Five beloved women of Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev. Poems of Fyodor Tyutchev about love Tyutchev's love poetry
Tyutchev's love lyrics
Plan
1. Introduction
2.Muses of the poet
3.Features
Tyutchev's love poetry has significantly enriched Russian literature. An admirer of "pure" art in life was an ordinary person, which is characterized by mistakes and hobbies. Tyutchev had serious affairs with several women.
The poet was married twice, but his family and children could not force him to abandon the secret "civil" life. Someone may consider the two main misfortunes of Tyutchev a divine punishment. His first wife died a tragic death.
The poet's most serious romance with L. Denisieva also ended with the death of his beloved in early age... These losses brought the motives of sadness and longing into the poet's love lyrics.
The poet felt his first strong love for Amalia von Lerchenfeld during his stay in Munich. Tyutchev made an offer, but received a decisive refusal from the girl's parents. During Tyutchev's short departure from Munich, the family married Amalia. At the beginning of his courtship, the poet dedicated to Amalia the poem "Your sweet look, full of innocent passion ...", which is a declaration of love.
Much later, he recalled this in the work "I remember the golden time ...". Amalia is also dedicated to the poem “K. B. ", which became a widely popular romance" I met you ... ". Tyutchev's first wife was a young widow with three children - Eleanor Peterson. Eleanor was a fragile woman with a sensitive soul. She was very upset by the news of her husband's betrayal with Ernestina Dernberg. Nervous exhaustion had a significant impact on her health. An elementary cold dealt the last blow to the poor woman. Eleanor left the poet two more daughters and a son.
There are two known works of the poet, posthumously dedicated to Eleanor: "I am still languishing with longing for desires ..." and "In the hours when it happens ...". Soon after the death of his wife, Tyutchev married his longtime lover, Ernestina Dernberg. A happy marriage lasted a long time, until Tyutchev experienced a new hobby. Ernestina knew very well about her husband's betrayal, but forgave him for the sake of the children. Love for Ernestine became a rich source of inspiration for the poet. Such wonderful poems are dedicated to her as “I love your eyes, my friend ...”, “She was sitting on the floor ...” and others.
The most popular poems by Tyutchev were works dedicated to the poet's last hobby - E. A. Denisieva. She was much younger than Tyutchev, but loved him with incredible self-sacrifice. She was despised and openly laughed at at the position of a mistress. Such a life became the cause of rapidly progressing consumption. Denisyeva died at the age of 40. The result of the novel was the "Denisievsky cycle" of poems, including "Oh, how destructively we love", "More than once have you heard the confession ...", "There is no day that the soul does not ache ..." and others. Shortly before his death, Tyutchev summed up his love relationship by writing a poem "Everything was taken from me by the executing God ...". He dedicated it to his most faithful friend in life - Ernestine Dernberg.
The main distinguishing feature of Tyutchev's works about love was their special soulfulness. The poet was an "incorrigible" romantic. His poems are very chaste, they do not mention gross everyday trifles. Tyutchev admires the magical feeling of love. He compares his relationship with women to worshiping a deity. The dedications of the beloved are very pure and full of solemn phrases. Tragic motives appear in the "Denisievsky" cycle.
"Illegal" love left its mark on Tyutchev's work. He described what he experienced himself. Great feeling was combined with hopelessness, romance - with misunderstanding and rejection of society, tender relationships - with the inability to be together. Tyutchev's love poetry became an example of Russian poetic classics. It reflects the innermost movements of the human soul in both happiness and suffering.
One of the most popular, famous and recognizable works of Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev is the poem "I love a thunderstorm in early May ...". This masterpiece, like most of the poet's creations, is distinguished by a special, unique syllable.The author gave his verse the name "Spring Thunderstorm", but readers love to identify it precisely by the first line. No wonder. It is with rains, thunderstorms, floods that the time of year that is associated with rebirth comes.
Tyutchev very subtly felt all the changes in nature, its mood, and could describe it in an interesting way. The poet loved spring, he devoted many of his lyrical poetic creations to this topic. Spring for the poet-philosopher symbolizes youth and youth, beauty and charm, renewal and freshness. Therefore, his poem "Spring Thunderstorm" is a work that shows that hope and love are able to revive with a new, unknown force, with a force capable of more than just renewal.
