Literary and musical composition based on the work of Marina Tsvetaeva (Grade 11). About the life and work of m
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Marina Tsvetaeva
Marina Tsvetaeva was born on September 26, 1882 in the family of Ivan Vladimirovich Tsvetaev, professor at Moscow University, director of the Rumyantsev Museum of Fine Arts, and Maria Alexandrovna Mein.
Marina Tsvetaeva's mother taught her music since childhood. "... I can say that I was born not into life, but into music."
Marina's interest in music is gradually fading away, especially after the death of her mother. She develops a deeper passion - books.
“In the mother’s room hung a portrait of her grandmother, the beautiful Polish Maria Lukinichna Bernatskaya, who died very early - at 27 years old. Enlarged photo - dark-eyed, with heavy eyelids, a sad face with precise brush-drawn eyebrows, regular, sweet features, kind, bitterly touched mouth ... "
Pushkin entered the life of the future poetess swiftly and powerfully and became the constant spiritual support of this proud, subtle and rebellious soul.
In 1911, the poetess met Sergei Efron in the Crimea, who later became her husband. It is to him, beloved, husband, friend, that the best poems will be dedicated.
1913 Crimea. Koktebel. Next to Marina Tsvetaeva - her friends, loved one and tiny daughter Alya. The heyday of the poetess.
The poems of M. Tsvetaeva are melodic, sincere and charming, composers constantly turn to them, and then they turn into romances of amazing beauty.
The turbulent events of 1917 separated sister Marina and Anastasia for three and a half years. In May 1921, Marina gives her sister a letter with a call to work in Moscow, a pood of flour for the road and a typewritten collection of poems
Until 1939, Marina Tsvetaeva was in exile and constantly thinking about her homeland.
Marina returns to Russia. Great trials await her at home. Arrest of daughter and husband. The beginning of the war. Deportation to Yelabuga. Complete spiritual isolation.
Sister Anastasia receives a terrible telegram in 1943: “Marina died two years ago, on the thirty-first of August. We kiss your heart. Lily. Zina.”
It is difficult to talk about such immensity as a poet. Where to start? Where to finish? And is it even possible to start and end, if what I'm talking about: Soul - is everything - everywhere - forever
Preview:
1 reader: “It is difficult to talk about such immensity as a poet. Where to start? Where to finish? And is it possible to begin and end at all, if what I am talking about: the Soul is everything - everywhere - eternally. /M. Tsvetaeva "The Word about Balmont"./
2 reader: To my poems, written so early,
That I did not know that I am a poet,
Ripped off like spray from a fountain
Like sparks from rockets
Bursting like little devils
In the sanctuary where sleep and incense
To my poems about youth and death,
Unread verses!
Scattered in the dust at the shops
/Where no one took them and does not take them!/,
My poems are like precious wines
Your turn will come.
1 reader: “I have never oppressed or suffocated in my life, but for people it is only an excuse for themselves. When it is “they themselves are”, that is ... when they themselves are, everything is there. /M.Ts. From a letter /
September 26, 1882 in the family of Ivan Vladimirovich Tsvetaev, professor at Moscow University, director of the Rumyantsev Museum of Fine Arts, and Maria Alexandrovna Mein, a daughter, Marina, was born.
2 reader: With a red brush The day was Sabbath:
The rowan lit up. John the Theologian.
Leaves were falling. Me and to this day
I was born. I want to gnaw
Hundreds of hot rowan argued
Bells Bitter brush.
3 reader: “When instead of the desired, predetermined, almost ordered Son of Alexander, only I was born, the mother said: “At least there will be a musician.” When “Gamma” turned out to be the first, obviously meaningless and quite distinct long-term word, my mother only confirmed: “I knew it,” and immediately began to teach me music, endlessly singing this same scale to me: “Do, musya, do , and this is re, do-re ... "I can say that I was born not into life, but into music."
4 reader: Who is created from stone, who is created
from clay,
And I'm silver and sparkle!
My business is treason, my name is Marina,
I am the mortal foam of the sea.
Who is made of clay, who is made
From the flesh
The coffin and tombstones...
In the font of the sea baptized -
And in flight
His - incessantly broken!
Through every heart
Through every network
My willfulness will break.
Me - do you see these dissolute curls? -
You can't make earthly salt.
Crushing on your granite knees,
I am resurrected with every wave!
Long live the foam - cheerful foam -
High sea foam!
5 reader: Time passed, and Marina from a chubby girl with gooseberry-colored eyes turned into a short, fair-haired girl with a thoughtful look of myopic eyes. Marina's interest in music is gradually fading away, especially after the death of her mother. She developed a deeper passion - books. From the age of six, Musya / as she was called in the family / wrote poetry, but now her love for poetic creativity captures her entirely.
6 reader: Anastasia Tsvetaeva, Marina's sister, recalls:
“In the mother’s room hung a portrait of her grandmother, the beautiful Polish Maria Lukinichna Bernatskaya, who died very early - at 27 years old. Enlarged photo - dark-eyed, with heavy eyelids, a sad face with precise brush-drawn eyebrows, regular, sweet features, kind, bitterly touched mouth ... "
1 reader: This is how Marina says about it in her poem “Grandmother”:
Elongated and hard oval,
Black dress bells...
Young grandmother! - who kissed
Your haughty lips?
Hands that are in the halls of the palace
Chopin waltzes played...
On the sides of the icy face -
Curls, in the form of a spiral.
Dark, straight
and discerning gaze.
Look, ready for defense.
Young women don't look like that.
Young grandmother, who are you?
How many opportunities have you taken away
And how many impossibilities?
Into the insatiable abyss of earth,
Twenty-year-old polka!
The day was innocent
And the wind was fresh.
The dark stars went out.
Grandmother! - This violent rebellion
In my heart - is it not from you? ..
Reader 2: Swiftly and powerfully, Pushkin entered the life of the future poetess and became the constant spiritual support of this proud, subtle and rebellious soul.
No, the drum was beating
Before the troubled regiment,
When we buried the leader:
Then the teeth of the princess over the dead singer
The honorific was taken out.
Such an honor
What to closest friends -
No place. At the head, at the foot,
Both on the right and on the left - hands at the seams -
Gendarme breasts and faces.
Isn't it wonderful - and on the quietest of lodges
To be a supervised boy?
Looks like something, something, something
This honor, honorable - but too much!
Look, they say, the country, as contrary to rumor,
The monarch cares about the poet!
honorable - honorable - honorable - archi
Honorable - honorable - to hell!
When is it so - like thieves of a thief
Did they carry out the shot?
Traitor? No. From the passage yard -
The smartest husband of Russia.
Tsvetaeva dedicated a cycle of poems "Poems to Pushkin" and an essay "My Pushkin", "Pushkin and Pugachev" to the great Russian poet.
3 reader: Marina Tsvetaeva belonged to the people of that era, which was unusual in itself and made everyone living in it unusual. The poetess was well acquainted with Valery Bryusov, Maxim Gorky, Vladimir Mayakovsky, Boris Pasternak, Anna Akhmatova and other talented people of the 19th and early 20th centuries. She dedicated her poems to them, which were an expression of her feelings and thoughts. The lines dedicated to the poetic idol - Alexander Blok are imbued with special love:
Your name is a bird in your hand
Your name is ice on the tongue.
One single movement of the lips.
Your name is five letters.
Ball caught on the fly
Silver bell in the mouth.
A stone thrown into a quiet pond
Sigh like your name is.
In the light clicking of night hooves
Your loud name thunders.
And call him to our temple
A loud clicking trigger.
Your name - oh, you can't! -
Your name is a kiss in the eyes
In the gentle cold of motionless eyelids.
Your name is a kiss in the snow.
Key, icy, blue sip…
With your name - sleep is deep.
4 reader: In 1911, the poetess met Sergei Efron in the Crimea, who later became her husband. It is to him, beloved, husband, friend, that the best poems will be dedicated.
/ Music by A. Petrov from the movie "Cruel Romance" sounds /
5 reader: I wear his ring with a challenge!
Yes, in Eternity - a wife, not on paper. -
His overly narrow face
Like a sword.
His mouth is silent, corners down,
Excruciatingly gorgeous eyebrows.
Tragically merged in his face
Two ancient bloods.
He is thin with the first subtlety of the branches.
His eyes are beautifully useless! -
Under the wings of outstretched eyebrows -
Two abysses.
In his person I am faithful to chivalry,
To all of you who lived and died without fear! -
Such - in fateful times -
They compose stanzas - and go to the chopping block.
/ The waltz of E. Doga from the movie “My sweet and gentle beast” sounds /
6 reader: I like that you are not sick of me,
I like that I'm not sick of you,
That never a heavy globe of the earth
Won't float under our feet.
I like that you can be funny -
Dissolute - and do not play with words,
And do not blush with a suffocating wave,
Lightly touching sleeves.
I also like that you are with me
Calmly hug another
Don't read to me in hellfire
Burn for the fact that I do not kiss you.
That my tender name, my gentle, not
You mention neither day nor night - in vain ...
What never in church silence
They will not sing over us: hallelujah!
Thank you with heart and hand
Because you me - not knowing yourself! -
So love: for my peace of the night,
For the rarity of meetings at sunset,
For our non-festivities under the moon,
For the sun, not over our heads, -
Because you are sick - alas! - not by me
Because I'm sick - alas! - not you!
