My writing desk! Marina Tsvetaeva - My writing desk (Table).

You have read the first (and perhaps the most expressive) of the five poems by Marina Tsvetaeva, which made up the cycle "Table" and addressed by her to her workplace - desk(of course, the quality, size and location of this table is completely unimportant, only its purpose is important - for writing). Before you is the poet's hymn to his work, his vocation, which cannot be abandoned and which turns out to be the only successful defense against all the "worldly temptations" and "baseness" of life. The method of gradual and steady enrichment of the main image with semantic nuances through an increasing stream of paraphrases, each of which unfolds into a kind of micro-image, is applied here with captivating skill. The writing table is likened to a faithful companion - “in all ways”, and a “scar” protecting from idle curiosity, and a hardy “pack mule”, and a strict mirror, and even boards during the life of a prepared coffin and waves flooding the seashore (in German strand). Very expressive is the comparison of the desk with a pillar of fire, in the image of which God, according to legend, showed the way to the Jews at the Exodus from Egypt. Forged iambic tetrameter with exclusively masculine rhymes, an abundance of appeals and thanks to exclamation mark create an atmosphere of a kind of thankful hymn and at the same time convey a truly unbending will to creativity and an indestructible sense of duty inherent in the author. A special semantic capacity of the verse is provided by numerous ellipses - omissions of easily restored elements of the statement (for example, "... to all baseness - flatly!"), transfers; one of the strongest comparisons is exquisitely unfinished: So widened, to the latitudes - Such that, with your mouth open, Grab the table edging ... The ellipsis conveys the immensity of the spaces opening up to the poet, and after this broken phrase, the blow of the “wave” of the next line sounds especially strong : I was flooded like a strand! Constant sound and semantic echoes of words and phrases also significantly expand the semantic space of the poem. It is also interesting that Tsvetaeva, as it were, merges into one two syntactic positions, managing to put several meanings into one statement: So be blessed - Forehead, elbow, knot of knees Tested, - like a saw In the chest, stubborn - the edge of the table! Rhythm allows you to "read" in this stanza the meaning that the poet blesses his table with "forehead, elbow, knot of knees", as well as the fact that the table is "tested" as a working tool - a saw. Although if you look closely at the punctuation marks, then the structure of the statement is as follows: tested - with what? - forehead, elbow, knot of knees; stuck in the chest - how? - like drinking. This last stanza, a blessing, is also amazing because here the consonant “l” sounds so courageously, “difficulty” and victoriously - and it would seem that with the help of this sound only the rustling of the waves and the gentle babble of a woman are transmitted. Tsvetaeva, even in this trifle, behaves like a brilliant master - overturns our prevailing ideas about Russian verse.

My written right table!
Thank you for walking
With me in all ways.
№4 Protected me - like a scar.

My written pack mule!
Thank you for not bending your legs
Under the burden, I will put dreams -
№8 Thank you - for carrying and carrying.

The strictest of mirrors!
Thank you for being
- Tempt the worldly threshold -
№12 All joys across

All baseness - flatly!
Oak counterweight
Lion of hate, elephant
№16 Resentment - everything, everything.

My living mortal tes!
Thanks for growing and growing
With me, as far as things go
№20 Desktop - large, shirel,

So expanded, to the latitudes -
Such that, with your mouth open,
Grabbing the table edge...
№24 - I was flooded like a strand!

Having nailed a little light to myself -
Thank you for following
Broke down! On all paths
№28 He overtook me like a check -

Runaway. - Get back on the chair!
Thank you for being blue
And bent. At non-eternal blessings
№32 He beat me off - like a magician -

Sleepwalker. Battle scars
Table lined up in columns
Burning: Crimson lived!
№36 Acts of my column!

The pillar of the stylite, the mouth of the shutter -
You were my throne, Space -
That was to me that the sea of ​​​​crowds
№40 Jewish - a burning pillar!

So be blessed
Forehead, elbow, knee knot
Tested - like a saw
№44 Stuck in the chest - the edge of the table!

My pismenny verny stol!
Thank you for what shel
So mnoyu po vsem putyam.
Menya okhranyal - like shram.

My pismenny vyuchny mul!
Spasibo that nog ne gnul
Under noshey, poklazhu grez -
Spasibo - what nes i nes.

Strozhaysheye iz zertsal!
Spasibo za to what became
- Soblaznam mirskim threshold -
Vsem radostyam poperek,

Vsem nizostyam - naotrez!
Dubovy counters
Lvu hate, elephant
Obidy - vsemu, vsemu.

