Tyutchev's love lyrics. Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev. Poems about love. Love lyrics by Tyutchev and IP

Do not say! He loves me as before,
As before, he values ​​me...
Oh no! He is inhumanly ruining my life,
At least I see the knife in his hand is shaking.

Now in anger, now in tears, sad, indignant,
Carried away, wounded in my soul,
I suffer, I don’t live... by them, by them alone I live -
But this life!.. oh, how bitter it is!

He measures the air for me so carefully and sparingly,
They don’t measure this against a fierce enemy...
Oh, I’m still breathing painfully and difficultly,
I can breathe, but I can’t live!

In a crowd of people, in the immodest noise of the day
Sometimes my gaze, movements, feelings, speech
They don’t dare to rejoice at meeting you -
My soul! oh, don't blame me!

Look how foggy and white it is during the day
The bright month is just glimmering in the sky, -
Night will come - and into clear glass
The oil will pour in fragrant and amber!

I still languish with the longing of desires,
I still strive for you with my soul -
And in the twilight of memories
I still catch your image...

Your sweet image, unforgettable,
He is in front of me everywhere, always,
Unattainable, unchangeable,
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 stripped to the bottom,
It sounded like grief,
Such depth of passion!

He breathed sadly, deeply
In the shadow of her thick eyelashes,
Like pleasure, tired,
And, like suffering, fatal.

And in these wonderful moments
I have never had a chance
Meet him without worry
And admire it without tears.

I love your eyes, my friend,
With their fiery and wonderful game,
When you suddenly lift them up
And, like lightning from heaven,
Take a quick look around the whole circle...

But there is a stronger charm:
Eyes downcast
In moments of passionate kissing,
And through drooping eyelashes
A gloomy, dim fire of desire.

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

Soul, soul that is completely
I gave myself up to one cherished love
And she was the only one who breathed and was sick,
God bless you.

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

Like an unsolved mystery
Living beauty breathes in her -
We look with anxious trepidation
To the quiet light of her eyes.

Is there an earthly charm in her,
Or unearthly grace?
My soul would like to pray to her,
And my heart is eager to adore...

No matter how angry the slander was,
No matter how hard I worked 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.

It is heartfelt and multifaceted, like love itself in the poet’s life - a riot of feelings, contradictory and inspiring, resulted either in tragedy or drama. Five love stories, five women of the great poet left a mark on his life, in his heart and in his poems.

1. Katyusha Kruglikova

The first love of the famous poet was... a courtyard girl at the estate, Katyusha Kruglikova. It would seem an insignificant, simple and naive story, but... The relationship between the lovers went so far that Tyutchev’s influential parents had to intervene, who, of course, were against such a hobby for their son. Using their connections, they obtained permission for Fyodor to graduate from university early and sent him away from home - to St. Petersburg, and then to Munich, where Tyutchev would spend twenty-two years. Katyusha, after some time, was given her freedom, and then provided with a dowry and married off... She was Tyutchev’s only beloved to whom he did not devote his poems - perhaps because of the brevity and youth of their romance.

In Munich, Tyutchev’s heart was captured by the young and noble Amalia von Lerchenfeld, the illegitimate daughter of the Prussian King Frederick William III and Princess Thurn and Taxis. The beautiful Amalia reciprocated the passionately in love poet and agreed to his proposal, but her relatives were against it. Tyutchev was refused, and when he left Munich for a while, Amalia married his colleague, Baron Kruender. They say this caused a duel between them. Later, I remember walking with Amalia along the banks of the Danube, Tyutchev will write the poem “I Remember the Golden Time.”

I remember the golden time, I remember the dear land to my heart. The day was getting dark; there were two of us; Below, in the shadows, the Danube roared.

And on the hill, where the white ruin of the castle looks into the distance, you stood, young fairy, leaning on the mossy granite.

With an infant's foot touching the fragments of an age-old pile; And the sun hesitated, saying goodbye to the hill, and the castle, and you.

And the quiet wind, passing by, played with Your clothes, And from the wild apple trees, flower after flower, blew onto the shoulders of the young ones.

You looked carefree into the distance... The edge of the sky was smoky in the rays; The day was dying out; The River sang more sonorously in its darkened banks.

And you spent the happy day with carefree joy; And sweet is fleeting life A shadow flew over us.

The work is dedicated to Amalia, who throughout her life maintained friendly relations with the poet who was once in love with her.