/ The music of E. Doga from the TV movie “Vertical Racing” sounds /
1 reader: 1913. Crimea. Koktebel. Next to Marina Tsvetaeva - her friends, loved one and tiny daughter Alya. The sister of the poetess says: “It was the heyday of Marina's beauty. Like a flower raised above her shoulders, her golden-haired head, fluffy, with streams of light curls curling at the temples, with a thick sheen over her eyebrows, hair cut like children's. The clear green of her eyes, clouded by a short-sighted gaze that shyly evades, has something magical in it. This is not the shyness that tormented her in her adolescence, when she was embarrassed by her unloved appearance ... She knows her worth in external charm, as she knew her internally from childhood.
/Music continues to play./
2 reader: The sea splashes quietly. Dark blue sea, twinkling stars and verses:
In a huge linden garden,
Innocent and ancient -
I'm walking with a mandolin
In a very long dress
Inhaling the warm smell of fields
And ripe raspberries
Barely holding the bar
old mandolin,
Dividing the curls with a parting ...
Rustle of tight silk
Deep cut bodice
And a fluffy skirt. -
My step is tender and tired,
And the camp, like a flexible rod,
Leaning on a pedestal
Where someone is prostrated.
Fallen quiver and bow
On the green - so white!
And tramples my narrow heel
Invisible arrows.
3 reader: The poems of M. Tsvetaeva are melodic, sincere and charming, composers constantly turn to them, and then they turn into romances of amazing beauty.
/ A. Petrov’s romance “Under the caress of a plush blanket” from the movie “Cruel Romance” sounds /
4 reader: The turbulent events of 1917 separated sister Marina and Anastasia for three and a half years. In May 1921, Marina gives her sister a letter with a call to work in Moscow, a pood of flour for the road and a typewritten collection of poems:
I entrust this book to the wind
And oncoming cranes.
A long time ago - to shout out the separation -
I am this book, like a bottle in the waves,
I throw into the whirlwind of wars.
Let her wander - a candle for the holiday -
Like this: from hand to hand.
O wind, wind, my faithful witness,
Bring to the dear ones
What I do every night in my sleep
The path is from North to South.
2 reader: And again separation: from 1922 to 1927. See you in Paris. While in exile, M. Tsvetaeva constantly thought about her homeland. In a poem addressed to Boris Pasternak, a note of longing and sadness sounds:
Russian rye bow from me,
Niva, where the woman is stagnant.
Friend! Rain outside my window
Troubles and blessings in the heart ...
You, in the wake of rain and trouble
Well, that Homer - in hexameter,
Give me your hand - to the whole world!
Here - both of mine are busy.
6 reader: Years fly by one after another. Short and long letters. Anastasia Tsvetaeva learns that her sister and son Georgy are returning to Russia in 1939 (the husband and eldest daughter were already at home by that time).
However, the hopes associated with the return did not come true. Heavy blows of fate fell upon the poetess. The arrest of Ali's husband and eldest daughter. The beginning of the war. Deportation to Yelabuga. Constant anxiety for the lives of loved ones. Complete spiritual isolation. No news from friends. And thoughts, thoughts... Incinerating the soul, leaving no room for the desire to live.
In 1943, recalls Anastasia Tsvetaeva, a terrible telegram arrived.
5 reader: “I opened the sheet. It contains two lines from friends: “Marina died two years ago, on the thirty-first of August. We kiss your heart. Lily. Zina.”
/ Sounds “Requiem” by M. Tsvetaeva performed by Alla Pugacheva: “How many of them fell into the abyss ...” /
Literary and musical position on the work of Marina Tsvetaeva "To my poems, written so early."
Goals:
to interest students in the personality of Marina Tsvetaeva;
captivate with poetic creativity, in which loyalty to the Motherland, and the glorification of man, and passionate love;
note the musicality of Tsvetaeva's poetry;
to form the aesthetic taste of students;
give students the opportunity to test themselves in different types of artistic practice (creativity and perception);
to realize interdisciplinary connections, in particular, literature and music.
Equipment:
a portrait of Marina Tsvetaeva, flowers and bunches of mountain ash nearby;
collections of poems by the poetess;
album, illustrations;
presentation
Words written on the blackboard.
“My poems, like precious wines, will have their turn.” “We are the chains of a mysterious link.” “Take poetry - this is my life.”
Introductory speech of the teacher
Marina Tsvetaeva... The first meeting with her poetry strikes immediately and for life. And then - love for her poetry, an ongoing interest in her personality and fate. The tragic fate of this unusual woman is almost unknown to us, which is why her poetry is almost unfamiliar and incomprehensible. For many years the name and work of Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva were undeservedly forgotten. The priceless literary heritage remained unclaimed. So ordered the time, too saturated with politics. “Time was born past,” Tsvetaeva herself admits. Tsvetaev's poetry cannot be discovered immediately. It takes years, life. Ariadna Efron (Alya), who, according to Marina Ivanovna, grew up from her poems, shared all her sorrows and troubles with her mother and drank her grief to the full (8 years in Stalin's camps, 6 years of exile - and only then rehabilitation), wrote: “. ..It was necessary to go through and suffer so much in order to grow to understand our own mother!..” We, too, have yet to grow to understand M.I. Tsvetaeva.
Music.
Presenter 1. Good evening, dear guests! Today you are visitors to the literary lounge, where you will get acquainted with the life of Marina Tsvetaeva, her work. “We are chains of a mysterious link,” the poetess spoke about herself and about her life. “Take the testimonies - this is my life” In these words, the whole of Marina Tsvetaeva, her passion for poetry, originality and uniqueness.
Reader. To my poems, written so early, That I didn't even know that I was a poet, To burst like spray from a fountain, Like sparks from rockets. Bursting, like little devils, Into the sanctuary where sleep and incense, My poems about youth and death, Unread poems! - Scattered in the dust in shops (Where no one took them and does not take them!) My poems, like precious wines, Their turn will come
May 1913
Presenter 2. And indeed, after many years of neglect, this turn has come. Each of us, reading the poems of Marina Tsvetaeva, discovers his own Tsvetaeva.
romantic
bold
radiating love
desperate
full of grief
purposeful
kind, tough
Presenter 1. 10/08/1892 in Moscow, the daughter of Marina was born in the family of the famous philologist and art historian Ivan Vladimirovich Tsvetaev and the talented pianist Maria Alexandrovna Mein.
Reader
With a red brush, the Rowan lit up - The leaves were falling. I was born, Hundreds of Bells were arguing
The day was SabbathJohn the Theologian Even now I want to gnaw Hot mountain ash A bitter brush
Music.
Presenter 1. Tsvetaeva started writing early. Already in the early poems, the poetic individuality of Tsvetaeva manifests itself, the most important themes of her work are formed: Russia, love, poetry. - I see: in the wind You are looking for the house where I was born - Or in which I will die.
Presenter 2. From the age of six, Musya (as Marina was called in the family) read poetry. The mother, linking her daughter's future with music, forbade her to do this. To be herself, not to borrow from anyone, not to imitate, not to be influenced - this is how Tsvetaeva came out of her childhood and has remained like that forever. After the death of her mother, interest in music gradually faded away, now her love for poetic creativity has captured her entirely.
Reader Who is made of stone, Who is made of clay, - And I silver and sparkle! My business is treason, my name is Marina, I am the mortal foam of the sea.
Who is created from clay, who is created from flesh - That is the coffin and tombstones In the font of the sea baptized - and in His flight - is incessantly broken!
Through every heart, through every network My self-will will break through. Me - do you see these dissolute curls? - You can’t make earthly salt. Crushing on your granite knees, I am resurrected with every wave! Long live the foam - cheerful foam High foam of the sea!
Music.
Presenter 1. The first book "Evening Album" was released by Tsvetaeva in 1910, when she had just turned 18 years old. The book did not go unnoticed: the poet Valery Bryusov praised it, N. Gumilyov wrote about it with interest, and Maximilian Voloshin was the first to read it with a kind smile and friendly participation. Marina Tsvetaeva met and became friends with 37-year-old Maximilian Voloshin. Their friendship lasted over 20 years.
Who gave you such clarity of colors? Who gave you such accuracy of words, The courage to say everything from children's caresses to spring new moon dreams?
Presenter 2. A girl from Trekhprudny Lane, overflowing with the impressions of life, writes poetry to tell about herself, to understand herself. In the poems, there is a carefree summer in Tarusa, a blue Eye and clouds slowly floating towards God; unaccountable adolescent sadness, young sadness that creates pauses in the turbulent course of life, during which the soul matures; the first love; success in poetry salons.
Presenter 1. In May 1911, at the invitation of Voloshin, Marina arrives in the Crimea. In Koktebel, at the dachas belonging to Voloshin's mother, a large artistic company gathered. Wandering around the outskirts of Koktebel in search of beautiful pebbles, which the Crimean coast is famous for, Marina meets a tall young man. His huge blue eyes captivate her. There are such voices that you fall silent without echoing them, that you foresee miracles there are huge eyes the colors of the sea
He helps her collect stones. She thinks that if a stranger finds a carnelian, then she will marry him. And so it happened. The young man found almost immediately, by touch, a Genoese carnelian bead - a pink large stone - and presented it to Marina. In January 1912 in Moscow, in a church, they got married. In January 1912, Sergei Efron and Marina Tsvetaeva got married. The short interval between their meeting and the beginning of the First World War was the only period of untroubled happiness in their lives. It is to him, beloved husband, friend, that the best poems will be dedicated.
