frame is exposed -
And noise broke into the room,
And the blessing of the nearby temple,
And the talk of the people, and the sound of the wheel ...
Well, what are you afraid of, pray tell! Now every grass, every flower rejoices, but we hide, we are afraid, just what kind of misfortune! The storm will kill! This is not a storm, but grace! Yes, grace! You are all thunder! The northern lights will light up, it would be necessary to admire and marvel at the wisdom: “the dawn rises from the midnight countries”! And you are horrified and come up with: this is for war or for the plague. Whether a comet is coming, I would not take my eyes off! The beauty! The stars have already looked closely, they are all the same, and this is a new thing; Well, I would look and admire! And you are afraid to even look at the sky, you are trembling! From everything you have made yourself a scarecrow. Eh, people! "Thunderstorm"
There is no more enlightening, soul-purifying feeling than the one that a person feels when he gets acquainted with a great work of art.
We know that loaded guns must be handled with care. But we do not want to know that we must treat the word in the same way. The word can both kill and make evil worse than death.
There is a well-known trick of an American journalist who, in order to increase the subscription to his magazine, began to publish in other publications the most brazen attacks on himself from fictitious persons: some printed him out as a swindler and perjurer, others as a thief and murderer, and still others as a debauchee on a colossal scale. He did not skimp on paying for such friendly advertisements, until everyone thought - yes, it’s obvious that this is a curious and remarkable person when everyone shouts about him like that! - and began to buy up his own newspaper.
"Life in a Hundred Years"
I ... think that I know the Russian person in his very depths, and I do not put myself in any merit for this. I didn’t study the people from conversations with St. Petersburg cabbies, but I grew up among the people, on the Gostomel pasture, with a cauldron in my hand, I slept with him on the dewy grass of the night, under a warm sheepskin coat, and on Panin’s zamashnaya crowd behind circles of dusty manners ...
Between these two colliding titans - science and theology - there is a stunned public, quickly losing faith in the immortality of man and in any deity, quickly descending to the level of a purely animal existence. Such is the picture of the hour illuminated by the radiant midday sun of the Christian and scientific era!
"Isis Unveiled"
Sit down, I'm glad to see you. Cast away all fear
And you can keep yourself free
I give you permission. You know one of these days
I was elected king by the people,
But it's all the same. They confuse my thought
All these honors, greetings, bows...
"Crazy"
- What do you need abroad? - I asked him at a time when in his room, with the help of servants, his things were being packed and packed for shipment to the Varshavsky railway station.
- Yes, just ... to come to your senses! - He said confusedly and with a kind of dull expression on his face.
"Letters from the Road"
Is it really a matter of going through life in such a way as not to offend anyone? This is not happiness. Hurt, break, break, so that life boils. I am not afraid of any accusations, but a hundred times more than death I am afraid of colorlessness.
Verse is the same music, only combined with the word, and it also needs a natural ear, a sense of harmony and rhythm.
You experience a strange feeling when, with a light touch of your hand, you make such a mass rise and fall at will. When such a mass obeys you, you feel the power of a person ...
"Meeting"
The feeling of the Motherland should be strict, restrained in words, not eloquent, not chatty, not “waving your arms” and not running forward (to show yourself). The feeling of the Motherland should be a great ardent silence.
"Solitary"
And what is the secret of beauty, what is the secret and charm of art: in a conscious, inspired victory over torment or in the unconscious anguish of the human spirit, which sees no way out of the circle of vulgarity, squalor or thoughtlessness and is tragically condemned to seem self-satisfied or hopelessly false.
"Sentimental Remembrance"
Since my birth I have been living in Moscow, but by God I don’t know where Moscow came from, why it is, why, why, what it needs. In the Duma, at meetings, I, along with others, talk about urban economy, but I don’t know how many miles there are in Moscow, how many people there are, how many are born and die, how much we receive and spend, for how much and with whom we trade ... Which city is richer: Moscow or London? If London is richer, then why? And the jester knows him! And when some question is raised in the thought, I shudder and the first one starts shouting: “Submit to the commission! To the commission!
Everything new in the old way:
The modern poet
In a metaphorical outfit
Speech is poetic.
But others are not an example for me,
And my charter is simple and strict.
My verse is a pioneer boy
Lightly dressed, barefoot.
1926
Under the influence of Dostoevsky, as well as foreign literature, Baudelaire and Poe, my passion began not for decadence, but for symbolism (even then I already understood their difference). A collection of poems, published at the very beginning of the 90s, I entitled "Symbols". It seems that I was the first to use this word in Russian literature.