Nee Countess Botmer, by her first husband - Peterson, becomes Tyutchev's first wife. The poet meets her in Munich, having arrived there as a freelance attaché of the Russian diplomatic mission. Their marriage was happy: Eleanor fell in love with Tyutchev instantly and loved selflessly, surrounding him with touching care. Tender and fragile, like a beautiful vision, she turned out to be a reliable support for her husband. Having taken over the entire economic part of the marital life, Eleanor, with a very modest income, was able to equip a cozy and hospitable home and ensure cloudless happiness for her family. And when, having moved to Turin, the Tyutchevs found themselves in a difficult financial situation, Eleanor herself went to the auction and took care of home improvement, protecting her mopey husband from these worries. However, Eleanor's poor health was undermined by overwork and nervous shock: it was caused by the shipwreck of the steamship "Nicholas I", on which Eleanor sailed to her husband with her children. The woman refused long-term treatment and never recovered from the disease: soon a cold hit Eleanor, and she died at the age of 37. Tyutchev’s grief was so great that, sitting at his wife’s coffin, he turned gray in a few hours. In 1858, on the anniversary of Eleanor’s death, the poet wrote poems dedicated to her memory:

At the hours when it happens

It's so heavy on my chest

And the heart languishes,

And darkness is only ahead;

Without strength and without movement,

We're so depressed

What even consolation

Friends are not funny to us,

Suddenly a ray of sunshine welcomes you!

He will sneak in to us

And the fire-colored one will splash

Stream, along the walls;

And from the supportive firmament,

From the azure heights

Suddenly the air is fragrant

There's a smell coming through the window...

Lessons and tips

They don't bring us

And from fate slander

They won't save us.

But we feel their strength,

We hear them grace,

And we yearn less

And it's easier for us to breathe...

So sweet and gracious

Airy and light

to my soul a hundredfold

Your love was there.

Tyutchev became interested in Baroness Dernberg while still married to Eleanor: he shared a spiritual closeness with Ernestina, and the poet could not resist. He wrote about her:

I love your eyes, my friend,

With their fiery-wonderful play,

When you suddenly lift them up

And, like lightning from heaven,

Take a quick look around the whole circle...

But there is a stronger charm:

Eyes downcast

In moments of passionate kissing,

And through lowered eyelashes

A gloomy, dim fire of desire.

His frequent meetings with the Baroness led Tyutchev’s legal wife to attempt suicide (although unsuccessful), after which Fyodor Ivanovich promised to end his relationship with Ernestina - but was unable to do so. Ernestina followed Tyutchev to Turin, and two years after Eleanor’s death, the poet proposed to the baroness. Ernestina was rich, beautiful, smart - and generous. She will forgive her husband for betrayal, and one day, after a long break, the family will be reunited again.

5. Elena Deniseva

Another dramatic love story of Tyutchev is the young lover Elena Denisyeva, a student of the institute where Tyutchev’s daughters studied. To meet with her, the poet rented a separate apartment and, when the secret relationship became obvious, he practically created a second family. For 14 years, Tyutchev, as had happened once before, was torn between two beloved women - his legal and “common-law” wife - he tried unsuccessfully to make peace with the first and could not part with the second. But Elena suffered much more from this destructive passion: her father and friends abandoned her, she could forget about her career as a maid of honor - all doors were now closed to her. Denisyeva was ready to make such sacrifices, she was ready to remain an illegitimate wife and felt absolutely happy, registering her children with the surname Tyutchev - not understanding that this emphasized their “illegal” origin. She idolized him, believing “that his wife was more important to him than his ex-wives” and, indeed, she lived his entire life. Anyone who could object to the fact that she was the “real Tyutcheva” could become a victim of Denisyeva’s nervous attack, which already signaled her ill health. Constant worries, caring for children, and the birth of her third child completely exhausted her - consumption worsened, and Denisyeva died in the arms of her lover, not even reaching the age of forty... Many of Tyutchev’s most piercing poems, united in “ Denisievsky cycle". One of the most famous among them is “Last Love”.

Interesting facts from Tyutchev’s life related to his beloved women.

Tyutchev was adored by women, they idolized him. Fyodor Ivanovich was never a Don Juan, a libertine, or a womanizer. He adored women and they responded in kind. His many beautiful lyrical poems are dedicated specifically to women.

1. Fyodor Tyutchev in 1822 was appointed as a freelance official at the diplomatic mission in Munich
In the spring of 1823 (he was 23 years old) he met in Munich the very young (15-16 years old) Countess Amalia Lörchenfeldor (better known as Krüdener). At the time 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 he was called Theodor) was modest, sweet, always embarrassed when meeting her, but was very helpful in his 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). They walked together a lot around Munich, through its beautiful suburbs, and on the banks of the beautiful Danube.