Song performed by A. Pugacheva "I like that you are not sick of me."
Presenter 2. On September 5, 1912, at half past six in the morning, Alya's daughter, Ariadna Efron, was born to the sound of bells.
The music of bells sounds
Marriage and the birth of a daughter served as a creative impulse in the development of Marina Tsvetaeva both as a person and as a poet. New themes, new rhythms appear in the verses. Little Alya becomes the center of attention and love - the daughter of Ariadne, named after the heroine of the Greek legend about the minotaur. Poems dedicated to Alya burn with love and tenderness
Reader.
You will be innocent, thin, Charming - and alien to everyone, Captivating Amazon, Swift mistress
And your braids, perhaps, You will wear like a helmet, You will be the queen of the ball - And all the young poems And many will pierce, queen, Your mocking blade, And everything that I only dream of, You will have at your feet. Everything will be for you humbly, And everyone with you - quiet, You will be like me - no doubt - And it's better to write poetry But will you - who knows - Deadly squeeze your whiskey, As your young mother is now squeezing them.
Lead 2. 1914. The first parting with a loved one. Sergei Efron, a 1st year student at Moscow University, is sent to the front. On April 13, 1917, Marina Tsvetaeva's second daughter, Irina, was born.
Presenter 1. In November 1917, revolutionary events separated Tsvetaeva and her husband. Sergei went to the Don, where the first units of the White Army were formed. Marina stayed with her two daughters in Moscow. The eldest, Alya, was five, Irina was not even a year old. The terrible autumn of this year will find Tsvetaeva alone with the catastrophe of the approaching famine. "No flour, no bread, under the desk 12 pounds of potatoes: the whole stock"
Presenter 2. In desperation, she takes an irreparable step: she sends her daughters to the Kuntsevo shelter, where they are promised full support. But after a few weeks, Alya, who is seriously ill, has to be taken away; For two months the girl was between life and death. And on February 2, 1920, Irina Tsvetaeva died in an orphanage. Marina was left alone like a finger, with unbearable pain in her heart - and who could soften her torment?
Music.
Reader
Two hands, lightly lowered
On a baby's head!
There were - one for each -
I have been given two heads.
But both - clamped -
Furious - as she could! -
Snatching the elder from the darkness -
Didn't save the little one.
Two hands - caress - smooth
Delicate heads are lush.
Two hands - and here is one of them
The night turned out to be too much.
Light - on a thin neck -
Dandelion on a stem!
I still don't quite understand
That my child is in the ground.
Presenter 1. The event that turned the whole future life of Marina Tsvetaeva happened on July 14, 1921. On this day, the first letter in four and a half years came from her husband from abroad, where he was after the defeat of the white army.
Presenter 2: Letter from S. Efron. "My dear friend, Marinochka, today received a letter from Ilya Grigorievich (Ehrenburg) that you are alive and well. After reading the letter, I wandered around the city all day, distraught with joy.: Our meeting with you was the greatest miracle and will be an even greater miracle our meeting is coming. During the years of our separation - every day, every hour - you were with me, in me: Take care of yourself, yourself, I conjure you. You and Alya are the last and most precious thing I have. God bless you. Your WITH."
Presenter 1. Instantly, irrevocably, Marina decided to leave. Without Seryozha, she could not imagine her existence. There were and will be many hobbies in her life - a kind of "fuel" for the creative fire, which, having burned out, dissipated forever; but love remains alone until the end of days:
Reader
I wrote on the slate board
And on the leaves of faded fans,
And on the river, and on the sea sand,
Skates on the ice and a ring on the windows, -
And on the trunks, which are hundreds of winters,
And finally - for everyone to know! -
What do you love! love! love! - love!
Signed - a rainbow of heaven.
How I wanted everyone to bloom
For centuries with me! under my fingers!
And how then, bowing his forehead on the table,
Cross - crossed out - the name ...
But you, in the hand of a corrupt scribe
Clamped! you, that sting my heart!
Unsold by me! inside the ring!
You will survive on the tablets.
May 18, 1920
Presenter 1. The meeting with her husband will take place in a year, and her closeness contributed to the creative upsurge of the poetess. During this short time, Marina Tsvetaeva wrote more than 100 poems, several poems. In 1923, in Berlin, the collection "Craft" will be published, combining poems created a year before leaving Russia. The book will perplex readers: nervous contraction, rigidity.
Reader. Nailed to the pillory of the ancient Slavic conscience, With a snake in my heart and branded on my forehead, I affirm that I am innocent. all my good, Tell me - or am I blind? Where is my gold? Where is the silver? In my hand - only a handful of ashes! And this is all that revenge and prayer I begged from the happy. And this is all that I will take with me To the land of silent kisses
Presenter 2. The change of style meant significant changes, primarily in relation to life values. The revolution and the civil war, the trials of four Moscow years, colored by the death of a daughter and anxiety for her husband - everything had an effect here. Tsvetaeva could no longer speak in her former voice. In the old language, in the old intonations, it was no longer possible to express the attitudes that had grown in her all these years.
Presenter 1. Here, in Berlin, Tsvetaeva receives a letter from Boris Pasternak, excited and grateful. He admired her collection of miles. Stunned by the letter, Marina for the first time carefully read Pasternak's collection "My Sister Life". For two days in a row she could not tear herself away from the book, she wakes up in the morning with it on her chest. From now on, Pasternak will be present in her fate for years and years, just as she is in his fate. Their attachment to each other was destined to be born when not just miles, borders lay between them.
Presenter 2. 17 years of foreign land will become for Tsvetaeva a time of separation not just from Russia - from Boris Pasternak. Berlin is short. Prague - 3 years. Paris - seven years
Presenter 1. Marina Tsvetaeva belonged to the people of that era, which was unusual in itself and made everyone living in it unusual. The poetess was well acquainted with Valery Bryusov, Maxim Gorky, Vladimir Mayakovsky, Boris Pasternak, Anna Akhmatova and other talented people of the 19th and early 20th centuries. She dedicated poems to them, which were an expression of her feelings and thoughts. The lines dedicated to her poetic idol - Alexander Blok are imbued with special love.
Reader. Your name is a bird in your hand, Your name is an icicle on your tongue. One - the only movement of your lips. Your name is five letters. A ball caught on the fly, A silver bell in your mouth.
Your name - oh, you can't! - Your name is a kiss in the eyes, In the gentle cold of motionless eyelids. Your name is a kiss in the snow. A key, icy, blue sip. With your name - sleep is deep.
Presenter 2. Tsvetaeva idolized Anna Akhmatova.
Reader
O Muse, weep, most beautiful of the Muses!
Oh you, crazy fiend of the white night,
You send a black blizzard to Russia,
And your cries pierce us like arrows.
And we shied away and deaf oh!
Anna swears the hundred thousandth to you
Akhmatova! This name is a huge sigh
And in the depths he falls, which is nameless
Presenter 1. The poet Voloshin was a friend. "In no way and never did Max let me feel the benefits of his experience, not to mention the name. He loved me for my mistakes too. Like anyone who was something. Nothing from the master: everything from the satellite:" Presenter 2. And then - long years of silence, in exile, she, alas, did not take root, in the west she and Sergei Efron are perceived, almost as traitors and apostates.
Reader.
Homesickness! For a long time
Exposed haze!
I don't care at all
Where all alone
Be on the stones home
Walk with a market purse
To the house, and not knowing what is mine,
Like a hospital or barracks.
I don't care which ones
Persons - bristling prisoners
Lion from what human environment
To be forced out for sure.
Every house is alien to me, every temple is empty for me
I don't care and everything is one
But if there is a bush along the way
Rises, especially, mountain ash Host 1. Need, nostalgia for Russia tormented Tsvetaeva. In one of the letters, she sends a poem to Pasternak, but, in fact, through him - to Russia.
I bow to Russian rye, To the field where the woman is stagnant ... Friend! Rain outside my window, Troubles and whims in the heart ... You are in the whistle of rains and troubles Just like Homer is in hexameter. Give me your hand to the whole world! Both of mine are busy here.
Marina Tsvetaeva's condition was the most difficult: for more than six months she did not write anything: "There is no spiritual (main and only) peace, there is the opposite." Presenter 2. The September events of 1938 brought Tsvetaeva out of creative dumbness. The attack of the Nazis on Czechoslovakia aroused anger and indignation in her heart, and an avalanche of anti-fascist "Poems of the Czech Republic" poured in. It was her "swan song in a foreign land."
Reader
Oh, tears in my eyes!
Cry of anger and love!
Oh, the Czech Republic in tears!
Spain in the blood!
Oh black mountain
Who eclipsed the whole world!
It's time, it's time, it's time
Return the ticket to the creator.
I refuse to be
In the bedlam of nonhumans.
I refuse to live
With the wolves of the squares.
I refuse to howl
With the sharks of the plains
Refusing to sail
Downstream spin.
