Silence in the stuffy air is like a premonition of a thunderstorm.

in stuffy air silence,
Like a premonition of a thunderstorm
The fragrance is hotter than roses,
The sound of the dragonfly...

Chu! behind the white smoky cloud
Thunder rolled dully;
Sky lightning flying
Girdled around...

Life is a surplus
Spilled in the sultry air,
Like a divine drink
In my veins it burns and burns!

Virgo, maiden, what do you care
Haze perseus young?
What is troubled, what is sad
Wet shine of your eyes? ..

What, turning pale, freezes
The flame of virgin cheeks?
What is it that spirals your chest
And your mouth is burning? ..

Through silk eyelashes
There were two tears...
Or raindrops
Incipient thunderstorm?..

Watching the “young peals” of May thunderstorms and the cheerful “roar of summer storms” is a favorite pastime of an attentive contemplator, the lyrical subject of Tyutchev’s poetic texts. In the moments of the riot of the elements, entailing many transformations, the author captures special condition soul, uniting it with the outside world. The hero is overwhelmed with enthusiastic emotions and an intoxicating feeling of "excess of life", the formula of which is modeled in the work "The sun is shining, the waters are sparkling ...".

The themes and moods characteristic of Tyutchev's work were reflected in the poem of 1835, the composition of which divides the text into two episodes. The first of them is devoted to a natural sketch and the impressions of the hero, designed in the form of a philosophical generalization. The second part is written in the form of an appeal to the lyrical "you", a young maiden.

Silence and stuffiness, in the environment of which the floral aromas intensify and the low buzzing of insects seems sharp, are the categories that organize the artistic space of the beginning. They give rise to a "storm premonition", which is confirmed by the acoustic image of thunder that occurs at the beginning of the second quatrain. The image of lightning, confirming the validity of the guesses of the lyrical subject, completes the summer landscape. A vivid metaphor with an anthropomorphic meaning "the sky is girded" precedes the conclusion: a feeling of overflowing with life, concentrated "in the sultry air", is compared with a "divine drink" that excites human blood.

succession rhetorical exclamations replaced by persistent questions addressed to the lyrical "you". In the text of two quatrains detailing the heroine's emotions, the lexical anaphora "what" is repeated five times. An attentive and compassionate interlocutor describes the girl's emotions, but the reason that caused anxiety, longing and fear remains unknown. Leaving questions, the lyrical subject concentrates on outward manifestation feelings - cry. And in this case, uncertainty wins: the final dilemma, likening tears to raindrops, is not resolved.

female image immersed in mysterious world nature and close to him, appears in the work “The East turned white. The boat rolled…”, dated from the same period. The prayer of the young heroine is a kind of moment of truth: the jubilant sky reflected in her eyes, and the “drops of fire” of tears testify to her involvement in the secrets of unearthly spheres.

“Silence in the stuffy air ...” Fyodor Tyutchev

Silence in the stuffy air
Like a premonition of a thunderstorm
The fragrance is hotter than roses,
The sound of the dragonfly...

Chu! behind a white, smoky cloud
Thunder rolled dully;
Sky lightning flying
Girdled around...

Life is a surplus
Spilled in the sultry air,
Like a divine drink
In my veins it burns and burns!

Virgo, maiden, what do you care
Haze perseus young?
What is troubled, what is sad
Wet shine of your eyes? ..

What, turning pale, freezes
The flame of virgin cheeks?
What is it that spirals your chest
And your mouth is burning? ..

Through silk eyelashes
There were two tears...
Or raindrops
Incipient thunderstorm?..

Analysis of Tyutchev's poem "There is silence in the stuffy air ..."

Watching the “young peals” of May thunderstorms and the cheerful “roar of summer storms” is a favorite pastime of an attentive contemplator, the lyrical subject of Tyutchev’s poetic texts. In moments of riot of the elements, which entail many transformations, the author captures a special state of mind that unites it with the outside world. The hero is overwhelmed with enthusiastic emotions and a delightful feeling of "excess of life", the formula of which is modeled in the work ""

The themes and moods characteristic of Tyutchev's work were reflected in the poem of 1835, the composition of which divides the text into two episodes. The first of them is devoted to a natural sketch and the impressions of the hero, designed in the form of a philosophical generalization. The second part is written in the form of an appeal to the lyrical "you", a young maiden.

