Vladimir KHOMYAKOV, laureate of the Andrey Platonov International Literary Competition "Smart Heart" G. SASOVO, RYAZAN REGION
Valery Nikolaevich Avdeev (1948-2003), a member of the Union of Writers of Russia, by his death and now the anniversary of his posthumous fate, confirmed the common phrase that "poets go away, but their poems live on." The day after his funeral, the Ryazan Writers' Organization was handed over from the regional printing house the book Time to Pray for the Boat, which had just been published by the Uzorochye publishing house. Valery has been waiting for the release of this volume for 10 (!) years. I remember that back in the spring of 1993, we worked with him on the initial editing of the future collection. Here, in addition to new poems for readers, included the best works from Avdeev's previous books - "Pine Bread", "Rodney", "Shamrock" - and publications in the capital's magazines "October", "Change", "Young Guard", weeklies "Literary Russia", "Moscow Railwayman" and other publications.
It is worth noting that Valery's poetic work received the kindest assessments of such masters of literature as Viktor Astafiev, Viktor Korotaev, Boris Oleinik, Ernst Safonov, Fyodor Sukhov - it's impossible to list them all. Avdeev's poems, along with the works of Russian classics, were included in the anthologies "Hour of Russia", "Mother", "Smart Heart". And although the poems of the Ryazan nugget were awarded only a single award, this award is the International Platonov Prize for 2001.
Frankly, reading a new book brightened in my soul not only the feeling of pain for an untimely interrupted life talented person, but also a sense of joy that Avdeev's creative destiny continues. Unconditional masterpieces include the poems published in the collection: "Time to beg for the boat", "How bitter and sweet ...", "The joy of exposing water", "" What is the book about? About the happy hardships of poetic labor, the nature of the Meshchera region, endless rural worries, the complexity of human relationships, friendship and love. And everything is said with that unique Avdeev's intonation, with his smile - either enthusiastic or even sad. And what an excellent sense of the word, what a deep knowledge of the national language! Many lines of Valery Avdeev are aphoristic. As an epigraph to the new book of a great Russian poet, it is quite possible to put such a short poem of his:
Being human -
This is the main thing.
And you need something
Very little:
Wouldn't go down
Before the devil
And would not rise
The poet followed this rule all his life. A man of disinterestedness and spiritual purity, surprising for our time, he sincerely and piercingly defended faith in the good human principle in verse. Are the poets leaving? Poets don't leave! On my desk is a new verse manuscript by Valery Nikolaevich Avdeev, which he managed to prepare as a whole literally a month or two before his death. And from these typewritten sheets one can see how difficult, but boldly, the poet overcame the turn of the millennium, and therefore, in the new century, his poems will live and delight readers.
Valery AVDEEV (1948-2003), laureate of the Andrei Platonov International Literary Competition "Smart Angry"
Time to beg the boat
Time to beg the boat:
The last ice is leaving
Not far from fun -
Not long before the First of May.
Washes away the dam
The pressure of demonic water,
Watchmen for trouble
And shields, and barriers breaking!
Time to beg the boat...
Already emerald fluff
Proskvozilo forests
And pulled the distant shore,
And before these friends
I can't walk now
Shredded spring,
Carried away the icy roads.
Time to beg the boat -
I'm not an avid fisherman!
Spinning is famous for mine
And a coil, and a tight vein!
I'm about a dozen spotted,
Toothy underwater tramps
Golden baubles
I won’t inflate and I won’t burn!
Time to beg the boat
To the arrival of my beloved,
caulk the cracks,
Playing a cheerful mallet, -
It'll just be trouble
If the nightingale does not sing to us -
sinner,
Cursed heart igniter!
Time to beg the boat...
Smoke curls over the shore.
Time to beg the boat...
The lakes have opened!
Time to beg the boat -
With anxiety
With such a feeling
I'm back in the spring
I wake up in the city
Apartment...
The joy of exposing water
I will be dark
I'll wander out with a stick
On the coast of May -
The joy of exposing water
Still shakes me
The joy of exposing water -
It's like being loved
exposure.
Shine and freshness
And dope movement
open,
The breeze of the spring hand
Strokes the waves
velvety skin,
In the bosom of the shores
The river lies
As if loved
How much bitter and sweet
Poisons
Exhale in hollows
In a barrel
Amid the tangled grass
Drank with a cap
Cold water.
