Evgeny Yevtushenko prayer before the poem. "The poet in Russia is more than a poet. It destroys poets to bother only those in whom wanders the proud spirit of citizenship, who does not have comfort, there is no rest." I always please regret yourself

Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov - Russian Poet-Realist. Love for homeland, thinking over the secrets of a national Russian nature, a high sense of citizenship - these are the features of the lyrics of Nekrasov.

The proximity to the revolutionary democrats affected the views of Nekrasov to the essence of art, the place and role of poetry in society. Supporters of "pure art" were his ideological opponents. Nekrasov said: "There is no science for science, no art for art - everything exists for society, for human support ..."

Nekrasov's citizenship is closely connected with his understanding of the appointment of the poet. What should be the poet? What is his role in society? What are the tasks of poetry? In the poem "Poet and a citizen" of Nekrasov outlined his poetic program, expressed his views on the public debt of the poet. He wrote that the true poet could not be indifferent to the grief and the flour of "not cautious bread."

Go to the fire for the honor of the depreciation,
For conviction, for love ...
Go and die flawlessly
Die not in gift - it's firmly,
When blood flows under it.

Through the heart of the poet there are "Folk pains". Here from the "parade entrance" drive a cut-off mobile; Here on the "uncompressed band" cries the peasant from the unbearable labor; Here are ruined hungry villages; Troika racing off road; Here the burles with moans pull the barge; Here Russia, where "the swarm of depressed and trepidate slaves envied the last Bar greek dogs." Nekrasovskaya Russia is a poetic reflection on the fate of the people.

The poet's muse was a companion "the poor, born for labor, suffering and shackles." She revealed the abyss of violence and evil, called for fighting.

Many of their poems devoted the poet to the courageous, strong spirit to people who were for him an example in life, whose covenants he remained faithful in his work after their death. These are the advanced figures of their time, the leaders of the Social Democratic Revolutionary Movement: Belinsky, Dobrolyubov, Chernyshevsky, Pisarev. Pafos citizenship, revolutionary attitude - the main difference between such poems. But also for Nekrasov, the expression of ordinary human feelings is characterized, which cause the poet of memories of friends-revolutionary. This is a sense of friendly tenderness, attachment, care, loyalty, sense of gratitude.

In the poem "Memory of Belinsky", the poet is divided with readers sad memories of each other, whose "naive and passionate soul" sought "to one high goal." In front of the reader, the real image of a person who lived, dreamed and fought, "persuading, worrying and hurrying," and not a stone monument, erected on the grave with friends.

You loved us, you were a friendly friend -
And we honored you in good time!

In another poem, dedicated to Belinsky, the poet will call him "brother on destiny" with whom he was "one terney road". Nekrasov considers himself a successor of his nearest friend. The fighters for the bright future of Russia are devoted to the poetic lines, which became the shrestors:

Nature-mother! When such people
You sometimes did not send the world,
Castled b Niva Life.

The poem "Motherland" opens another side of Nekrasov's personality. We finge into the string about the majestic soul of a patient woman, the mother of the poet:

But I know: there was no soul of your freight;
She was proud, stubborn and beautiful,
And all that take out to you got the forces,
The suicide whisper is your descendant forgive! ..

Cute heart The image of Mother Nikolai Alekseevich carried through his whole life. Five years after her death, he will tell about the tragic destiny of an expensive person, consonant with the fate of many Russian women. Nekrasov always remembered her mother as a strong woman. Selfless love for his children, mercy and the ability to forgive, but at the same time perseverance, courage, loyalty - these characteristic features of the mother of the mother endowed many of their heroines. Let me remember Matrey Timofeevna Korchagin, who carried the greatest for every mother's grief - the loss of the child, and, despite this, he managed to forgive Savelia, an unspere perpetary of the death of Demechka; Recall Princess Trubetskaya and Volkonskaya, who remained devoted to their husbands, loyal to their debt.

The poet believes that it is such women who must educate the new generation of Russian people, they are able to transfer their children all their vitality and spiritual beauty, teach them to be tolerable and merciful. "Do not be afraid," the mother says and holding his hand by hand, leads him in life.

Do not be afraid of bitter fear:
I keep my hand in my hand
The crown of love, the crown of farewell,
Got with the meek of your homeland ...

No wonder the mother of Nekrasov calls the "long-suffering" mother of the "Miscellaneous Russian tribe". Such a woman in verses Nekrasov becomes a symbol of his home, native land, the memories of which are always alive in the heart of the Russian man.

And with the same feeling that the strings are imbued about the saints, sincere "tears of poor mothers", the poet will talk about "tears" of the Russian Earth:

I was called upon to pick up your sufferer,
The patience is the amazing people!
And throw at least a single ray conscious
On the way to whom God leads you ...

