"More than a poet": the great lines of Yevgeny Yevtushenko. Read online "Bratskaya HPP" Evgeny Yevtushenko prayer before the poem
This Saturday the famous Russian poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko passed away. During his life he wrote more than 150 books, and his poems have always touched the heart of every reader. He was 84 years old. He died in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The 360 website recalled Yevtushenko's most vivid statements and the most famous lines from his poems.
A poet in Russia is more than just a poet.
It is destined to be born poets
only to those in whom it roams proud spirit citizenship,
for whom there is no comfort, there is no rest.
The poet in it is the image of his century
and future ghostly prototype.
The poet brings, without falling into timidity,
the end of everything that came before it.
"Prayer before the poem", 1964.
Do Russians want wars?
Ask you the silence
over the expanse of arable land and fields
and birches and poplars.
Ask those soldiers
that lie under the birches,
and let their sons tell you,
Do the Russians want war?
- “Do Russians want wars?”, 1961.
I'm like a train
that rushes about for so many years
Between city Yes
and city No.
My nerves are taut
like wires
Between city No
and city Yes!
- "Two cities", 1964.
everyone here is a shot old man.
every child here is shot.
- "Babi Yar", 1961.
Jewish blood is not in my blood.
But hated by hardened malice
I am to all anti-Semites,
like a Jew
and that's why -
I'm a real Russian!
- "Babi Yar", 1961.
Worthy, the main thing worthy
Any meet times
When the era is stagnant
It's shaken to the core.
- "Worthy", 1976.
God bless everything, everything, everything
and all at once - so as not to be offended ...
God grant everything, but only that
for which you will not be ashamed later.
- "God forbid!", 1990.
“Maybe the meaning of existence is to find the meaning of it?”
“When you are an artist, you have no right to be a vulgar and just a moneymaker. You are the debtor of your people in every country and the debtor of all mankind.”
"World culture is a wall before a war built of great books."
Probably, you and I are just cowards,
when we customize our tastes
under what is more accessible, simpler.
More than once whispered to me the inner bastard
from dirty subconscious darkness:
“Eh, brother, this is a complex material ...” -
and I cowardly slipped into simplicity
and maybe a great opportunity
lost unrequited love.
- "Unrequited love", 1971.
Immoral suffering on display -
impose the strictest prohibition on this.
Not the first time and not the last time
you are suffering...
So what are you suffering?
- "Not for the first time and not for the last time ...".
I dream of an old friend
who became an enemy
but dream not of the enemy,
but the same friend.
- "Old friend", 1973.
“Today I don’t like the increased anger of people towards each other and the greatly increased feeling of envy. This can only partly be explained by social inequality. I have never seen such overbitterness, especially when you read the Internet. Need to get rid of this. We must not only learn to love others, but also ourselves. We offend each other very easily."
Feeling sorry for yourself is always nice.
Listen to everyone - everyone is almost holy.
Have pity on the grass when crushed.
Don't feel sorry for yourself when you're crushed.
- “What attacked me…”, 1957.
The curse of the century is the rush
and the man, wiping off the sweat,
rushing through life like a pawn,
getting caught in time trouble.
Hastily drink, hastily love,
and the soul descends.
Hastily beat, hastily destroy,
and then they repent, hurrying.
- "The curse of the century is haste."
I do not like beautiful anguish.
But out of many injustices
The biggest one is death.
- "Sails", 1969.