My zazhivo deathny tes!
Spasibo that ros i ros
So mnoyu, po mere del
Nastolnykh - bolshaya, shirl,

Tak shirilsya, do shirot -
Takikh, what, raskryvshi rot,
Skhvatyas za stolovy kant...
- Menya zalival, kak shtrand!

K sebe prigvozdiv chut svet -
Spasibo za to what - vsled
Sryvalsya! Na vsekh putyakh
Menya nastigal, kak shakh-

Beglyanku. - Nazad, on the chair!
Thank you for what blyul
I gnul. U nevechnykh blag
Menya otbival - like mag -

somnambulu. Bitv rubsy,
Stol, vystroivshy v stolbtsy
Goryashchiye: zhil bagrets!
Deyany moikh stolbets!

Stolp stolpnika, ust zatvor -
Ty byl me prestol, Prostor -
Tem byl me, chto moryu tolp
Yevreyskikh - goryashchy stolp!

So bud zhe blagosloven -
Lbom, loktem, uzlom kolen
Ispytanny - like pila
V grud vyevshysya - kray stola!

Vjq gbcmvtyysq dthysq cnjk!
Cgfcb,j pf nj, xnj itk
Cj vyj/ gj dctv genzv/
Vtyz jtdibqcz - rhfq cnjkf!

Uplifting song ;-)

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Analysis of the poem

stanzas

Size: two-foot anapaest

Foot: three-syllable with stress on the 3rd syllable

Strings	rhymes	rhyme
4 lines, quatrain	table-walk-ways-scar
4 lines, quatrain	mule-bent-dream-nes	AABB (adjacent)
4 lines, quatrain	mirror-became-threshold-across	AABC (hyperblank)
4 lines, quatrain	outright-opposite-elephant-everything	AABC (hyperblank)
4 lines, quatrain	tes-ros-del-shirel
4 lines, quatrain	latitude-rot-kant-strand	AABB (adjacent)
4 lines, quatrain	light-follow-ways-shah	AABB (adjacent)
4 lines, quatrain	chair-blue-blah-mag	AABB (adjacent)
4 lines, quatrain	scars-columns-crimson-column	AABB (adjacent)

Semantic core

Word	Qty	Frequency
writing

(p. 60). They could not fail to mention, because as an appendix to it, my analysis of M. Tsvetaeva's poem "My writing desk" appeared on the pages of the magazine. In this work, I tried to implement a slow reading strategy, but potential readers will judge how successful this was. Here I bring full text analysis with a couple of additions.

In M. Tsvetaeva’s poem “My Written Faithful Table”, the table, in our usual understanding, is one of the symbolic designations of the poet’s activity (sometimes it is customary to imagine how certain lines are added, written at the table), although not so obligatory for her, becomes connection between the poet and reality. He actually appears as something that pulls, keeps in the present.

For the lyrical heroine, this is fundamentally important, which is why the motive of endless gratitude arises - for protection, transfer, becoming an obstacle to temptations, returning to the chair. Interestingly, not only this role is attributed to the table - it also "grew and grew With me as the affairs of the Table." That is, there is an internal roll call, a parallel, a table and a person creating behind it, as if involuntarily sharing the same fate.

This is confirmed by the appeal “The strictest of mirrors!”. The old meaning is a mirror, and in psychology this element is associated with self-knowledge (so if a person is afraid of mirrors, then he is afraid to recognize himself, or the self-consciousness of a child or animal can be proved through their understanding that the reflection is their own image).

The text is specifically rhythmic. It is always amphibrachic and two feet with an additional stressed syllable at the end, as if someone is marching or walking with an interruption. Maybe a waltz one-two-three, or just a rearrangement of three legs. The question is natural - where is the fourth?

A clear connection arises between the author and the lyrical heroine - both write, both - at the desk. Therefore, we can assume that the heroine is revealed in typical Tsvetaev endings with maximum completeness - it is feminine and dactylic in the lines "Runaway" and "Sleepwalker". The significance of the lines is also increased by the fact that they are two times shorter than one, which means that a smaller volume accounts for a greater concentration of meaning, specific gravity.

It turns out that the table keeps a person from a semi-conscious escape to another reality, involuntarily dragging a person into another reality, because he is not able to realize the problem or illness. The table is bulky, but reliably rises to the defense.

This poem opens a cycle of six. The usual thing for Tsvetaeva is the development of the theme from the extreme, as it happens here. The reader is immediately immersed in a tense, complex, cunningly woven text, which at first cannot be fully understood. Only with time comes an understanding of the problem and the tragic depth. Somnambulism cannot be revealed by oneself, it can be seen behind a person only from the outside, but in the space of the poem there is only the heroine and the table. The table is a dumb, inanimate anchor thrown into reality, it is the last fulcrum, breaking away from which you can lose everything.