In 1824, Fyodor Tyutchev gave Amalia the poem “Your sweet gaze, 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 depths of his soul. Until the end of their days, Fyodor Tyutchev and Amalia Krudener remained spiritual friends. 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 everything is gone
In the obsolete heart came to life;
I remembered the golden time
And my heart felt so warm

2. Time, as we know, heals, and in 1826 Fyodor Tyutchev secretly married Eleanor Peterson, who was the widow of diplomat Alexander Peterson. She left four sons from her first marriage. Emilia-Eleanor Peterson was from the old count family of Bothmer. 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 the other five years not so happy? Eleanor loved her husband very much, they simply idolized him. But in 1833 she finds out. that her husband became interested in Ernestina Dernberg, née 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 gained a little weight and became more domestic. And it’s not surprising. House, husband, children... And Ernestina was very young, many people liked her. So there was someone to be jealous of her husband. For Eleanor, this was a strong 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 and Eleanor’s suicide attempt, Fyodor 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 some time Tyutchev returned to Europe. In 1838, Eleanor, along with her three little daughters, boarded a ship to Lubeck to visit her husband. But on the night from 18 to 19 there was a strong fire on the ship. Eleanor suffered a great shock while saving her children. All these events completely 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 he turned gray overnight. Ten years after her death, he will write the poem “I am still languishing with the longing of 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 poems to 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 poems, fear of the 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 protected by the devotion of the creature, the best ever created by God. I won’t tell you about her love for me; even you might find it excessive. But what I cannot praise enough is her tenderness towards children and care for them, for which I don’t know how to thank her. The loss they had suffered was almost compensated for them... two weeks later the children became as attached to her as if they had never had another mother.”
Ernestina adopted all of Eleanor's daughters, and Tyutchev and Eleanor had three more children together - daughter Maria and two sons Dmitry and Ivan.

4. Unfortunately, Tyutchev was in love and he cheated on his wife often, and after 11 years of marriage he completely lost interest in her, since he was in love with Lelya Denisyeva. Elena Alexandrovna was from an impoverished noble family, her mother died when she was still little, her father married a second time, and Lelya was raised by her aunt. Lelya Denisyeva was 23 years younger than Tyutchev. How their relationship began and where their relationship began is unknown, but here’s what they said about Tyutchev’s relationship with Lelya: “The poet’s passion grew gradually until it finally evoked on Denisyeva’s part such a deep, so selfless, so passionate and energetic love that it embraced all of him.” creature, and he remained forever her prisoner...” But in the end, everyone suffered. Fyodor Ivanovich himself suffered endlessly, continuing to adore 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 the “Maiden Deniseva,” and her children bore the surname Tyutchev. A surname, but not a noble coat of arms. Her situation was very reminiscent of the one 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, often visited by needs, she suffered from consumption, which slowly but surely brought the still young woman to the grave.
Tyutchev was very well aware of the importance of Lelya for his life, and he was not mistaken. Her health and frequent childbirth were undermined. 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 start of their painful romance.
Tyutchev did not break with his family. He loved both of them: his legal wife Ernestina Dernberg and illegitimate Elena Denisyeva and suffered immensely because he was unable to respond to them with the same completeness and undivided feeling with which they treated him. Tyutchev outlived Lelya by nine years and died far from dear to her grave in 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 else could I pray to him?”
Fyodor Tyutchev called his legal wife Ernestina Fedorovna - Nesti, and Elena Alexandrovna - Lyolya
Here are some interesting facts from Tyutchev’s life in brief.

Used: Interesting

last love

Oh, how in our declining years

Shine, shine, farewell light

Half the sky was covered in shadow,



Let the blood in your veins run low,

O you, last love!
You are both bliss and hopelessness.

What did you pray with love

What did you pray with love,
That she took care of it like a shrine,
Fate for human idleness
She betrayed me to reproach.
The crowd came in, the crowd broke in
In the sanctuary of your soul,
And you involuntarily felt ashamed
And the secrets and sacrifices available to her.
Oh, if only there were living wings
Souls hovering above the crowd
She was saved from violence
Immortal human vulgarity!