The poet sincerely worries the fate of the people capable of making not only stovers, but also to build railways, create unique works of art. The poet himself was the greatest citizen his debris. Until recent days, he challenged the beauty of Russian land, the beauty of the human soul. Nekrasov in their work continued to develop the best traditions, tested by Russian literature Ryleev, Pushkin, Lermontov. He believed in the wonderful future of Russia.

Yes, not Roby for the depletion of the kind ...
Ruled Russian people enough
Made this road iron -
Will lead everything that the Lord is not sent!
Will lead everything - and wide, clear
Breastway will pave myself.
It is a pity to live at this time beautiful
I do not have to me nor you.

Nekrasovsky Lyrics is an inexhaustible source of vitality and wisdom. Honor, hardworking, the desire for truth, humanism, faith in justice, citizenship, love for the Motherland - this is what the poet has the meaning and content of human life. This idea of \u200b\u200bNekrasov tried to express almost every one of his row. And it is impossible to agree with those who believe that the value of Lyrics Nekrasov is lost over the years, which in our time to read his works is not interesting. Nekrasov Poetry is not only the response of the poet on the topical problems of his time, but also the testament to descendants. Love for the Motherland and serving the interests of the state is that it could help to climb our modern Russian society to the legs.

Author Evtushenko Evgeny Aleksandrovich

Evgeny Evtushenko

Prayer before the poem

Monologue of the Egyptian pyramid

Song of supervisor

Song Rabov

Monologue of the Bratskaya HPP

Charger walls rain

Decembrists

Petrashevtsy

Chernyshevsky

Fair in Simbirsk

Go hobbles to Lenin

ABC revolution

Concrete Socialism

Communards will not be slaves

Ghosts in Taiga

First echelon

BOLSHEVIK

Dispatcher Light

Not dying, Ivan Stepanych

Shadows of our loved ones

Mayakovsky

Ball graduates

Per minute of weakness

Night of poetry

Evgeny Evtushenko

Bratskaya HPP

Poem

Prayer before the poem

The poet in Russia is more than the poet.

It is destined to be born in poets

only those in whom wanders proud spirit of citizenship,

to whom there is no comfort, there is no rest.

Poet in her - the image of his century

and the future is a ghost prototype.

The poet will fail, without falling into a timidity,

the result of everything that was before it.

Did you think? Cultures are missing ...

Claiming the prophecies does not promist ...

But the Spirit of Russia is needed by me

and trying to try to try.

And, knees quietly becoming

ready and for death and victory,

i ask you humbly help you

great Russian poets ...

Give me, Pushkin, my singer,

your relatives

your captivating fate -

as if Shal, burn the verb.

Dai, Lermontov, his gall view,

his scorigation of poison

and the Clay closed soul,

where breathes, hidden in silence,

your sister's unkind

lampade of secret good.

Dai, Nekrasov, having hurting my glory,

the pain of the excreted music of yours -

paradly entrances, near rails

and in the expanses of forests and fields.

Give your integrity strength.

Give me a feat to painful yours,

to go, dragging the whole of Russia,

how bureli go beeps.

Oh, give me a block, the nebula of things

and two damaging wings,

to, mysterious eternal riddle,

through the body of the music flowed.

Give me, Pasternak, offset days,

embarrassed branches

splicle of smells, shadows

with the torment of the century,

so that the word, the garden is mumbling,

bloomed and ripe

to watch your candle

i burned in me.

Yesenin, give me tenderness to me

to birchans and meadows, for animals and people

and to the other on earth,

that we and I love so defenselessly

Dai, Mayakovsky, me

chuck

incomprehence Terrible to scum,

so that I am and I

through time swing

to say about him

comrades to descendants.

PROLOGUE

For thirty me. I'm scared at night.

I kneel her knees Gorbachu,

face drown in the pillow, I'm ashamed,

that life was wondering on trifles,

and in the morning again she spent her.

When you knew how my critics,

whose kindness is innocent in question

how are affectionate postal articles

in comparison with my own discharge,

it would be easier for you if at the late hour

unjust torment the conscience of you.

Riding all my poems,

i see: dismantling recklessly

i ponamaral I so much nonsense ...

and you will not bore: the light ran away.

My rivals,

throw flattery

and abusive honor.

Mensure-ka over fate own.

We all have one and the same

soul disease.

Surfaces to her name.

Surface, you worse blindness.

You can see, but do not want to see.

Perhaps you're from illiteracy?

Or maybe from fear of root

trees, under which grew

do not put on shift or cola?!

And we are not because so hard,

removing the outer layer only half the meter

what, courage forgetting myself as a passion

the most task is to be in the essence of the subject?

Hurry ... giving only semi-answer

surfaces carry like a false

not at the calculation of the cold, - no, no! -

and from the instinct of self-save.