Morning twilight sleepy
"Well, let's get down to business.
silver,
Like hoarfrost,
According to Kalinnik
The dew is melting.
Under the viburnum -
The scarf is wrinkled...
Who forgot her here
Ah, last night
Young and sinful! ..
I would like to die in early autumn...
I would like to die in early autumn,
To make the people suffer less;
The coffin-bearers do not vegetate in the blue
September, and the heat will not make you sweat.
So that men, grave diggers,
Frozen ground or viscous did not curse,
And under their skillful shovels
The depths of the earth were gently exposed.
I would like to die in early autumn.
Almost everything in the household is done:
They brought wood, mowed
And it is not a sin to honor the deceased.
And do not toil with grubs,
Do not drive cars in all directions -
Branches from antonovka break,
Pickled cucumbers in tubs.
Borovok grew up behind the fence,
The potatoes came right up...
Only, however, it’s a bit tight with vodka ...
Well, nothing, they will figure it out.
I would like to die in early autumn...
Do not weep, my relatives:
Song of farewell and tearful
Cranes will cry in the sky.
In autumn ... And there is another desire:
If only at once - poked and calmed down,
So as not to smolder in delirium, in semiconsciousness -
A burdensome burden for others.
In autumn - let it come true! -
Break off, my living thread,
And sadness for weddings will be forgotten -
A lot of them ring in the fall! ..
Together with the Ryazan branch of the SPR, we remember the wonderful and talented Russian poet Valery Nikolaevich Avdeev, who left us ten years ago. And may his work warm the souls of the living with warm light for many years to come.
..
"TO THE GUIDING LIGHT"
65th anniversary of the birth of Valery Avdeev
Valery Nikolaevich Avdeev is a remarkable Russian poet, whose work deserves the widest dissemination and recognition.
He was born on December 26, 1948 in the village of Syntul, Kasimovsky district, Ryazan region, in large family.
At the end high school worked as a fitter at a local iron foundry, served in the army. After completing his studies at the Literary Faculty of the Ryazan State Pedagogical Institute, taught at a rural school, was the editor of the regional branch of the Moskovsky Rabochiy publishing house, deputy director of the propaganda bureau fiction, head of the department of poetry of the quarterly "Ryazan pattern".
Participated in the seventh All-Union Conference of Young Writers. Published in the magazines "Young Guard", "October", "Change", "North", the weeklies "Literary Russia", "Moscow Railwayman", the newspaper " Soviet Russia”, almanacs “Poetry”, “Literary Ryazan”, collective collections “Literary Echo”, “Friendship”, “Songs over the Oka and the Dniester”, “Young Guard-82”, “To Singers of a Log Cabin”, “Okskiye Zarnitsa”, poetic anthologies "Hour of Russia", "Mother", "Smart Heart" and many other publications. Translated into Ukrainian and Moldovan languages.
Author of the collections "In my own business" (1984, prose), "Pine bread" (1987), "Kin" (1988), "Shamrock" (1997), "Time to beg for the boat" (2001, published in July 2003 ), "To the Guiding Light" (2003, booklet).
A few weeks before his death, he prepared for the publishing house "Press" a manuscript of poems and poems "Forbs".
He died on July 15, 2003 on the shore of Lake Syntul. The latest work the poet became an unfinished poem:
I grew up too soon.
Settled down too late...
In honor of a member of the Union of Writers of the USSR and Russia, laureate of the international Platonov Prize Valery Avdeev, a memorial plaque was installed on his father's house. In the village of Syntul, annual Avdiivsky literary readings are held.
Valery Nikolaevich left many friends, students, admirers of his work. The most devoted formed a creative community, the name for which was taken from the poem of their teacher "Kin". The lines from this poem became the motto: "We are all one people - Kin!"
Vladimir KHOMYAKOV
“How can I not want to leave you…”
The Last Days of the Poet
In February 2003, Valery Avdeev sent a traditional congratulatory letter from Syntul to me in Sasovo: “I miss all our brothers, especially you, Samarin, Epifanov, Artamonov ... They published me here with Boris Shishaev in a collective anniversary collection“ Oka Lightning” (300 copies). Only for me this is no longer a joy, as for some ... I congratulate you on your birthday, I wish you good, poignant creations - the rest, everything bright, will follow? Big hello father! How are you surviving with him now?