Let's try to read the text slowly and follow in the footsteps of the development of thought. In the very first line, the epithet faithful evokes associations with Sancho Panza following Don Quixote - relentless, devoted, emotionally attached. But he guarded like a scar - and his role is already many times more significant, higher. He is no longer led, but leads. On the other hand, a scar is a perpetuation of past battles, a kind of seal or stamp, a sign that its wearer can stand up for himself, a symbol of toughness and strength. At the same time, it is an ugly symbol, repulsive in absentia from the heroine.

The pack mule appears in the second quatrain as a fundamentally new quality. To the internal possibilities, a simple external one is added - the ability to carry the baggage of texts or the experience of the heroine, which, based on the connotations of these words, is quite a lot. Moreover, further clarification sounds - "I will put dreams." Here, for the first time, the aforementioned dream motif is heard - the table contributes to the fixation of what is taken out of these midnight journeys. And the repetition of “carried and carried” seemed to prolong the action, turning it into eternity.

I have already said about the meaning of the emerging appeal. In addition to the meaning of "mirror", however, a parallel is heard with views, eyes, contemplation - the table becomes a vigilant observer of a person's life. In one of the religious meanings, the word "mirror" is associated with predestination, destiny, so it seems that the fate of the heroine is known in advance. Whether the role of the table here is to bring to right way and push in right direction, or to help you cross this shaky bridge from birth to death as beautifully as possible, not to let you fall earlier and not use your abilities to the maximum. He is like a nurse at the bedside of a sick person.

The next lines set an interesting series: worldly temptations - joys - meanness. These three words are starting to sound like synonyms. There is an echo of monastic life, when it is impossible to break a vow, and the whole being of the heroine - probably even weak in some sense, if the table has to block the way - turns to a higher spiritual goal.

The table becomes an oak counterbalance to everything, everything: the lion of hatred, the elephant of resentment. The primary association is scale. Significant, big feelings, not just hatred, but anger, aggression, uncontrollability. Wildness and alienation of experiences, since the named animals are rather inhabitants of other countries. The image reveals in itself, on the one hand, a reference to the table as almost a fortress wall, on the other hand, to the artistic power of creativity.

Alive mortal, initially doomed to death. If you remember the roll call of fates, then the heroine is doomed too. And tes in the reader's mind easily rhymes with "dog", you involuntarily wait for this word and feel it between the lines. The dog is a faithful four-legged friend - a table.

Big, shirel, widened to the latitudes, opening his mouth, grabbing the table edging ... And a cliff. From hissing we turn to hissing and seeming loss of voice - ellipsis as a sign that it is no longer possible to sound. What is it? Is it a muffled sound of pain, or vice versa - the grunt of a guard dog? In any case, from the abundance of the root shir in the meaning of expansion, width - the growth of the table to some immense size increases, covers half the world, nothing can bypass it.

He poured it like a strand - and mobility appears in the image. This is not a static reflection, but as if the beginning of a battle, another attempt to repel the heroine from irreality. The next three stanzas are the apogee. They cannot be taken separately: the first two are autonomous, 3-4 and 5-6 are connected by the transfer of sentences, 7-10 are no longer only with transfers, but also with short complementary lines that create the visual effect of a thread stretched between stanzas, 11 and 12 are again integral in themselves.

The first line turns on the light. Before that, the world is tied to the table, nothing is visible around, but now there is at least an opportunity - the space is changing. At least for a moment, a chair appears in a flash, there is more space.

An interesting opposition also arises - it nails, but immediately breaks after it. Between these actions there is only one thank you, only one step from out of consciousness to consciousness. The table constantly has to be on the alert so as not to miss the heroine. And - further - to bend, to change it to the conditions of the surrounding world by force, to fight for it.

A magician, a shah - in the fight he is endowed with really inaccessible opportunities for nothing: supernatural powers or an unusual role. This may be one in a million, it is impossible to find another similar character, this is a rare luck. Only he can hold the heroine and change her.

Column - a column of free verses on a sheet or rational construction, structuring? The column of my deeds is a combination of both qualities. A verse subject to a realistic, strict and captious look, protected from worldly temptations and non-eternal blessings. Eternal verse.

The pillar of the stylite is an open platform on a dais for uninterrupted prayers. Mouth shutter - does not allow you to speak? Throne, space. The burning pillar is a sign of the way. So what is the table for the heroine? He contributes to the transfer of thought, dressing it in a form possible for that, like a translator. Moreover, he is the foundation, the foundation, the fulcrum from which you can push off and turn the world upside down.

