Choose verses... Alyosha Popovich to B.M. accusations... In the land of rays, invisible to our eyes... Vasily Shibanov Waves rise like mountains... The door has opened again... It happened in days gone by... Wolves The last snow in the field is melting... Thought is growing, like a tree... Where the vines bend over the pool... The soul quietly flew heavenly heavens... Lord, preparing me for battle... You are our sovereign father... Sinner (Excerpts from the poem) Stan is not a fighter... My almond tree... Enough! It's time for me to forget this nonsense... A drop of noisy rain... The wave breaks and splashes and splashes... There are many sounds in the depths of the heart... I forgot my faith, I forgot my language! The thunder stopped, the storm got tired of making noise... The West is fading away in the pale pink distance... The lark's singing is louder... The earth was blooming. In a meadow, dressed in spring ... Serpent Tugarin to I. A. Goncharov (Do not listen to the noise ...) to I. S. Aksakov (Judging me quite strictly ...) Raising his head from the waters ... Ilya Muromets John of Damascus ( Excerpts) The history of the Russian state... The source behind the cherry orchard... Ambassador to Roman Mstislavich in Galich... You are full of grief for the suffering of others... At your feet, queen... If only I knew, if I knew. .. How good and pleasant it is here... Like a peasant, when they threaten... Prince Mikhailo Repnin Prince Rostislav When the dense forest is silent all around... Kolodniki My bells... The sea sways; wave after wave... If you love, then without reason... You are my land, my dear land!.. Crimean essays IV Kurgan Only one I will stay with me... Raphael's Madonna Me, in the darkness and in the dust... Dear friend, you can't sleep... Passion has passed, and its ardor is disturbing... My soul, full of insignificant fuss... My soul flies with greetings... Wisdom of life Silence descends on the yellow fields... On the pull We are not malice pursued... It was not God's thunder that grief struck... Do not scold me, my friend... Do not believe me, friend, when... Not the wind, blowing from a height... The sea does not foam, the wave does not splash.. Sleepless sun, sad star... No, brothers, I don't know no sleep, no peace! don't try to calm the disturbing spirit... Oh, don't rush there... Embracing each other, they sat... Giving a very rich gift... Oh haystacks, haystacks. .. Oh, is it an honor for a young man to spin flax? .. He led the strings; fall autumn. Our entire poor garden is sprinkled... A birch is wounded with a sharp ax... A song about Harald and Yaroslavna A song about Katkov, about Cherkassky... Along uneven and shaking rowing... Sometimes, amid cares and life's noise... A heroic stream True Transparent clouds calm movement... Against the current An empty house Let the one whose honor is not without reproach... Scatter, part... Stretched out in the open... Rugevit With a gun behind his shoulders, alone, by the moon... Since then since I've been alone... Sadko Heart, flaring up more strongly... I sit and look everything, brothers, over this side... A tear trembles in your jealous gaze... Listening to your story, I fell in love with you, my joy! .. It was getting dark, the hot day was turning pale imperceptibly... Popov's dream In the midst of a noisy ball, by chance... Everyone loves you so much! ... Three battles In vain, artist, you think ... You are a victim of life's anxieties ... You know the land where everything breathes in abundance ... You know, I love liu there ... You bend your face, mentioning it ... You don’t ask, don’t torment ... Do you remember, Maria ... You’re kind of an evil little kruchinushka ... People were gathering at the command gates ... Swallows , circling, they chirped over the roof ... You are already a mother of melancholy, grief-stricken! .. You are already my field, cornfield ... Sleep, sad friend ... to live in the world ... Gypsy songs What a sad abode ... Every day, like breaking with moisture ... That you bowed your head ... The weather is noisy in the yard ... I recognized you, holy convictions ... I dozed off, bowed his head ...
* * *
Now the last snow in the field is melting, warm steam rises from the earth, And the blue jug blossoms, And the cranes call each other. The young forest, dressed in green smoke, Waits impatiently for warm thunderstorms; All springs are warmed by breath, All around loves and sings; In the morning the sky is clear and transparent, At night the stars shine so bright; Why is it so dark in your soul And why is your heart heavy? It's hard for you to live, my friend, I know, And I understand your sadness: If you flew away to your native land And you don't feel sorry for the earthly spring... _______________ Oh, wait, wait a little more, Let me go there with you... It's easier the road will seem to us - Let's fly it hand in hand! .. Note: in the final author's version, the last stanza is missingA.K. Tolstoy. My bells...
Moscow, "Young Guard", 1978.
Alexey Konstantinovich Tolstoy
Now the last snow in the field is melting,
Warm steam rises from the earth
And the blue jar is blooming,
And the cranes call each other.
Young forest, dressed in green smoke,
Warm thunderstorms impatiently waiting;
All springs are warmed by breath,
Everything around loves and sings;
In the morning the sky is clear and transparent,
At night the stars shine so bright;
Why is it so dark in your soul
And why is the heart heavy?
It's hard for you to live, my friend, I know
And I understand your sadness
Would you fly away to your native land
And you do not feel sorry for the earthly spring ...
_______________
*Oh wait, wait a little more
Let me go there with you...
The road will seem easier to us -
Let's fly her hand with hand! ..
A brilliant chamber junker and a talented poet, Alexei Tolstoy did not even imagine that an affair with married woman will play in his fate fatal role. The 30-year-old count was not only turned away by relatives and acquaintances, but his career at court, thanks to the scandal, was in jeopardy. As a result, the poet was forced to settle in the most distant family estate, refusing to meet with his chosen one Sophia Miller.
