The most famous collection of Tyutchev's love. Fedor Ivanovich Tyutchev

Interesting facts from the life of Tyutchev related to his beloved women.

Tyutchev was adored by women, they idolized him. Fyodor Ivanovich was never a Don Juan, a debauchee, a womanizer. He adored women and they answered him the same. His many beautiful lyric poems are dedicated specifically to women.

1. Fyodor Tyutchev in 1822 was appointed a freelance official at the diplomatic mission in Munich
In the spring of 1823 (he was 23 years old), he met in Munich with a very young (15-16 years old) Countess Amalia Lörchenfeldor (better known as Krüdener). At the time when they met, Amalia knew that she was very beautiful and had already learned to command men. Pushkin, Heine and the Bavarian King Ludwig were also fond of it. And Tyutchev (as Theodore called him) was modest, sweet, always embarrassed when meeting with her, but was very considerate in relations with Amalia. They began to sympathize with each other, exchanged watch chains (Tyutchev gave her a gold one, and she gave him a silk one). Together they walked a lot around Munich, along its beautiful suburbs, and on the banks of the beautiful Danube.

In 1824, Fyodor Tyutchev gives Amalia the poem “Your sweet look, full of innocent passion ...”, and also decided to ask Amalia’s hand in marriage from her parents. The girl herself agreed, but her parents did not, because they did not like the fact that Tyutchev was young, not rich, not titled. A little later, Amalia's parents agreed to marry Tyutchev's colleague several years older than him, Baron Alexander Krudener.
Tyutchev was offended to the core. Until the end of their days, Fedor Tyutchev and Amalia Kryudener remained soulmates. In 1836, Tyutchev wrote another poem, which he dedicated to Amalia “I remember the golden time ...”, and in 1870 - “K.B.”:
I met you - and all the past
In the obsolete heart came to life;
I remembered the golden time
And my heart felt so warm

2. Time, as you know, heals, and in 1826 Fyodor Tyutchev secretly married Eleanor Peterson, who was the widow of the diplomat Alexander Peterson. She had four sons from her first marriage. Emilia-Eleanor Peterson was from the old county family of the Bothmers. Eleanor was three years older than Fyodor Tyutchev. Their marriage lasted twelve years, they had three daughters. The first seven years of their family life were the happiest for Fyodor Tyutchev. Why are five other years not so happy? Eleanor loved her husband very much, they simply idolized him. But in 1833 she finds out. that her husband was carried away by Ernestine Dernberg, nee Pfeffel (at that moment she was married to Baron Fritz Dernberg). She was one of the most beautiful girls in Munich. Well-bred, from the family of a Bavarian diplomat. In those years, Eleanor got a little fat, became more domestic. Yes, and not surprising. House, husband, children... And Ernestina was very young, many liked her. So there was someone to be jealous of her husband. For Eleanor, it was a hard blow. She even tried to commit suicide by stabbing herself in the chest several times with a masquerade dagger.
After the publicity of all the events related to Tyutchev's novel, Eleanor's suicide attempt, Fedor Ivanovich is transferred to work in the city of Turin. Eleanor forgave her husband because she loved him very much. They return to Russia, but after a while Tyutchev returned to Europe. In 1838, Eleanor, along with her three little daughters, boarded a steamer to Lübeck to visit her husband. But on the night of 18 to 19 there was a strong fire on the ship. Eleanor suffered a great shock saving her children. All these events finally undermined her health and in August 1838 Eleanor died in the arms of her beloved husband. Tyutchev was so stunned by the death of his wife. that turned gray in one night. Ten years after her death, he will write a poem “I am still languishing with longing for desires ...”

3. Already in 1839, Tyutchev married his beloved Ernestina Dernberg. Ernestina is beautiful, educated, very smart and she is very close to Tyutchev. He writes poetry for her: “I love your eyes, my friend…”, “Dream”, “Upstream of your life”, “She was sitting on the floor…”, “The executing God took everything from me…etc.
These poems strikingly combine earthly love, marked by sensuality, passion, even demonism, and an unearthly, heavenly feeling. There is anxiety in the verses, fear of a possible "abyss" that may appear before those who love, but the lyrical hero tries to overcome these abysses. Tyutchev writes about his new wife: “... do not worry about me, for I am guarded by the devotion of a being, the best that God has ever created. I won't tell you about her love for me; even you might find it excessive. But what I can't praise enough about is her tenderness and concern for children, for which I don't know how to thank her. The loss they have suffered is almost repaid for them...two weeks later, the children are so attached to her, as if they had never had another mother.
Ernestina adopted all the daughters of Eleonora and Tyutchev and Eleonora had three more children together - daughter Maria and two sons Dmitry, Ivan.