So be blessed. After so many lines, where the heroine appeared dependent, in any case, where she did not show strength, looked helpless and defenseless before the world without that very table, she suddenly becomes taller than him. This is the greatest moral height - to walk with difficulty, but, falling, get up and immediately be stronger than everything and everyone, proudly raise your head.

The last stanza sounds almost solemn, only the details make the reader understand that behind the moral height there is still a great tragedy, pain, the weight of the load that the heroine is still unable to bear herself. Saw, stubborn - the comparison sounds like praise, but these words are too expressive and belong to a slightly different style. In any case, it is difficult to imagine them in solemn speech. And the alliteration for the sound "l" - blessed, forehead, elbow, knot of knees, saw, table. It sounds constantly like itchy, obsessive thought at a level below the visible.

Thus, the desk as a formal attribute becomes indispensable when it comes to business. AT more than you can imagine. Probably, this meaning can also be attached to a number of other phenomena, for example, the ability to call oneself a poet, to recognize such a name for oneself.

At the same time, the poem reveals the depth and versatility poetic soul, throwing and tormenting the author in search and the impossibility of believing himself. Before insanity, mental illness - a step. It's a lot of work not to do it.

P.S. We draw readers' attention to the appearance new page in the main menu of the blog - . Here are listed all the materials of the authors of Owllit that got into print, as well as links to them.

Marina Tsvetaeva.

"The world began in the darkness of the nomadic ...", "Who is created from stone, who is created from clay ...", My writing desk!", The cycle “Poems about Moscow” (“Clouds are around ...”, “From my hands - a miraculous city ..., “Moscow! What a huge ...”), “With a red brush ...”, “Dawn on the rails”, “Russian rye from bow to me”, “I wear his ring with a challenge!”, “Sneak…”, “Motherland” (“Oh, stubborn tongue!”), From the cycle “Poet” (“What am I to do, blind man and stepson…”) , « Homesickness!".

M. Tsvetaeva entered literature at the turn of the century, in an alarming and Time of Troubles. She predicted her own fate, and very early:

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.

Today, her poetry, as predicted, has become a part of our spiritual life.

Art world Tsvetaeva.

Me and to this day

I want to gnaw

hot rowan

Bitter brush.

In these words is the formula of her life: to live in full force, feeling the heat of life and its bitterness.

The flaming, bitter mountain ash has become a symbol of her fate - also bitter, blazing with creativity and leaving for many years in the winter of oblivion.

how romantic poet she divided life and being, contrasted the world and the dream. Already in her youthful poems, she separated "I" and "THEY", already here the lyrical heroine opposes the world. In the poem “You Walking By Me” (1913), her favorite device of contrast emphasizes this confrontation: “One of all - for all - against all!”

Flesh - flesh, spirit - spirit,

The flesh is bread, the spirit is news,

The flesh is a worm, the spirit is a breath,

Seven crowns, seven heavens.

Its main approach is antithesis. She went her own way: past politics, outside of sociality, creating only that which is for all time, that which is inescapable, eternal, that gives us the seventh heaven - the Everest of the soul. almost without affecting tragic history of the 20th century, she revealed the tragedy of the worldview of a person in a crisis world. She needed a world where “everything comes true”, where the spirit, love and fidelity triumph, where all the news is “good”. Such a world existed in a dream, in poetry. Boris Pasternak felt the same way with his famous poems: "What, dear, do we have a millennium in the yard?". BUT real world burst into revolution and civil war, where for Tsvetaeva there were no "whites" and "reds" - there were only people dying in fratricidal war equally worthy of pity:

All lie side by side

Don't break the line.

Look: soldier.

Where is yours, where is someone else's?

White was - turned red,

Blood stained.

Red was - became white,

Death whitened.

... And on the right and on the left,

Back and straight

Both red and white:

Tsvetaeva's approach to the disclosure of the theme of the White Guard anticipates the humanistic pathos that will fill those created in the mid-20s " white guard” and “Days of the Turbins” by Mikhail Bulgakov. catastrophic revolutionary movement she perceives the world as world nomad» «in the mist»:

The world began in the darkness of the nomad camp:

It roams the night land - trees,

It roams with golden wine - bunches,

It is the stars that wander from house to house,

It is the rivers that start the way - back!

And I want to sleep on your chest.