In March, Valery Avdeev wrote to me with a request:
“Do not refuse, be my editor ... If you agree, I will send the manuscript. It contains about 2 sheets of unpublished, the rest is reliable old - for breakdown, you know. I want to give the manuscript to the "Press" Nurislan, fortunately, he himself asked. I repeat, if I agree, I will send the manuscript with my thoughts ... Huge greetings to Bate.
A few days later the manuscript was delivered to the addressee. Valery expressed his thoughts about the title of the future book and the title new poem; remembered that “somewhere in the year 1965” his first selection of three poems appeared in the Kasimov regional newspaper “Meshcherskaya Nov” thanks to the care of a member of the Union of Writers Zinaida Alekseevna Likhacheva; lamented that he “does not yet have “good paper for reprinting” of the manuscript, just as there is no good folder, but this will come with time”; promised "soon to be in Ryazan ..."
April 10 at the M.E. Saltykov-Shchedrin held a festive evening dedicated to the 45th anniversary of the regional writers' organization. Poets recited their best lines on it. Valery Avdeev read The Russian Cellar in its final version and again delighted his fellow writers.
In the evening of the same day, Avdeev and other Ryazan writers went to congratulate the daughter of the outstanding Russian poet Pavel Vasilyev, Natalya Pavlovna, on her anniversary.
The next morning there was a discussion of the manuscript of Avdeev's new book "Forbs".
In March-April, Valery wrote poetic works: “The heavenly light was brighter ...”, “To the Motherland”, “I do not curse God given ...”, “Spring steps through the meadows ...”, “Girlfriends”, “Machine , covered with a tarpaulin ... ". Avdeev made sketches of the cycle "Little Stories", the poem "I grew up too early, settled down too late ..."
By the end of April - beginning of May, work on the manuscript was basically completed: “Spring dragged on surprisingly. They say it was 30 years ago - I don't remember. There is still ice on the pond, although the snow has melted. Coldly. And it's already April 29th. It seems that he blinded a book, called it “Forbs” ... Khomyakov, the editor, promised to make a preface. I want to give it to the Press ... maybe it will be released by the 55th anniversary ...
The ice was all broken last night, the pond was cleared. Warm winds are blowing, I finished printing the manuscript, it turned out in total (surprised?) 2.6-2.7 author's sheets ... There is no satisfaction - after all, 3 years of sitting out of one's element, the inability to do one's own business, to give oneself to poetry all the same , and not some snatches. May 2, 2003".
Died in May younger brother V. Avdeeva - Nikolai.
June 17-19 Valery last time visited Ryazan, gave the manuscript of his book "Forbs" to the publishing house "Press"; visited Nurislan Ibragimov and Yevgeny Kashirin (they made photo portraits of the poet); completed the editing of my poetry collection "Slavonic Light"; met with representatives of Ryazan culture: Nikolai Molotkov, Yuri Ananiev, Konstantin Vorontsov...
Poet Yevgeny Artamonov accompanied V. Avdeev to the bus station. Sitting on the bus, Valery said: “How can I not want to leave you ...”
On July 18, the writer Boris Shishaev called the Ryazan Writers' Organization from Syntul and said that Valery Avdeev had died on July 15, 2003.
The obituary, which sounded on the regional radio, said:
“Ryazan literature suffered a huge loss. At the 55th year of his life in his homeland, in the Kasimov village of Syntul, a member of the Writers' Union of Russia, laureate of the international Platonov Prize, Valery Nikolaevich Avdeev, died. His books of prose and poetry "In my own business", "Pine bread", "Kin", "Shamrock" were dearly loved by readers. A man of original talent and high soul, Valery Avdeev sincerely believed in the power of goodness, in the power of the fatherland:
to one
Guiding light
I will tear
Until the day of death
I know,
Everyone will believe
In it:
We are all one people -
Relatives!
These lines were the motto of the whole life of the remarkable poet and man Valery Avdeev. Ryazan writers deeply mourn for their friend.
On July 22, the funeral of Valery Avdeev took place at the cemetery of the village of Sntul.
The next day, the poet's newly published book "Time to beg for the boat" was handed over to the Ryazan Writers' Organization from the regional printing house.
December 26, 2003 Valery Nikolaevich Avdeev turned
would be 55 years old. On this day in Ryazan, in the House of M.E. Saltykov-Shchedrin, an evening of memory was held
poet. His poems were heard, as well as lines dedicated to him:
Death will take to its height
and embrace the universal space.
And the clouds will open in bloom
before your fading gaze.
