"Anna Snegina" is an autobiographical poem by Sergei Yesenin, completed by him before his death - by the end of January 1925. It is not only the fruit of the author's rethinking of the October Revolution and its consequences for the people, but also a demonstration of the poet's attitude to revolutionary events. He not only evaluates, but also experiences them from the position of an artist and a small person who has become a hostage of circumstances.
Russia in the first half of the twentieth century remained a country with a low level of literacy, which soon underwent significant changes. As a result of a series of revolutionary uprisings, the first political parties arose, thus, the people became a full participant in public life. In addition, global upheavals influenced the development of the fatherland: in 1914-1918. The Russian Empire was involved in the First World War, and from 1918-1921, it was torn apart by civil war. Therefore, the era during which the poem was written is already called the era of the "Soviet Republic". Yesenin showed this turning point in history on the example of the fate of a little man - himself in a lyrical image. The drama of the era is reflected even in the size of the verse: the three-foot amphibrach, which Nekrasov loved so much and used as a universal form for his accusatory civil lyrics. This meter corresponds more to the epic than to the light poems of Sergei Alexandrovich.
The action takes place on the Ryazan land during the spring from 1917 to 1923. The author shows the real space, describes the real Russian area: "The village, therefore, our Radovo ...". The use of toponyms in the book is not accidental. They are important for creating a metaphorical space. Radovo is a literary prototype of Konstantinovo, the place where Sergei Alexandrovich was born and raised. A specific artistic space not only "binds" the depicted world to certain topographic realities, but also actively influences the essence of the depicted. And the village of Kriusha also (Yesenin calls Kriushi in the poem) really exists in the Klepikovskiy district of the Ryazan region, which is located next to the Rybnovsky district, where the village of Konstantinovo is located.
"Anna Snegina" was written by S. Yesenin during his 2nd trip to the Caucasus in 1924-1925. This was the most intense creative period of the poet, when he wrote easily as never before. And he wrote this voluminous work in one gulp, the work brought him genuine joy. The result is an autobiographical lyrical epic poem. It contains the originality of the book, as it contains two types of literature at once: epic and lyric. Historical events are the epic beginning; the hero's love is lyrical.
What is the poem about?
Yesenin's work consists of 5 chapters, each of which reveals a certain stage in the life of the country. Composition in the poem "Anna Snegina" - cyclical: it begins and ends with the arrival of Sergei in his native village.
Yesenin, first of all, set priorities for himself: with what is he on the way? Analyzing the situation that has developed under the influence of social cataclysms, he chooses for himself the good old past, where there was no such frantic enmity between relatives and close people. Thus, the main idea of the work "Anna Snegina" is that the poet does not find a place for a person in the new aggressive and cruel reality. The struggle has poisoned minds and souls, brother goes against brother, and life is measured by the force of pressure or blow. Whatever ideals were behind this transformation, they are not worth it - this is the verdict of the author of post-revolutionary Russia. In the poem, the discord between the official party ideology and the philosophy of the creator was clearly indicated, and this discrepancy was never forgiven for Sergei Alexandrovich.
However, the author did not find himself in the emigrant share either. Showing disregard for Anna's letter, he marks the abyss between them, because he cannot accept her moral choice. Yesenin loves his homeland and cannot leave it, especially in this state. Snegina left forever, as the past goes away, and for Russia the disappearance of the nobility is a historical fact. Let the poet seem to new people a relic of the past with his snotty humanism, but he will remain in his native land alone with his nostalgia for yesterday, to which he is so devoted. This self-sacrifice expresses the idea of the poem "Anna Snegina", and in the image of a girl in a white cloak, peaceful patriarchal Russia, with which he is still in love, appears before the mind's eye of the narrator.
Criticism
For the first time, fragments from the work "Anna Snegina" were published in 1925 in the magazine "City and Village", but the full-scale publication was only at the end of spring of this year in the newspaper "Bakinskiy Rabochiy". Yesenin himself put the book very highly and spoke of it like this: "In my opinion, this is the best thing that I wrote." This is confirmed in his memoirs by the poet V. F. Nasedkin: “To his literary friends, he most willingly read this poem then. It was evident that he liked it more than other poems.