Predestination

Love, love - says the legend -
Union of the soul with the dear soul -
Their union, combination,
And their fatal merger.
And... the fatal duel...
And which one is more tender?
In the unequal struggle of two hearts,
The more inevitable and more certain,
Loving, suffering, sadly melting,
It will finally wear out...

last love

Oh, how in our declining years
We love more tenderly and more superstitiously...
Shine, shine, farewell light
Last love, dawn of evening!
Half the sky was covered in shadow,
Only there, in the west, does the radiance wander, -
Slow down, slow down, evening day,
Last, last, charm.
Let the blood in your veins run low,
But there is no shortage of tenderness in the heart...
O you, last love!
You are both bliss and hopelessness

More than once have you heard a confession

More than once you have heard the confession:
"I'm not worth 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, silent, in awe
And I bow to you...
When, sometimes, so tenderly,
With such faith and prayer
You involuntarily bend your knee
Before the dear cradle,
Where she sleeps - your birth -
Your nameless cherub, -
You too understand my humility
Before your loving heart.

I met you - and everything is gone

I met you - and everything is gone
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 times,
When suddenly it starts to feel like spring
And something will stir within us, -
So, all covered in perfume
Those years of spiritual fullness,
With a long-forgotten rapture
I look at the cute features...
Like after a century of separation,
I look at you as if in a dream, -
And now the sounds became louder,
Not silent in me...
There is more than one memory here,
Here life spoke again, -
And we have the same charm,
And that love is in my soul!..

Don’t say: he loves me as before...

Don’t say: he loves me as before,
As before, he values ​​me...
Oh no! He is inhumanly ruining my life,
At least I see the knife in his hand is shaking.
Now in anger, now in tears, sad, indignant,
Carried away, wounded in my soul,
I suffer, I don’t live... by them, by them alone I live -
But this life!.. Oh, how bitter it is!
He measures the air for me so carefully and sparingly...
They don’t measure this against a fierce enemy...
Oh, I’m still breathing painfully and difficultly,
I can breathe, but I can’t live.

Oh, don’t bother me with a fair reproach!
Believe me, of the two of us, yours is the enviable part:
You love sincerely and passionately, and I -
I look at you with jealous annoyance.
And, pathetic sorcerer, before the magical world,
Created by me myself, without faith I stand -
And myself, blushing, I recognize
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 stripped to the bottom,
It sounded like grief,
Such depth of passion!
He breathed sadly, deeply
In the shadow of her thick eyelash,
Like pleasure, tired
And, like suffering, fatal.
And in these wonderful moments
I have never had a chance
Meet him without worry
And admire it without tears.

I remember the golden time...

I remember the golden time
I remember the dear land to my heart.
The day was getting dark; there were two of us;
Below, in the shadows, the Danube roared.
And on the hill, where, turning white,
The ruins of the castle look into the distance,
There you stood, young fairy,
Leaning on mossy granite.
Touching baby's foot
A century-old pile of rubble;
And the sun hesitated, saying goodbye
With the hill and the castle and you.
And the quiet wind passes by
Played with your clothes
And from the wild apple trees, color after color
There was light on the young shoulders.
You looked carefree into the distance...
The edge of the sky was smoky in the rays;
The day was dying out; sounded sang
A river with darkened banks.
And you with carefree joy
Happy day spent;
And sweet is fleeting life
A shadow flew over us.

I am still tormented by the longing of desires...

I still languish with the longing of desires,
I still strive for you with my soul -
And in the twilight of memories
I still catch your image...
Your sweet image, unforgettable,
He is in front of me everywhere, always,
Unattainable, unchangeable,
Like a star in the sky at night...

No matter how much separation oppresses us

No matter how much separation oppresses us,
We do not submit to her -
There is another torment for the heart,
More unbearable and more painful.
The time of separation has passed,
And from her in our hands
There's only one blanket left
Translucent for the eyes.
And we know: under this haze
Everything for which the soul hurts,
Some strange invisible thing
It hides from us - and is silent.
Where is the purpose of such temptations?
The soul is involuntarily confused,
And in a rut of bewilderment
She turns around reluctantly.
The time of separation has passed,
And we don't dare, in good time
Touch and pull off the blanket,
So hateful to us!

Russian woman

Far from the sun and nature,
Far from light and art,
Far from life and love
Your younger years will flash by
Living feelings die
Your dreams will be shattered...
And your life will pass unseen,
In a deserted, nameless land,
On an unnoticed land, -
How a cloud of smoke disappears
In a dim and foggy sky,
In the autumn endless darkness...

Fedor Ivanovich Tyutchev