I don't need holes
Ear or prophetic eyes
To your crazy world
There is only one answer - refusal.
Presenter 1. In 1939, Tsvetaeva, having restored her Soviet citizenship, comes to Moscow. Her family was finally reunited, they all lived together in the village of Bolshevo near Moscow. But this last happiness did not last long: in August, the daughter was arrested, in October - her husband. Marina Tsvetaeva and her son wandered around in strange corners. She traveled with transfers to Alya and Sergei Yakovlevich, trembled over Moore's fragile health, rescued luggage that had arrived from France, which was delayed for a whole year. The poems were not published. She was engaged in translations to feed herself and her son.
Presenter 2. The war caught Tsvetaeva translating Federico Garcia Lorca. The work was interrupted: the events led the poet into a state of panic, insane fear for his son, complete hopelessness. It was then, probably, that her will to live began to weaken. On August 8, Tsvetaeva and Moore left for evacuation to Yelabuga on the Kama. The horror of being out of a job hung. Hoping to get something in Chistopol, Marina Ivanovna went there, received permission for a residence permit and left a statement to the council of the Litfond.
Presenter 1.: “All these days I want to write my will: I would like not to be at all” August 26, 1941: “A little hopeful, on the 28th she returned to Yelabuga, and on the 31st she committed suicide.
Sounds "Requiem" performed by A. Pugacheva.
Presenter 1. I will sing, earthly and alien, Earthly tune! This “earthly tune” contains the beauty and strength of Tsvetaeva's lyrics. Her poems are filled with music. No wonder Andrei Bely commented on one of her collections: “Let me express my deep admiration for the completely winged melody of your book “Separation”. It's not a book, it's a song"
Presenter 2. The poet dies - his poetry remains. Tsvetaeva's prophecy was fulfilled that her poems "come their turn." Now they have entered the cultural life of the world, into our spiritual life, having taken a high place in the history of poetry.
Presenter 1. Our meeting has come to an end. Of course, she could not contain all the work of M.I. Tsvetaeva. Together today we seem to have flipped through several pages of a collection of poems by the poetess, but only slightly opened the door to the richest world of Marina Tsvetaeva's legacy. We hope that you have a desire to turn to Tsvetaeva's poetry and leaf through collections of her poems. See you again.
Topic: “If the soul was born winged…”
Equipment: portrait of Marina Tsvetaeva, her family and friends; nearby are flowers or bunches of mountain ash;
an exhibition of books about Tsvetaeva and collections of her poems; notes of songs and romances on poems by Tsvetaeva; record; use of technical means.
Purpose of the event:
1) to interest students in the personality of Marina Tsvetaeva;
2) to captivate with poetic creativity, in which there is loyalty to the Motherland, and the glorification of man, and deadly irony, and passionate love;
3) note the features of Tsvetaeva's poetic manner: the elasticity of the line, fast rhythm, unexpected rhyme, the desire for a concise, short, expressive verse.
On the desk:
“My whole life is a romance with my own soul.”
M. Tsvetaeva.
Event progress:
1 slide (announcement of the topic and goals of the event by the teacher)
I. A word about Marina Tsvetaeva (2 presenters introduce the biography of Marina Tsvetaeva. Students' speech is accompanied by a presentation)
Lead 1.
2 slide Among the most remarkable names in Russian poetry of the XX century, we rightly call the name of Marina Tsvetaeva.
3slide Marina Tsvetaeva entered literature at the turn of the century, an anxious and troubled time. Like many poets of her generation, she has a sense of the tragedy of the world.
Conflict over time proved inevitable for her. But Tsvetaeva's poetry is opposed not to time, not to the world, but to the dullness and pettiness living in it:
4 slide “What should I do, the singer and the first-born in the world, where the blackest is gray! . . With this immensity in the world of measures...
5 slide The poet is the only defender of millions of the destitute:
Lead 2.
If the soul was born winged - What are her mansions - and what are her huts! What is Genghis Khan to her and what is the Horde!
I have two enemies in the world, Two twins, inextricably merged: The hunger of the hungry - and the satiety of the well-fed!
“If the soul was born winged…”
Lead 1.
6 slide Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva was born in Moscow on September 26, 1892, from Saturday to Sunday, on John the Theologian, in a cozy mansion in one of the old Moscow lanes. The birthday of the future poet is illuminated by the light of a mountain ash - the same traditional symbol of Russia as the Yesenin birch.
Lead 2.
7 slide
With a red brush, Rowan lit up. Leaves fell, I was born.
Hundreds of Bells were arguing, The day was Sabbath: John the Theologian.
Even now I want to gnaw on the hot rowanberry, the bitter brush.
"Red brush".
Lead 1.
By origin, family ties, education, M. Tsvetaeva belonged to the scientific and artistic intelligentsia.
8slide Father, Ivan Vladimirovich Tsvetaev, the son of a poor rural priest, a native of the village of Talitsy, Vladimir province, grew up in such “prosperity” that he did not see his boots in his eyes until he was twelve years old. With work and talent, Ivan Vladimirovich Tsvetaev made his way in life, became a philologist, art critic, professor at Moscow University, director of the Rumyantsev Museum, founder of the Museum of Fine Arts.
Lead 2.
9slide Mother, Maria Aleksandrvna Mein, came from a Russified Polish-German family - an artistically gifted nature, a musician, a student of Rubinstein.
The home world was permeated with a constant interest in art, in music.
(From the memoirs of M. Tsvetaeva).
10slide “When instead of the desired, predetermined, almost ordered son Alexander, only I was born, my mother said:“ At least there will be a musician. When the first, obviously meaningless ... word turned out to be “gamma”, my mother only confirmed: “I knew it,” and immediately began to teach me music ... I can say that I was born not into life, but into music.
Lead 1.
Who is created from stone, who is created from clay, - And I silver and sparkle! My business is treason, my name is Marina, I am the mortal foam of the sea.
What was little Marina like? From my mother's diary: "My four-year-old Marusya walks around me and puts words into rhyme - maybe there will be a poet?"
Lead 2.
11 slide And here are the memories of my sister, Anastasia Tsvetaeva: “There were piggy banks. Clay. Mysi (Marina) had a dog, I had a cat. And now the piggy bank is full! How my heart beat! To see the money, you need to break the piggy bank. Neither Musya nor I could. Andryusha smashed, closing his eyes... Knock, fall, crack - and what despair! Hands wet with tears tried to find out in a pile of clay fragments - the dead cat, dog. Our feet fled to our roar from the place of death. I don't remember the coin count or the purchases. It may have been only once? Was it really possible again - for the sake of money - to beat a dog or a cat to death?... The enormity of such an end was not subject to repetition ... was it not on that day of childish grief that Marinino was born and my disgust for wealth, the suspicion that it, like those coins, was bathed in tears."
Lead 1.
12 slide And even earlier, before this childhood grief, Pushkin entered the life of three-year-old Marina. There was a painting in mother's bedroom
13 slide "Duel". Snow, black twigs of trees, two black people lead a third under the armpits to the sledge...
From the memoirs of Tsvetaeva: “The first thing I learned about Pushkin was that he was killed. Dantes challenged him to a duel and killed him with a pistol in the stomach. So for three years I knew for sure that the poet has a belly, and ... about this belly of the poet ... I cared no less than about his soul. We were all wounded in the stomach with this shot ... I divided the world into a poet and everyone. And she chose the poet as her client...
Lead 2.
Pushkin was not her contemporary, but was the first bereavement.
14 slide The second loss was the mother, who died in 1906.
Adolescence begins from the day of her mother's death - from the summer of 1906.
After the death of her mother, Marina goes into books and poetry.
15 slide Writes in Russian, German, French.
Lead 1.
“We constantly had noisy arguments about new people. Marina spoke boldly, brushing aside everything old, obsolete ... ”She was interested in history, read Pushkin, German romantics. She studied a lot (music school, Catholic boarding schools in Lausanne and Freiburg, Yalta Women's Gymnasium, Sorbonne). She began writing poetry from the age of six (in Russian, French, German), and printed from the age of sixteen.
Lead 2.
7 In 1910, Marina Tsvetaeva released the collection "Evening Album", published in the amount of 500 copies. He was noticed and approved by V. Bryusov, N. Gumilyov, M. Voloshin.
16 slide In Voloshin, Marina Tsvetaeva found a friend for life.
17 slide What was Marina Tsvetaeva like?
Small in stature with a strict and slender posture. Golden-brown hair, pale face, eyes ... green, the color of grapes.
Eyes accustomed to the steppes, Eyes accustomed to tears. Green - salty - Peasant eyes ...
"Eyes".
Lead 1.
The features of the face and its contours were very precise and clear. Her voice was high, clear, flexible.
18 slide I read poetry willingly, but at the first request, or suggested it myself: “Do you want me to read poetry to you?”
Dear reader! Laughing like a child, Cheerfully meet my "Magic Lantern". Your sincere laughter, let it be a call. And unaccountable, as of old.
Lead 2.
19 slide Following the “Evening Album”, two more poetry collections by Tsvetaeva appeared - “Magic Lantern” (1912), “From Two Books” (1913) - both under the brand name of the publishing house “Ole - Lukoye”, the home enterprise of Sergei Efron, a friend youth M. Tsvetaeva, whom she married in 1912.