Critics were afraid to cover such an eloquent reproach to the new government. Many avoided speaking about the new book in print, or responded with indifference. But the average reader, judging by the circulation of the newspaper, the poem aroused genuine interest.
According to the newspaper "Izvestia" dated March 14, 1925, number 60, we can establish that the first public reading of the poem "Anna Snegina" was held at the Herzen House at a meeting of a group of writers called "Pass". The reaction of the listeners was negative or indifferent; during the emotional declaration of the poet, they were silent and showed no interest in any way. Some even tried to call the author to discuss the work, but he sharply rejected such requests and left the hall in frustrated feelings. He asked only Alexander Konstantinovich Voronsky (literary critic, editor of the Krasnaya Nov magazine) for an opinion on the work. “Yes, I like her,” he replied, maybe that's why the book is dedicated to him. Voronsky was a prominent member of the party, but fought for the freedom of art from state ideology. For this he was shot under Stalin.
Of course, Nekrasov's straightforwardness, simplicity of style and ornate content, so uncharacteristic of Yesenin, caused Soviet critics to assume that the poet had "written his name". They preferred to evaluate only the form and style of the scandalous work "Anna Snegina", without going into details in the form of details and images. A modern publicist, Alexander Tenenbaum, ironically remarks that "Sergey was condemned by critics, whose names have already been completely erased today."
There is a certain theory that the Chikists understood the anti-government subtext of the poem and dealt with Yesenin, staging the suicide of a creative person driven to despair. A phrase that is interpreted by some people as a praise to Lenin: “Tell me, Who is Lenin? I quietly answered: He is you, ”in fact, it means that the leader of the peoples is the leader of bandits and drunkards, like Pron Ogloblin, and a coward-turner, like his brother. After all, the poet does not praise the revolutionaries at all, but exposes them in a caricatured form.
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PETITION
ANNA SNEGINA
A. Voronsky
“The village, therefore, is ours - Radovo,
Yards, read, two hundred.
To the one who looked at him
Our places are nice.
We are rich in forest and water,
There are pastures, there are fields.
And all over the land
Poplars planted.
We don’t get into important things very much,
But still, happiness is given to us.
Our yards are covered with iron,
Everyone has a garden and a threshing floor.
Everyone has painted shutters,
On holidays meat and kvass.
No wonder once a police officer
He loved to stay with us.
We paid dues on time,
But - formidable judge - foreman
Always added to quitrent
As far as flour and millet.
And to avoid adversity
The surplus was without burdens.
Once - the authorities, then they are the authorities,
And we are just ordinary people.
But people are all sinful souls.
Many have eyes like fangs.
From the neighboring village of Kriushi
The men were looking at us.
Their life was bad
Almost the whole village jump
Plowed with one plow
On a pair of hackneyed nags.
What kind of abundance to expect here,
The soul would be alive.
Stealthily they chopped
Firewood from our forest.
One day we got them...
They are in axes, we are the same.
From the ringing and rattle of steel
A shiver ran through my body.
The scandal smells of murder.
Both ours and theirs
Suddenly one of them gasps! -
And immediately killed the foreman.
At our wild gathering
We have agreed on a scope.
They judged. Hammered into the stocks
And ten were sent to Siberia.
Since then, we have been in trouble.
I rolled down with happiness driving.
Almost three years in a row
We have a case, then a fire.
Such sad news
The driver sang to me all the way.
I'm in the Radov suburbs
Then I went to rest.
The war has eaten away my soul.
For someone else's interest
I shot a body close to me
And he climbed on his brother with his chest.
I realized that I am a toy
In the rear, merchants, yes, you know
And, firmly saying goodbye to the guns,
I decided to fight only in verse.
I dropped my rifle
I bought myself a "linden" *, and now
With such preparation
I met the seventeenth year.
Freedom surged wildly.
And in a pink-stinking fire
Then he caliphed over the country
Kerensky on a white horse.
War to the end, to victory.
And the same homespun army
Scoundrels and parasites
They were driven to the front to die.
But still I did not take the sword ...
Under the roar and roar of mortars
I showed another courage -
Was the first deserter in the country.
The road is pretty good.
Nice cold ring.
Moon with golden powder
Showered the distance of the villages.
“Well, here it is, our Radovo, -
The driver said,
Here!