And the nights and days will shatter,
and the numbers and dates are mixed up.
Death will pass
and they will come
lines returned to heaven.
And remind of the distant spring,
about powder, about the first frost,
about lakes, amber pine,
about meadows and dewy birch.
And spread out like a clean slate
the universe in a new shimmer.
And the star will rise above the cross -
over birch
or pine...
Our thoughts about the poet are bright. He lives in them with his sincere smile, with his open heart and generous love for his native land. On the monument erected on the grave of Valery Avdeev, his poignant line is inscribed: "Motherland, I want to remember you ..."
The soul of the poet returns to us with his rustle book pages, so similar to the reserved conversation of the Meshchera trees.
Valery AVDEEV
RELATIVES
In my village
Near Kasimov
Was a good neighbor
I have -
Rustic Vityunya Kosynkin,
And by the nickname simply -
Relatives.
We are gifted with nicknames:
We aim right -
Not in the eyebrow, but in the eye:
For his saying Vitya
was nicknamed
In our village.
Here, for example,
I sand the logs
He hurries to me, seed:
"Hey neighbor,
Let's smoke!
We are all one people -
Relatives!"
And while I'm looking for cigarettes
He smiles, taunting:
"Uh, their own,
Probably not...
You smoke mine, relatives.
Let's smoke
And both for brackets -
Who is from the top
And who from the root ...
He did not like to sit
Apart -
"We are all one people -
Relatives!"
And then through the village of Vityunya
The disinterested will go
Like a light -
Where hatchet with someone
poking,
Where someone will give advice,
There he will straighten the pole in the spindle,
There will help to harness the horse -
And always saying
Lubricate:
"We are all one people -
Relatives! »
Is the house being built
Do they put the stove
Or they mow a flowery meadow,
Do they roam with nonsense
In a muddy river
Ile on arable land
Prepare the plow
Do they rake honey hay
Or the wedding buzzes, ringing, -
Our Vityunya
Always with everyone
Otherwise it is impossible -
Relatives.
When it's time for dinner,
Went Vityunya
To the nearest hut
And sat down with the owner boldly:
"I, relatives, sip to you."
And chewing, good-natured Vitya
He dropped invitations with a smile:
"You to me
Come visit:
We are all one people -
Relatives!"
But not only our
county
Recognized for relatives
Relatives.
Rolled somehow through the meadow
"Volga" brand new one.
Ran, stopped.
Uncle came out
Important to become! -
And to Rodna:
- Hey, tell me for mercy,
Where would we be here
Better get on?
- Go for this forest
There by the river
At the old stump
There is a clearing
No holes, no bumps...
Do you want me to see you, relatives?
- Hmm, "relatives"! ..
Found my own...
Where will I put you?
Here are the ladies
And lots of food...
- I and so, relatives, I see off! -
And walked ahead of the car
And bouncing, and seed,
Only heard
Ladies with a man:
"We are all one people -
Relatives…"
The guests made a nice camp!
And often relatives from the woods
Handfuls of strawberries
He dragged merry guests.
“Here, eat some strawberries.”
Ah, swallow your tongue! –
And the ladies chirped like birds:
- Right, crazy! ..
- Fool!
And the man threw from the tent:
- Oh, I can't stand squealing!
Tell me
Brains are out of order
Or more simply - ala-ulu! .. -
But Kin
I did not hear mockery -
He already
At the coastal stump
I repeated
Following the bite:
"We are all one people -
Relatives!"
Evening caressed the soul
And the body
He sprinkled the river with gold.
This evening
The guests wanted
roll up
Unprecedented feast.
A man just in case
(Without alcohol - one melancholy!)
Was harvested
Sparkling cider
And plenty of cognac.
Cod liver on a tablecloth
Appeared
And servelat ,
oranges,
And to the delight of women -
Chic! - Babaevsky chocolate!
Chattered, joked flatly,
And flirting, and squealing,
And in the eyes
Lustful gloss
Hops gleamed
The townspeople.
And in the midst of a reckless party,
Kissing and lust
unsightly,
in the clearing
A figurine of Rodney appeared.
Approaching the city people,
He sat down, hugging his knees:
- I'm bored
I will stay with you:
We are all one people -
Relatives...
The guests looked indignant,
As if mud was thrown on them,
The man has sparks of anger
Flashed
In the eyes of the intoxicated!
He already rushed to Vita ...
But with a grin, he moderated the intensity:
- Well, girls,
Bring...
