How many of us fell into this abyss. Marina Tsvetaeva - How many of them fell into this abyss: Verse

The history of songs on the verses of M. Tsvetaeva ... “How many of them fell into this abyss” and “To the generals of the twelfth year”
Marina Tsvetaeva lost her mother very early, whose death she experienced very painfully. Over time, this feeling dulled, and the spiritual wound healed, however, the novice poetess in her work very often turned to the theme of death, as if trying to look into a world that was still inaccessible to her.

Maria Alexandrovna Tsvetaeva (born Maria Alexandrovna Main; 1868-1906) - the second wife of Ivan Vladimirovich Tsvetaeva, mother of Marina Tsvetaeva and Anastasia Tsvetaeva
Tsvetaeva admitted that she really hopes in that other life to meet her mother, whom she loved very much, and even mentally rushed time, trying to live her life as soon as possible.

How many have fallen into this abyss,
I'll open it away!
The day will come when I will disappear
From the surface of the earth.
Everything that sang and fought will freeze,
It shone and burst.
And the green of my eyes, and a gentle voice,
And gold hair.
And there will be life with its daily bread,
With forgetfulness of the day.
And everything will be - as if under the sky
And there was no me!
Changeable, like children, in every mine,
And so not for long evil,
Who loved the hour when the firewood in the fireplace
They become ash.
Cello, and cavalcades in the thicket,
And the bell in the village...
- Me, so alive and real
On sweet earth!
To all of you - to me, who did not know the measure in anything,
Strangers and yours? -
I make a claim of faith
And asking for love.
And day and night, and in writing and orally:
For the truth yes and no
For the fact that I so often - too sad
And only twenty years
For the fact that I have a direct inevitability -
Forgiveness of insults
For all my unbridled tenderness
And too proud
For the speed of swift events,
For the truth, for the game...
- Listen! - Still love me
For me to die.
In 1913, the poetess wrote a poem “How many of them fell into the abyss ...”, in which she again tried to determine for herself what life is and what to expect from death. Tsvetaeva perceives the other world as a kind of dark abyss, bottomless and frightening, in which people simply disappear. Speaking about death, she notes: "The day will come when I will disappear from the surface of the earth." However, the poetess realizes that after her departure, nothing in this mortal world will change. “And everything will be - as if under the sky and there was no me!”, - the poetess notes.

Death itself does not frighten 20-year-old Tsvetaeva, who has already had a chance to face this uninvited guest. The poetess only worries about the fact that people close and dear to her are leaving this life, and over time, the memory of them is erased. Those who died, Tsvetaeva compares with firewood in the fireplace, which "becomes ash." The wind carries it along the earth, and now it mixes with the earth, turning into dust, which, perhaps, will become the basis for a new life.

However, Marina Tsvetaeva is not ready to put up with this state of affairs, she wants the memory of people to be eternal, even if they are not worthy of it. She considers herself to be precisely in that category of future dead who did not deserve the right to go down in history because they have "too proud appearance." But the poetess contrasts this character trait with “unbridled tenderness”, hoping that, thereby, she can prolong her earthly life, at least in the memories of loved ones. “I make a demand of faith and a request for love,” notes Tsvetaeva. Such an unusual interpretation of the gospel truths still has the right to exist. The poetess does not believe in life after death in the biblical sense, but she hopes that she will be able to leave a bright mark on the earth, otherwise her very existence loses all meaning. The poetess does not suspect that poems that reveal rich inner world this amazing woman, filled with rebellious and very conflicting feelings.

Requiem (Monologue) "How many of them fell into this abyss ..." The song, which was based on this Tsvetaeva text, was first performed by Alla Pugacheva in 1988. The music was written by the famous Soviet and Russian composer Mark Minkov.
Many musicologists and admirers of Alla Borisovna's work consider "Requiem" a masterpiece in the artist's repertoire. It's hard to disagree with this! The poem “How many of them have fallen into this abyss ...”, imbued with a tragic sense of fate and an ardent thirst for life, the desire to leave their mark on the world, was written in 1913 by a young author on the rise of poetic fame. Accordingly, the lines "... For the fact that I am so often too sad and only 20 years old" in the interpretation of Alla Pugacheva, who at that time was much older lyrical heroine, had to be removed. So the "Monologue" became more universal than the author's text. This is a passionate, not limited by age or any other framework, an appeal to the world "with a demand for faith and a request for love."