Author Evtushenko Evgeny Alexandrovich
Evgeny Yevtushenko
PRAYER BEFORE A POEM
MONOLOGUE OF THE EGYPTIAN PYRAMID
SONG OF THE OVERVIEWERS
SONG OF SLAVES
MONOLOGUE OF THE BRATSKAYA HEP
Execution of Stenka Razin
DECABRISTS
PETRASHEVTS
CHERNYSHEVSKY
FAIR IN SIMBIRSK
WALKERS GO TO LENIN
ABC OF REVOLUTION
THE CONCRETE OF SOCIALISM
COMMUNARIES WILL NOT BE SLAVES
GHOSTS IN THE TAIGA
FIRST ECHELON
BOLSHEVIK
LIGHT MANAGEMENT
DON'T DIE, IVAN STEPANYCH
SHADOWS OF OUR FAVORITES
MAYAKOVSKY
GRADUATION BALL
IN A MINUTE OF WEAKNESS
NIGHT OF POETRY
Evgeny Yevtushenko
BRATSKAYA HPP
Poem
PRAYER BEFORE A POEM
A poet in Russia is more than a poet.
It is destined to be born poets
only to those in whom the proud spirit of citizenship roams,
for whom there is no comfort, there is no rest.
The poet in it is the image of his century
and future ghostly prototype.
The poet brings, without falling into timidity,
the end of everything that came before it.
Can I? Culture is missing...
The grasp of prophecies does not promise ...
But the spirit of Russia hovers over me
and boldly try orders.
And, kneeling quietly,
ready for death and victory,
I humbly ask you for help
great Russian poets...
Give me, Pushkin, your melodiousness,
his loose speech
his captivating fate -
as if shalya, burn with a verb.
Give, Lermontov, your bilious look,
its contempt poison
and the cell of a closed soul,
where he breathes, hidden in silence,
unkindness of your sister -
lamp of secret goodness.
Give, Nekrasov, calming my agility,
the pain of your excised muse -
at the front entrances, at the rails
and in the open spaces of forests and fields.
Give your ugliness strength.
Give me your painful feat,
to go, dragging all of Russia,
how barge haulers go towed.
Oh, give me, block, nebula prophesy
and two leaning wings,
so that, melting the eternal riddle,
music flowed through the body.
Give, Pasternak, the shift of days,
branch confusion,
fusion of smells, shadows
with the torment of the century,
so that the word, mumbling with a garden,
blossomed and ripe
so that your candle is forever
burned in me.
Yesenin, give me tenderness for happiness
to birches and meadows, to animals and people
and to everything else on earth,
that you and I love so defenselessly
Give me, Mayakovsky,
lumpiness,
intransigence formidable to the scum,
so that I can
cutting through time,
tell about him
fellow descendants.
PROLOGUE
For thirty me. I'm scared at night.
I will bend the sheet with my knees,
I drown my face in a pillow, I cry in shame,
that I wasted my life on trifles,
and in the morning I use it again in the same way.
If only you knew, my critics,
whose kindness is innocently in question,
how affectionate the odd articles are
in comparison with my own dressing,
it would be easier for you if at a late hour
your conscience is unjustly tormenting you.
Going through all my poems
I see: recklessly squandering,
I've been talking so much nonsense...
but you won’t burn it: it scattered around the world.
my rivals,
let's drop the flattery
and abuse deceitful honor.
Let's think about our destinies.
We all have the same
disease of the soul.
Surface is her name.
Superficiality, you are worse than blindness.
You can see, but you don't want to see.
Perhaps from illiteracy you?
Or maybe from the fear of tearing out the roots
the trees under which it grew,
without putting a stake on the shift ?!
And isn't that why we're in such a hurry
removing the outer layer only half a meter,
that, having forgotten courage, we are afraid of ourselves
the very task - to delve into the essence of the subject?
We hurry ... Giving only a half answer,
we carry superficiality as treasures,
not at the rate of cold, - no, no! -
but from the instinct of self-preservation.
Then comes the fading
and inability to fly, to fight,
and the feathers of our domestic wings
the pillows of the scoundrels are already stuffed ...
I rushed about ... I threw back and forth
me from someone's sobs or moans
then into the inflatable futility of one,
then into the false usefulness of feuilletons.
Someone rubbed his whole life with his shoulder,
and that was myself. I'm in passionate passion
naively trampling, fought with a hairpin,
where the sword should have been used.
My ardor was criminally infantile.