Bring more cognac! -
And Vitiuna swollen mug,
He spluttered a little:
- Well, relatives! -
And he added hoarsely and deafly:
- Rule only:
Drink to the bottom! -
And without letting me touch
To the dishes
What stood, teasing,
refilled
Vityune utensils:
- Drink, dear!
And again - to the bottom! ..
It was, a glass was poured
On fun - and then one,
Like a native, protected
village people
Relatives:
Don't apply
Know, they say, the measure.
Not from greed
Not from evil
Removed vodka-cholera
From Rodney
At the end of the table.
Here freely
And without looking after
(However, there was an eye
yes different)
Drained two bottles in a row
Rustic Relatives native.
Vitya rose heavily,
Full of tricky fire.
- You, brothers,
Escort me...
We are all one people -
family... -
But relatives did not see off.
From under your feet
was leaving
Earth...
The ladies laughed wildly
On Vityunina's monogram.
He trudged to his native home,
Pale, pathetic –
Not funny...
And cooled down
Near the house
The shepherd found him in the morning.
He lay in a silk ant,
Spread out
hugging the earth,
Wanting no one
bad
our own person
Relatives...
They are looking for consolation in their homeland.
Here I am
To expensive places
Rolled up
And went to the cemetery
Went to the cemetery for a reason:
Here in the corner
Under the birch canopy
On the cross, the inscription is still visible -
Without any explanation -
Only one word:
"RELATIVES".
I leaned against the wooden fence
I scattered flowers on the mound ...
- Everything in the world would be all right,
If he were, Rodnya,
How do you.
I am faithful to your covenant:
"We are all one people -
Relatives",
But it happened
lived with the world
And they twisted me.
I trust -
All out -
Opened in a crazy trouble,
But sometimes they did not delve into the soul,
They laughed at me.
I knocked on unfamiliar doors
I asked to warm, help -
“How can we, boy, believe you? ..
Also - wandering around at night-midnight! .. "
But I don’t scold everyone indiscriminately,
I give both praise and honor:
There is she
Dear family!
Certainly in the world there is!
In every edge
In any nation
With the relentless passing of days
This breed grows
People are getting closer and closer!
To one guiding light
I will tear
Until the day of death
I know,
Everyone will believe
In it:
We are all one people -
Relatives!
……………………………………………………..
This material was provided
Member of the Writers' Union of Russia
Sergey Panferov(Ryazan).
His page is here on the "Izba-Reading Room" -
https://www.
Remembering Valery Avdeev
In the late 80s of the last century, the almanac "Literary Ryazan" caught my eye, which immediately attracted attention. The Almanac began to be published back in the 50s, but after the appearance of several issues, its release ceased, and here is the second "birth"! I remember that I was very happy about the event that stirred up, and now I am talking about this publication for a reason: on that day I discovered a wonderful poet - Valery Nikolaevich Avdeev, who would have turned 60 on December 26, 2008.
Ryazan land rich in poetic talents, but even among the variety of talents, the poems of Valery Avdeev (1948-2003) were fascinated by their shrillness, and the first stanza of one of them was instantly remembered for its deep imagery. Four lines immediately created a serene picture in my soul village life, sunny summer day, untouched peace:
Bird fuss in the bush
Meadows flower honey,
Butterfly on the Tatar
Something delicious to drink.
And immediately memories of childhood swept over me, the then romantic rapprochement with nature, when, not understanding this, I perceived myself as a particle of the surrounding natural world, the diversity of which is shown by Avdeev in the following stanza:
And behind the thin bridges
Glittering water mica,
Funny perches are walking
Deep golden.
Here is already a different element, a different, multidimensional image, but the same intonation, the same childlike warmth that literally envelops the lyrical hero, who is not yet aware of the coming adult life, which he brings closer with his "quick run":
Every path here
Knows my fast run.
Like a dewdrop
I am sinless
Small man.
Fresh as a clean shirt
Coastal breeze…
Then I will grow up
It later,
In due time,
There will be prickly winds
Beating to trouble
There will be seething trees
The most dashing water
There will be good friends
Suddenly betray me
Will blind with powder
The stubble will prick.
The cutest woman
Lies whip sometimes ...
Bold and reckless
I myself will do it more than once:
In anger I offend my neighbor,
I'll give you good advice.
It will be for me in the scorched rot
Seems like a great light! ..