A little about the poet
It is known that the poet-philosopher was born in November 1803 in Ovstug, where he spent his childhood. But the entire youth of the popular poet was spent in the capital. At first, he received only home education, and then successfully passed the exams at the capital's institute, where he studied well, and then graduated with a Ph.D. in verbal sciences. At the same time, in his younger years, Fyodor Tyutchev began to get carried away with literature, began to make his first experiments in writing.
Interest in poetry and literary life captivated the diplomat for life. Despite the fact that Tyutchev lived far beyond the borders of his homeland for 22 long years, he wrote poetry only in Russian. Fyodor Ivanovich for a long time held one of the official positions in the diplomatic mission, which at that time was in Munich. But this did not stop the lyrics from describing Russian nature in their poetic works. And when the reader delves into every such poem of Tyutchev, he realizes that it was written by a man who, with all his soul and heart, is always only with his homeland, despite the kilometers.
Throughout his life, the poet wrote about four hundred poems. He was not only a diplomat and a poet. Fyodor Ivanovich made translations of works of poets and writers from Germany absolutely free of charge. Any of his works, be it his author's or translated, each time amazed with harmony and integrity. Each time, with his works, the author argued that a person should always remember that he is also a part of nature.
The history of writing Tyutchev's poem "I love a thunderstorm in early May ..."
Tyutchev's poem "I love a thunderstorm in early May ..." has several options. So, its first version was written by the poet in 1828, when he lived in Germany. Russian nature was constantly before the eyes of the subtlest lyricist, so he could not help writing about it.
And when spring began in Germany, according to the author himself, not much different from spring in his native places, he began to compare the climate and weather, and all this poured into poetry. The lyricist recalled the sweetest details: the murmur of a brook, which was attractive to a person who was far from his native land, heavy pouring rain, after which puddles formed on the roads, and, of course, a rainbow after the rain that appeared with the first rays of the sun. A rainbow as a symbol of rebirth and victory.
When the poet-lyricist wrote the spring poem "I love a thunderstorm in early May ..." for the first time, then this year it was published in a small magazine "Galatea". But something confused the poet, and therefore he returns to him again after twenty-six years. He slightly changes the first verse stanza, and also adds the second stanza. Therefore, in our time, it is the second edition of Tyutchev's poem that is popular.
I love the storm in early May,
When the spring, the first thunder,
as if frolicking and playing,
Thunders in the blue sky.
The rolls of the young are thundering,
Here the rain splashed, the dust flies,
Rain pearls hung,
And the sun gilded the threads.
A swift stream runs from the mountain,
In the forest, the bird noise will not be silent,
And the din of the forest and the noise of the mountain -
Everything echoes merrily to the thunders.
You say: windy Hebe,
Feeding Zeus' eagle
A boiling cup from the sky
Laughing, spilled it on the ground.
The plot of Tyutchev's poem "I love a thunderstorm in early May ..."
The author chooses a thunderstorm, which often happens in spring, as the main theme of his poem. For the lyricist, she is associated with a certain movement forward, the transformation of life, its changes, the birth of a new and long-awaited, new and unexpected thoughts and views. Now there is no room for stagnation and decline.
The poet-philosopher does not go only into the natural world, since this unusual and beautiful world is always interconnected with man, they cannot exist without each other. Tyutchev finds in these two worlds - human and nature - many common positions. Spring for a poet is a flight of feelings, emotions, and the whole general mood of a person. These feelings are quivering and incredibly beautiful, because for the author, spring is youth and strength, it is youth and a necessary renewal. This is openly stated by the poet, who shows how sweetly the birds sing, how wonderfully thunder rumbles, how magnificently the downpour makes a noise. In the same way, a person grows up who, growing up, enters into adulthood and openly and boldly declares himself.
That is why Tyutchev's images are so bright and rich:
➥ Water.
➥ Sky.
➥ The sun.