No wonder I invested horses
For her temper and arrogance.
Allow me, citizen, for a cup of tea.
Do you need a miller?
... So - get out! ..
I demand from you without excess
For such a long run.
......................
I give you forty.
"Few!"
I'll give you twenty more.
"No!"
Such a disgusting little
And the little one is thirty years old.
“Yes, what are you?
Do you have a soul?
Why are you rowing me?"
And the carcass answers me:
“Today is bad rye.
Let's still unvoiced
A dozen or six things -
I'll drink in a moonshine tavern
For your health and honor ... "
And here I am at the mill...
Elnik
Showered with firefly candles.
With joy the old miller
Can't say two words
"Dove! Are you?
Serguha?!
Chill, tea? Come on, chill?
Yes, you put it faster, old woman,
On the table a samovar and a pie!”
It's hard to vegetate in April
Especially so at the end.
It was a wonderful evening,
Like a friendly smile on your face.
The miller's arms are cool,
From them the bear will roar,
But still in bad times
It's nice to have friends.
"Where? How long?"
"For a year."
“Well, then, my friend, take a walk!
Sim summer of mushrooms and berries
We have more than enough to go to Moscow.
And the game is here, brother, to hell,
Itself so under gunpowder and pret.
Just think...
Fourth
We have not seen you for a year ... "
........................
........................
The conversation is over.
Chino
We drank the whole samovar.
In the old way with a sheepskin coat
I'm going to my hayloft.
I walk through the overgrown garden,
The face touches the lilac.
Aged wattle.
Once at that gate over there
I was sixteen years old
And a girl in a white cape
She told me kindly: “No!”
Far away, they were cute!
That image in me has not faded away.
We all loved during these years,
But they didn't love us enough.
“Well, get up, Sergusha!
Even the dawn did not flow,
Old woman for a sweet soul
Oladiev baked you.
I'm leaving now
To the landowner Snegina.
To her
Yesterday I shot for dinner
The most beautiful snipes."
Hello, daylighter of life!
I get up, I get dressed, I go.
Sundew gives off smoke
On white apple trees in the garden.
I think:
How beautiful
Earth
And there is a person on it.
And how many unfortunates with the war
Freaks are now crippled.
And how many are buried in the pits.
And how many more will be buried.
And I feel in the cheekbones stubborn
Violent spasms of the cheeks.
No no!
I won't go forever!
Because some kind of scum
Throws to a crippled soldier
Pyatak or dime in the mud.
"Well, good morning, old woman!
You gave up a little…”
And I hear through the cough deafly:
“Things have been won! Affairs...
We are now restless here.
Everything blossomed with sweat.
Solid man wars.
They fight village against village.
I myself with my own ears
Heard from parishioners:
Then the Radovites are beaten by the Criushans,
Then the Radovites beat the Kriushans.
And all this means anarchy.
They chased the king...
So...
All misfortunes rained down
On our foolish people.
For some reason they opened the prisons,
Villains let dashing.
Now on the high road
Do not know peace from them.
Here, too, let's say ... with Kriushi ...
They need to go to prison after prison,
Well, they are thieves' souls,
We returned home again.
They have Pron Ogloblin there,
Bulldyzhnik, fighter, rude.
He is always angry at everyone
Drunk for weeks in the morning.
And brazenly in the third year,
When war was declared
With everything with honest people
He killed the foreman with an axe.
There are now thousands
Create in freedom vile.
Russia is gone, gone...
The breadwinner Rus has perished!”
I remembered the driver's story
And taking your hat and cane,
I went to bow to the men,
Like an old friend and guest.
I walk the blue path
And I see - towards me
My miller rushes on a droshky
On still loose virgin soil.
"Serguha! For a sweet soul!
Wait, I'll tell you!
Now! Let me fix it
Then I will deafen you.
Why don't you say a word to me in the morning?
I am Snegin and break:
Came to me, they say, cheerful
One young weirdo.
(They are very desirable to me,
I've known them for ten years.)
And their daughter is married Anna
Asked:
- Isn't that the poet?
- Well, yes, - I say, - he is the most.
- Blond?
- Well, of course, blond.
- Curly hair?
- Such a funny gentleman.
- When he arrived?
- Recently.
- Oh, mommy, it's him!