4. Unfortunately, Tyutchev was amorous and he cheated on his wife and often, and after 11 years of marriage he completely lost interest in her, as he was in love with Lyolya Denisyeva. Elena Aleksandrovna was from an impoverished noble family, her mother died when she was still young, her father remarried, and Lelya was raised by her aunt. Lelya Denisyeva was 23 years younger than Tyutchev. How and where their relationship began is unknown, but here is what they said about Tyutchev’s attitude to Lyola: “The poet’s passion grew gradually, until it finally aroused such deep, such selfless, such passionate and energetic love from Denisyeva that she embraced all of his creature, and he remained forever her prisoner ... "But in the end, everyone suffered. Fyodor Ivanovich himself suffered endlessly, continuing to bow before his wife and passionately, in an earthly way, adore young Lelya. His young mistress suffered, severely and categorically condemned by society for this broken marriage. Tyutchev did not need to invent passions for his works. He simply wrote down what he saw with his own eyes, what he experienced with his own heart.
Love for someone else's husband forced Lelya to lead a strange life. She herself remained "Denisyeva's maiden", and her children bore the surname Tyutchevs. Surname, but not the coat of arms of the nobility. Her position was very reminiscent of that in which Princess Dolgorukaya, the morganatic wife of Alexander II, lived for many years. But unlike her confidante in misfortune, Lelya Denisyeva was not so strong in spirit, and her lover was not so omnipotent. From the abnormality of her position, the open contempt of society, which often attended needs, she suffered from consumption, which slowly but surely drove a still young woman to the grave.
Tyutchev was very well aware of the importance of Lelya for his life, and was not mistaken. Her health and frequent childbirth undermined her. Lelya gave birth to her last child two months before her death. From the former beauty, gaiety, life, only a ghost remained - pale, almost weightless ... Lelya Denisyeva died in Tyutchev's arms on August 4, 1864, fourteen years after the beginning of their painful romance.
Tyutchev did not break with his family. He loved both of them: his lawful wife Ernestine Dernberg and the illegitimate Elena Denisyeva, and suffered immensely from being unable to answer them with the same fullness and indivisibility of feeling with which they treated him. Tyutchev survived Lelya for nine years and died far from dear to her tomb of Italy. But his last gratitude still went to Ernestina Fedorovna - faithful, loving, all-forgiving:
The executing god took everything from me:
Health, willpower, air, sleep,
He left you alone with me,
What if I could still pray to him ”
Fyodor Tyutchev called his legal wife Ernestina Fedorovna - Carry, and Elena Alexandrovna - Lyolya
Here are some interesting facts from the life of Tyutchev briefly.

Used: Interesting

Do not say! He loves me as before
Me, as before, cherishes ...
Oh no! He destroys my life inhumanly,
Though, I see the knife in his hand is trembling.

Now in anger, now in tears, yearning, indignant,
Passionate, wounded in the soul,
I suffer, I do not live ... for them, for them alone I live -
But this life!... oh, how bitter it is!

He measures the air for me so carefully and meagerly,
They don’t measure like this to a fierce enemy ...
Oh, I'm still breathing painfully and hard,
I can breathe, but I can't live!

In the crowd of people, in the immodest noise of the day
Sometimes my eyes, movements, feelings, speeches
They do not dare to rejoice at your meeting -
My soul! oh don't blame me!

See how the day is foggy white
A luminous month glimmers in the sky, -
The night will come - and in a clean glass
Will pour fragrant and amber oil!

Still languishing longing desires
I still long for you with my soul -
And in the darkness of memories
I still catch your image ...

Your sweet image, unforgettable,
He is before me everywhere, always,
unattainable, immutable,
Like a star in the sky at night...

I knew the eyes - oh, those eyes!
How I loved them - God knows!
From their magical, passionate night
I couldn't tear my soul away.

In this incomprehensible gaze,
Life exposing to the bottom,
Such grief was heard
Such passion!

He breathed sad, in-depth
In the shadow of her thick eyelashes,
Like pleasure, weary,
And, like suffering, fatal.

And in these wonderful moments
I have never been able to
Meet him without worry
And admire them without tears.

I love your eyes my friend
With the game of their fiery-wonderful,
When you suddenly lift x
And, like lightning from heaven,
Take a quick circle...