They are necessary for the poet then in order to more fully show the idea of the unity of man with the world around him. All natural phenomena are shown by Fyodor Ivanovich as if they were people. The lyricist attributes to them features that are usually inherent only in humans. This is how the talented and original lyric poet manifests the unity of man, who is the divine principle, with the natural world. So, the author in his works compares thunder with a baby who plays briskly and makes noise. The cloud also has fun and laughs, especially when water spills and it rains. Tyutchev's poem is also interesting because it is a kind of monologue of the protagonist, the composition of which consists of four stanzas. The story begins with the fact that a spring thunderstorm is easily and naturally described, and only then a detailed description of all the main events is given. At the end of his monologue, the author also turns to mythology. Ancient Greece, which allows him to unite nature and man, showing that in nature and in human life there is life cycle.
Artistic and expressive means of Tyutchev's poem
In his simple poem, the poet uses iambic tetrameter and pyrrhic, which convey all the melody. The lyricist takes a cross rhyme that helps to give expressiveness to the whole piece. Male and female rhymes in Tyutchev's poem alternate. In order to more fully reveal the created poetic image, the author uses a wide variety of artistic means of speech.
The lyricist uses alliteration for the melodic and sonorous structure of his work, since he often sounds "r" and "g". In addition, a huge number of sonorant consonants are used. It is also noteworthy that the poet resorts to participles and personal verbs, which help to show the movement and how it gradually develops. The author manages to achieve the fact that before the reader there is a rapid change of frames, where the thunderstorm is presented in its most diverse manifestations. All this is achieved through the skillful use of metaphors, epithets, inversion and personification.
All this gives expressiveness and brightness to the entire Tyutchev work.
Analysis of Tyutchev's poem "I love a thunderstorm in early May ..."
It is best to consider Tyutchev's poem from a philosophical point of view. The author tried to accurately draw one of the moments of life, of which there are countless numbers in the life of nature and man. The lyricist made him cheerful, but very cheerful and full of strength.
The poet shows only one spring day in May, when there is a downpour and a thunderstorm rumbles. But this is only a superficial perception of Tyutchev's work. Indeed, in it the lyricist showed the entire emotional palette and sensuality of what is happening in nature. A thunderstorm is not just a natural phenomenon, but also the state of a person who strives for freedom, tries to rush to live, strives forward, where new and unexplored horizons open up for him. If it rains, it cleans the earth, awakens it from hibernation and renews it. Not everything in life goes away forever, a lot comes back, such as the May thunderstorm, the sound of rain and water streams that will always appear in the spring.
Some young people will now be replaced by others, just as brave and open. They do not yet know the bitterness of suffering and disappointment and dream of conquering the whole world. This inner freedom is very much like a thunderstorm.
The sensual world of Tyutchev's poem
This work contains a huge sensory and emotional world. The author's thunder is like a young man who, straightening his shoulders, hurries to freedom. Until recently, he was dependent on his parents, and now a new life and new feelings carry him into a completely different world. A stream of water quickly escapes from the mountain, and the poet-philosopher compares it with young people who already understand what awaits them in life, their goal is high, and they strive for it. Now they will always stubbornly go to her.
But someday youth will pass, and the time will come for recollections, reflection, rethinking. The author is already at the age when he regrets some of the actions of his youth, but for him this time, free and bright, saturated in its emotional plan, always remains the best. Tyutchev's poem is a small work that has deep meaning and emotional richness.
The trees bared their shoulders, the yellow ball hides the masks, Whoever says that time heals, he never knew love ...
Tyutchev Fedor
Whatever life teaches us,
But the heart believes in miracles ...
Tyutchev Fedor
This day, I remember, for me
Was the morning of a day of life:
She stood silently before me.
Her chest heaved like a wave,
Red cheeks like dawn
All hotter and hotter!
And suddenly, like a young sun,
Golden recognition of love
Burst out of her chest ...
And I saw a new world! ..
Tyutchev Fedor
But all the charms are short, they are not given to visit us.
Tyutchev Fedor
I love your eyes, my friend,
With their fiery-wonderful game,
When you lift them up suddenly
And, like a lightning from heaven,
Skip the whole 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 is more than 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 hand is clean
But inadvertently life will suffocate
Or take you away behind the clouds.
Tyutchev Fedor
Oh how destructively we love
As in the violent blindness of passions
We are most likely to destroy
What is dear to our heart!
Tyutchev Fedor
I still yearn for longing desires
I also strive for you with my soul -
And in the dim memories
I also catch your image ...
Your sweet image, unforgettable
He is in front of me everywhere, always,
Unattainable, unchanging
Like a star in the sky at night ...