"To the Generals of the Twelfth Year" a song known as "Nastenka's Romance" sounds in the cult film "Say a word about the poor hussar."
The action of the lyrical comedy takes place in “that wonderful time when men wielded a sword better than literacy, and fearlessly went not only into battle, but also down the aisle; when women knew how to appreciate selfless love and rewarded her with a dowry; when the outfits were so beautiful, and the figures were so slender, that the first was not ashamed to put on the second.
You, whose wide overcoats
Reminds me of sails
Whose spurs jangled merrily
And voices.
And whose eyes are like diamonds
A trace was carved on the heart -
Charming dandies
Of past years.
With one fierce will
You took the heart and the rock, -
Kings on every battlefield
And at the ball.
The hand of the Lord guarded you
And a mother's heart. Yesterday -
Little boys, today -
Officer.
All the peaks were small for you
And soft - the most stale bread,
Oh young generals
Your destinies!
=====
Ah, on the half-erased engraving,
In one glorious moment
I met, Tuchkov-fourth,
Your tender face
And your fragile figure
And gold medals...
And I, kissing the engraving,
Didn't know sleep.
Oh how - I think - could you
With a hand full of rings
And caress the curls of the maidens - and the mane
Your horses.
In one incredible leap
You have lived your short life...
And your curls, your sideburns
It snowed.
Three hundred won - three!
Only the dead did not get up from the ground.
You were children and heroes
You all could.
What is so touchingly young,
How is your mad army?..
You golden-haired Fortune
Led like a mother.
You have conquered and loved
Love and sabers point -
And merrily passed
Into non-existence.
Feodosia, December 26, 1913

The atmosphere of romance and adventure in the film is quite consistent with the spirit of Tsvetaeva's stanzas. The poem "To the Generals of the Twelfth Year", written in 1913, Tsvetaeva dedicated to her husband Sergei Efron, an officer of the White Guard.

In the text, which reflected the image of the heroic era in the perception of a young girl, there is an appeal directly to one of those very brilliant "generals of the twelfth year" - Alexander Tuchkov.
Tuchkov Alexander Alekseevich (1777 - 1812) participated with honors in the war of 1807 against the French and in 1808 against the Swedes. During World War II, commanding a brigade, he fought near Vitebsk and Smolensk; was killed near Borodino.
“Ah, on a half-erased engraving / / In one magnificent moment / / I met, Tuchkov-fourth / / Your gentle face ...”. It's about about a fairly well-known engraving. The work that Tsvetaeva admired was made by the artist Alexander Ukhtomsky after the death of Tuchkov the fourth - according to the drawing of the artist Varnek, who, in turn, in 1813 had before his eyes a medallion with a miniature lifetime image of Alexander Tuchkov.

Tuchkovs - noble family, originating from the Novgorod boyars, evicted under John III to the interior regions of Russia. AT Patriotic War In 1812, three Tuchkov brothers became famous: 1) Nikolai Alekseevich (1761 - 1812) participated in hostilities against the Swedes and Poles; in 1799, commanding the Sevsk musketeer regiment, he was in the unfortunate battle for us at Zurich and with bayonets made his way to Schaffhausen; in the battle of Preussisch-Eylau commanded the right wing of the army; in 1808, commanding the 5th infantry division, he participated in hostilities in Finland. In 1812 he was appointed commander of the 3rd infantry corps and was mortally wounded in the battle of Borodino. 2) Pavel Alekseevich was born in 1776; in 1808, commanding a brigade, he participated in the war with Sweden; in 1812 he distinguished himself in the battle at Valutina Gora, but immediately, seriously wounded, was taken prisoner; upon his return to Russia, he was appointed head of the division; later was a member state council and Chairman of the Commission of Petitions.

How many have fallen into this abyss,
I'll spread it away!
The day will come when I will disappear
From the surface of the earth.