Silence and stuffiness, in the environment of which the floral aromas intensify and the low buzzing of insects seems sharp, are the categories that organize the artistic space of the beginning. They give rise to a "storm premonition", which is confirmed by the acoustic image of thunder that occurs at the beginning of the second quatrain. The image of lightning, confirming the validity of the guesses of the lyrical subject, completes the summer landscape. A vivid metaphor with an anthropomorphic meaning "the sky is girded" precedes the conclusion: a feeling of overflowing with life, concentrated "in the sultry air", is compared with a "divine drink" that excites human blood.

A series of rhetorical exclamations are replaced by persistent questions addressed to the lyrical "you". In the text of two quatrains detailing the heroine's emotions, the lexical anaphora "what" is repeated five times. An attentive and compassionate interlocutor describes the girl's emotions, but the reason that caused anxiety, longing and fear remains unknown. Leaving questions, the lyrical subject concentrates on the external manifestation of feelings - crying. And in this case, uncertainty wins: the final dilemma, likening tears to raindrops, is not resolved.

The female image, immersed in the mysterious world of nature and close to it, appears in the work "", dated from the same period. The prayer of the young heroine is a peculiar moment of truth: the jubilant sky, reflected in her eyes, and the “drops of fire” of tears testify to her involvement in the secrets of unearthly spheres.

Great about verses:

Poetry is like painting: one work will captivate you more if you look at it closely, and another if you move further away.

Little cutesy poems irritate the nerves more than the creak of unoiled wheels.

The most valuable thing in life and in poetry is that which has broken.

Marina Tsvetaeva

Of all the arts, poetry is most tempted to replace its own idiosyncratic beauty with stolen glitter.

Humboldt W.

Poems succeed if they are created with spiritual clarity.

The writing of poetry is closer to worship than is commonly believed.

If only you knew from what rubbish Poems grow without shame... Like a dandelion near a fence, Like burdocks and quinoa.

A. A. Akhmatova

Poetry is not in verses alone: ​​it is spilled everywhere, it is around us. Take a look at these trees, at this sky - beauty and life breathe from everywhere, and where there is beauty and life, there is poetry.

I. S. Turgenev

For many people, writing poetry is a growing pain of the mind.

G. Lichtenberg

Lovely verse like a bow drawn through the sonorous fibers of our being. Not our own - our thoughts make the poet sing inside us. Telling us about the woman he loves, he delightfully awakens in our souls our love and our sorrow. He is a wizard. Understanding him, we become poets like him.

Where graceful verses flow, there is no place for vainglory.

Murasaki Shikibu

I turn to Russian versification. I think that over time we will turn to blank verse. There are too few rhymes in Russian. One calls the other. The flame inevitably drags the stone behind it. Because of the feeling, art certainly peeps out. Who is not tired of love and blood, difficult and wonderful, faithful and hypocritical, and so on.

Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin

- ... Are your poems good, tell yourself?
- Monstrous! Ivan suddenly said boldly and frankly.
- Do not write anymore! the visitor asked pleadingly.
I promise and I swear! - solemnly said Ivan ...

Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov. "The Master and Margarita"

We all write poetry; poets differ from the rest only in that they write them with words.

John Fowles. "The French Lieutenant's Mistress"

Every poem is a veil stretched out on the points of a few words. These words shine like stars, because of them the poem exists.

Alexander Alexandrovich Blok

The poets of antiquity, unlike modern ones, rarely wrote more than a dozen poems during their long lives. It is understandable: they were all excellent magicians and did not like to waste themselves on trifles. Therefore, for each poetic work of those times, the whole Universe is certainly hidden, filled with miracles - often dangerous for someone who inadvertently wakes dormant lines.

Max Fry. "The Talking Dead"

To one of my clumsy hippos-poems, I attached such a heavenly tail: ...

Mayakovsky! Your poems do not warm, do not excite, do not infect!
- My poems are not a stove, not a sea and not a plague!

Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovsky

Poems are our inner music, clothed in words, permeated with thin strings of meanings and dreams, and therefore drive away critics. They are but miserable drinkers of poetry. What can a critic say about the depths of your soul? Don't let his vulgar groping hands in there. Let the verses seem to him an absurd lowing, a chaotic jumble of words. For us, this is a song of freedom from tedious reason, a glorious song that sounds on the snow-white slopes of our amazing soul.

Boris Krieger. "A Thousand Lives"

Poems are the thrill of the heart, the excitement of the soul and tears. And tears are nothing but pure poetry that has rejected the word.