Tyutchev Fedor
Love, love - legend says -
Union of the soul with the soul dear -
Their union, combination,
And their fatal fusion,
And ... the fatal duel ...
Tyutchev Fedor
Let the blood run thin in my veins
But tenderness does not grow thin in the heart ...
Oh you, the last love!
You are both bliss and hopelessness.
Tyutchev Fedor
You loved and as you love,
No, no one has ever succeeded
Oh my God! And survive it
And my heart did not break to shreds!
Tyutchev Fedor
So sweetly blessed
Airy and light
To my soul a hundredfold
Your love was.
Tyutchev Fedor
There is a high meaning in separation:
No matter how you love, at least one day, at least one century,
Love is a dream, and a dream is one moment
And sooner or later, awakening,
And a man should finally wake up ...
Tyutchev Fedor
For a long time, proud of their victory,
You said: she is mine ...
A year has not passed - ask and bring it down
What has survived from her?
Where do the roses go
The smile of the lips and the sparkle of the eyes?
They scorched everyone, burned out the tears
Its flammable moisture.
Tyutchev Fedor
Not what you think, nature:
Not a cast, not a soulless face -
She has a soul, she has freedom,
It has Love, it has a language.
Tyutchev Fedor
Shut up, hide and thai
And their feelings and dreams -
Let in the depths of the soul
One gets up and walks in.
Tyutchev Fedor
She sat on the floor
And sorted out the piles of letters,
And, like cooled ash,
I took them in my hands and threw them.
I took familiar sheets
And she looked at them wonderfully,
How souls look from above
The body thrown by them ...
Oh, how much life was there
Irretrievably experienced!
Oh, how many sorrowful minutes
Love and joy of the slain! ..
I stood silently to the side
And I was ready to fall on my knees, -
And I was terribly sad
As from the inherent sweet shadow.
Tyutchev Fedor
More than once you have heard the confession:
"I am not worth your love."
Let her be my creation -
But how poor I am before her ...
Before your love
It hurts me to remember myself -
I stand, silent, in awe
And I worship you ...
When, at times, so tenderly,
With such faith and supplication
You involuntarily bend your knee
Before the cradle dear
Where she sleeps - your birth -
Your nameless cherub, -
Understand, and you are my humility
Before your loving heart.
Tyutchev Fedor
I met you - and everything is old
In an obsolete heart revived;
I remembered the golden time -
And my heart felt so warm ...
Like late autumn sometimes
There are days, there are hours
When suddenly the spring blows
And something will stir in us, -
So, all wrapped in perfume
Those years of spiritual completeness
With a long forgotten rapture
I look at cute features ...
As after a century of separation,
I look at you, as if in a dream, -
And now - the sounds became louder,
Those who did not stop in me ...
There is more than one memory
Then life spoke again, -
And the same fascination is in us,
And the same love in my soul! ...
Tyutchev Fedor
She is heartfelt and multifaceted, like love itself in the life of a poet - a riot of feelings, contradictory and inspiring, poured now into tragedy, now into drama. Five love stories, five women of the great poet left a mark in 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 of their son. Using their connections, they procured permission for Fedor to graduate early from the university and sent him away from home - to St. Petersburg, and then to Munich, where Tyutchev would spend twenty-two years. Katyusha, after a while, was given freedom, and then provided with dowry and married ... 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 Friedrich Wilhelm III and Princess Thurn and Taxis. The beautiful Amalia responded to the ardently in love poet in return 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 Kründer. They say this was the reason for a duel between them. Later, I remember walking with Amalia along the banks of the Danube, Tyutchev wrote a poem "I remember the golden time."
I remember the golden time, I remember my heart's sweet land. The day was getting dark; we were two; Below, in the shadows, the Danube was rustling.
And on the hill, where, whitening, The ruin of the castle looks into the distance, You stood, young fairy, On the mossy granite leaning on.
Infant foot touching the debris of the century-old pile; And the sun hesitated, saying goodbye To the hill, and the castle, and you.
And the quiet wind in the passing of Your clothes played And from wild apple trees, color after color On the shoulders of the young.
You gazed carelessly into the distance ... The edge of the sky was dimly extinguished in the rays; The day was burning out; The River sang louder on the darkened banks.