There is no biographical in the poem, historical context, the “structure of the soul” is revealed, a personal perception of the changes taking place in the world is given, the spiritual drama of the poet and man of the 20th century. The evaluation of the revolution is given as a violation of the natural norms of life (“rivers start their way - back!”)

Everything started to move in the darkness: trees, stars, rivers. The world has lost stability.

The soul does not accept "nomads" and strives for protection from the outside world, to the circle of peace - true human values ​​- to the native "chest", to the "circle of love".

All means of language artistic techniques, used by Tsvetaeva, serve to express the romantic perception of the world, the opposition of "I" and "WORLD". What is causing this confrontation? The tragedy of loneliness, but also loyalty to yourself.

The entire poem is a hyperbolic metaphor reflecting the scale of the catastrophe.

Anaphora (unity), gradation, syntactic parallelism reinforce and spread the main idea contained in the keyword "nomadic".

The antithesis technique characteristic of Tsvetaeva is intended to emphasize the drama of the conflict of the individual with the world and is expressed contextual antonym ("wander" - "sleep").

Dash as a phrase highlights those concepts that are not initially subject to "nomadic" at the will of man.

features of poetics.

Autobiographical.

A mixture of elements (speech, emotional).

Contrast.

Multidimensionality of images.

Color and subject symbolism.

The capacity of the word form (neologisms).

Sound recording.

dialogic form.

Deep connection with folk art.

“I don’t like it when poetry flows, I love it when it breaks.”

The tragic-romantic perception of the world required a special artistic expression ideas of the torn space of the century and the soul. “I don’t like it when poetry flows, I love it when it breaks” (Tsvetaeva). And she "teared" her poems using various word divisions – dash and intraverse pauses. Voicelessness and the expectation of a verb replaced by a dash and a pause. Hence - a special tension, a special rhythm, aphorism, solemnity, elation of speech.

“I write with dry land,” Tsvetaeva said, explaining the minimum number of paths used.

"Who is made of stone, who is made of clay..."

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...
- In the font of the sea baptized - and in flight
His - certainly broken!
Through every heart, through every net
My willfulness will break through.
Me - do you see these dissolute curls? -
You can't make earthy with salt.
Crushing on your granite knees,
I am resurrected with every wave!
Long live the foam - cheerful foam -
High sea foam!

Who are the characters in this poem?

This is Marina and those “who are created from clay”, i.e. ordinary mortals.

The first group is united by the concepts of "static, lack of freedom, death", the second - "movement, diversity, freedom, life". For Tsvetaeva, love is static, undeveloped, tantamount to death; love is diverse, constantly renewed - the only possible way of life.

Antithesis at the level of morphology.

Words describing ordinary people - nouns, Marina - verbs and

verb forms, nouns do not denote objects, but actions

- treason, flight.

Cycle "Trees".

She goes to the world of trees "to save herself from the roar of the market!"

Trees are involved in her poetry, creativity, endow her table with a trunk - a place where poems are created. The cycle of poems "Table" is also dedicated to this place.

Tsvetaeva called art itself "an offshoot of nature."

She, like Yesenin, feels like a tree:

I know: not the heart in me is the core

Throughout the trunk.

The tree for her is a symbol of the spirit, the sky; earth is a symbol of bread:

Earth for bread

The tree is for the sky.

The height of a tree for her is the height of the human spirit. “And the tree outgrew itself,” writes Tsvetaeva, likening the unchanging growth of her soul to it.

"Tread my light…»

My step is easy

clear conscience omen

My step is easy

My ringing song -

God made me one

In the middle of a big world. -

You are not a woman, but a bird,

Therefore - fly and sing.

She felt like a bird inhabiting the forest, singing is her purpose:

natural world- the only one - gives her soul harmony, restores strength, brings relaxation:

And I'll lie down quietly, brush my eyelashes ...

and trees, birds will dream.

(“And yet he will get tired of arguing and singing ...”)

She went into the forest to "leave" her longing.

Nature gives not only peace, but also creative inspiration - "the silence between silence and speech." Here poems are born, the book of nature is identical to the book of poems:

The garden was a notebook for me,

The notebook was a garden.

Two trees outside the window, stretching towards each other, teach her love as the basic law of life:

This is the law: one to the other

The law is one: one to the other.

A person of extremes and contrasts, she is in love with pine trees because they have "north and south in one."

All her life she dreamed of a garden ( poem "Garden" she needs him as a gift, as peace, as “the other world”, “lonely, like herself”, where the soul is released.

For this hell

For this nonsense

send me a garden

For old age.

For old age,

For old age troubles:

Working - years,

Humpbacked - years ...

...Cool garden...

