Composition on the topic: "The creative path of Marina Tsvetaeva".
Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva is one of the most famous Russian poets. Her contribution to Russian culture is truly significant, because she wrote not only poetry, but also prose, having mastered many different genres. Tsvetaeva's poetry is inextricably linked with prose, it has a special sound. She wrote that the prose of a poet differs from the prose of a prose writer. And indeed, in the text of the writer, not only the ideological concept was always important, but also rhythm, harmonious sound. Tsvetaeva always spoke in detail in prose, tried to explain her thought as intelligibly as possible, savoring it in different variations. And if Tsvetaeva's poetry is especially concise, then her prose is more capacious and no less artistically valuable.
Marina Tsvetaeva began to compose poems as a girl - at the age of six! For real her creative way began at the age of sixteen, when Marina was helped to publish her first collection of poems, Evening Album. In a children's, at first glance, book, literary critics and famous writers saw the future master of the word. The first poems are still full of purity and truthfulness, they reflect the observations of the young poetess. In them, Marina addresses the closest - her sister and mother, enjoys life, talks about death, experiences love.
Two years later, the second collection of the poetess, The Magic Lantern, was published. All works written at a tender age are distinguished by a special vision of the world, romanticism. In them, the author observes the life boiling around, trying to capture its moments.
In the next few years, Tsvetaeva is in search of herself as a poet.
The works of this period are combined in the collection "Youthful Poems", which was not published. There are many new things in poetry. The author draws attention to small details that she did not notice before, experiments with artistic techniques, resorting to various transfers, then to pauses. She plays with accents and thereby enhances the expression of poems, creates a special intonation.
In the years before the revolution, Tsvetaeva's work acquires new features. The events in the country are reflected in her poems, they contain the motive of love for her native Russia, the theme of the poet and folklore motives. At this time, the daughter of the poetess is growing up, which becomes for her a ray of light, a real pride. Tsvetaeva also writes about this, but her dreams of a great future for her daughter were not destined to come true - the war and the camps destroyed all hopes.
Tsvetaeva, who had not previously written on political topics, during this period showed her attitude to the revolution, which she was unable to understand and accept. In 1917-1920. the collection "Swan camp" is published. The poetess shows that she is able to write not only about the intimate: religion, homeland, White Guards - this is what the author is now writing about. The war echoed with pain in Tsvetaeva's heart: "it hurts everyone - both white and red!".
The calm, peaceful life of the poetess was destroyed, and she was forced to exist, trying to save her children. At this time, her works become like a personal diary in which deep experiences are recorded. And when the irreparable happens in Tsvetaeva's life - her youngest daughter dies of hunger, this woman-poet dresses the cry of her soul in a confession verse:
"Two hands - caress, smooth
Delicate heads are lush.
Two hands - and here is one of them
Overnight turned out to be superfluous.
Then the poetess was waiting for life in exile. And although later she nevertheless returned to her homeland, she did not see her daughter or her husband anymore - they were unreasonably accused and arrested. During these years, Tsvetaeva's poetry becomes even deeper, acquires philosophical and psychological features. The last book published during the author's lifetime - "After Russia" (1928) - was printed in France. This collection is considered the peak of Tsvetaeva's work. It seems that the harder her outer life became, the stronger her inner world and more expressive than poetry.
On the eve of World War II, the poet returns to her homeland, but the ill-fated war again takes away her native lands, and in 1941 Marina Tsvetaeva decides to die, even capturing this decision in her poems: “I am ashamed that I am still alive.”
Answer left Guest
Marina Tsvetaeva. This name, similar to a pseudonym, sounds spectacular and even pretentious. But behind the flower name is a wounded soul wandering in the infinity of passions. Everywhere - not at home, always - not rich and, in general, not too lucky. In the Markian convoy of his indefatigable warrior of fate. Poet Marina Tsvetaeva It was the poet, she did not like the word "poetess" ... Like many poets, Tsvetaeva willingly believed the "signs of fate." Midnight, leaf fall, Saturday - she read this woeful horoscope easily and clearly. Rowan forever entered her poetry. Burning and bitter, at the end of autumn, she became a symbol of fate, also bitter, blazing with creativity and leaving for the winter of oblivion. But even then, in her early youth, Marina Tsvetaeva guessed that her poetry in its spirit is a rebellion, a fire, a rocket, that it is essentially contrary to everything: the peace of sleep, and the silence of sanctuaries, and the incense of glory, and even the dust of oblivion . Oh, she was sure that the fire would still flare up, and her poems "would come their turn." The most amazing thing is, of course, her complete confidence that the deadlines will come true: the days will come (at least in a hundred years!), And her poems, the very ones that lie "in the dust at the shops", unread, dumb, buried - they, like coals covered with ashes, they will flare up, and the menacing glow of a poetic rebellion will be seen far around.