But there is a stronger charm:
Downcast eyes
In moments of passionate kissing,
And through lowered eyelashes
Gloomy, dim fire of desire.

When there is no God's consent,
No matter how she suffers, loving, -
The soul, alas, will not suffer happiness,
Can't redeem himself...

Soul, soul that is whole
One cherished surrendered to love
And she alone breathed and hurt,
Lord bless you.

He is merciful, almighty,
He warms with his beam
And a lush flower blooming in the air,
And a pure pearl at the bottom of the sea.

Like an unsolved mystery
Living charm breathes in it -
We watch with anxious trepidation
Into the quiet light of her eyes.

Is there an earthly charm in it,
Or heavenly grace?
The soul would like to pray to her,
And the heart is torn to adore ...

No matter how madness rages,
No matter how hard you work on it,
But these eyes are sincere -
It is stronger than all demons.

Everything about her is so sincere and sweet,
So all movements are good;
Nothing bothered the azure
Her cloudless soul.

Not even a speck of dust stuck to her
From stupid gossip, evil speeches;
And even slander did not crush
The airy silk of her curls.

last love

Oh, how in our declining years

Shine, shine, parting light

Half the sky was engulfed by a shadow,

Let the blood run thin in the veins,

Oh, last love!
You are both bliss and hopelessness.

What did you pray with love

What did you pray with love
What, like a shrine, protected,
The fate of human vanity
Betrayed to reproach.
The crowd came in, the crowd broke in
In the sanctuary of your soul
And you were involuntarily ashamed
And the secrets and sacrifices available to her.
Ah, if only living wings
Souls hovering above the crowd
She was rescued from violence
Immortal human vulgarity!

Predestination

Love, love - says the legend -
The union of the soul with the soul of the native -
Their union, combination,
And their fatal merger.
And... the fatal duel...
And than one of them is more tender
In the struggle of unequal two hearts,
The more inevitable and more certain
Loving, suffering, mleya sadly,
It finally wears out...

last love

Oh, how in our declining years
We love more tenderly and more superstitiously...
Shine, shine, parting light
Last love, evening dawn!
Half the sky was engulfed by a shadow,
Only there, in the west, radiance wanders, -
Slow down, slow down, evening day,
Last, last, charm.
Let the blood run thin in the veins,
But tenderness does not fail in the heart ...
Oh, last love!
You and bliss and hopelessness

How many times have you heard the confession

How many times have you heard the confession:
"I'm not worthy of your love."
Let her be my creation -
But how poor I am in front of her...
Before your love
It hurts me to remember myself -
I stand, I am silent, I revere
And I bow to you...
When, sometimes, so tenderly,
With such faith and prayer
Involuntarily bend your knee
Before the cradle dear,
Where she sleeps - your birth -
Your nameless cherub, -
Understand well and you my humility
Before your loving heart.

I met you - and all the past

I met you - and all the past
In the obsolete heart came to life;
I remembered the golden time -
And my heart felt so warm...
Like late autumn sometimes
There are days, there are hours
When it suddenly blows in the spring
And something stirs in us -
So, all covered with spirit
Those years of spiritual fullness,
With a long forgotten rapture
Looking at cute features...
As after centuries of separation,
I look at you as if in a dream -
And now - the sounds became more audible,
Not silenced in me...
There's not just one memory
Then life spoke again -
And the same charm in us,
And the same love in my soul! ..

Don't say: he loves me as before...

Do not say: he loves me, as before,
Me, as before, cherishes ...
Oh no! He destroys my life inhumanly,
I can see the knife in his hand is trembling.
Now in anger, now in tears, yearning, indignant,
Passionate, wounded in the soul,
I suffer, I do not live ... for them, for them alone I live -
But this life!.. Oh, how bitter it is!
He measures the air for me so carefully and meagerly...
They don’t measure like this to a fierce enemy ...
Oh, I'm still breathing painfully and hard,
I can breathe, but I can't live.

Oh, do not disturb me reproach fair!
Believe me, of the two of us, yours is the most enviable:
You love sincerely and ardently, and I -
I look at you with jealous annoyance.
And, miserable sorcerer, before the magical world,
Created by myself, without faith I stand -
And myself, blushing, I realize
Your living soul is a lifeless idol.

I knew the eyes - oh, those eyes...