Ruthlessness was not enough
which means full of pity...
as an average of wax and metal
and ruined his youth.
Let everyone enter life under this vow:
help that which should bloom,
and take revenge without forgetting about it,
everything that deserves revenge!
Fear of revenge, we will not take revenge.
The very possibility of revenge diminishes,
and self-preservation instinct
does not save us, but kills us.
Surface is a killer, not a friend
disease pretending to be healthy,
entangled in nets of seduction...
Exchanging the spirit for particulars,
we run away from generalizations.
The globe of the earth is losing strength in an empty one,
Leaving generalizations for later.
Or maybe his insecurity
and there is human destinies non-generalization
in the insight of the century, clear and simple?!
I traveled around Russia with Galya,
somewhere to the sea in "Moskvich" in a hurry
from all sorrows...
Autumn of Russian distances
pooboch golden all tired,
rustling under the tires,
and rested behind the wheel of the soul.
Breathing steppe, birch, pine,
throwing an unthinkable array at me,
at a speed of seventy, with a whistle,
Russia flowed around our Moskvich.
Russia wanted to say something
and understood something like no one else.
She "Moskvich" pressed into her body
and pulled into the very core.
And, apparently, with some idea,
hiding its essence until the time,
I was prompted right behind Tula
turn to Yasnaya Polyana.
And here in the estate, breathing dilapidated,
we entered, children of the atomic age,
in a hurry, in nylon raincoats,
and froze, suddenly blundered.
And descendants of walkers for the truth,
we suddenly felt in that minute
Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov is a Russian realist poet. Love for the motherland, reflection on the secrets of the national Russian character, a high sense of citizenship - these are the features of Nekrasov's lyrics.
Proximity to the revolutionary democrats affected Nekrasov's views on the essence of art, on the place and role of poetry in the life of society. Supporters of "pure art" were his ideological opponents. Nekrasov declared: "There is no science for the sake of science, there is no art for the sake of art - everything exists for society, for the ennoblement of man..."
Nekrasov's citizenship is closely related to his understanding of the poet's purpose. What should a poet be like? What is its role in society? What is the purpose of poetry? In the poem "Poet and Citizen" Nekrasov outlined his poetic program, expressed his views on the public duty of the poet. He wrote that a true poet cannot be indifferent to the grief and torment of "those who do not have bread."
Go into the fire for the honor of the fatherland,
For confidence, for love...
Go and die flawlessly
You won't die in vain - it's solid,
When blood flows under him.
"People's pains" pass through the poet's heart. Here from the "front entrance" they drive ragged mob; here on the "uncompressed strip" a peasant woman is crying from overwork; here are the ruined hungry villages; troikas racing off-road; here barge haulers with groans are pulling a barge; here is Russia, where "a swarm of depressed and trembling slaves envied the life of the last master's dogs." Nekrasov's Russia is a poetic reflection on the fate of the people.
The poet's muse was the companion of "the poor, born for labor, suffering and fetters." She revealed the abyss of violence and evil, called for struggle.
The poet devoted many of his poems to courageous, strong-willed people who were an example for him during his lifetime, whose precepts he remained faithful in his work after their death. These are the leading figures of their time, the leaders of the social democratic revolutionary movement: Belinsky, Dobrolyubov, Chernyshevsky, Pisarev. The pathos of citizenship, the revolutionary spirit - the main difference between such poems. But also for Nekrasov, the expression of simple human feelings is characteristic, which evoke in the poet memories of his revolutionary friends. This is a feeling of friendly tenderness, affection, care, fidelity, a feeling of gratitude.
In the poem "In Memory of Belinsky", the poet shares with readers sad memories of a friend whose "naive and passionate soul" strove "for one lofty goal." Before the reader is a real image of a man who lived, dreamed and fought, "persisting, worrying and hastening", and not at all a stone monument erected on the grave by friends.
You loved us, you were faithful to friendship -
And we honored you in a good hour!