It later -
Like a blade
Fiery and thin
Poetry enters the soul -
All later...
Yes, “everything later”, but for now the poet seems to remember, not daring to part with the memories of a cute picture, “prolongs” childhood, continuing to admire it, exposing his poetic soul even more:
For now -
Bird fuss in the bush
Meadows blooming honey,
Butterfly on the Tatar
Something delicious to drink...
The poem, of course, must be read without comments that break the integrity of perception. I quote him from the book “Time to beg for the boat” (Avdeev V.N. Time to beg for the boat. Poems. - Ryazan: Pattern, 2001. - 231s.), For which I literally hunted when I found out about its release. In this collection, the poem was somewhat different from the version published in Literaturnaya Ryazan for 1989, but it is the author’s right to refine the poem, and the more talented the poem, the more attention is usually paid to it. I would like to return to the text again and again, wanting to bring it to perfection.
Yes, “Butterfly on a Tatar” is a return to childhood, which, like all good things, passes quickly. A person does not even notice how he is ripening for adulthood and, having touched it, transfers his still poor life experience to new realities, even for some time he feels like a person who has seen a lot, learned a lot, although this is not so. Avdeev is no exception. After graduating from high school in the village of Syntul, he works at a local iron foundry and serves in the army. Since 1976, having graduated from the Faculty of Russian Language and Literature of the Ryazan State Pedagogical Institute, he taught at a rural school, worked as an editor. While studying and working, creating a family and raising a son, poetry still does not let go of his soul, and Valery Avdeev gives them every free minute. Diligence is not in vain: he began to publish in "fat" magazines and in magazines of less "fatness". Not immediately, but paved the way to the central publishing houses. These are “Young Guard”, “Moscow Worker”, where he published the books “Kin”, “Pine Bread” and others. In 1989 he became a member of the Writers' Union of the USSR. In general, nothing unusual, just like many poets and writers of that time. The not always radiant life made me think not only about the future, but also remember the past years. Maybe it was for this reason that the poetics of childhood still worried him and did not let go. This is the only way to perceive the lines from the poem "The Desire of a Young Old Man":
So I wanted, by God,
Go out to the evening haystack,
To the mirror of summer water
Where, striking with purity,
The waters reflect me
Happy and young...
Here, the returned youthful maximalism breaks through, making you forget about the seriousness and remember the experiences of that time. It turns out that having moved to live in the city, the author is still connected in his soul with his native nature, the Syntul meadows and forests, the lake, the Oka River. Therefore, being at home, he finds joy in peasant work, respite from the bustle of the city and is still vigilant for everyday details that suddenly suddenly disturb the soul:
How much bitter and sweet
Poisons
Flowers exhale in hollows!
In a barrel
Amid the tangled grass
Drank with a cap
Cold water.
Morning twilight sleepy
Smoky.
"Well, let's get down to business.
Scythe!
silver,
Like hoarfrost,
Dew is melting on the Kalinnik.
Under the viburnum -
The scarf is wrinkled…
Who forgot her here
By the stream?
Ah, last night
mint,
Young and sinful!
Whose?..
This poem, with bewitching laconism, combines two elements: peasant care for hay and the mystery of the past night, because there is probably no such person whom this would not concern, who, at least once in his life, did not ask a riddle to others, being in a night meadow , in a shady park or on a country walk. The author compares the experience of a mature person with the experience of his own youth, and there is a slight envy not for the past time, no, but for the situation in which he once, perhaps, himself was. And therefore, with such poignancy, he, exposing his own soul, tells the understanding reader about the seemingly fleeting news, thereby helping to remember the golden days. In whatever line his light soul is exposed, it invariably attracts with intonation, sincerity, as if the author is talking to himself, but suddenly it turns out that his thoughts and feelings are close to many readers who entrusted the poet with innermost secrets and did not dare to tell the world about them on their own.
This is confirmed by another poem, mysteriously placed by Valery Avdeev at the end of the collection “Time to beg for the boat”, which, although the year of issue is listed as “2001” in the imprint, came from the printing house to the Ryazan Regional Writers' Organization on the day after the funeral of the author, which took place on 22 July 2003 in his homeland - in the village of Syntul. It is called like this: “I would like to die in early autumn”:
I would like to die in early autumn,
To make people suffer less:
The coffin-bearers do not vegetate in the blue
September, and the heat will not make you sweat.