I knew the eyes - oh, those eyes!
How I loved them, God knows!
From their magical, passionate night
I couldn't tear my soul away.
In this incomprehensible gaze,
Life exposing to the bottom,
Such grief was heard
Such passion!
He breathed sad, in-depth
In the shadow of her thick eyelash,
Like pleasure, weary
And, like suffering, fatal.
And in these wonderful moments
I have never been able to
Meet him without worry
And admire them without tears.

I remember golden times...

I remember the golden time
I remember a dear edge to my heart.
The day was evening; we were two;
Below, in the shadows, the Danube rustled.
And on the hill, where, whitening,
The ruin of the castle looks into the distance,
You stood, young fairy,
Leaning on mossy granite.
Infant foot touching
The wreckage of a pile of centuries;
And the sun lingered, saying goodbye
With the hill and the castle and you.
And the wind is quiet in passing
Played with your clothes
And from wild apple trees color by color
He hung on the shoulders of the young.
You looked carelessly into the distance ...
The edge of the sky is smoky extinguished in the rays;
The day was fading; sounded sang
River in the faded banks.
And you with carefree gaiety
Happy seeing off the day;
And sweet fleeting life
A shadow passed over us.

Still languishing longing desires ...

Still languishing longing desires
I still long for you with my soul -
And in the darkness of memories
I still catch your image ...
Your sweet image, unforgettable,
He is before me everywhere, always,
unattainable, immutable,
Like a star in the sky at night...

No matter how we oppress separation

No matter how we are oppressed by separation,
We do not submit to her -
There is another torment for the heart,
More unbearable and more painful.
The time for parting is over
And from it in our hands
One cover left
translucent to the eyes.
And we know: under this haze
Everything that hurts the soul
Some strange invisible
Hiding from us - and silent.
Where is the purpose of such temptations?
The soul is involuntarily confused,
And in a rut of confusion
She reluctantly turns around.
The time for parting is over
And we dare not, in a good hour
Pull up and pull off the covers
So hateful to us!

Russian woman

Far from the sun and nature
Far from light and art
Far away from life and love
Your younger years will flash,
Feelings that are alive will die,
Your dreams will shatter...
And your life will pass unseen
In a land deserted, nameless,
On unseen land,
How the cloud of smoke disappears
In the sky dim and misty,
In the endless autumn haze...

The trees bared their shoulders, the yellow ball hides the masks, Whoever says that time heals has never known love ...
Tyutchev Fedor

Whatever life teaches us
But the heart believes in miracles...

Tyutchev Fedor

This day, I remember for me
It was the morning of a life day:
She stood silently in front of me.
Her chest was heaving,
Scarlet cheeks, like the dawn,
Everything is hotter than reddening and grief!
And suddenly, like a young sun,
Love confession golden
burst out of her chest...
And I saw a new world!

Tyutchev Fedor

But all charms are short, they are not allowed to visit us.

Tyutchev Fedor

I love your eyes my friend
With their fiery-wonderful play,
When you suddenly raise them
And, like lightning from heaven,
Take a quick circle...

But there is a stronger charm:
Downcast eyes
In moments of passionate kissing,
And through lowered eyelashes
Gloomy, dim fire of desire.

Tyutchev Fedor

There's not just one memory
Then life spoke again, -
And the same charm in you,
And the same love in my soul! ..

Tyutchev Fedor

Your shrine will not break
The poet's clean hand
But inadvertently life will suffocate
Ile will carry away for the clouds.

Tyutchev Fedor

Oh, how deadly we love
As in the violent blindness of passions
We are the most likely to destroy
What is dear to our heart!

Tyutchev Fedor

Love, love - says the legend -
The union of the soul with the soul of the native -
Their union, combination,
And their fatal merger,
And ... a fatal duel ...

Tyutchev Fedor

Let the blood run thin in the veins,
But tenderness does not fail in the heart ...
Oh, last love!
You are both bliss and hopelessness.

Tyutchev Fedor

You loved and since you love,
No, no one has been able to
Oh my God! And survive it
And my heart didn't break!

Tyutchev Fedor

So sweet, thank you
Airy and light
my soul a hundredfold
Your love was

Tyutchev Fedor

In separation there is a high meaning:
No matter how you love, at least one day, at least a century,
Love is a dream, and a dream is a moment,
And early or late, or awakening,
And the man must finally wake up...

Tyutchev Fedor

How long have you been proud of your victory?
You said she's mine...
A year has not passed - ask and tell,
What is left of her?

Where did the roses go,
The smile of the lips and the sparkle of the eyes?
All scorched, burned out tears
Its combustible moisture.