In another of his poems, dedicated to Belinsky, the poet will call him "a brother in fate", with whom he walked "one thorny road." Nekrasov considers himself the successor of his closest friend. The fighters for the bright future of Russia are dedicated to poetic lines that have become textbooks:
Mother nature! When would such people
You sometimes did not send to the world,
The field of life would have died out.
The poem "Motherland" reveals another side of Nekrasov's personality. Let us read the lines about the majestic soul of a patient woman, the mother of the poet:
But I know: your soul was not impassive;
She was proud, stubborn and beautiful,
And everything that you have the strength to endure,
Your dying whisper forgiven the destroyer! ..
Nikolai Alekseevich carried the dear image of his mother through his whole life. Five years after her death, he will talk about the tragic fate of a dear person, consonant with the fate of many Russian women. Nekrasov always remembered his mother as strong woman. Selfless love for your children, mercy and the ability to forgive, but at the same time, stamina, courage, loyalty - these characteristic features the poet endowed many of his heroines with his mother. Let us recall Matryona Timofeevna Korchagina, who endured the greatest grief for every Mother - the loss of a child, and, despite this, managed to forgive Savely, the unintentional culprit of Demushka's death; Let us remember Princesses Trubetskoy and Volkonskaya, who remained devoted to their husbands, true to their duty.
The poet believes that it is precisely such women who should educate a new generation of Russian people, it is they who are able to pass on to children all their life wisdom and spiritual beauty, teach them to be tolerant and merciful. "Do not be afraid," the mother will say and, holding her child by the hand, she will lead him through life.
Do not be afraid of bitter oblivion:
Already I hold in my hand
Crown of love, crown of forgiveness
The gift of your meek homeland ...
It is not for nothing that Nekrasov calls the woman-mother the "long-suffering" mother of the "all-enduring Russian tribe." Such a woman in Nekrasov's poems becomes a symbol of her home, native land, memories of which are always alive in the heart of a Russian person.
And with the same feeling that the lines about the saints, sincere "tears of poor mothers" are imbued with, the poet will speak about the "tears" of the Russian land:
I was called to sing of your suffering,
Patience amazing people!
And throw at least a single ray of consciousness
On the path that God leads you...
The poet is sincerely concerned about the fate of the people, who are able to manufacture not only stove pots, but also build railways to create unique works of art. The poet himself was the greatest Citizen of his Fatherland. Before last days he sang of the beauty of the Russian land, the beauty of the human soul. Nekrasov in his work continued to develop best traditions bequeathed to Russian literature by Ryleev, Pushkin, Lermontov. He believed in a beautiful future for Russia.
Do not be shy for the dear Fatherland ...
The Russian people carried enough
Carried out this railroad -
Will endure whatever the Lord sends!
Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will pave the way for himself with his chest.
It's a pity to live in this beautiful time
Neither me nor you will have to.
Nekrasov's lyrics are an inexhaustible source of vitality and wisdom. Honor, hard work, striving for truth, humanism, faith in justice, citizenship, love for the Motherland - this is what the poet saw the meaning and content of human life. Nekrasov tried to express this idea in almost every line of his. And one cannot agree with those who believe that the value of Nekrasov's lyrics has been lost over the years, that in our time it is not interesting to read his works. Nekrasov's poetry is not only the poet's response to the topical problems of his time, but also a testament to posterity. Love for the Motherland and serving the interests of the state - that's what could help our modern Russian society to rise to its feet.
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Top 5 best gastroenterological clinics in Moscow
5 Hadassah Medical
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4 Gastroenterological Department of the GNCC
Gastroenterological Department of the State Scientific and Clinical Center named after A.I. A.N. Ryzhikh is one of the oldest in the country dealing with the treatment of ulcerative colitis, Crohn's disease and functional bowel disorders. It regularly conducts research and develops new methods for the treatment of gastrointestinal diseases. The clinic boasts a unique doctoral staff, each doctor, in addition to active practice, conducts scientific and educational activities. Employees regularly participate in international medical research. Here, emphasis is placed on conservative methods of treatment.