For the fugitive

Send me a garden:

Without a face

Without a soul!

... The garden is lonely, like herself.

(But don't stand around yourself!) -

A garden as lonely as yourself.

Such a garden for my old age ... -

Or maybe that light?

In my old age they went -

For the release of the soul.

It is characterized by a romantic idea of ​​creativity as a stormy impulse: "The state of creativity is the state of delusion." The poet and his work were embodied in her first in the images of “light fire”, the fireproof Phoenix bird; poetry - in the images of a comet, "explosion" and "hacking". Writing poetry, according to Tsvetaeva, is like “opening the veins”, from which “life and verse” gush. But creativity for her is not only an element, but also labor, craft:

I know that Venus is the work of hands,

Craftsman, and know the craft!

And she knew how to work "up to a sweat." She talks about such work in the poems of the Table cycle, in poems dedicated to Pushkin.

A poem from the cycle "Table".

My writing desk!
Thank you for being trunk
Giving me to become - a table,
Remained - a living trunk!

From the foliage of a young game
Above the eyebrow, with living bark,
With tears of living resin,
Rooted to the bottom of the earth!

There are only eight lines here, and they are dedicated to theme of the poet and poetry, the poet and the world around him.

In this poem, the desk becomes a full-fledged hero, a living being. The poem begins with an appeal to the table, which is the addressee of the poem (recall Pushkin's "To the Inkwell"). But the table is not just written - it is true. Who can be contacted? In the first quatrain in strong position the end of the line is rhyming “table - trunk - table - trunk”. Obviously, this is not a random repetition. So denoted close connection a living tree with a desk that has become a friend, assistant and support for the poet.

The epithet “live” is repeated three times in eight lines. This is probably no coincidence either. Tsvetaeva's table is half-man, half-tree - "from the foliage of a young game." This is creature- it lives together with foliage, trunk, resin, roots reaching to the very bottom of the earth. The desk turns out to be part of nature, closely associated with the poet. After all, we are talking here not only about the table, but about inner world poet.

If we analyze other poems of the cycle, then the table will acquire new features. This is a miracle for which the poetess thanks God - the heavenly Carpenter. “The poet is stable: // Everything is a table for him, everything is a throne!” - this is how the poet becomes a monarch who rules in the world he creates ... This is how the scope of one comparison expands, which helps us, readers, understand the world of the poet, get closer to his worldview.

Cycle "Poems about Moscow"

Cycle "Poems to the son"

“Russian rye bow from me…”

"Homesickness"

"Dawn on the Rails"

"Lucina".

House, trees, Moscow - the roots of her love for the Motherland, which have always nourished her

The cycle "Poems about Moscow" is a lyrical diary in which each poem is marked with an exact date.

The first three poems were written on the same day and describe three walks in Moscow: morning, evening and night.

The first poem "Clouds - around ..." is daytime, bright, addressed to her daughter. From somewhere on high - from Sparrow Hills or from the Kremlin Hill - she shows little Alya Moscow and bequeaths this "wonderful" and "peaceful city" to her daughter and her future children:
Clouds are around

Domes - all around

Over all of Moscow -

How many hands are enough! -

I lift you up, the best burden,

my tree

Weightless!

It will be your turn

Also daughters

Hand over Moscow

With gentle bitterness...

"Clouds" and "domes around" form an inseparable integrity: the domes of man-made cathedrals and churches in creative imagination the poet are transferred to the sphere of the supermundane, heavenly. The city appears to them as an organic unity of the man-made and the natural, the real and the transcendental (sometimes fabulous), the solemn and everyday-everyday.

Therefore, in the next poem of the cycle ("From my hands - a city not made by hands...") Moscow is directly referred to as "the miraculous city", which, precisely because of this wonderful property, is free from real scale and can easily be transferred from one hand to another. Marina Tsvetaeva presents Moscow to the poet Osip Mandelstam:

From my hands - miraculous city

Accept, my strange, my beautiful brother...

Together with him, she, as it were, bypasses the whole city: through the Iverskaya chapel to Red Square and through the Spassky Gate - to the Kremlin, to her favorite "five-cathedral incomparable circle" - Cathedral Square. The ringing of bells becomes the leitmotif of all the poems that unite them into a cycle. The image of the bell grows into a metaphor: it is both “thunder”, “laughter”, and “rain”, and “bell-shaped seven hills”, and “bell-land”. In this “bell-shaped” unity, the identity of the poet and Russia is achieved.