And you with carefree gaiety Happy seeing off the day; And sweetly fleeting life A shadow flew over us.
The work is dedicated to Amalia, who kept friendly relations with a poet who was once in love with her.
Born Countess Botmer, by her first husband, Peterson, becomes Tyutchev's first wife. The poet meets her in Munich, arriving there as a freelance attaché of the Russian diplomatic mission. Their marriage was happy: Eleanor fell in love with Tyutchev instantly and loved selflessly, surrounded by touching care. Delicate and fragile, like a beautiful vision, she turned out to be a reliable support for her husband. Taking all the household part of the married life on herself, Eleanor, with a very modest income, was able to equip a cozy and hospitable house, to 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 auctions and took care of home improvement, protecting her depressed husband from these worries. However, Eleanor's poor health was undermined by overwork and nervous shock: it was caused by the shipwreck of the steamer "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 knocked down Eleanor, and she died at the age of 37. Tyutchev's grief was so great that, sitting at the coffin of his wife, he turned gray in a few hours. In 1858, on the anniversary of Eleanor's death, the poet will write poems dedicated to her memory:
In the hours when it happens
So hard on my chest
And my heart languishes
And the darkness is just ahead;
Without strength and without movement,
We're so dejected
What even consolation
Friends are not funny to us
Suddenly the sun's ray is welcoming!
Will sneak in to us
And splashes fire-colored
I spray along the walls;
And from a favorable firmament,
From azure heights
Suddenly the air is fragrant
It smells on us through the window ...
Lessons and tips
They do not bring us,
And from the fate of libel
They won't save us.
But we feel their strength,
We hear their grace
And less we yearn
And it's easier for us to breathe ...
So sweetly blessed
Airy and light
To my soul a hundredfold
Your love was.
Tyutchev became interested in Baroness Dernberg, while he was still married to Eleanor: spiritual closeness made him to Ernestina, and the poet could not resist. He wrote about her:
I love your eyes, my friend,
With their fiery-wonderful game,
When you lift them up suddenly
And, like a lightning from heaven,
Skip the whole circle ...
But there is a stronger charm:
Downcast eyes
In moments of passionate kissing
And through lowered eyelashes
Gloomy, dim fire of desire.
His frequent meetings with the Baroness brought Tyutchev's legal wife to a suicide attempt (albeit unsuccessful), after which Fyodor Ivanovich promised to end his relationship with Ernestina - but he could not do it. Ernestina went to Turin for Tyutchev, and two years after the death of Eleanor, the poet proposed to the Baroness. Ernestine was rich, beautiful, intelligent - and generous. She will forgive her husband for betrayal, and one day, after a long break, the family will be reunited again.
5. Elena Denisieva
Another dramatic love story of Tyutchev is the young mistress Elena Denisyeva, a pupil of the institute where Tyutchev's daughters studied. To meet with her, the poet rented a separate apartment and, when the secret connection became apparent, he practically created a second family. For 14 years, Tyutchev, as it already happened once, was torn between two beloved women - a lawful and "civil" spouse - unsuccessfully tried to make peace with the first and could not part with the second. But Elena suffered from this destructive passion much more: her father, friends, abandoned her, it was possible to forget about the maid of honor's career - all the doors were closed to her from now on. Denisieva was ready for such sacrifices, she was ready to remain an illegal wife and felt absolutely happy, registering her children in the name of Tyutchev - not understanding what emphasizes their “illegal” origin. She idolized him, believing that "his wife is more than his former wives," and, indeed, all lived his life. Anyone who could object to the fact that she was "the real Tyutcheva" could become a victim of Denisyeva's nervous fit, which already signaled her ill health. Constant worries, caring for children, and the birth of a third child finally exhausted her - consumption intensified, and Denisyeva died in the arms of her beloved, before she was forty ... Many of Tyutchev's most piercing poems are dedicated to this tragic love for Elena, united in “ Denisievsky cycle ". One of the most famous among them is "Last Love".
Fedor Ivanovich Tyutchev
"Life is bliss
in love alone "
Tyutchev's amazing, unique and heartfelt love lyrics entered the treasury of not only Russian, but also world literature. His muse, modest, even bashful, due to the absolute absence in his poetry of eroticism, sensual delight and vulgarity, images of concubines and gypsies, so popular in the 40-60s of the XIX century, seems close and understandable to the attentive reader.