So that men, grave diggers,
Frozen soil or viscous did not curse,
And under their skillful shovels
The depths of the earth were gently exposed.
I would like to die in early autumn.
Almost everything in the household is done:
They brought wood, mowed
And it is not a sin to honor the deceased.
And do not toil with grubs,
Do not drive cars in all directions -
Branches from antonovka break,
Pickled cucumbers in tubs.
Borovok grew up behind the fence,
The potatoes came right in...
Only, however, a bit tight with vodka ...
Well, nothing, they will figure it out.
I would like to die in early autumn ...
Do not weep, my relatives:
Song of farewell and tearful
Cranes will cry in the sky.
In autumn ... And there is another desire:
If only at once - poked and calmed down,
So as not to smolder in delirium, in semiconsciousness -
A burdensome burden for others.
In autumn - let it come true! -
Break my living thread
And sadness for weddings will be forgotten -
Many of them ring in the fall.
Classical poets truly live in the hearts of most readers with a few poems. Often four or five is enough for this. In these notes, I happened to touch only a few works of Valery Avdeev, but even from them one can judge the strength of his poetic talent, awarded the prize of the Andrey Platonov International Literary Competition. Indeed, in order to truly remember a wonderful poet, sometimes a few poetic lines are really enough. A deep study of creativity is the lot of specialists and those lovers of poetry who do not stop their curiosity on several popular poems of one or another author, often turning into favorite songs.
Poets love to predict their own fate. They say they often succeed. Valery Avdeev was not much mistaken, a little before the next autumn, but it does not matter. On a hot July day, the waters of the syntul lake-pond, beloved since childhood, accepted Valera into their warm bosom, and his earthly life, sometimes hectic, unsettled, ended. Maybe that's why he found consolation in poetry more than others, lived it and did not notice such a “sin” in himself, but he always conjured himself with a simple truth, creating another touching poetic story, knowing that for this you need something “a little”: “ Wouldn’t go down// To the devil// And wouldn’t rise// To God.”
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, Ryazan Oblast, Russian SFSR, USSR
Valery Nikolaevich Avdeev (December 26 (1948-12-26 ) , Syntul village, Kasimovsky district, Ryazan region - July 15, ibid) - poet and prose writer, member of the Union of Writers of the USSR, laureate of the International Literary Competition named after A.P. Platonov "Smart Heart" (2001).
Biography
Born into a family of a doctor and a nurse. After graduating from high school, he worked as a fitter at the Syntul iron foundry, served in Soviet army. In 1976 he graduated from the Faculty of Russian Language and Literature. He taught at a rural school, worked as an editor of the Ryazan branch of the Moskovsky Rabochiy publishing house, deputy director of the fiction propaganda bureau at the regional writers' organization, and head of the poetry department of the Ryazan Uzorochye quarterly. He represented the "country of birch calico" at the seventh All-Union Conference of Young Writers, creative seminars in Dubulty and Syktyvkar, weeks of literature in Chernivtsi and Odessa.
Literary activity
In 1989 he was accepted as a member of the Writers' Union of the USSR. Published in the magazines "Young Guard", "October", "North", "Change", the weeklies "Literary Russia", "Moscow Railwayman", the newspapers "Soviet Russia", "Teacher's Newspaper", "Ryazan Pattern", "Ryazan Outback ", almanacs "Poetry", "Literary Ryazan", "Literary Echo", "Literary Kasimov", collective collections "Friendship", "Songs over the Oka and Dniester", "Young Guard-82", "Blue Meshchera", "To Singers log hut", "Esenin's wreath", "Oka lightning bolts", "Silver moments of life", three volumes "Collected works of Ryazan writers", anthologies "Hour of Russia", "Mother", "Smart heart", "Beautiful people love poetry", anthology "Literature of the Ryazan Territory", the book by Evgeny and Roman Markin "The cranes are flying, they are flying ...", the book by Oksana Goenko "The Crane Song". The works of Valery Avdeev were heard on the All-Union Radio, translated into Bulgarian, Ukrainian, Moldavian. He himself was engaged in poetic translations. Author of poetry books "Pine Bread", "Kin", "Shamrock", "Time to beg for the boat" (published on the days of farewell to the poet), a collection of stories "In my own business". A month before his death, he prepared and handed over to the publishing house the manuscript of the collection of poems "Forbs" (an advance copy was issued). Laureate of the International Literary Competition named after A.P. Platonov "Smart Heart", regional creative competitions Valery Avdeev was an outstanding representative of the Kasimov poetic school, one of the most poignant and subtle lyricists of central Russia, a mentor to many young writers.