If we write out the definitions of Moscow from “Poems about Moscow” of 1916, we get the following picture: a marvelous city, a peaceful city, a city not made by hands, a city of forty magpies, rejected by Peter, a free bell seven-hill, a hospitable house. Moscow is a “hospital home”, a shelter and refuge for all the homeless in Russia. Tsvetaeva's attitude to Moscow as to a house in which she is the hostess, receiving guests or giving (transferring) her possessions, is generally characteristic of her poems about Moscow.

"Moscow! What a huge..."

There are three heroes in the poem: Moscow (you) - we - me. “Everyone in Russia is homeless. // We will all come to you...”. From the whole "we" stands out in the final individual "I" - the image lyrical hero kissing the holy Moscow land. Moscow appears to the reader at the same time as a blessed land (And hallelujah pours on swarthy fields) and a woman (I kiss you on the chest). So, Moscow is a hospitable home, a place where all wounds are healed, the heart of Russia, a woman, a blessed land. Moscow calls to itself, its call is heard from afar, and “everyone in Russia” will respond to it.

Colors of Moscow in the perception of Marina Tsvetaeva - colors of Russian icon painting: blue, gold, red - red domes, crimson clouds, black path, blue, blue groves near Moscow, golden-domed churches, red heart, red rowan brush. Bright, colorful picture!

"Red brush..."

In the poem "Red brush ..." (1916), the birth of the heroine is "inscribed" in the bright - sonorous and colorful - world of the city that keeps Christian tradition veneration of the saints (the day of St. John the Theologian), and in the burning of the Moscow "hot" and "bitter" mountain ash, the passionate spirit of the heroine and her tragic fate are foreseen.

In emigrant poetry Tsvetaeva's image of Moscow, as it were, recedes into the distance of the "orphan haze" ("In the gray air of the afterlife ...", 1922), but in fact the pain of the lost city goes deep inside, only occasionally breaking through in a lyrical voice.

In a poem "Dawn on the Rails"(1922) the image of "Moscow Behind the Sleepers" becomes the core of Russia "restored" in the memory, and in the later "House" (1931) the collective image of the house, which absorbed the memories of Trekhprudny, Tarusa, becomes a mirror of the spiritual life of the lyrical heroine, painfully experiencing "homelessness".

Excommunication from the Motherland, according to Tsvetaeva, is fatal for a Russian. The tragedy of longing for the Motherland is intensified by the fact that the poet yearns for the unfulfilled, for "that Russia does not exist, just like that me." She evaluates life in exile as "a new orphanage - life without Russia."

Leaving Prague for France, she, as it were, said goodbye for the second time - already from afar - to her homeland, bowed to her in the poem "I bow to Russian rye."

"Table" Marina Tsvetaeva

My writing desk!
Thank you for walking
With me in all ways.
Protected me like a scar.

My written pack mule!
Thank you for not bending your legs
Under the burden, I will put dreams -
Thank you - for carrying and carrying.

The strictest of mirrors!
Thank you for being
- I will tempt the worldly threshold -
All joys across

All baseness - flatly!
Oak counterweight
Lion of hate, elephant
Resentment - everything, everything.

My living mortal tes!
Thanks for growing and growing
With me, as far as things go
Desktop - large, shirel,

So expanded, to the latitudes -
Such that, with your mouth open,
Grasping the table edge ...
- I was flooded like a strand!

Having nailed a little light to myself -
Thank you for following
Broke down! On all paths
He overtook me like a check -

Runaway.
- Get back on the chair!
Thank you for being blue
And bent. At non-eternal blessings
He beat me off - like a magician -

Sleepwalker.
Battle scars
Table lined up in columns
Burning: Crimson lived!
Acts of my column!

The pillar of the stylite, the mouth of the shutter -
You were my throne, space -
That was to me that the sea of ​​​​crowds
Jewish - a burning pillar!

So be blessed
Forehead, elbow, knee knot
Tested - like a saw
Stuck in the chest - the edge of the table!

thirtieth anniversary
Union - more true love.
I know your wrinkles
As you know, you are mine

And money, and letters from the mail -
The table - dumped - into the stream!
Who said that every line
Today is the last date.

Threatening that by the count of spoons
You can't repay the Creator
That tomorrow they will put me -
Fool - yes on you!

thirtieth anniversary
Union - hold on, zlets!
I know your wrinkles
Flaws, scars, teeth -

The smallest of notches!
(Teeth - since the verse did not go!)
Yes, the man was loved!
And this man was a table

Pine. Not me on the hill
Birch coast Karelian!
Sometimes with a tarry tear,
But suddenly - through the night - he grew old,

He became sensible - so the schoolboy audacity
Surrenders under male pressure.
I sit down - I can barely hold the board,
I’ll beat you - we’ve been friends for a century!