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3 Moscow Clinical Research Center
The Research Institute of Gastroenterology was established in 1967; today it is the oldest and most authoritative medical institution in this field. Here, patients can receive inpatient treatment and outpatient care. According to the organization, about 40,000 patients use this opportunity every year. The Institute is also recognized among network users, according to statistics search engine Yandex, when searching for information on gastroenterology, users are guided specifically by TsNIIG. This is quite justified, it is here that they provide the most qualified assistance in the capital.
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2GMS Clinic
Gastroenterological clinic GMS Clinic - leading specialists, modern diagnostics, the latest methods laboratory research and timely performance analysis. The medical institution carries out a full range of procedures aimed at identifying and treating the disease. It has its own laboratory, which greatly speeds up and simplifies the examination. The clinic boasts high-tech equipment, all equipment meets high European standards. This allows you to detect the disease at the earliest stages and effectively deal with it.
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1 Gastrocenter
Clinic "Gastrocenter" shows excellent results in the fight against benign and malignant tumors. According to user reviews, there is a very good organization and optimization of all processes. In one day, you can go through all the examinations and quickly get a conclusion, without hospitalization, perform endoscopic operations. As an additional service, there is the program "Weight Loss for the Lazy" - endoscopic weight correction with an intragastric balloon. For regular customers Discounts and promotions are available. "Gastrocenter" worthily takes a leading position in the ranking of the best gastroenterological clinics in Moscow.
THERE IS SOMETHING TO JUSTIFY BEFORE GOD.
POETERS AND SONS.
"In the thoughtfulness of the line-
subtle heaviness,
It brings her fame
and appreciated by experts.
In the inadvertence of the line-
there is too enviable lightness,
and you can bite your elbow
but that's what poetry is", E. Yevtushenko.
____________________________________
POET E. Yevtushenko:
A poet in Russia is more than a poet.
It is destined to be born poets
only to those in whom the proud spirit of citizenship roams,
To whom there is no comfort, there is no rest.
The poet in it is the image of his century
And a ghostly prototype of the future.
The poet brings, without falling into timidity,
The result of everything that came before him.
Can I? Culture is missing...
The grasp of prophecies does not promise ...
But the spirit of Russia hovers over me
And he tells you to try boldly.
And, kneeling quietly,
Ready for death and victory
I humbly ask you for help,
Great Russian poets...
Give me, Pushkin, your melodiousness,
Your loose speech
Your captivating fate -
Like a shalya, burn with a verb.
Give, Lermontov, your bilious look,
Poison of your contempt
And the cell of a closed soul,
Where it breathes, hidden in silence,
The unkindness of your sister -
Lamp of secret goodness.
Give, Nekrasov, calming my agility,
The pain of your excised muse -
At the front porches and rails
And in the open spaces of forests and fields.
Give your ugliness strength.
Give me your painful feat,
To go, dragging all of Russia,
How barge haulers go tow.
Oh, give me, block, nebula prophesy
And two leaning wings
So that, melting the eternal riddle,
Music flowed through the body.
Give, Pasternak, the shift of days,
The confusion of branches
The fusion of smells, shadows
With the torment of the century
So that the word, mumbling with a garden,
Blossoming and ripe
So that your candle is forever
I was on fire.
Yesenin, give me tenderness for happiness
To birches and meadows, to animals and people
And to everything else on earth,
That you and I love so defenselessly.
Give me, Mayakovsky,
lumpiness,
rampage
Irreconcilability formidable to the scum,
So that I can too
Breaking through time,
Tell about him
To fellow descendants...
New Chronicle of Current Events - about the Poet.
"According to news agencies, the poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko died in the United States. Yevtushenko was 84 years old, and on Friday he was urgently hospitalized due to a deterioration in his condition.
According to the last will of the poet, he will be buried in Peredelkino near Moscow.