Lead 1.
20 slide Marina Tsvetaeva and Sergey Efron. They met - seventeen-year-old and eighteen-year-old - on May 5, 1911, on the deserted, dotted with small pebbles, Koktebel coast. She collected pebbles, he began to help her - a handsome, sad, meek beauty of a young man ... With amazing, huge eyes half the size of his face.
There are such voices that you are silent,
I don't echo them
That you foresee miracles.
Has huge eyes
Sea colors...
Looking into them and reading everything in advance, Marina thought: “If he comes up and gives me a carnelian, I will marry him!”
Lead 2.
Of course, he found this carnelian immediately, by touch, for he did not take his gray eyes off her green ones, and he put it into her palm, illuminated from the inside by a large stone, which she kept all her life. (Waltz by E.Dogi sounds)
Seryozha and Marina got married on January 27, 1912. Efron gave his beloved a ring, on the inside of which the date of the wedding and her name were engraved.
Lead 1.
21 slide September 5, 1912, at half past five in the morning, to the sound of bells, M. Tsvetaeva's daughter was born.
(From the memoirs of M. Tsvetaeva.)
“I called her Ariadna, contrary to Seryozha, who loves Russian names, dad, who loves simple names, friends, who find it salon .... I named it from the romanticism and arrogance that guide my whole life. " Girl! - Queen of the ball! Or a schemer - God knows! - What time is it? - It was getting light. Someone answered me: - Six. To quiet in sorrow, To tender grew, - My girl was met by early bells.
Lead 2.
Quiet family happiness ... It was not disturbing for long.
22 slide First World War. In 1914, Seryozha, a first-year student at Moscow University, went to the front as a brother of mercy. Where can I get the strength to survive the first separation? But Marina is strong. After all, the blood of a proud grandmother, a Pole, flows in her veins.
Anastasia Tsvetaeva recalled: “In the mother’s room hung a portrait of her grandmother, the beautiful Polish Maria Lukinichna Vernadskaya, who died very early, at 27 years old .. A dark-eyed, sad face ... with regular, sweet features ...”.
Lead 1.
23 slide Life went on as usual. On April 13, 1917, Marina Tsvetaeva had a second daughter, Irina. From the memoirs of Tsvetaeva: “At first I wanted to name her Anna (in honor of Akhmatova). But destinies don't repeat themselves...
24 slide These were harsh years. The most difficult for her was 1919.
From Tsvetaeva’s diary: “I live with Alya and Irina (Alya is 6 years old, Irina is 2 years 7 months old) in Borisoglebsky Lane ..., in the attic room ... There is no flour, no bread, 12 pounds of potatoes under the desk ... all stock..."
My attic palace, palace attic!
Come up. A mountain of handwritten papers.
So! Hand! Keep right.
There is a puddle from the roof full of holes!
Now admire, seated on the chest,
What a Flanders brought to me by a spider.
Do not listen to idle talk,
What can a woman do without lace.
Lead 2.
(From the diary).
“My second daughter Irina died on March 2, 1920, from starvation.”
What could be worse than this grief?! Exhausted mentally and physically, she receives the mercy of fate - a message from her husband, who found himself in the ranks of the white emigration.
25 slide In 1922, Tsvetaeva and her daughter traveled abroad to Sergei Efron.
From the memoirs of Ariadna Efron: “Our luggage is a chest with manuscripts, a suitcase ... When they passed the white church of Boris and Gleb, Marina said:“ Cross, Alya! ... ". And then ... Berlin - not for long, Prague - 3 years, Paris ...
From Tsvetaeva’s diary: “Over the 7 years of France, my heart has infinitely cooled ...
Lead 1.
26 slide On February 1, 1925, M. Tsvetaeva's dream son Georgy was born - in the family he will be called Mur.
(From the diary).
“If I had to die now, I would wildly pity the boy whom I love with some kind of dreary, tender, grateful love. Alya I would feel sorry for something else, and Alya would never forget me in a different way, the boy would never remember me ...
I will love him - whatever he may be: not for beauty, not for talent, not for resemblance, for what he is ...
Boys need to be pampered - they may have to go to war.
Lead 2.
At first, emigration met her as a like-minded person. But then everything changed. Gradually ceased to print her poems. “My reader remains in Russia,” wrote Tsvetaeva.
27 slide Being in exile for 17 years, she constantly lived with thoughts about the Motherland. In 1934, Tsvetaeva wrote an amazing poem "Longing for the Motherland." This poem leaves the impression of being unfinished, abruptly breaking off with the stanza:
Every house is alien to me, every temple is empty to me,
And everything is the same, and everything is one.
But if on the way - a bush
It gets up, especially the mountain ash ...
Lead 1.
28 slide In 1939, Tsvetaeva restored her Soviet citizenship and returned to her homeland. Earlier, the daughter and husband returned to Russia, but they were soon repressed.
Choking with longing,
I walk alone, without any thought,
And dropped and hung
My two thin hands...
It is not printed. Interrupted by odd jobs. The beginning of the war. Constant anxiety for the lives of loved ones.
29 slide Evacuation from Moscow to Yelabuga. The horror of unemployment. A tragic feeling of uselessness, helplessness, fear for her son, whom she involuntarily pulled into a labyrinth of despair.
Lead 2.
When the remnants of the last energy went out, she voluntarily passed away on August 31, 1941, leaving a note to her son: “... Forgive me, but it would be worse further ... I am seriously ill, this is not me. Love you so much. Understand that I could no longer live ... "
From Tsvetaeva's diary: “All these days I have been wanting to write a will... The words of the will are added up by themselves. Not material - I have nothing, but something that I need so that people know about me: an explanation, a letter to children:
Lead 1.
30 slide Dear children!
Never pour water in vain, because at the same second, due to the lack of it, a person dies in the desert ... There will be one less senseless crime in the world.
Therefore, never give up bread, for there are ... slums where people die without bread ...
Do not celebrate victory over the enemy. Enough - consciousness. After winning, lend a hand…”
Lead 2.
This is a letter from Marina Tsvetaeva - not only to her daughter and son, it is addressed to everyone living after - both you and me. Will.
31 slide And Tsvetaeva bequeathed her poems to us:
To you who is to be born
A century later, when I rest...
32 slide Years after Tsvetaeva's death, S.Ya. Marshak answered her poems:
As you yourself predicted
Beam reaching the earth
When the star is gone
Your poems have reached us ...
33 slide Tsvetaeva left us collections of poems.
34 slide
II. And now let's recall the poems of Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
(the word is given to students who have prepared various works of the poet).
III. Summing up (during the summing up, students are invited to watch a documentary film about the life and work of Marina Tsvetaeva).
IV. Closing remarks about the poet (any participant can make a presentation)
M. Tsvetaeva - the poet cannot be confused with anyone else. You will recognize her poems unmistakably - by their special chant, unique rhythms, and uncommon intonation.
M. Tsvetaeva is a poet of the “ultimate truth of feelings”. She, with all her “not just an established fate, with all the brightness and originality of her original talent, rightfully entered Russian poetry ...”
(Sun. Christmas)
Now M. Tsvetaeva is a universally recognized classic of Russian poetry, one of its peaks.
Poets are dying. Poetry remains.
On the curtain is the name of the evening: "My poems ... will have their turn ...".
On the stage there is a coffee table covered with a lace tablecloth, a candlestick with lighted candles, a portrait of M. Tsvetaeva.
Near the table are two chairs, draped with cloth; Readers take turns sitting on one of them. The second chair remains free all evening.
The hall hosts an exhibition of books about M. Tsvetaeva and her work.
On the desktop there are technical equipment necessary for the evening: a music center, a projector, a laptop.
In front of the table is an interactive whiteboard.
The course of the evening
1 leading.
Reads the poem “The rowan lit up with a red brush ...”
So Marina Tsvetaeva herself wrote about her birth. She was born on October 10 (new style) 1892 in Moscow, in the family of Ivan Vladimirovich Tsvetaev, a professor at Moscow University, and the famous pianist Maria Alexandrovna Mein, who was the favorite student of the composer A. Rubinstein. Marina's father was the director of the Rumyantsev Museum and the founder of the Museum of Fine Arts (now it is the Pushkin Museum). Marina Tsvetaeva showed her poetic and musical abilities very early.
2 leading.
Reads the first part of the poem “Who is created from stone, who is created from clay…”
This is another autobiographical poem where Tsvetaeva explains the meaning of her name: Marina means “sea”. And since she is a wave of the sea, It means that she is changeable, proud and self-willed. She has been like this since childhood. Tsvetaeva begins to write poetry at the age of six, and - immediately in Russian, German and French. This was facilitated, of course, by the atmosphere of the Tsvetaev family and the old mansion in Trekhprudny Lane, where busts of ancient gods and heroes stood on the cabinets, and a large home library was located on the bookshelves.
(Sounds like a poem from the cycle "Poems to Pushkin").
1 leading.