You know,
He was funny
Once in love with me.
There was such a modest boy,
And now...
Come on you...
Here...
Writer...
Well-known bump...
He won't come to us without a request."
And the miller, as if from victory,
Slyly narrowed his eyes:
"OK! Farewell to dinner!
I'll keep the other in reserve."
I was walking along the road to Criusha
And with a cane knocked down greens.
Nothing entered my soul
Nothing bothered me.
Sweet smells flowed
And there was a drunken fog in my thoughts ...
Now with a beautiful soldier
Start a good romance.
But here is Criusha!
Three years
I did not mature familiar roofs.
Lilac weather
Silence rippled through the lilacs.
Can't hear the dog barking
There's nothing here, apparently, to guard -
Every hut is rotten,
And in the hut there are grips and a stove.
I look, on the porch at Pron
A loud-mouthed man's hubbub.
Talking about new laws
On the prices of livestock and rye.
"Hey, friends!"
"Hey hunter!
Hello, great!
Sit down.
Listen, you careless
About our peasant life.
What's new in St. Petersburg heard?
With ministers, tea, you know?
Not without reason, eats yours in the drawbar,
You were brought up with a fist.
However, we won't blame you.
You are your own, peasant, ours,
Boasting fame is not very
And you can't sell your heart.
You were vigilant and zealous to us,
I took myself out on the underside ...
Tell:
Will the peasants leave
Without redemption of arable land gentlemen?
They scream at us
Don't touch the earth
It has not yet come, they say, the moment.
Why then at the front
Are we destroying ourselves and others?
And each with a sullen smile
Looked into my face and into my eyes
And I, burdened with thought,
Couldn't say anything.
Trembling, swaying steps
But remember
Under the ringing of the head:
"Tell,
Who is Lenin?
I answered quietly:
"He is you."
Rumors were circulating,
They judged, decided, whispering.
And I'm from my old woman
I got enough of them.
One day, returning from traction,
I lay down to take a nap on the sofa.
The peddler of swamp moisture,
The fog hit me.
Shaking me like a fever
Threw it in the cold, then in the heat.
And in this damn fit
I lay for four days.
My miller is crazy, you know, crazy.
went,
Brought someone...
I only saw a white dress
Yes, someone's upturned nose.
Then, when it got easier,
When the shaking stopped
On the fifth day in the evening
My cold has subsided.
I wake up.
And only the floor
Touched with a trembling leg,
I heard a cheerful voice:
"A!
Hello my dear!
I haven't seen you in a while...
Now from childish years
I became an important lady
And you are a famous poet.
.......................
Well, let's sit down.
Has the fever gone?
What are you now not like that!
I even took a deep breath
By touching your hand.
Yes!
Do not return what was.
All the years run into the pond.
I once loved very much
Sit at the gate together.
Together we dreamed of glory...
And you hit the target
Made me about it
Forget the young officer ... "
I listened to her and involuntarily
Looked at the slender face.
I wanted to say:
"Enough!
Find another language!
But for some reason, I don't know
Embarrassed, he said out of place:
"Yes Yes...
I now remember...
Sit down...
I am very happy...
I will read you a little
Poetry
About tavern Rus' ...
Finished clearly and strictly.
Feeling - gypsy sadness.
"Sergey!
You are so bad.
I am sorry,
It's a shame to me
What are your drunk brawls
Known throughout the country.
Tell:
What happened to you?"
"Don't know".
"Who knows?"
“Probably in the autumn dampness
My mother gave birth to me."
"Joker you..."
"You too, Anna."
"Do you love anyone?"
"No".
"Then it's even weirder
To destroy yourself from these years:
Before you is such a road ... "
Thickened, foggy distance.
I don't know why I touched
Her gloves and shawl.
...................
Luna laughed like a clown.
And in the heart, though there is no former,
I was strangely full
The rush of sixteen years.
We parted with her at dawn
With a mystery of movements and eyes...
There's something beautiful about summer
And with the summer, the beautiful in us.
My grinder...
Oh, this miller!
He drives me crazy.
Made a bagpipe, loafer,
And runs like a postman.
Today again with a note
As if someone is in love
“Come.
You are the closest.
With love
Ogloblin Pron.
I'm going.
I come to Criusha.