The prophecy came true: Tsvetaeva today is one of the most beloved and read poets. She lived for less than half a century, began to write seriously at about sixteen years of age, and in three decades of intense continuous work left such a literary heritage, with which, in terms of scale and spiritual intensity, little can be compared. Hundreds of poems, a play, more than ten poems, critical articles, memoirs... She created a completely unique poetic world, her original voice sounds pure and clear among the colorful polyphony of schools and trends of the "Silver Age". Her lyrics are a continuous declaration of love on various occasions, love for the world, expressed demandingly, passionately, and sometimes with the audacity of a proud challenge. And this is despite the fact that in Tsvetaeva's poetry there are many references to the frailty of everything earthly and thoughts about one's own end.
Our great spiritual heritage, our national pride. But many poets and writers were forgotten, they were not published, they were not talked about. Once she accidentally mentioned on a purely literary occasion: “This is the business of poetry specialists. My specialty is ". She lived difficult and difficult, did not know and did not seek either peace or prosperity, she was always in complete disorder.
In 1910, without taking off her gymnasium uniform, secretly from her family, she released a rather voluminous collection "Evening Album". He was noticed and approved by such influential and demanding critics as V. Bryusov, N. Gumilyov, M. Voloshin. In this album, Tsvetaeva wraps her experiences in lyrical poems about failed love, the irrevocableness of the past and the fidelity of the one who loves:
You told me everything - so early!
I saw everything - so late!
Eternal wound in our hearts
In the eyes of a silent question ...
Marina loved the city in which she was born very much, she dedicated many poems to Moscow:
Tsar Peter, and to you, O king, praise!
But above you, kings: bells.
While they thunder from the blue
The superiority of Moscow is indisputable.
And as many as forty forty churches
Laugh at the pride of kings!
Marina Tsvetaeva writes not only poetry, but also prose. Tsvetaeva's prose is closely connected with her poetry. In it, as in poetry, the fact was important, not only the meaning, but also the sound, rhythm, harmony of the parts. She wrote: "The prose of a poet is a different work than the prose of a prose writer, in it the unit of effort is not a phrase, but a word, and even often mine." One of her prose works is dedicated to Pushkin. In it, Marina writes how she first met Pushkin and what she first learned about him. She writes that Pushkin was her first poet, and the first poet was killed. She talks about his characters. Pushkin "infected" Tsvetaeva with the word "love". She also dedicated many poems to this great poet:
The scourge of the gendarmes, the god of students,
Bile of husbands, delight of wives
Pushkin as a monument?
Stone guest?
Soon the October Revolution took place, which Marina Tsvetaeva did not accept and did not understand. A truly fatal incident happened to her. In May 1922, Tsvetaeva and her daughter went abroad to her husband, who was a white officer. Berlin, Prague, Paris… Quite different notes sounded in her poems:
Take care of the graves
Hungry harlots!
Dead was and rotted:
Watch out for the tombs!
From yesterday's truths
The house is filthy and rubbish.
Even the dust
Give to the winds!
Around Tsvetaeva, the blank wall of loneliness closed closer and closer. She has no one to read, no one to ask, no one to rejoice with. “Motherland is not a convention of territory, but an affiliation of memory and blood,” she wrote. - Not to be in Russia, to forget Russia - only those who think Russia outside of themselves can be afraid. In whom it is inside - he loses it only with life. Longing for Russia is reflected in such lyrical poems as “Dawn on the Rails”, “Luchina”, “Bow from me to Russian Rye”, “O Stubborn ...”, intertwined with the thought of a new Rrdina, which he has not yet seen and does not know:
Until the day has risen
With his passions bled,
From dampness and sleepers
I am restoring Russia.
From dampness - and piles,
From dampness - and dullness.
Until the day has risen
And the switchman did not intervene.
Gradually, Tsvetaeva moves away from the circles of emigrants, a difficult decision is ripening:
Neither to the city nor to the village
Go, my son, to your country,
To the edge - to all edges on the contrary!
Where back go forward
Go, especially you ...
The personal poetess was intertwined with the tragedy of the century. She saw the bestial grin of fascism and managed to curse him. The last thing Tsvetaeva wrote in exile was a cycle of angry anti-fascist poems about trampled Czechoslovakia, which she dearly and devotedly loved. This is truly a “cry of anger and love,” Tsvetaeva was already losing hope - her saving faith in life. These verses of her are like the cry of a living but tormented soul:
I refuse to be.