All my life, from early childhood. Marina Tsvetaeva bowed before the genius of Russian poetry - Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin, to whom she dedicated a cycle of poems "Poems to Pushkin" and an essay "My Pushkin". The poet swiftly and powerfully entered the life of little Marina and became the spiritual support of the future poetess Tsvetaeva. This is evidenced by her entries in personal diaries, in creative notebooks, in lyrical prose and letters. She writes on January 26, 1937: "Poems to Pushkin" ... I absolutely cannot imagine that anyone would dare to read, except me. Dangerous poems… They are internally revolutionary, internally rebellious…”
(Another poem from the cycle “Poems to Pushkin” sounds.
2 leading.
Marina Tsvetaeva belonged to the people of that era, which was unusual in itself. The poetess was well acquainted with Valery Bryusov, Maxim Gorky, Vladimir Mayakovsky, Boris Pasternak, Anna Akhmatova and many other talented people of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. She dedicated her poems to them, communicated with many, and made friends with some. But the real idol in poetry for Tsvetaeva was Alexander Blok, with whom she was not even familiar.
Only twice was the poetess lucky enough to see him in May 1920 in Moscow during performances. According to Tsvetaeva, the “holy heart of Alexander Blok” absorbed all the troubles and sufferings, all the anxieties and sorrows of mankind. Marina Tsvetaeva dedicates the cycle Poems to Blok to her idol.
(A poem from the cycle “Your name is a bird in the hand ...” sounds.
1 leading.
1906, Koktebel ... Marina is visiting a family friend - Maximilian Voloshin. Here she meets Sergei Efron, who later became her husband. Everything was like in a fairy tale: Marina is looking for beautiful stones on a deserted shore. A tall, thin stranger with huge gray-blue eyes asks permission to help her. Marina agrees and thinks (jokingly or seriously?): if a young man finds and gives her her favorite Genoese carnelian, then she will marry him. Six months later, Marina and Sergey got married. To him, beloved, friend, husband, the best, most heartfelt poems about love will be dedicated; she will write such admiring lines about him: “I love Seryozha endlessly and forever ... I constantly tremble over him ... We will never part. Our meeting is a miracle… He is my dear for life.”
(The poem sounds “I wear his ring with a challenge ...”)
2 leading.
Unfortunately, Marina's family happiness was short-lived. The First World War, a revolution, a civil war began ... Sergei Efron, husband, Tsvetaeva, chooses the path of a White Guard soldier: in 1915 he entered the ambulance train as a brother of mercy, then emigrated abroad with the remnants of the Volunteer Army. There was no news from him for several years. Incredible difficulties befell Tsvetaeva at that time: she is the wife of a white officer in red Moscow; she has two daughters in her arms - Ariadna and Irina, who will die in the shelter from hunger, cold and disease. Marina is waiting for at least some news about her husband and hopes that he is alive ... During this difficult period for her, Tsvetaeva writes in her diary: “If God does this miracle - leaves you alive - I will follow you like a dog" . While waiting for news from her husband, Marina Tsvetaeva's poems are sad and sad ...
(The poem “Yesterday I looked into my eyes ...” and the waltz “I like that you are not sick of me ...” from the movie “My gentle and gentle beast”)
1 leading.
Finally, a miracle happened! In July 1921, Marina received the "good news" that Sergei was alive. Without hesitation, she immediately goes abroad with her daughter Ariadne. It seemed that happiness had no end: the family was finally reunited, and the long-awaited son, George, was born in exile. Marina Tsvetaeva and her family will live in Prague, the capital of the Czech Republic, for 13 out of 17 years.
I propose to make a virtual trip to Prague and visit those streets that Marina Tsvetaeva used to walk…
(Slide show with views of Prague through a laptop on the screen. Viewing takes place against the backdrop of a song to the words of M. Tsvetaeva "Generals of the twelfth year" by composer A. Petrov).
Sergei Efron, who by this time had already become a Soviet intelligence officer, felt the tragedy of exile in exile faster than anyone else. He wants to return to his homeland, fusses about a Soviet passport, and in 1937 he leaves for Moscow with Ariadna, not yet knowing what they will have to experience soon after their return. In 1939, Tsvetaeva and her son also returned to their homeland.
(The poem “You are coming, you look like me ...” sounds).
2 leading.
We have come to the most tragic page in the life of Marina Tsvetaeva. The Great Patriotic War began ... There are no friends nearby, no housing, no work, no family. Husband Sergei Efron was arrested and then shot in October 1941. Daughter Ariadna spent 16 years in the camps and will be rehabilitated only in February 1955. Marina Tsvetaeva goes with her son to evacuate to Yelabuga, where she remains alone with loneliness, with insoluble problems, with the unknown about the fate of her husband and daughter. Driven to complete despair, abandoned by everyone and running away from everyone, Marina Tsvetaeva takes her own life on August 31, 1941. She was not yet fifty years old ...
In memory of the poetess, a dance composition is performed on the musical theme of the song “I will win you back ...” by singer Irina Allegrova to the words of M. Tsvetaeva.
(A duet of a young man and a girl are dancing tango. A girl performs a dance in a satin white dress and barefoot. A young man in a strict suit.)
1 leading.
The burial place of Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva is not exactly known, since only her son Georgy was with her in Yelabuga, who in 1942 would die at the front. Many years later, the youngest Tsvetaeva's sister Anastasia put a sign on the Yelabuga cemetery, which says: "To Marina Tsvetaeva."
Let's leaf through our video album and take another look at those who are next to Tsvetaeva, and who are still alive ...
(Illustrations are shown on the interactive whiteboard.)
2 leading.
Reads the poem "To my poems, written so early ...". Then he extinguishes the candles and closes the evening, thanking everyone for their attention.
(Romances and songs to the words of M. Tsvetaeva sound).
Scenario of a poetic evening by M. Tsvetaeva.
Dear guests, dear teachers, dear students, we are glad to welcome you as our guest. Today you are visitors to the literary lounge, where we will come into contact with the wonderful world of poetry of wonderful poetesses: Marina Tsvetaeva and Anna Akhmatova.
Vedas. Poets are not born by chance
They fly to the ground from a height,
Their life is surrounded by deep mystery,
Although they are open and empty.
The eyes of such divine messengers
Always open and true to the dream,
And in the chaos of problems, their souls forever shine with those
Worlds lost in the dark...
Vedas. Why does a person write poetry? Because he can't write. Poetry is not a profession, but a special perception of the world. The birth of a verse is always an amazing mystery, even for the poet himself.
Poetry requires talent, and from those to whom it is intended, an insensitive ear to it will not let poetic currents pass to the human heart. For a reader with increased susceptibility, even a different imperfect verse evokes a reciprocal trembling of the soul, if this verse is born from a pure and strong source of spiritual experiences.
There is a woman whose soul is the Sea,
And in the depths of her beautiful eyes,
You feel like a big hero
Ready to fight for the first time.
There is a woman whose soul is Heaven,
And in the height of her beautiful words,
You feel like a part of the world
What turns into love in the heart.
There is a woman whose soul is a fairy tale,
And in the magic of her charming charms,
You feel in the arms of affection,
What in passion is so similar to a fire.
I understand the simple truth
I love, so I exist
I am, I exist, so I live!
Marina Tsvetaeva! Effective and even elaborate. It even looks like a pseudonym. But behind the flower name is the wounded soul of the publican, wandering in the infinity of passions.
About herself and about her life, she said, "We are the chains of the mysterious links."
“Take ... poetry - this is my life ...”
In these words, the whole of Marina Tsvetaeva, her passion for poetry, originality and uniqueness.
The day was Saturday
This is how Marina Tsvetaeva, one of the inextinguishable stars in the sky of Russian poetry, wrote about her birthday. Rowan forever entered the heraldry of her poetry. Burning and bitter, at the end of autumn, on the eve of winter, it became a symbol of fate, also transitional and bitter, blazing with creativity and constantly threatening the winter of oblivion.
On October 8, 1892, in Moscow, the daughter Marina was born in the family of the famous philologist and art historian Ivan Vladimirovich Tsvetaev and the talented pianist Maria Alexandrovna Mein.
The home world and the life of her family were permeated with a constant interest in art. Her mother, Maria Alexandrovna, was a talented pianist who admired A. Rubinstein himself with her playing. Father is the creator of the Museum of Fine Arts (now named after A. S. Pushkin). It is not surprising that Marina was the most educated person.
From childhood she was immersed in the atmosphere of A. Pushkin, in her youth she discovered Goethe and the German romantics, she loved and knew Derzhavin, Nekrasov, Leskov, Aksakov very well. Very early I felt in myself a certain “secret heat”, “hidden engine of life” and called it “love”. “Pushchin infected me with love. In a word, love." Throughout her life in Tsvetaeva, the spiritual and creative fire of love for the dear “shadows of the past”, for the “holy craft of the poet”, for nature, for living people, for friends and girlfriends, burned unquenchably.
M. Tariverdiev's romance "At the Mirror" sounds on the verses of M. Tsvetaeva.
Who is made of stone
who is made of clay,
And I'm silver and sparkle!
My business is treason, my name is Marina,
I am the mortal foam of the sea.
Who is made of clay, who is made of flesh -
The coffin and tombstones...
She was baptized in the sea font - and in flight
His - incessantly broken!
Through every heart, through every net
My willfulness will break through.
Me - do you see these dissolute curls? —
You can't make earthly salt.
Crushing on your granite knees
I am resurrected with every wave!