Ogloblin stands at the gate
And I'll be drunk in the liver and in the soul
The impoverished people are dying.
"Hey you!
Cockroach brat!
All to Snegina...
R-time - and kvass.
Give, they say, your land
Without any ransom from us!
And then, seeing me,
Reducing grumpy agility,
He said in genuine resentment:
"The peasants still need to be boiled."
"Why did you call me, Prosha?"
“Of course, neither reap nor mow.
Now I'll get a horse
And to Snegina ... together ...
Ask..."
And so they harnessed the nag to us.
In shafts hairy shket -
These are given away with an addition,
So as not to have.
We were walking at a slow pace
And the path made us laugh and anger:
In the climbs along all the ravines
We carried the cart ourselves.
We've arrived.
House with mezzanine
Sit a little on the facade.
Exciting scent of jasmine
Its wattle palisade.
We get off.
Let's go to the terrace
And, shaking off the dust from the shoulders,
About someone's last hour
From the upper room we hear a speech:
“Cry, don’t cry - don’t help ...
Now he's a cold corpse...
... There is someone knocking at the threshold.
Powder...
I'll go open... "
ugly sad lady
She threw back a good bolt.
And my pron blurted out to her right
About the earth
Without any words.
"Give it back! .. -
He repeated dully. -
Don't kiss your feet!"
As if without thought and hearing
She accepted the words.
Then to the conversation
asked me
Through the horror:
“And you, probably, to your daughter?
Sit down...
I'll tell you now..."
Now I distinctly remember
Those days the fatal ring.
But it wasn't easy for me
See her face.
I understand -
grief happened,
And silently wanted to help.
“They killed... They killed Borya...
Leave.
Walk away.
You are a pathetic and low coward!
He died...
And you are here…”
No, it was too much.
Not everyone is born to endure.
Like ulcers, ashamed of a slap in the face,
I answered Pron like this:
“Today they are not in the spirit ...
Let's go, Pron, to the tavern ... "
I spent the whole summer hunting.
I forgot her name and face.
my offense
In the swamp
The weeping shorebird mourned.
Poor is our homeland meek
In woody pollen and sap,
And the summer is so short
Like a warm May night.
The dawn is colder and more purple.
The fog falls down.
Already in the flown oak forest
The sound of tits is heard.
My miller smiles with might and main,
Some kind of fun in it.
“Now we, Sergukha, are chasing
Let's shoot for a sweet soul!
I am glad and hunting
If there is nothing
Dispel sadness and sleep.
Today to me in the evening,
Like a month, Pron rolled in.
“Friend!
With great happiness
The expected time has come!
Greetings with new power
Now we are all r-times - and kvass!
Without any redemption since the summer
We take arable land and forests.
Russia now has Soviets
And Lenin is the senior commissar.
Buddy!
Here is the number!
This is the beginning, this is the beginning.
I almost died with joy
And my brother wet his pants.
Edri Well spit in your grandmother.
Look, dove, have fun.
I'm the first now the commune
I will arrange it in my village!”
Pron had a brother Labutya,
Man - what's your fifth ace:
At every dangerous moment
Hvalbishka and devilish coward.
Of course, you have seen these.
Their rock was rewarded with chatter.
He wore two white medals
From the Japanese war on the chest.
And in a hoarse and drunken voice
Pulled, going into the tavern:
"To the illustrious under Liaoyang
Loan for a quarter ... "
Then, pumped to the point of dope,
Excited and hot
About surrendered Port Arthur
Neighbor got down on the shoulder.
"Dove! -
He shouted. -
Peter!
It hurts... Don't think you're drunk.
my courage in the world
Only Liaoyang knows.”
These are always on point.
They live without corns on their hands.
And here he is, of course, in the Council,
I hid the medals in a chest.
But with the same important posture,
Like some grey-haired veteran
Wheezed under a fusel jar
About Nerchinsk and Turukhan:
“Yes, brother!
We saw grief
But we were not intimidated by fear ... "
......................
Medals, medals, medals
Ringing in his words.
He pulled Pron's nerves,
And Pron was not cussing.
But still he went first
Describe Snegin's house.
There is always speed in capture:
- You give! We'll figure it out later!
The whole farm was taken to the parish
With mistresses and cattle.
And the miller...