Then comes Ugasanie forces

and inability to fly, on battle,

and the feathers of our home wings

pillows of scoundrels are already naked ...

I rushed ... threw back and forth

me from someone's sobs or moans

then in the inflatable uselessness of one

that is the false usefulness of Fakenov.

Someone rubbed his whole life shoulder,

and it was me myself. I'm in passion to straw

naively throat, fought with a hairpin,

where the sword should be acting.

Criminal infantile was my dust.

The ruthlessness was not enough

so, full pity ...

as a medium from wax and metal

and this is your youth ruined.

Let everyone enters life under Sim Vomet:

help what dwells must

and revenge, not forgetting about it,

everything that deserves revenge!

We will not be afraid of revenge.

The possibility of revenge decreases

and self-preservation instinct

does not save us, and kills.

Surfaces - the killer, not a friend,

health who pretended illness,

omitting seduction networks ...

In particular by exposing the Spirit,

we run away from generalizations.

Loses the strength of the globe in empty,

leaving generalizations for later.

And maybe his insecurity

and there are human destination

in the ambient eyelid, clear and simple?!

I drove in Russia with Galya,

somewhere to the sea in the "Moskvich" hurry

from all the seals ...

Autumn of Russian Dale

jobs gold all tired,

sheets under the tires sturger,

and rested behind the wheel of the soul.

Breathing steppe, birch, pile,

in me, threw a unthinkable array,

at speed for seventy, with a whistle,

Russia strengthened our "Moskvich".

Russia wanted to express something

and I understood something like no one.

She "Moskvich" pushed into her body

and pulled into the most nutro.

And, apparently, with some idea,

hiding up to date its essence

i suggested immediately for Tula

turn on a clear clearing.

And here in the estate, breathing vessels,

we entered the children of the nuclear century,

hurrying, in nylon raincoats,

and frozen, suddenly stuck.

And, walkers for the true descendants,

we felt suddenly in a minute

There is something to justify before God.

Poems and sons.

"In the thoughtful row

thinner

It brings fame,

and appreciate its experts.

In the inadstanness of the row

there is too enviable lightness,

and you can bite yourself elbow

but it is precisely this - poems ", E.Evtushenko.

____________________________________

Poet E. Northushenko:

Poet in Russia - more than poet.

It is destined to be born in poets

only those in whom wanders proud spirit of citizenship,

To whom there is no comfort, there is no rest.

Poet in her - the image of his century

And the future is a ghost prototype.

The poet will fail, without falling into a timidity,

The result of everything that was before it.

Did you think? Cultures are missing ...

Claiming the prophecies does not promist ...

But the Spirit of Russia is needed by me

And trying to try to try.

And, knees quietly becoming

Ready and for death, and victory,

I ask you humbly help you

Great Russian poets ...

Give me, Pushkin, my singer,

Your relatives

Your captivating fate -

As if Shal, burn the verb.

Dai, Lermontov, his gall view,

His scorigation of poison

And the Clay closed soul,

Where breathes, hidden in silence,

Your sister's unkind

Lampade of secret good.

Dai, Nekrasov, having hurting my glory,

The pain of the excreted music of yours -

Paraded entrances and rails

And in the expanses of forests and fields.

Give your integrity strength.

Give me a feat to painful yours,

To go, dragging the whole of Russia,

How bureli go beeps.

Oh, give me a block, the nebula of things

And two damaging wings,

To, mysterious eternal riddle,

Through the body of the music flowed.

Give me, Pasternak, offset days,

Embarrassed branches

Splicle of smells, shadows

With the torment of the century,

So that the word, the garden is mumbling,

Bloomed and ripe

To watch your candle

I burned in me.

Yesenin, give me tenderness to me

To birchans and meadows, for animals and people

And to the other on earth,

That we are so defenselessly love.

Dai, Mayakovsky, me

Chuck

Rue

Incomprehence Terrible to scum,

So that I am and I

Drove through time

To say about him

Comrades-descendants ...

New chronicle of current events - about the poet.

"According to information agencies, the poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko died in the USA. Evtushenko was 84 years old, and on Friday he was urgently hospitalized due to the deterioration of the state.

According to the last will of the poet, he will be buried in Peredelkin near Moscow.

He was born on July 18, 1933 at the Winter station in the Irkutsk region. His father - Alexander Rudolfovich Gangnus, German by nationality, was a geologist. Mother - Zinaida Yermolaevna Yevtushenko is also a geologist, actress, honored cultural worker of the RSFSR.

In 1951, he entered the Literary Institute named after M. Gorky, from where in 1957 was expelled with the wording "for the inget of lectures". Only in 2001 received a diploma of the institute.

In 1944, Evgeny Yevtushenko, together with his mother moved to Moscow. In 1949, his first poem was published in the Soviet Sport newspaper.