Sophia Miller (Tolstaya)
Despite the fact that Tolstoy had the most serious intentions towards this woman, the poet's mother opposed marriage with her. Moreover, for many years Sophia herself could not get a divorce from her legal spouse, dreaming only of rare dates with her lover.
As a result, in the spring of 1856, when the poem “The last snow in the field is melting” was written, the lovers found themselves thousands of miles away from each other, realizing that fate was preparing their next trials. Poisoned by the bitterness of parting, Alexei Tolstoy realizes that an even less enviable fate awaits his chosen one. After all, she is forced to stay in St. Petersburg and constantly be in public, enduring ridicule and public insults.
The poem “This is the last snow in the field is melting” is built on contrast, and its first part is devoted to describing nature. The author seems to want to show that the world lives according to previously established laws, which no one can break. Indeed, what business does the cranes, which "call each other", care about the feelings of two loving people separated? Their suffering will not change the course of the universe and will not force the "young forest" to abandon the first spring thunderstorm, and the "blue jug" from flowering. It seems to the author that the awakening nature seems to be mocking him. Indeed, at that moment when he is so lonely, “all springs are warmed by breath, everything around him loves and sings.”
It would seem that the surrounding world, filled with joy and light, should distract the poet from gloomy thoughts. However, Tolstoy never ceases to wonder: “Why is it so gloomy in your soul and why is your heart heavy?” The poet understands that he is not alone at this moment so sad and lonely. His chosen one is even more difficult. Therefore, referring to Sophia Miller, Tolstoy emphasizes: "I understand your sadness." He knows that his beloved is not at all happy with the coming spring, which brings with it separation and is devoid of hope. Indeed, the future of the lovers is uncertain, and they still do not suspect that it will take a long 7 years until they can reunite, contrary to public opinion.
Now the last snow in the field is melting,
Warm steam rises from the earth
And the blue jar is blooming,
And the cranes call each other.
Young forest, dressed in green smoke,
Warm thunderstorms impatiently waiting;
All springs are warmed by breath,
Everything around loves and sings;
In the morning the sky is clear and transparent,
At night the stars shine so bright;
Why is it so dark in your soul
And why is the heart heavy?
It's hard for you to live, my friend, I know
And I understand your sadness
Would you fly away to your native land
And you do not feel sorry for the earthly spring ...
_______________
Oh wait, wait a little more
Let me go there with you...
The road will seem easier to us -
Let's fly her hand with hand! ..
More poems:
- The heights are burning, the snow is melting on the mountain. Wake up, respond, speak of the dawn. The snow is melting on the mountain in front of my cave, and all the distance is in the silver of careful rays. Repeat to me, soul, that today ...
- On the last snow, under the last early light of a distant day, entwined with fog, like a delusion, he lies and looks at me. This gaze, as from a portrait, watches and watches everything...
- The last snow floats outside the window And the wind shakes its pillars. Snow, with you we are mad together, We are going along the spring road, Our life, our joy will melt. The message of sorrow is carried by cranes, Decaying...
- Let there be no stake and no yard, But they do not pay taxes to the King Workers of the knife and ax, Romantics from the high road. We do not want to live, oh, differently! We do not want to live, oh, in a different way! ...
- To whom suffering is familiar, You will sweetly put him to sleep, To whom it will be clear, Como, Your windless silence. And on the water, from a distant church, In the village of poor fishermen, Ave Maria - a sad groan, Evening ...
- Dear friend, I'm dying Because I was honest; But on the other hand, I will be known to my native land. Dear friend, I am dying, But my soul is calm... And I bless you: Walk with it...
- Perhaps this is the last time I choose My path, On the distant tower the late hour Has rang. It's time to go, I know. My new path last way, You again lead to ...
- Give me your hand, and we'll go to the field, Friend of my thoughtful soul... Our life today is in our will, Do you value your life? If not, we will destroy this day, This day ...
- I go and rejoice. It's easy for me. The rain stopped. Glittering green meadow. I don't know you and don't remember you, My comrade, my unknown friend. Where did you fall, in what battle - ...
- Childhood flies like a silver star in the palm of your hand, Flickers and rings, hastening to assure everyone, That we won’t get tired of living, that we won’t get tired of looking at this first snow, at this first snow ....
- And again the snow, so fluffy, so dry, calm, wintry... And misty air flies out of the open shops. Do you remember, in January deep water flooded the road? In the snows overstrained before the term of spring ...
- KD Balmont I know the fluency of Night and Winter, I pray confidently to Dawn and May. That in the future we will triumph, I know. I see power over the world in people. Dissipates at...
- In a light rain, Ilya the prophet of the cloud the other day is breaking - It's raining, illuminating my ceiling with crushed glass, Or the crystal over the table has already been burning for the third day, Or I'm sleeping in a crazy dream, ...
- When, foreseeing a close separation, the Soul hurts with despondency and longing, I say, squeezing your hand: Christ is with you! When, in an abundance of unearthly happiness, the heart beats with joy at times, Then I repeat to you ...
- I thought: at least something was rebuilt, But in reality - everything is turned over, And your face - you are so arranged - This misfortune kissed. Her bitter laughter is wrinkled, - The truth has become a lie, guest ...