The run of changeable phenomena,
Past those flying, speed up:
Merge into one sunset of accomplishments
With the first gleam of gentle dawns.
From the lower life to the origins
In a moment, a single review:
In the face of a single smart eye
Take your twins.
Immutable and wonderful
Blessed Muse gift:
In the spirit of the form of slender songs,
There is life and heat in the heart of the songs.
"Thoughts on Poetry"
I have a lot of news. And all are good. I'm lucky". I am writing. I want to live, live, live forever. If you only knew how many new poems I have written! More than a hundred. It was crazy, a fairy tale, new. I am publishing a new book, completely different from the previous ones. She will surprise many. I changed my understanding of the world. No matter how funny my phrase sounds, I will say: I understood the world. For many years, perhaps forever.
K. Balmont - L. Vilkina
Man is the truth! Everything is in man, everything is for man! Only man exists, everything else is the work of his hands and his brain! Man! It's great! It sounds... proud!
"At the bottom"
I'm sorry to create something useless and no one needs now. A collection, a book of poems at the present time is the most useless, unnecessary thing ... I do not mean by this that poetry is not needed. On the contrary, I affirm that poetry is necessary, even necessary, natural and eternal. There was a time when whole books of poetry seemed necessary to everyone, when they were read in full, understood and accepted by everyone. This time is past, not ours. The modern reader does not need a collection of poems!
Language is the history of a people. Language is the path of civilization and culture. Therefore, the study and preservation of the Russian language is not an idle occupation with nothing to do, but an urgent need.
What nationalists, patriots these internationalists become when they need it! And with what arrogance they sneer at the "frightened intellectuals" - as if there is absolutely no reason to be frightened - or at the "frightened townsfolk", as if they have some great advantages over the "philistines". And who, in fact, are these townsfolk, "prosperous philistines"? And who and what do the revolutionaries care about, if they so despise the average person and his well-being?
"Cursed Days"
In the struggle for their ideal, which is “freedom, equality and fraternity”, citizens must use such means that do not contradict this ideal.
"Governor"
“Let your soul be whole or split, let your understanding of the world be mystical, realistic, skeptical, or even idealistic (if you are unhappy before that), let the creative techniques be impressionistic, realistic, naturalistic, the content be lyrical or fabulous, let there be a mood, an impression - whatever you want, but, I beg you, be logical - may this cry of the heart be forgiven me! – are logical in design, in the construction of the work, in syntax.
Art is born in homelessness. I wrote letters and stories addressed to a distant unknown friend, but when a friend came, art gave way to life. Of course, I'm not talking about home comfort, but about life, which means more than art.
"We are with you. Diary of love"
An artist can do nothing more than open his soul to others. It is impossible to present him with predetermined rules. He is still an unknown world, where everything is new. We must forget what captivated others, here it is different. Otherwise, you will listen and not hear, you will look without understanding.
From Valery Bryusov's treatise "On Art"
Well, let her rest, she was exhausted - they exhausted her, alarmed her. And as soon as it's light, the shopkeeper will rise, she will begin to fold her goods, she will grab a blanket, she will go, pull out this soft bedding from under the old woman: she will wake the old woman, raise her to her feet: it's not light or dawn, if you please get up. Nothing to do about. In the meantime - grandmother, our Kostroma, our mother, Russia!
"Whirlwind Russia"
Art never speaks to the crowd, to the masses, it speaks to the individual, in the deep and hidden recesses of his soul.
Mikhail Andreevich Osorgin (Ilyin) (1878 - 1942)
How strange /.../ How many cheerful and cheerful books there are, how many brilliant and witty philosophical truths - but there is nothing more comforting than Ecclesiastes.
Babkin dared, - read Seneca
And, whistling carcasses,
Take it to the library
In the margins, noting: "Nonsense!"
Babkin, friend, is a harsh critic,
Have you ever thought
What a legless paraplegic
Light chamois is not a decree? ..
"Reader"
A critic's word about a poet must be objectively concrete and creative; the critic, while remaining a scientist, is a poet.
"Poetry of the word"
Only great things are worth thinking about, only great tasks should be set by the writer; set boldly, without being embarrassed by your personal small forces.