He was born on July 18, 1933 at the Zima station in the Irkutsk region. His father, Alexander Rudolfovich Gangnus, a German by nationality, was a geologist. Mother - Zinaida Ermolaevna Yevtushenko is also a geologist, actress, Honored Worker of Culture of the RSFSR.
In 1951 he entered the M. Gorky Literary Institute, from where he was expelled in 1957 with the wording "for not attending lectures." Only in 2001 he received a diploma of graduation from the institute.
In 1944 Yevgeny Yevtushenko moved to Moscow with his mother. In 1949, his first poem was published in the Soviet Sport newspaper.
In 1952, the first collection of poems, Scouts of the Future, was published. In the same year, Yevgeny Yevtushenko was admitted to the Writers' Union of the USSR, becoming its youngest member.
He published many collections of poetry, among them The Third Snow (1955), Highway of Enthusiasts (1956), Promise (1957), Poems of Different Years (1959), Apple (1960), Tenderness and "Wave of the Hand" (1962), etc.
In 1961 in " Literary newspaper”The poem “Babi Yar” was published, dedicated to the mass executions of Jews during the war years, for which the poet was accused of political immaturity and lack of a sense of internationalism. On the basis of the poem, the composer Dmitry Shostakovich created his famous 13th symphony. "Babi Yar" was translated into 72 languages of the world, lines from it are carved in front of the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington.
In February 1963, Yevgeny Yevtushenko's Autobiography was published in the French weekly Expresso. This event caused dissatisfaction with the Soviet authorities, who accused the poet of acting without the permission of the Ideological Department of the Central Committee of the CPSU. His "Autobiography" at the plenum of the board of the Union of Soviet Writers in March of the same year was called a slander on the socialist system.
Yevgeny Yevtushenko spoke in defense of dissident writers - Andrei Sinyavsky, Yuli Daniel, Alexander Solzhenitsyn and others. In his poems, he protested against the entry of Soviet troops into Hungary, Czechoslovakia, the occupation of which he devoted the poem "Tanks are moving through Prague." Later, in verse, he expressed a negative attitude towards the war in Afghanistan.
In 1988 he joined the Memorial human rights society. A year later, he was elected co-chairman of the April Writers' Association. In 1991 he became secretary of the board of the Commonwealth of Writers' Unions.
He was a people's deputy of the USSR (1989-1991).
In 1991 he moved to the USA with his family. He taught a course of Russian poetry at American universities. In the 1990-2000s. published a number of prose and poetry works, published an anthology “A poet in Russia is more than a poet. Ten centuries of Russian poetry.
His works have been translated into more than 70 languages of the world, over 130 books have been published.
Laureate of the State Prize of the USSR (1984; for the poem "Mother and the Neutron Bomb"), the State Prize of the Russian Federation in the field of literature and art (2009), the "Tefi" award for the best educational program "A poet in Russia is more than a poet" (1998) and etc.
Honorary Member Russian Academy arts, the American Academy of Arts, the Academy of Fine Arts in Malaga, a full member of the European Academy of Arts and Sciences. Honorary Professor "Honoris Causa" at New School University in New York and King's College in Queens. Professor at the University of Pittsburgh, at the University of Santo Domingo.
Was married four times. Since 1954, he was married to the famous poetess Isabella (Bella) Akhmadulina. The second wife is Galina Sokol-Lukonina (married in 1961), the third is Jen Butler, Irish (since 1978). At present, his wife is Maria Vladimirovna (born in 1961), a doctor, philologist.
Yevgeny Yevtushenko has five sons: Peter (adopted; born in 1967), Alexander (born in 1979), Anton (born in 1981), Evgeny (born in 1989), Dmitry (born in 1990) .).
On July 17, 2010, Yevgeny Yevtushenko opened his own museum in Peredelkino, which he bequeathed to the state. It is planned that the Yevtushenko Museum-Gallery will become a branch of the State Central Museum modern history Russia.
In 1994, a minor planet was named after him solar system(4234 Evtushenko)".