12:19 26.12.2013 | CULTURE
Valery Nikolaevich Avdeev was born on December 26, 1948 in the village of Syntul, Kasimovsky district, Ryazan region, in a large family. After graduating from high school, he worked as a fitter at a local iron foundry and served in the army. After completing his studies at the Literary Department of the Ryazan State Pedagogical Institute, he taught at a rural school, was the editor of the regional branch of the Moskovsky Rabochiy publishing house, deputy director of the fiction propaganda bureau, and head of the poetry department of the Ryazan Uzorochye quarterly.
Participated in the seventh All-Union Conference of Young Writers. Published in the magazines "Young Guard", "October", "Change", "North", the weeklies "Literary Russia", "Moscow Railwayman", the newspaper "Soviet Russia", the almanacs "Poetry", "Literary Ryazan", collective collections " Literary Echo”, “Friendship”, “Songs over the Oka and the Dniester”, “Young Guard-82”, “To Singers of a Log Cabin”, “Oka Lightning”, poetic anthologies “Hour of Russia”, “Mother”, “Smart Heart”, the three-volume "Collected Works of Ryazan Writers" and many other publications. Translated into Ukrainian and Moldovan languages.
Author of the collections "In my own business" (1984, prose), "Pine bread" (1987), "Kin" (1988), "Shamrock" (1997), "Time to beg for the boat" (2001, published in July 2003 ), "To the Guiding Light" (2003, booklet).
A few weeks before his death, he prepared for the Ryazan publishing house "Press" a manuscript of poems and poems "Forbs".
He died on July 15, 2003 on the shore of Lake Syntul. The last work of the poet was an unfinished poem:
I grew up too soon.
Settled down too late...
The heart responded with sadness to the death of Valery Avdeev, to these parting lines of his:
The snow has fallen from your face
and passed through the river.
And there is no path to the porch,
as if there is no news about a friend.
He grew up too soon
settled down too late.
And the space is infinitely white -
changed so suddenly
as if I accepted your sadness,
restless silence...
And flickers, and the distance fades,
like it was goodbye.
And the trees, almost empty,
worried, trembling.
And dry sheets fly
on solemn tablets.
In honor of Valery Avdeev, member of the Union of Writers of the USSR and Russia, laureate of the International Literary Competition named after A.P. Platonov, a memorial plaque was installed on the father's house of the remarkable poet and prose writer. In the village of Syntul, Avdeevka literary readings have been repeatedly held.
Valery AVDEEV. From the manuscript of the book "Herbs"
DAY OF THE POET
We heard a lot of common words different:
They are all just bullshit!
Today the holiday was scattered freely
For the love that is mine!
I do not tolerate sugary verbiage,
I do not like velvet and any silk.
You yourself have experienced, people,
What paths did he take?
Is it in vain that he sang a simple hut,
Having absorbed her spirit from infancy?
Is it in vain, groaning and longing,
Was he drawn to the flood of grasses?
You should smile to the accordion,
Singing a well-fed life.
Well, he, he is not pretend
Life lived and expressed it!
ESENIN
Did not leave
These don't go away
In muddy
Beyond the grave.
Here he is, out
In the autumn more often wanders,
Forelock wavy
Fun jet!
Without Russia
He would get cramped
Without people,
Do not create without a meadow ...
Did not leave
And dissolved in songs
To be with us
Speak with your heart...
TO EVGENY MARKIN
It was more than once
Half-delirious stuffed night
Suddenly lift me up
I see you are sitting with a cigarette.
How could you break
That otherworldly barrier alone
And come to me
In this dull and rainy stillness?
Fedrych, I need advice,
Whether rhyme, or comparison
They don't give me peace
And do I take it in life?
Tell me if it's not in time
I'm good at poetry.
Run through my soul
Like the wind in the spring.
If only your word
What confidently feeds the soul,
What remark
Or just an understanding look.
I have this one today, Zhenya,
The breath is not enough.
I would like to return everything
But will you come back?
You are sitting in front of me
Smiling as an adult boy
Silver blackened
Rolls quietly from the forehead.
But forever silent
Above the Kletinsky green slope
And your wisdom
And crazy, like the wind, fate!
The publication of Valery Avdeev's poems was prepared by Vladimir Khomyakov, Sasovo