“It’s true, there are both goblin and water ones here,” I thought, looking in front of me, “or maybe some other spirit lives here ... A mighty, northern spirit that enjoys this wildness; maybe real northern fauns and healthy, blond women roam in these forests, eating cloudberries and lingonberries, laughing and chasing each other.
"North"
You need to be able to close a boring book...leave a bad movie...and part with people who don't value you!
Out of modesty, I will be careful not to point out the fact that on the day of my birth the bells were rung and there was a general rejoicing of the people. Evil tongues associated this jubilation with some great holiday that coincided with the day of my birth, but I still don’t understand what else is there to do with this holiday?
That was the time when love, good and healthy feelings were considered vulgar and a relic; no one loved, but all were thirsty and, like poisoned ones, fell to everything sharp, tearing apart the insides.
"The Road to Calvary"
- Well, what's wrong, - I say to myself, - at least in a short word for now? After all, exactly the same form of farewell to friends exists in other languages, and there it does not shock anyone. The great poet Walt Whitman, shortly before his death, said goodbye to readers with a touching poem "So long!", which means in English - "Bye!". The French a bientot has the same meaning. There is no rudeness here. On the contrary, this form is filled with the most gracious courtesy, because here the following (approximately) meaning is compressed: be prosperous and happy until we see each other again.
"Live Like Life"
Switzerland? This is a mountain pasture for tourists. I've traveled all over the world myself, but I hate those ruminant bipeds with a Badaker for a tail. They chewed through the eyes of all the beauties of nature.
"Island of Lost Ships"
Everything that I wrote and will write, I consider only mental rubbish and do not respect my literary merits. And I wonder and wonder why apparently smart people find some meaning and value in my poems. Thousands of poems, whether mine or those poets whom I know in Russia, are not worth one chanter of my bright mother.
I am afraid that Russian literature has only one future: its past.
Article "I'm afraid"
For a long time we have been looking for such a task, similar to lentils, so that the combined rays of the work of artists and the work of thinkers directed by it to a common point would meet in a common work and could ignite and turn even the cold substance of ice into a fire. Now such a task - a lentil that guides together your stormy courage and the cold mind of thinkers - has been found. This goal is to create a common written language...
"Artists of the World"
He adored poetry, tried to be impartial in his judgments. He was surprisingly young at heart, and perhaps even in mind. He always looked like a child to me. There was something childish in his clipped head, in his bearing, more like a gymnasium than a military one. He liked to portray an adult, like all children. He loved to play the “master”, the literary bosses of his “humil”, that is, the little poets and poetesses who surrounded him. Poetic children loved him very much.
Khodasevich, "Necropolis"
Me, me, me What a wild word!
Is that one over there really me?
Did mom love this?
Yellow-gray, semi-gray
And omniscient like a snake?
You have lost your Russia.
Did you resist the elements
Good elements of gloomy evil?
Not? So shut up: took away
Your fate is not without a reason
To the edge of an unkind foreign land.
What's the point of groaning and grieve -
Russia must be earned!
"What You Need to Know"
I never stopped writing poetry. For me, they are my connection with the time, with the new life of my people. When I wrote them, I lived by those rhythms that sounded in the heroic history of my country. I am happy that I lived in these years and saw events that had no equal.
All the people sent to us are our reflection. And they were sent so that we, looking at these people, correct our mistakes, and when we correct them, these people either change too or leave our lives.
In the wide field of Russian literature in the USSR, I was the only literary wolf. I was advised to dye the skin. Ridiculous advice. Whether a painted wolf or a shorn wolf, he still does not look like a poodle. They treated me like a wolf. And for several years they drove me according to the rules of a literary cage in a fenced yard. I have no malice, but I am very tired ...
From a letter from M. A. Bulgakov to I. V. Stalin, May 30, 1931.
When I die, my descendants will ask my contemporaries: "Did you understand Mandelstam's poems?" - "No, we did not understand his poems." "Did you feed Mandelstam, did you give him shelter?" - "Yes, we fed Mandelstam, we gave him shelter." "Then you are forgiven."
Maybe go to the Press House - there is one sandwich each with salmon caviar and a debate - "about the proletarian choral reading", or to the Polytechnic Museum - there are no sandwiches, but twenty-six young poets read their poems about the "locomotive mass". No, I will sit on the stairs, shivering from the cold and dream that all this is not in vain, that, sitting here on the step, I am preparing the distant sunrise of the Renaissance. I dreamed both simply and in verse, and the result was boring iambs.
"The extraordinary adventures of Julio Jurenito and his students"