.........................
My old miller
The hostess brought
Made me slacker
In someone else's poking around fate.
And something came up again
When I'm up all night long
Looked at the twisted care
Beautiful and sensual mouth.
I remember -
She said:
"I'm sorry... I was wrong...
I loved my husband madly.
When I remember... my head hurts...
But you
Accidentally offended...
Cruelty was my judgment...
There was a sad secret
What is called criminal passion.
Certainly,
Until this fall
I would have known a happy life ...
Then you would leave me
Like drinking a bottle...
So there was no need...
No meetings ... just just continue ...
Especially with old views
I could hurt my mother."
But I switched to something else
Staring into her eyes.
And her body is tight
Swayed back a little.
"Tell,
You hurt, Anna,
For your farm ruin?
But somehow sad and strange
She lowered her gaze.
.....................
"Look...
It's already dawning.
The dawn is like a fire in the snow...
Reminds me of something...
But what?..
I can't understand...
Oh yes...
It was in my childhood...
Another... Not an autumn dawn...
We sat together...
We are sixteen years old ... "
Then, looking at me tenderly
And bending the swan with your hand,
She said casually:
"OK...
It's time to rest..."
........................
In the evening they left.
Where?
I don't know where.
In the plain, paved with milestones,
You can easily find your way.
I don't remember what happened then.
I don't know what Pron did.
I quickly rushed off to St. Petersburg
Dispel sadness and sleep.
Harsh, terrible years!
Well, can you describe everything?
Heard the palace vaults
Soldier's strong "mother".
Eh, daring!
Flowering in the distance!
No wonder the filthy rabble
Played pianos around the yards
Cows Tambov foxtrot.
For bread, for oats, for potatoes
The man got the gramophone, -
Drooling on a goat's leg
He listens to himself tango.
Squeezing hands from profit,
Swearing at every tax,
He thinks crazy about a thing
Rolling between your legs.
Years went by
Sweeping, fiery.
The grain grower's lot is gone.
A lot of trampled in bottles
"Kerenok" and "go" with us.
Fefela! Breadwinner! Iris!
Owner of land and livestock
For a couple of dirty "katek"
He will let himself be whipped.
OK.
Enough groans
Unnecessary ridicule and words.
Today about the fate of Pron
The miller sent me a letter:
"Serguha! For a sweet soul!
Hello brother! Hello!
You are something again in Criusha
You don't seem to have six whole years.
Comfort!
Gather for mercy!
Get it on in the spring!
This happened to us here.
What can you not say in a letter?
Now there is peace among the people,
And the storm came to a halt.
Find out that in the twentieth year
Ogloblin Pron was shot.
Rasey!..
She's a dumbass.
Believe it or not, don't believe your ears -
Once Denikin's detachment
Ran into the Kriushans.
Here comes the fun...
With such fun - around!
With a screech and a laugh
The Cossack whip roared.
Then they chiked Pronya ...
Labutya climbed into the straw
And got out
Only horses
The Cossacks hid in the forest.
Now he's in a drunken face
Still not tired of voting:
"I would need a red order
For my courage to wear ... "
The clouds rolled in...
And although we do not live in paradise,
You still come, my dear,
Consolation of my fate ... "
And here I am again on the road.
June night gloom.
Loquacious drogs run
Neither shaky nor roll, as of old.
The road is pretty good.
Plain quiet ring.
Moon with golden powder
Showered the distance of the villages.
Flashing chapels, wells,
Outskirts and wickerwork.
And my heart beats like it used to,
How it used to be in days gone by.
I'm back at the mill...
Elnik
Strewn with firefly candles.
Old old miller
Can't connect two words:
"Dove! Here is joy! Serguha?!
Chill, tea? Come on, chill?
Yes, you put it faster, old woman,
A samovar and a pie are on the table.
Sergun! Gold! Listen!
......................
And you're an old man...
Now I'm for a sweet soul
I'll give you a gift."
"Present?"
"No...
Just a letter...
Don't rush, little dove!
Almost two more months
I brought it from the post office.
I open it... I read it... Of course!...
Why wait more?
And the handwriting is so careless
And the London press.
“Are you alive?.. I am very glad…
I, like you, am alive.
So often I dream of a fence
Gate and your words.