Tyutchev Fedor

Not what you think, nature:
Not a cast, not a soulless face -
It has a soul, it has freedom,
It has Love, it has a language.

Tyutchev Fedor

Be silent, hide and conceal
And your feelings and dreams -
Let in the depths of the soul
They get up and come in.

Tyutchev Fedor

She was sitting on the floor
And sorted through piles of letters,
And, like cooled ashes,
Picked them up and threw them away.

I took familiar sheets
And it was wonderful to look at them,
How souls look from above
On their abandoned body...

Oh, how much life was here
Irrevocably experienced!
Oh, how many sad minutes
Love and joy killed!..

I stood silently aside
And the mouth was ready to kneel, -
And I was terribly sad
As from an inherent sweet shadow.

Tyutchev Fedor

How many times have you heard the confession:
"I'm not worthy of your love."
Let her be my creation -
But how poor I am in front of her...

Before your love
It hurts me to remember myself -
I stand, I am silent, I revere
And I bow to you...

When, sometimes, so tenderly,
With such faith and prayer
Involuntarily bend your knee
Before the cradle dear,

Where she sleeps - your birth -
Your nameless cherub, -
Understand well and you my humility
Before your loving heart.

Tyutchev Fedor

I met you - and all the past
In the obsolete heart came to life;
I remembered the golden time -
And my heart felt so warm...

Like late autumn sometimes
There are days, there are hours
When it suddenly blows in the spring
And something stirs in us -

So, all covered with spirit
Those years of spiritual fullness,
With a long forgotten rapture
I look at the cute features ...

As after centuries of separation,
I look at you as if in a dream -
And now - the sounds became more audible,
Not silenced in me...

There's not just one memory
Then life spoke again -
And the same charm in us,
And the same love in my soul! ...

Tyutchev Fedor

I love the storm in early May,
When spring, the first thunder,
as if frolicking and playing,
Rumbles in the blue sky.

The young peals are thundering,
Here the rain splashed, the dust flies,
Rain pearls hung,
And the sun gilds the threads.

An agile stream runs from the mountain,
In the forest, the din of birds does not stop,
And the uproar of the forest and the noise of the mountains -
Everything echoes cheerfully to the thunders.

You say: windy Hebe,
Feeding Zeus' eagle
A thundering cup from the sky
Laughing, she spilled it on the ground.

Analysis of the poem "Spring Thunderstorm" by Tyutchev

Tyutchev is rightfully considered one of the best Russian poets who sang nature in his works. His lyrical poems are characterized by amazing melody. Romantic admiration for the beauty of nature, the ability to notice the most insignificant details - these are the main qualities of Tyutchev's landscape lyrics.

The work was created in 1828 abroad, but in the mid-50s. has undergone significant revision.

The poem "Spring Thunderstorm" is an enthusiastic monologue of a lyrical hero. This is an example of an artistic description of a natural phenomenon. For many poets, spring is the happiest time of the year. It is associated with the revival of new hopes, the awakening of creative forces. In a general sense, a thunderstorm is a dangerous phenomenon associated with the fear of a lightning strike. But many people are waiting for the first spring thunderstorm, which is associated with the final victory over winter. Tyutchev was able to perfectly describe this long-awaited event. The formidable natural element appears to the reader as a cheerful and joyful phenomenon, carrying the renewal of nature.

Spring rain washes away more than just the dirt left over from a harsh winter. It cleanses human souls from all negative emotions. Probably, everyone in childhood tried to get under the first rain.

The first thunderstorm is accompanied by "spring ... thunder", reverberating in the mind of the lyrical hero with beautiful music. The murmur of streams and the singing of birds are added to the sounding natural symphony. All flora and fauna triumph at these sounds. A person also cannot remain indifferent. His soul merges with nature in a single world harmony.

The size of the verse is iambic tetrameter with cross rhyme. Tyutchev uses a variety of expressive means. Epithets express bright and joyful feelings ("first", "blue", "agile"). Verbs and participles enhance the dynamics of what is happening and are often personifications (“frolicking and playing”, “a stream runs”). The poem as a whole is characterized by a large number of verbs of movement or action.

In the finale, the poet turns to ancient Greek mythology. This emphasizes the romantic orientation of Tyutchev's work. The use of the epithet "high" style ("boiling") becomes the final solemn chord in a natural piece of music.

The poem "Spring Thunderstorm" has become a classic, and its first line "I love a thunderstorm at the beginning of May" is often used as a catch phrase.