Long live foam - fun foam
High sea foam!
Lead 1. Tsvetaeva began writing early. Already in the early poems, the poetic individuality of Tsvetaeva is manifested, the most important themes of her work are formed: Russia, love, poetry.
If the soul was born winged -
What are her mansions and what are her huts!
What is Genghis Khan to her - and what is the Horde!
I have two enemies in the world,
Two twins - inextricably - merged:
The hunger of the hungry - and the satiety of the well-fed!
- this is how Marina Tsvetaeva defined her poetic appointment.
Lead 2. The first book "Evening Album" was released by Tsvetaeva in 1910, when she had just turned 18 years old. The book, the circulation of which was only 500 copies, did not go unnoticed: the poet Valery Bryusov praised it, N. Gumilyov wrote about it with interest, and Maximilian Voloshin was the first to read it with a kind smile and friendly participation. Marina Tsvetaeva met and became friends with 37-year-old Maximilian Voloshin. Their friendship lasted over 20 years.
Who gave you such clarity of colors?
Who gave you such accuracy of words,
The courage to say everything from children's caresses
Before spring new moon dreams?
Lead 3. A girl from Trekhprudny Lane, full of life's impressions, writes poetry to tell about herself, to understand herself. In the poems, there is a carefree summer in Tarusa, a blue Eye and clouds slowly floating towards God; unaccountable adolescent sadness, young sadness that creates pauses in the turbulent course of life, during which the soul matures; the first love; success in poetry salons.
Lead 1. In May 1911, at the invitation of Voloshin, Marina arrived in the Crimea. In Koktebel, at the dachas belonging to Voloshin's mother, a large artistic company gathered. Wandering around the outskirts of Koktebel in search of beautiful pebbles, which the Crimean coast is famous for, Marina meets a tall young man. His huge blue eyes captivate her.
What are you silent, not echoing them,
What do you foresee miracles
Has huge eyes
He helps her collect stones. She thinks that if a stranger finds a carnelian, then she will marry him. And so it happened. The young man found almost immediately, by touch, a Genoese carnelian bead - a pink large stone - and presented it to Marina. In January 1912 in Moscow, in a church, they got married. So Marina Tsvetaeva became the wife of Sergei Efron. Childhood is over. The time for apprenticeship is over. From a girl writing poetry, Marina Tsvetaeva became a poet. Knowing your own worth. Going our own way.
To my poems written so early
That I didn't know that I was a poet
Ripped off like spray from a fountain
Like sparks from rockets.
Bursting like little devils
In the sanctuary where sleep and incense
To my poems about youth and death,
Scattered in the dust at the shops
(Where no one took them and does not take them!)
My poems are like precious wines
Your turn will come.
Time, the great culler, knows its work. Yesterday, poets who were still thundering with ringing names and luxurious reputations singly and in groups went into oblivion. At the same time, poets forcibly removed from the reader, hushed up, disgraced, cursed by the authorities and their servants, came to the fore and rightfully captured the attention of readers. “And most importantly, I know how they will love me. in a hundred years,” wrote Tsvetaeva. A lot of water will flow, and not only water, but also blood, because the life of Marina Tsvetaeva, her work fell on the 10-30s of our catastrophic century.
Music sounds. Chopin. ‘Waltz’ (No. 7 in C-sharp minor). Sounds loud and then goes in the background.
Lead 2. Marriage and the birth of a daughter served as a creative impulse in the development of Marina Tsvetaeva both as a person and as a poet. New themes, new rhythms appear in the verses. Little Alya becomes the center of attention and love - the daughter of Ariadne, named after the heroine of the Greek legend about the minotaur.
You will be innocent, thin,
And your braids, perhaps
You will wear like a helmet
You will be the queen of the ball -
And all the young poems
And pierce many, queen,
Your mocking blade
And all that I'm only dreaming of
You will have at your feet.
Everything will be yours,
And everything with you is quiet,
You will be like me
And it's better to write poetry ...
But will you - who knows -
Deadly whiskey squeeze,
How they are now compressing
Your young mother.
Lead 1. Poems dedicated to Alya burn with love and tenderness.
Lead 3. From adolescence, Marina Ivanovna has been concerned about questions about life and death, about the destiny of a person, his self-fulfillment. All manifestations of the soul must find a way out. In the poem “How many of them have fallen into this abyss”, set to music by the composer Myagkov, Tsvetaeva defends the right to a full, full life, perpetual motion.
The song sounds “How many of them ...”
READER 2: As a poet and personality, she developed rapidly, and already in a year or two, which had passed after the first naive-adolescent poems, she was different. During this time I tried different masks, equal voices and themes. She managed to visit the images of a sinner, a courtesan, a gypsy - all these “fittings” left beautiful and vivid poems in her work. Through all her life, through all her wanderings, troubles and misfortunes, she carried her love for the Motherland, the Russian word, for Russian history. In one of her poems - "To the Generals of 1812" - it is about the Tuchkov brothers, a participant in the Battle of Borodino, two of whom died in battle.
Music sounds. P. Gapon. ‘Broken strings’. It sounds loud, the idea goes in the background.
READER 1 reads the poems "The Generals of 1812".
READER 2: This poem is dedicated to Marina's husband, Sergei Yakovlevich Efron. Marina Tsvetaeva married in January 1912. Their family life, which they entered at a very young age (Marina turned 19 at that time, Sergey was a year younger), was cloudless at first, but not for long. And these first 5-6 years were probably the happiest in comparison with all subsequent years.
She wrote a lot, inspired by Efron. If you say that Marina loved her husband, then to say nothing: she idolized him.
I wrote on the slate board
And on the leaves of faded fans,
And on the river, and on the sea sand,
Skates on the ice and a ring on the windows, -
And on the trunks, which are hundreds of winters.
And finally, for everyone to know!
What do you love, love! love! love! —
Signed - a rainbow of heaven.
READER 1: Somewhere at the beginning of their life together, she said: Only with him can I live the way I live: completely free. He was the only one who understood her and, having understood, fell in love. Sergei was not intimidated by its complexity, inconsistency, singularity, dissimilarity to all others.
In general, there were many hobbies in her life, but, as Marina Ivanovna once said: “. all my life I have loved the wrong ones. ‘. Her gullibility and inability to understand a person in time are the reasons for frequent and bitter disappointments.
A. Petrov’s romance ‘Under the caress of a plush blanket’ to the verses of M. Tsvetaeva sounds.
2ND READER: This poem is perhaps one of the most famous and heartfelt by Marina Tsvetaeva, the so-called song to the beloved. Remember? An excerpt from the poem ‘Yesterday I looked into your eyes’ sounds.
1 - AND READER: There is hardly a person who would not hear these amazing lines:
I like that you are not sick of me,
I like that I'm not sick of you,
That never a heavy globe of the earth
Won't float under our feet.
How fresh and modern the poems sound, and yet they were written in 1915. The verses are addressed to the future husband of the sister M. Mints.
M. Tariverdiev’s romance “I like it” sounds on the verses of M. Tsvetaeva.
Lead 2. 1917. The February and then October revolutions reshaped the family life of Russians. Sergei Efron leaves for the Don in the ranks of the White Army to fight against the revolutionary government. Marina Tsvetaeva with two children (daughter Irina was born in 1917) remained in Moscow.
In the collection "Swan Camp" glorifies the white movement not for political reasons, but because her lover was there.
Nailed to the pillory
Slavic conscience of the old,
With a snake in my heart and a brand on my forehead,
I affirm that I am innocent.
I claim that I have peace
Communions before communion,
That it's not my fault that I'm with my hand
I stand in the squares - for happiness.
Review all my goodness
Tell me, am I blind?
Where is my gold? Where is the silver?
In my hand - only a handful of ashes!
And it's all revenge and pleading
I begged the happy ones.
And that's all I'll take with me
To the land of silent kisses
Lead 3. At this time, the daughter is always next to Marina. Always a friend, always a helper, always a listener, a reader of mother's poems and an interlocutor. Marina, as if forgetting that her daughter is still very small, talks to her as an equal, loads her worries, troubles, acquaintances. She is sincerely grateful to Alya for what she is, for the fact that she is always there.
I don't know where you are and where I am.
The same songs and the same worries.
Such friends are with you!
Such orphans are with you!
And it's so good for the two of us -
Homeless, sleepless and orphans...
Lead 1. One can compare these lines with the recollection of those years by Tsvetaeva’s friend Konstantin Balmont: “these two poetic souls, mother and daughter, more like two sisters, were the most touching vision of complete detachment from reality and free life among dreams - under such conditions, under such conditions, under which others only groan, get sick and die. The spiritual strength of love for love and beauty, as it were, freed these two human birds from pain and longing. Hunger, cold, complete abandonment - and eternal chirping, and always a cheerful gait and a smiling face. These were two ascetics, and, looking at them, more than once I again felt a strength in myself that had already completely extinguished.
Do you still have a father and a mother,
And yet you are Christ's orphan
You were born in the maelstrom of wars,
And yet you will go to the Jordan.
Without a key to Christ's orphan
The gates of Christ will open.