In the bedlam of nonhumans
I refuse to live.
With the wolves of the squares
I refuse to howl.
On this note of last despair, Tsvetaeva broke off. The rest is just human existence. And that to spare. In 1939, Tsvetaeva regained her Soviet citizenship and returned to her homeland. She dreamed of returning to Russia "a welcome and awaited guest." But it didn’t work out that way: the husband and daughter were subjected to unreasonable repressions. Ran out. The vicissitudes of the evacuation threw Tsvetaeva first to Chistopol, and then to Yelabuga. Exhausted, having lost faith, on August 31, 1941, Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva committed suicide. Her grave was lost.
Marina Tsvetaeva the poet cannot be confused with anyone else. Her poems can be unmistakably recognized - by a special chant, rhythms, intonation. Marina Tsvetaeva - great poet, and its contribution to the culture of Russian verse of the 20th century is significant.
Need a cheat sheet? . Literary writings!Marina Tsvetaeva. Poet woman. Mother woman. Female
[Essay]
Like two fires, I see your eyes
Burning in my grave - in hell -
The one who sees that the hand does not move,
Died a hundred years ago.
Yes, unfortunately (or fortunately) my acquaintance with Marina Tsvetaeva as a poet did not take place 100 years after her tragic death, but only after 69 years. A volume of her poems was bought quite by accident on September 26, 2010, and to this day my "disease", my love for the life and work of Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva does not become obsolete.
She lived a short, difficult, but at the same time very bright and eventful life. I think that, being there, where the majority arrive, having found peace, she, reviewing the film of her earthly life, will remain, on the whole, satisfied, will not express a desire to somehow change the events of her past, earthly life. Everything went as it should. Nothing can be fixed and nothing needs to be fixed.
woman poet
One day, Marina Tsvetaeva accidentally let slip on a purely literary occasion: “This is the business of poetry specialists. My specialty is Life. These words can be made an epigraph to her work.
The first poem was written by Tsvetaeva at the age of 5. “You fly my zealous horse Over the seas and through the meadows And, shaking your mane, Take me there ...” Later, she wrote in her diary (it should be noted that throughout her life she did not stop keeping diary entries): - “ They laughed: mother (triumphantly: a poet will not come out of me), father (good-naturedly), brother's tutor (hoo-hoo!), brother, and even a younger sister. And I, red as a peony, deafened by blood in my temples, through boiling tears - at first I am silent, and then I yell: “There, there - far away! ..”
Valery Bryusov was one of the first to draw attention to Tsvetaeva's poetry, considering her "undoubtedly talented" and at the same time noting the "terrible intimacy" of her poems. But the poetess truly found her true poetic voice in 1917–1916, when she created poems that made up the cycles “Poems about Moscow”, “Insomnia”, “Stenka Razin” and others. Many vivid poems were dedicated to contemporary poets - Akhmatova, Blok. The poems of 1915–1917 (the best written by Tsvetaeva before the revolution) were published in magazines and almanacs. Tsvetaeva worked a lot in the genre of the poem. She later wrote: "I am unshakably confident in my poems."
Marina Tsvetaeva - the poet cannot be confused with anyone else. Her poems can be unmistakably recognized - by a special chant, rhythms, intonation. She wanted to be diverse, looking for different ways in poetry.
mother woman
Tsvetaeva gets married early, if, of course, you look at that time through the prism of modernity - 1912, the same year her first daughter, Ariadna, was born. Awareness comes - "mother". Tsvetaeva (mother) - 20 years old. Not so little and not so much. Controversial question. Later, she will write, referring to Alya, - "you were small, I was young."
"My mother is very strange" - such brief description gave Marina Tsvetaeva her daughter - Ariadna. Mothers always admire their child, and children in general, and Tsvetaeva did not like small children, which she was not embarrassed to say (we can say that she was practically not shy about anything, she was open to everyone, but, at the same time, closed to everyone). Even with her daughter, she built such relationships as addressing “You” and exclusively by name - Marina. It says one thing - distance. The distance must be present with any person, especially with relatives by blood. This was one of the points of her philosophy.
In 1917, a second child was born - Irina, who died in an orphanage at the age of three.
Her whole philosophy was akin to a diamond in strength only until the appearance of George - Moore - so she affectionately called her son, born in 1925. Georgy Sergeevich Efron - this boy was long-awaited, desired, the most invented of all the dreams of Marina Tsvetaeva and their most real embodiment. He was a "miracle". She wanted a son with a kind of vehemence, however, like everything she wanted in life. With some kind of truly masculine, not feminine passion, she wanted to continue her family, Tsvetaev's family, herself in her son, her son - a cast from herself!