You - standing, point-blank, I - back
Bending - write! write! —
Which tithe
Plowed, a mile - passed,

Covered: with a letter - more beautiful
You will not find in the whole state!
No less than half of Russia
Covered by this hand!

Pine, oak, lacquered
Penny, with a ring in the nostrils,
Garden, dining - everyone,
If only not on three legs!

Like three Pretenders in a marriage
Recognized namesake - that one!
Billiard, market - everyone -
If only not to give up the heights

Treasured. When will it give
Iron - under the elbow
Pressure, tables - wealth!
Here's the stump: do not hug two!

And the porch? And the edge of the well?
And the old grave - layer?
If only my two elbows
Always claimed: - will give

God! There is a God! The poet is steadfast:
Everything is his table, everything is his throne!
But best of all, staunchest of all -
You are my knee table!

Offended and bypassed?
Thank you for being - table
Gave, persistent, fear to enemies
Table - on four legs

Perseverance. Hurry - rock
You will turn! And forehead - to the table
Understated, and elbow under -
To keep your forehead like a vault.

- Did you cut the rest?
And durable, in all my weight,
Spacious - in my entire run,
The table - eternal - for my whole life!

Thank you joiner
For the board - in all my gift,
For legs - stronger than chimeras
Parisian, for a thing - in size.

My writing desk!
Thank you for being trunk
Giving me to become - a table,
Remained - a living trunk!

From the foliage of a young game
Above the eyebrow, with living bark,
With tears of living resin,
Rooted to the bottom of the earth!

Kvits: I am eaten by you,
By me they are painted.
You will be put - for lunch,
And me - in writing.

Because, iota happy,
Yastv did not know any other.
Because too often you
You've had lunch for a long time.

Everyone on a pre-selected -

The place of your action
Your joy:

You - with burps, I - with books,
With a truffle, I - with a lead,
You - with olives, I - with rhymes,
With a pickle, I with a dactyl.

In the heads - mortal candles
Thick asparagus.
Striped dessert
The tablecloth is dear to you!

Let's puff some Havana tobacco
Left to you - and right to you.
Linen Dutch
A tablecloth for you - yes a shroud!

And so as not to spend money on a tablecloth -
In the pit, the place is low
shake out
With crumbs, with bits.

A capon instead of a dove
- Gunpowder! soul - at autopsy.
And they will put me - naked:
Two wing cover.

Analysis of Tsvetaeva's poem "Table"

The lyrical addressee of the cycle is unusual, the main part of which was written in 1932-33: important role is assigned to a piece of furniture, a desk of the heroine-poetess. With a solemn address to him, two of the six poetic texts. "Mule", "mirror", "counterweight", "tes", "pillar", "throne" - the author finds many original names for the main image. The latter is not only personified: being repeatedly transformed, he finds himself at the center of the author's myth about poetic creativity.

At the beginning of the first poem, the lyrical "I" thanks my own table. What caused such a respectful attitude to the utilitarian details of the interior? Loyalty, reliability, impartiality - the material image begins a series of transformations, associating with a friend, critic, defender. He protects and patiently bears a heavy burden, gives a truthful assessment of the results of poetic work, and helps to resist "worldly temptations."

In the central part of the work, the scale of the lyrical narrative changes. As if escaping from the framework of the dwelling, the object begins to grow along with the subject of speech. Expanding in space, it approaches the water element: the border of the tablecloth is metaphorically identified with a rope or a natural obstacle that allows the heroine not to fall into the raging sea.

The central image is endowed with its own mind. It not only cools emotional outbursts, but persistently calls for discipline, diligent performance of duties imposed by a poetic gift. In this episode, the table is compared to a shah returning a willful fugitive to the harem.

The high mission of the table and its owner is evidenced by artistic and lexical means related to religious topics. The object is associated with a pillar, a place where a feat of piety is performed, or a part of the interior of an altar in a Christian church. The author resorts to a well-known biblical allusion, identifying the table with a pillar of fire, with the help of which the Lord brought the Jews out of Egypt.

The close “union”, the connection of “more true love”, felt by the lyrical heroine for three decades, elevates the material image to the rank of a symbol of creativity - hard, responsible and painful work.

AT final text cycle, new shades of meaning arise in a multifaceted topic dedicated to the fate of a person of art. The antithesis underlying the composition of the poem opposes the lofty aspirations of the poet to the base interests of the inhabitants, who have “thick-legged asparagus” in their heads, and “gunpowder” instead of the soul.