And yet there was a place on earth where she was absolutely happy and absolutely unhappy AT HERSELF — the Czech Republic. The homeland of all who are without a country. Center of Russian emigration in the early 20s. Czech Republic, where she arrived in her thirties. She lived in the Czech Republic for exactly 3 years and 3 months, where her best poems were written, where her son Georgy was born, where the hero of her poems was met - about the life she had not lived with whom she regretted all her life - Konstantin Rodzevich. A very bright and happy period; the collection “Separation”, “Psyche”, “Craft”, “The Tsar Maiden”, “To Blok” is published. Her block is “a knight without reproach, almost a deity.” Although I didn't know him.
Your name is a bird in your hand
Your name is ice on the tongue.
One - the only movement of the lips
Your name is five letters.
Ball caught on the fly
Silver bell in the mouth.
Your name - oh, you can't! —
Your name is a kiss in the eyes
In the gentle cold of motionless eyelids.
Your name is a kiss in the snow.
Key, icy, blue sip.
With your name - sleep is deep.
Czech Republic for Tsvetaeva - Boldino. It was there that the pinnacle of her creation was born - the Poem of the Mountain and the Poem of the End.
You, who loved me with the falsehood of truth and the truth of lies,
Nowhere! - Outside!
You who loved me longer
Time. - Hands wave! —
You don't love me anymore
Truth in five words.
A song sounds to the words of Marina Tsvetaeva “I want by the mirror, where is the dregs ...”
Lead 3. And then - for many years of silence, in exile, it, alas, did not take root - a society of "Friendship with the USSR" arises; and her husband is an active figure in this union; in the West they are perceived almost as traitors and apostates.
Lead 2. In 1939 she returned to Russia with her son, followed by her husband and daughter. They've been there since 1937.
I will sing, earthly and alien,
Lead 1. This “earthly tune” contains the beauty and strength of Tsvetaeva's lyrics. Her poems are filled with music. No wonder Andrei Bely commented on one of her collections: “Let me express my deep admiration for the completely winged melody of your book “Separation”. This is not a book, but a song…”
Outside of music (very different), outside the musical atmosphere, Tsvetaeva does not represent her heroes. The melody determines the structure of their feelings, sensitively expresses their state of mind. Brodsky in one of his articles spoke about the “piano” nature of Tsvetaeva’s works, others noticed the “cello” and the bell in the village, “a flute from some attic” ... She herself preferred to talk about the cello, as she appreciated the combination of actual music in this instrument with the timbre and warmth of a human voice. Yes, and the poems themselves are sung by Tsvetaeva, designed for hearing - without such perception it is difficult to catch their image, character.
The songs of M. Tsvetaeva, set to music by the composer M. Tariverdiev, are heard. (From the movie “The Irony of Fate or Enjoy Your Bath”)
. "I like that you are not sick of me"
Lead 3. Shortly before her death, Tsvetaeva writes: “All these days I have been wanting to write my will: in general, I would like not to be ...” War ... In 1941, she left for Yelabuga with her son. Unsettledness, thoughts about her husband, crisis, melancholy, complete loneliness, depression. On August 31, 1941, she committed suicide. Here the supreme hour overtook her loneliness.
Reader. (Efron)“I know there is a legend that she committed suicide, allegedly mentally ill, in a moment of mental depression - do not believe this. That time killed her, it killed us, as it killed many, as it kills me too. We were healthy - the surroundings were insane: arrests, executions, suspicion, distrust of everyone in everyone and everything. Letters were opened, telephone conversations were eavesdropped; each friend could turn out to be a traitor, each interlocutor an informer; constant surveillance, overt, overt.”
Lead 1. The best do not survive, it has long been known. Why is the Lord so impatient? Or is our home here not the most suitable place for brilliant minds and bright souls? And, having toiled in the wretchedness of the earthly space, they are cured of life - by slipping away?
Time, I can't keep up.
Measure, I don't fit.
Just before returning to her homeland, after 17 years of emigration, Tsvetaeva has a terrible dream. Dream about dying. She understood this and said so in her notes: “The road to the next world. I rush irresistibly, with a feeling of terrible longing and final farewell. The exact feeling that I am flying around the globe, both passionately and hopelessly! - I hold on to it, knowing that there will be another circle - the Universe: that complete emptiness that I was so afraid of in life: on a swing, in an elevator, on the sea ..., inside myself. There was one consolation: what can not be stopped, not changed: fatal ... "
The song is performed by Alla Pugacheva on the verses of Marina Tsvetaeva "Requiem"
Tsvetaeva's prophecy was fulfilled that her poems "come their turn." Now they have entered the cultural life of the world, into our spiritual life, having taken a high place in the history of poetry.
Final word from the teacher.
Tsvetaeva is a poet of the “ultimate truth of feeling”. She, with all her “not just an established fate, with all the brightness and originality of her original talent, rightfully entered Russian poetry,” as the poet Robert Rozhdestvensky said about her. She left us collections of lyrical poems, 17 poems, poetic dramas, lyrical essays and philosophical studies, memoirs, memoirs and reflections.
The Tsvetaev family lived in a cozy mansion in one of the old Moscow lanes; spent summers in picturesque places near Moscow, in the Kaluga town of Tarusa. Marina's father was a famous professor, philologist, art historian, mother, a talented pianist who opened the wonderful world of nature to her children (Andrey, Asya, Marina) and gave the best books in the world into her hands, came from a Polish-German Russified family.
Reading by heart the poem "Books in a red cover." (Individual task)
What is dear to the heroine in her childhood memories? Why are books “unchanging friends”?
3. Already at the age of six, Marina Tsvetaeva began to write poetry, and not only in Russian, but also in German, in French. And when she was 18 years old, she released the collection “Evening Album” (1910) with her own money. Judging by the content, the poems were limited to narrowly domestic, family impressions.
Marina Tsvetaeva's poetry cannot be imagined without the theme of love: "To love - to know, to love - to be able, to love - to pay the bill." Love for Tsvetaeva is always a “fatal duel”, always a dispute, a conflict, and more often a break. Incredible frankness, openness are the unique features of the poetess's lyrics. The heroine is convinced that both time and distance are subject to feelings:
Tender and irrevocable
Nobody looked after us.
I kiss you - through the hundreds
Performance of the song on the verses of M. Tsvetaeva “I like that you are not sick with me. ”
Tsvetaeva dedicated poems to close people: friends - poets, grandmother, husband, Sergei Yakovlevich Efron, children, daughter Alya and son George.
The poem "Alya" (excerpt)
I don't know where you are and where I am.
The same songs and the same worries.
Such friends are with you!
Such orphans are with you.
And it's so good for the two of us -
Homeless, sleepless and orphaned.
Two birds: a little up - we sing,
Two wanderers: we feed on the world.
The son of Marina Tsvetaeva and Sergei Efron was born in exile, where her husband ended up with the remnants of the Volunteer White Army, and in 1922 Marina also went abroad. Life in exile was difficult. Emigrant magazines did not like Tsvetaeva's honest, incorruptible poems. “My reader stayed in Russia, where are my poems. do not reach,” she regretted.
Fragment "Poems to the son" (1932).
Neither to the city nor to the village -
Go, my son, to your country, -
To the edge - all the way around!
Where to go back - forward
Go, - especially - you,
Russia not seen
What wish does the poet express? (She wants her son to live on Russian soil, regrets that he did not see Russia, but he is her son.)
9. In 1939, M. Tsvetaeva returned to her homeland.
There are no friends nearby, no housing, no work, no family (her husband is not alive, the fate of Ariadne is unknown, alienation with her son). Under the yoke of personal misfortunes, alone, in a state of mental depression, at the beginning of the Great Patriotic War, on August 31, 1941, Marina Tsvetaeva committed suicide.
Marina Tsvetaeva left a significant creative heritage: books of lyric poetry, seventeen poems, eight poetic dramas, autobiographical, memoir and historical-literary prose, letters, diary entries. It has never been forged to suit the tastes of readers and publishers. The strength of her poems is not in visual images, but in the flow of ever-changing, flexible rhythms. Any of her works is subject to the truth of the heart. Her poems are melodic, sincere, charming, so composers turn to them and wonderful songs appear. The real in art never dies. In 1913, M. Tsvetaeva confidently stated:
Like precious wines
Your turn will come.
READER 1: Following the life of Marina Tsvetaeva today, reading her poems and prose, you see how many trials fell on the lot of this Russian intellectual. You want to help, but you can't. She probably wanted to scream piercingly in the most difficult moments: “What have I done to you, people, if I feel like the most unfortunate of the unfortunate, the most destitute person ?!” We bow low to you, Marina Ivanovna! Forgive us for everything!
An excerpt from the poem "Akhmatova":
We are crowned to be one with you
We trample the earth, that the sky above us is the same!
And the one who is wounded by your mortal fate,
Already immortal, a bed descends on the mortal.
Domes burn in my melodious city.
And the stray blind man glorifies the Light Savior.
And I give you my hail of bells,
Akhmatova! - my heart in addition.
Lead 2. Our meeting has come to an end. Of course, she could not contain all the work of M.I. Tsvetaeva. Together today we seem to have flipped through several pages of a collection of poems by the poetess, but only slightly opened the door to the richest world of Marina Tsvetaeva's legacy. We hope that you have a desire to turn to Tsvetaeva's poetry and leaf through collections of her poems. See you again.
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