Marina's hands in thin silver bracelets - the memory of her mother - constantly crumbled, interfered, washed, cleaned, scraped, washed clothes for Ali and Moore, heated a heavy trough with water on the stove, and then in the evenings they were in this trough, together with the fragile, blue-eyed Alei bathed a cheerful, thick-cheeked baby, playfully splashing them from head to toe with warm soapy water ... Sergey Efron saw (wanted to see) his wife, mother - Marina Tsvetaeva.
Female
Love is the meaning of life, it seems to me, for Marina Tsvetaeva. She wrote: "If I don't love, I don't live." This is what she is all about. Concepts such as "love" and "woman" are inseparable, and Tsvetaeva was a true woman. She loved - she gave herself all, but somewhat to the object of love, as much as to love itself. But she also wanted from the object of her love the same all-encompassing, all-consuming feeling. Love throughout her life was one for her, she did not change, only cities, people, books, voices changed. Love is the embodiment of creativity, the beginning of being, which has always been so important to her. As she could not live - and not write, so she could not live - and not love. Tsvetaeva belongs to those few people who managed to perpetuate both themselves and their love.
The poet dies, but his poetry remains. Her prophecy came true: "My poems will have their turn." Her name has firmly entered the history of our poetry, spiritual culture, and I think - forever.
Your soul is so joyfully attracted to you ...
Oh what grace
From the pages of the Evening Album!
Who gave you such clarity of colors?
Who gave you such accuracy of words?
The courage to say everything from children's caresses
Until spring, new moon dreams?
Your book is a message from there,
Good morning news...
I have not accepted miracles for a long time ...
But how sweet to hear: There is a miracle!
M. Voloshin
- Marina Tsvetaeva is a great romantic of the Silver Age.
- Features of the early work of Tsvetaeva.
- The originality of themes and means of their implementation in the collection Evening Album.
- Features of the lyrics in the collection Magic Lantern. Responses to criticism.
- Similarities and differences between the two collections of the Poet.
- The place of early collections in the poetic heritage.
III. Significance of early lyrics in the formation of the Poet
M. Tsvetaeva.
Marina Tsvetaevathe great romantic of Silver
century.
The work of Marina Tsvetaeva is an outstanding and original phenomenon of both the culture of the Silver Age and the entire history of Russian literature. She brought to Russian poetry unprecedented depth and expressiveness of lyricism. Thanks to her, Russian poetry received a new direction in the self-disclosure of the female soul with its tragic contradictions.
Today Marina Tsvetaeva is known and loved by millions of people: not only here, but all over the world. Her poetry has entered the cultural life, has become an integral part of our spiritual life. How many Tsvetaeva's lines instantly became winged! On the horizon of Russian poetry, the romantic shadow of the Poet unexpectedly loomed. It was a swift female figure with the wings of poetry over her shoulders and a proud profile. If Akhmatova was compared with Sappho, then Tsvetaeva was Nika of Samothrace:
These shoulders will not have a burden,
Except the divine burdenPeace!
I put a gentle hand on the sword:
On Lyra's swan neck.
Life sends some poets such a fate that, from the very first steps of conscious being, puts them in the most favorable conditions for development.
natural gift. Such a bright and tragic was the fate of Marina Tsvetaeva, a major and significant poet of the first half of the twentieth century. Everything in her personality and in her poetry (for her this is an indissoluble unity) sharply went beyond the traditional ideas, the prevailing literary tastes. This was both the strength and originality of her poetic word.
Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva was born in Moscow on September 26, 1892. By origin, she belonged to the circle of the scientific and artistic intelligentsia. Her mother had a huge influence on shaping the views of the future Poet. After such a mother, there was only one thing left for me: to become a poet, - Tsvetaeva will say later.
From early childhood, Marina lived in the world of heroes of the books she read: historical and fictional, literary and real, suffering equally for everyone. In life, young Tsvetaeva was wild and impudent, shy and conflicted. Ilya Ehrenburg, who knew her well in her youth, said: Marina Tsvetaeva combined old-fashioned courtesy and rebelliousness, reverence for harmony and love for mental tongue-tiedness, and utmost simplicity. Her life is a tangle of insights and mistakes.
Amazing personal fullness, depth of feelings and power of imagination allowed Tsvetaeva throughout her life, and she is characterized by a romantic sense of the unity of life and creativity, to draw poetic inspiration from her own soul, boundless, unpredictable and at the same time constant, like the sea. In other words, from birth to death, from the first lines of poetry to the last breath, she remained, if you follow her own definition, pure lyric.