Central to love lyrics F.I. Tyutchev is undoubtedly occupied by the Denisievsky cycle, a lyric diary, the confession of the last love of a 47-year-old man and a 24-year-old girl, Elena Aleksandrovna Denisieva. Their relationship lasted 14 years. At the very beginning of their meetings, the poet anticipated the will of fate in the union of their souls:
And their fatal fusion,
And ... the fatal duel ...
"Predestination"
How much a young girl had to go through, so passionately in love with the poet: she was rejected by society, even her father disowned her when he found out about the relationship with a married man. In March 1851, Tyutchev wrote:
The crowd entered, the crowd broke in
In the sanctuary of your soul,
And you were involuntarily ashamed
And the secrets and sacrifices available to her ...
The drama is intensified in the poem "Oh, how murderously we love ...", where, in essence, the image of a murdered, ruined love appears. F.I. Tyutchev felt his boundless guilt both before Elena and before his legal wife. He loved both of them, he could not refuse one of them.
Selflessness, disinterested, selfless, passionate and sacrificial love of a woman raises her image in Tyutchev's poems to the image of the Madonna, although Fyodor Ivanovich does not utter this word. But his poetry reflected the lines: "You loved, and love like you - No, no one has succeeded!" our blood, / None of you have loved for a long time! "
The death of Elena Alexandrovna from consumption on August 4, 1864 was an irreparable loss for the poet. The poem “She lay in oblivion all day” shows how great, truly immensely human grief at the moment of parting with a close and dear creature who gave the poet “bliss” of “last love”.
During relations with E.A. Denisieva F.I. Tyutchev was married to Ernestine Dernberg, who was destined to go through life next to Fedor Ivanovich until the end of his days. He loved her selflessly, she was his ideal, which embodied all the "best" and "highest".
You would have been grace to me -
You, you, my earthly providence! ..
The lines of another Tyutchev masterpiece - "I love your eyes, my dear friend ..." are caused by the feeling for Ernestina.
In the years 1850-1853, their relationship turned into a correspondence, painful, long, sometimes heating passions to the limit, then reconciling the spouses. The famous poem "She was sitting on the floor" is written about this period of relationship with his wife.
Ernestina Fyodorovna did not dare or did not humble herself to talk about the one who stood between her and her husband. They both suffered. Fyodor Ivanovich from love for two women, from his betrayal of his wife, his wife - from the need to share a loved one with another, from the impossibility of breaking off relations, from compassion and acceptance of the poet. Ernestina loved Fyodor Ivanovich so much that she understood all his suffering and mental anguish, they accepted him, forgave and protected him from the blows of fate, she reconciled him with herself when he could not forgive himself. And he did not forgive himself.
There are no two parallels in life.
Inseparably rushed to the heights
And shone with primordial light -
In verse one, two angels merged.
The poet loved the images of the heroines of both women sublimely and sincerely. Suffering love, the never-ending feeling of guilt before women are reflected in Tyutchev's love lyrics, so passionate and soulful.
I knew eyes - oh, those eyes! ..
I knew the eyes - oh, those eyes!
How I loved them - God knows!
From their magic, passionate night
I could not tear my soul away.
In this incomprehensible gaze,
Life stripping to the bottom
I heard such sorrow
Such depth of passion!
He breathed sad, deep
In the shadow of her thick eyelashes,
Like delight, weary
And, like suffering, fatal.
And in these wonderful moments
I never had a chance
Meet him without worry
And admire it without tears.
I knew her back then ...
I knew her back then
In those fabulous years
As before the morning ray
The original days of the star
Already drowning in the blue sky ...
And there was still she
Full of that fresh delight
That before dawn darkness
When, invisible, inaudible,
The dew falls on the flowers ...
Her whole life was then
So perfect, so whole
And so alien to the earthly environment,
What, hesitates, and she left
And disappeared into the sky like a star.
I met you - and everything is old ...
I met you - and everything is old
In an obsolete heart revived;
I remembered the golden time -
And my heart felt so warm ...