In 1952, the first collection of poems "Scouts of the Coming" came out. In the same year, Yevgeny Yevtushenko was brought to the Writers of the USSR writers, becoming the most young member.

Published a lot of poetic collections, among them "Third Snow" (1955), "Highway of enthusiasts" (1956), "Promise" (1957), "Poems of different years" (1959), "Apple" (1960), "Tenderness" and "Hands" (1962), etc.

In 1961, the Babij Yar poem was published in the Literary Gazeta, dedicated to the massive shootings of the Jews during the war, for which the poet was accused of political immaturity and in the absence of a sense of internationalism. On the basis of the poem, the composer Dmitry Shostakovich created his famous 13th symphony. Babij Yar has been translated into 72 languages \u200b\u200bof the world, the lines from it are carved before the Memorial Museum of the Holocaust in Washington.

In February 1963, Evgeny Yevtushenko was published in the French weekly "Exhibitions". This event caused dissatisfaction with the Soviet authorities who accused the poet that he acted without the permission of the ideological department of the CPSU Central Committee. His "autobiography" at the plenum of the board of the Union of Soviet writers in March of the same year was named slander to the socialist system.

Evgeny Evtushenko defended dissident writers - Andrei Sinyavsky, Julia Daniel, Alexander Solzhenitsyn, and others. In his verses, protested against the entry of Soviet troops in Hungary, Czechoslovakia, whose occupation dedicated the poem "Tanks go through Prague". Later in verses expressed a negative attitude towards the war in Afghanistan.

In 1988, he entered into the Memorial Human Rights Society. A year later, the co-chaired female Association "April" was elected. In 1991, he became the secretary of the Board of the Commonwealth of Writing Unions.

He was the People's Deputy of the USSR (1989-1991).

In 1991, together with his family he moved to the United States. I read a course of Russian poetry in American universities. In 1990-2000. Released a number of prosaic and poetic works, published the Antology "Poet in Russia - more than the poet. Ten centuries of Russian poetry. "

Its works are translated in more than 70 languages \u200b\u200bof the world, over 130 books have been published.

Winner of the State Prize of the USSR (1984; for the poem "Mom and Neutron Bomb"), the State Prize of the Russian Federation in the field of literature and art (2009), the "Teffi" premium for the best educational program "Poet in Russia is more than the poet" (1998) and etc.

Honorary Member of the Russian Academy of Arts, the American Academy of Arts, the Academy of Fine Arts in Malaga, a Virtual Member of the European Academy of Arts and Sciences. Honorary Professor "Nooris Causa" University of New School in New York and Royal College in Queens. Professor at the University of Pittsburgh, at the University of Santo Domingo.

He was married four times. Since 1954, he was married to the famous poetess Isabella (Bellah) Ahmadulina. The second spouse - Galina Sokol-Luconin (marriage was concluded in 1961), the third - Jen Butler, Ireland (since 1978). Currently, his spouse - Maria Vladimirovna (1961), doctor, philologist.

Evgenia Yevtushenko has five sons: Peter (adopted; 1967), Alexander (1979), Anton (1981), Evgeny (1989), Dmitry (1990 .).

On July 17, 2010, Evgeny Yevtushenko opened his own Museum, which he bequeathed to the state. It is planned that the "Museum-Gallery of Evtushenko" will be a branch of the State Central Museum of Modern History of Russia.

In 1994, his name was called a small planet of the solar system (4234 Evtushenko). "

"The poet in Russia is more than the poet.
It is destined to be born in poets
Only those in whom wanders proud spirit of citizenship,
To whom there is no comfort, there is no rest. "
Evgeny Yevtushenko.

Not so long ago the war ended,
In the sixties "thaw" came.
And rose from the ruins Country,
The poets of the new tribe cleaned. *

Talented, with a flame soul,
They went to the stage, on the stadium field,
Applaud in response to them the hall is big,
The poets are the cumin millions ...

Znorly, artistically, Naraspov
His creations read Evgeny.
Being the famous early, he managed
In verses, investing the souls of all inspiration.

Wrote about life - harmful, without embellishment,
About homeland, love, about the solid world,
I felt the guitar a ringing and waltz. **
Poems sounded in the halls and on the air.

For the life of the White Light,
I knew anger and - world glory,
"The poet in Russia is more than the poet" ...
In the poetry Great became right!

* Poets - "Sixties":
Evgeny Yevtushenko, Robert Christmas, Andrei Voznesensky,
Balla Ahmadulina, Bulat Okudzhava ...

** Songs on verses E.Evtushenko:
"Whether Russian wars want",
"Waltz about Walla", "Comrade Guitar", "And the snow goes ...",
"Cherto wheel", "with me that's what happens" and others.

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