The lyrical heroine of Tsvetaeva fully reflects the feelings and experiences of Marina herself, since she fundamentally put an equal sign between herself and her lyrical heroine. Therefore, Tsvetaeva's poems are very personal, she trusted them with her feelings, her life. Tsvetaeva always said that she was not a poetess, but the poet Marina Tsvetaeva, she did not consider herself to be part of more than one literary movement, since she always believed that the poet is individual in her work. With passionate conviction, she affirmed the life principle proclaimed by her in her early youth: to be only herself, not to depend on anything: neither from time, nor from the environment.
In her poems, in life, in everyday life, in love, she was a romantic. Everything that fell into her field of vision immediately miraculously and festively transformed, began to sparkle and tremble with some kind of tenfold thirst for life. One day, Marina accidentally let slip on a purely literary occasion: This is the business of poetry specialists. My specialty is life. These words can be made an epigraph to her work.
Marina was a very resilient person. She greedily loved life and, as a romantic poet should, made enormous, often exorbitant demands on it.
The originality of themes and means of their implementation in the collection Evening Album.
Tsvetaeva began writing poetry at the age of six (not only in Russian, but also in French and German). In 1910, without taking off her gymnasium uniform, secretly from her family, she collected a stack of confessional verses over the past two years and took it to the printing house of A. I. Mamontov. Having paid for printing 500 copies, a month later she was already holding in her hands a rather unprepossessing book in a blue-green cardboard cover called The Evening Album.
In fact, it was the diary of a very gifted and observant child. But from many of her peers, who also wrote poetry, young Tsvetaeva differed in her album in at least two ways: firstly, she did not invent anything, that is, she almost did not fall into writing, and, secondly, she did not imitate anyone.
Maximilian Voloshin was the first to immediately read the Evening Album and immediately responded to it. In his opinion, before Tsvetaeva, no one in poetry could write about childhood from childhood. Childhood was usually told by adults from top to bottom. This is a very young and inexperienced book, Voloshin wrote.
Many verses, if accidentally revealed in the middle of a book, can bring a smile. It must be read in a row, like a diary, and then each line will be clear and appropriate. If we add that its author possesses not only verse, but also a clear appearance of inner observation, an impressionistic ability to fix the current moment, then this will indicate what documentary importance this book represents, brought from those years when usually the word is not yet obedient enough to be true. convey observation and feeling ....
For the high school student Marina Tsvetaeva, who secretly released her first collection, such a review was a great joy and support. In Voloshin, she found a friend for life.
N. Gumilyov also spoke approvingly of the Evening Album. Marina Tsvetaeva is internally talented, internally original ... this book, - he concluded his review, - is not only a sweet book of girlish confessions, but also a book of beautiful poems.
The strict Bryusov, especially praised Marina for fearlessly introducing everyday life, the immediate features of life into poetry, warning her of the danger of falling into domesticity and exchanging her themes for cute trifles, announced his hopes to see in future in Tsvetaeva’s poems sharper feelings and thoughts more necessary, which hurt Marina's pride. To his frightening review
Tsvetaeva replied with a poem:
Smile at my window
Or count me among the jesters, -
You won't change anyway!
Sharp feelings and necessary thoughts
I was not given by God.
It is necessary to sing that everything is dark,
That dreams hung over the world ...
-That's how it's done now. -
These feelings and these thoughts
I was not given by God!
The poems of the young Tsvetaeva were still very immature, but they won over with their talent, well-known originality and immediacy. All reviewers agreed on this. Although the estimates of M. Voloshin, V. Bryusov, N. Gumilyov seemed too high, Tsvetaeva soon justified them.
In this album by Marina Tsvetaeva, the lyrical heroine of a young girl who dreams of love appears. The evening album is a hidden dedication. Before each section there is an epigraph, or even two: from Rostand and the Bible.
These are the pillars of the first building of poetry erected by Marina Tsvetaeva. What is it so far
unreliable, this building; some parts of it, created by a half-childish hand, are like unsteadiness. There are many infantile lines, however, quite original, unlike anyone else:
- They saw the cat, chickens
They stood with the turkeys in a circle ...
Sleepy daughter's mother
She took the doll out of her hands.
But some poems already foreshadowed the future poet. First of all, the unrestrained and passionate Prayer, written by Marina on the day of her seventeenth birthday, September 26, 1909:
Christ and God! I want a miracle
Now, now, at the beginning of the day!
Oh let me die while
All life is like a book to me.
You are wise, you will not say strictly:
Be patient, it's not over yet.
You gave me too much!