Like late autumn sometimes
There are days, there are hours
When suddenly the spring blows
And something will stir in us, -
So, all wrapped in perfume
Those years of spiritual completeness
With a long forgotten rapture
Looking at cute features ...
As after a century of separation,
I look at you, as if in a dream, -
And now - the sounds became louder,
Those who did not stop in me ...
There is more than one memory
Then life spoke again, -
And the same fascination is in us,
And the same love in my soul! ..
Predestination
Love, love - legend says -
Union of the soul with the soul dear -
Their connection, combination,
And their fatal fusion.
And ... the fatal duel ...
And than one of them is more tender
In the unequal struggle of two hearts,
The more inevitable and surer
Loving, suffering, melting sadly,
It will wear out at last ...
last love
Oh, how in our declining years
We love more tenderly and more superstitious ...
Shine, shine, farewell light
Last love, evening dawn!
A shadow enveloped the sky
Only there, in the west, the radiance wanders, -
Slow, slow, evening day,
Lasted, lasted, charm.
Let the blood run thin in my veins
But tenderness does not grow thin in the heart ...
Oh you, the last love!
You are both bliss and hopelessness.
The flame burns, the flame burns ...
The flame burns, the flame burns
Sparks spatter and fly
And on them breathes cool
There is a dark garden because of the river.
Dusk is here, there is heat and screams, -
I wander as if in a dream, -
Only one thing I vividly smell:
You are with me and all in me.
Crack after crack, smoke after smoke
Bare pipes stick out
And at rest unbreakable
Leaves blow and rustle.
I, wrapped in their breath,
I catch your passionate talk ...
Thank God I'm with you
And with you I feel like in paradise.
She was sitting on the floor ...
She sat on the floor
And sorted out a pile of letters,
And, like cooled ash,
I took them in my hands and threw them.
I took familiar sheets
And she looked at them wonderfully,
How souls look from above
The body thrown by them ...
Oh, how much life was there
Irretrievably experienced!
Oh, how many sorrowful minutes
Love and joy of the slain! ..
I stood silently to the side
And I was ready to fall on my knees, -
And it became terribly sad to me,
As from the inherent sweet shadow.
Oh, do not bother me with a fair reproach! ..
Oh, do not disturb me with a fair reproach!
Believe me, of the two of us, the most enviable part is yours:
You love sincerely and ardently, and I -
I look at you with jealous vexation.
And, miserable sorcerer, before the wizarding world,
I created myself, without faith I stand -
And myself, blushing, I realize
Your living soul is a lifeless idol.
Oh, how destructively we love ...
Oh how destructively we love
We are most likely to destroy
What is dear to our heart!
For a long time, proud of their victory,
You said: she is mine ...
A year has not passed - ask and bring it down
What has survived from her?
Where do the roses go
The smile of the lips and the sparkle of the eyes?
They scorched everyone, burned out the tears
Its flammable moisture.
Do you remember when you meet
At the first meeting fatal,
Her magical gaze, and speech,
And the laughter is alive as an infant?
So what now? And where is all this?
And was the dream long lasting?
Alas, like a northern summer
He was a passing guest!
Of fate is a terrible sentence
Your love was for her
And an undeserved shame
She lay down on her life!
A life of renunciation, a life of suffering!
In her deepest soul
She had memories ...
But they also changed one.
And on earth she became wild,
The charm is gone ...
The crowd, rushing into the mud, trampled
That which bloomed in her soul.
And what about the long torment
How could she save ashes?
Pain, wicked pain of bitterness,
Pain without consolation and without tears!
Oh how destructively we love
As in the violent blindness of passions
We are most likely to destroy
What is dear to our heart!
More than once you have heard the confession ...
More than once you have heard the confession:
"I am not worth your love."
Let her be my creation -
But how poor I am before her ...
Before your love
It hurts me to remember myself -
I stand, silent, in awe
And I worship you ...
When, at times, so tenderly,
With such faith and supplication
You involuntarily bend your knee
Before the cradle dear
Where she sleeps - your birth -
Your nameless cherub, -
Understand, and you are my humility
Before your loving heart.
What did you pray with love
What did you pray with love
What she took care of as a shrine,
The fate of human fiction
She betrayed me for abuse.
The crowd entered, 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
Of a soul hovering above the crowd
She was saved from violence
Immortal human vulgarity!