Everything that sang and fought will freeze,
It shone and burst:
And the green of my eyes, and a gentle voice,
And gold hair

And there will be life with its daily bread,
With forgetfulness of the day.
And everything will be - as if under the sky
And there was no me!

Changeable, like children, in every mine
And so not for long evil,
Who loved the hour when firewood in the fireplace
become ash,

Cello and cavalcades in the thicket,
And the bell in the village...
- Me, so alive and real
On sweet earth!

To all of you - what to me, in nothing
not knowing the measure
Aliens and yours?!
I make a claim of faith
And asking for love.

And day and night, and in writing and orally:
For the truth yes and no
For the fact that I so often - too sad
And only twenty years

For the fact that to me - a direct inevitability -
Forgiveness of insults
For all my unbridled tenderness,
And too proud

For the speed of swift events,
For the truth, for the game...
- Listen! - still love me
For me to die.

December 8, 1913 How many of them fell into the abyss,
Yawning away!
There will come a day when I'm gone
On the surface of the earth.

Freezes all that singing and fought,
Shining and torn:
And my green eyes and a soft voice,
And gold hair

And life will be with her daily bread,
With forgetfulness day.
And everything will be - as if under the sky
And it wasn't me!

Changeable , as children, in each mine
And so long angry
Who loved the hour, when the wood in a fireplace
Become ash

Cello and cavalcade in a thicket
The bell in the village...
- Me, so alive and present
On gentle earth!

To all of you - that me anything
never known measures
Aliens and theirs?
I appeal to the requirements of the faith
And asking for love.

Both day and night, and written and oral:
For the truth is yes and no,
For what I so often - too sad
Only twenty years

For what I - direct invitability -
Forgiveness of injury,
For all my unbridled affection,
And too proud look

For the speed of rapid events
For the truth, for the game...
- Look! - More love me
For that I will die.

December 8, 1913

Maria Alexandrovna Tsvetaeva (born Maria Alexandrovna Main; 1868-1906) - the second wife of Ivan Vladimirovich Tsvetaeva, mother of Marina Tsvetaeva and Anastasia Tsvetaeva

Tsvetaeva admitted that she really hopes in that other life to meet her mother, whom she loved very much, and even mentally rushed time, trying to live her life as soon as possible.

In 1913, the poetess wrote a poem “How many of them fell into the abyss ...”, in which she again tried to determine for herself what life is and what to expect from death. Tsvetaeva perceives the other world as a kind of dark abyss, bottomless and frightening, in which people simply disappear. Speaking about death, she notes: "The day will come when I will disappear from the surface of the earth." However, the poetess realizes that after her departure, nothing in this mortal world will change. “And everything will be - as if under the sky and there was no me!”, - the poetess notes.

How many have fallen into this abyss,

How many have fallen into this abyss,

I'll open it away!
The day will come when I will disappear
From the surface of the earth.

Everything that sang and fought will freeze,
It shone and burst.
And the green of my eyes, and a gentle voice,
And gold hair.

And there will be life with its daily bread,
With forgetfulness of the day.
And everything will be - as if under the sky
And there was no me!

Changeable, like children, in every mine,
And so not for long evil,
Who loved the hour when the firewood in the fireplace
They become ash.

Cello, and cavalcades in the thicket,
And the bell in the village...
- Me, so alive and real
On sweet earth!

To all of you - to me, who did not know the measure in anything,
Strangers and yours? -
I make a claim of faith
And asking for love.

And day and night, and in writing and orally:
For the truth yes and no
For the fact that I am so often - too sad
And only twenty years

For the fact that I am a direct inevitability -
Forgiveness of insults
For all my unbridled tenderness
And too proud

For the speed of swift events,
For the truth, for the game...
- Listen! - Still love me
For me to die.

Death itself does not frighten 20-year-old Tsvetaeva, who has already had a chance to face this uninvited guest. The poetess only worries about the fact that people close and dear to her are leaving this life, and over time, the memory of them is erased. Those who died, Tsvetaeva compares with firewood in the fireplace, which "becomes ash." The wind carries it along the earth, and now it mixes with the earth, turning into dust, which, perhaps, will become the basis for a new life.

However, Marina Tsvetaeva is not ready to put up with this state of affairs, she wants the memory of people to be eternal, even if they are not worthy of it. She considers herself to be precisely in that category of future dead who did not deserve the right to go down in history because they have "too proud appearance." But the poetess contrasts this character trait with “unbridled tenderness”, hoping that, thereby, she can prolong her earthly life, at least in the memories of loved ones. “I make a demand of faith and a request for love,” notes Tsvetaeva. Such an unusual interpretation of the gospel truths still has the right to exist. The poetess does not believe in life after death in the biblical sense, but she hopes that she will be able to leave a bright mark on the earth, otherwise her very existence loses all meaning. The poetess does not suspect that poems that reveal the rich inner world of this amazing woman, filled with rebellious and very contradictory feelings, will become a kind of pass to eternity for her.

Many musicologists and admirers of Alla Borisovna's work consider "Requiem" a masterpiece in the artist's repertoire. It's hard to disagree with this! The poem “How many of them have fallen into this abyss ...”, imbued with a tragic sense of fate and an ardent thirst for life, the desire to leave their mark on the world, was written in 1913 by a young author on the rise of poetic fame. Accordingly, the lines "... For the fact that I am so often too sad and only 20 years old" in the interpretation of Alla Pugacheva, who at that time was much older than the lyrical heroine, had to be removed. So the "Monologue" became more universal than the author's text. This is a passionate, not limited by age or any other framework, an appeal to the world "with a demand for faith and a request for love."

Lyrics and deep philosophy, life and death, love and faith are intertwined in Marina Tsvetaeva's poem “So many of them fell into this abyss”, the analysis of which I offer.

The lines, full of riddles, were written by the poetess in 1913, when Marina was 20 years old, and her whole life was ahead, although the first life experience received. Tsvetaeva is already married, before the bloody revolution that will separate the family, far away and there are no clouds on the horizon of happiness.

Eternity and Tsvetaeva

The poem touches upon the questions of eternity:

Shined and burst

But life will not stop there, everything will be the same, only without us. Life, according to Tsvetaeva, is when firewood turns into ash. This process of transformation is life, and the lyricist loves it, as do most of us. The poetess loves life in such a way that she knows no limits in this, but she requires faith from us and asks for love:

What is a direct inevitability to me -
Forgiveness of insults

And look too proud

The ability to forgive

Marina has already recognized sadness and has learned to forgive insults that are generated due to "unbridled tenderness and a proud look." This allows her to soberly assess today's day and see the inevitability of tomorrow's ashes. She calls to love here and now, to love for the fact that we will die, because none of us can enjoy love forever:

- Listen! - still love me
For me to die.

Only by seeing the ashes of life ahead, you can love today in the fullness of feelings. The author asks to love everything that surrounds us now and learn to forgive, because we can do this only here, to the threshold of death. As the classic said:

While we are there is no death, when death comes we are not.

For a more vivid expression of feelings, Tsvetaeva uses antonyms in the poem, for example, "strangers and ours", "for the truth, for the game." This emphasizes the difference between a flourishing present and a mysterious future, it is a game of contrast.

Cross rhyme does not make it difficult to read lines, and words are easy to remember. Some lines evoke melancholy and sadness, but this is more than offset by the depth of the verses and the vitality hidden in them.

How many have fallen into this abyss,
I'll spread it away!
The day will come when I will disappear
From the surface of the earth.

Everything that sang and fought will freeze,
It shone and burst:
And the green of my eyes, and a gentle voice,
And gold hair.

And there will be life with its daily bread,
With forgetfulness of the day.
And everything will be - as if under the sky
And there was no me!

Changeable, like children, in every mine
And so not for long evil,
Who loved the hour when the firewood in the fireplace
become ash,

Cello and cavalcades in the thicket,
And the bell in the village...
- Me, so alive and real
On sweet earth!

- To all of you - to me, who did not know the measure in anything,
Aliens and yours?!
I make a claim of faith
And asking for love.

And day and night, and in writing and orally:
For the truth yes and no
For the fact that I am so often - too sad
And only twenty years

For the fact that to me - a direct inevitability -
Forgiveness of insults
For all my unbridled tenderness,
And too proud