Now I'm away from you...
It's April in Russia now.
And blue veil
Covered with birch and spruce.
Now that's when the paper
I entrust the sadness of my words,
You with the miller, maybe on the traction
Listen to the grouse.
I often go to the pier
And, whether for joy, or in fear,
I look among the courts more and more closely
On the red Soviet flag.
Now there have reached strength.
My path is clear...
But you are still nice to me
Like a motherland and like spring "...
........................
A letter is like a letter.
For no reason.
I wouldn't write stuff like this...
Still with a sheepskin coat
I'm going to my hayloft.
I walk through the overgrown garden,
The face touches the lilac.
So sweet to my flashing eyes
Hunched wattle.
Once at that gate over there
I was sixteen years old.
And a girl in a white cape
She told me kindly: “No!”
They were far cute! ..
That image in me has not faded away.
We all loved during these years,
But that means
They loved us too.
January 1925
Batum
* "Lipa" is a forged document.
I think:
How beautiful
Earth
And there is a person on it.
With Yesenin
The poem "Anna Snegina" is one of the best in the work of Sergei Yesenin. This is both an epic work, as it reveals the fate of the people in the revolution, and a lyrical one, reflecting the essence of human experiences, the inner world of heroes.
The poem is full of dramatic conflicts connected with the fate of the people. The climax scene of the poem is an anxious, interested conversation between the Radov peasants and the poet about the land.
They scream at us
Don't touch the earth
It has not yet come, they say, the moment.
Why then at the front
Are we destroying ourselves and others?
Yesenin depicts revolutionary events from a historical point of view. The fates of the heroes of the poem are also connected with these events: the landowner Anna Snegina, whose farm during the revolution the peasants “took into the volost with mistresses and cattle”; the poor peasant Ogloblin Pron, who is fighting for new power and dreaming of opening a “commune in his village” as soon as possible; the old miller and his wife, a kind, grumpy bustle; narrator-poet, fellow countryman Pron, who was involved in the revolution in “peasant affairs”.
Can't hear the dog barking
There is nothing to see here, to guard -
Every hut is rotten,
And in the hut there are grips and a stove.
I look at the porch
Prona Loud peasant hubbub:.
Talking about new laws
On the prices of livestock and rye.
In the poem, the Russian people are divided. The poet shows various “muzhiks”: the peasants, the workers, warmly welcome the revolution, but there are also those who, in the words of Pron, “still need to be boiled,” there are inveterate proprietors, like the “disgusting fellow” - the charioteer, there are screamers and loafers, like Labutya seeking in the revolution "easy life". Other heroes of the poem perceive the breaking of the old life in different ways.
Anna Snegina, who once dreamed of fame with the young poet, was knocked out of the usual way of landowner life by the revolution.
“I once loved
Sit at the gate together.
Together we dreamed of glory ...
And you hit the target
Made me about it
Forget the young officer…”
Hoping for something, she sets off to seek her fortune in a foreign land. The last meeting of the hero of the poem with Anna Snegina takes place “at a distance”, as if invisibly. But from this its value does not decrease at all, but becomes the title key.
In fact, let us once again think about the lines of the London letter of the heroine, due to the lightness of the syllable, it would seem, so careless. It is not only filled with bitter reflections, memories of the cloudless days of youth, but also harsh, uncompromising assessments of one's life path.
I often go to the pier
And, whether for joy, only in fear,
I look among the courts more and more closely
On the red Soviet flag.
Now there have reached strength.
My path is clear...
On the paths and crossroads in foreign cities and towns, Anna Snegina did not lose the main thing in her heart - love for the Motherland. Therefore, she comes to the port, from afar looks at the red flag with longing and excitement: this is a piece of her lost, but not forgotten homeland.
Of course, everything is not so simple! The poet is well aware of this. “The red flag, the symbol of the new Russia, pleases her, but also scares her. She hasn't forgotten what she's been through. Once upon a time, she answered the poet's question with silence, in which not only the pain of loss was guessed, but also the realization of the historical justice of the people's retribution.
"Tell,
You hurt, Anna,
For your farm ruin?”
But somehow sad and strange
She lowered her gaze...
Every year this new Russia becomes closer and closer to Anna Snegina. Dreams, thoughts about this seemingly lost forever and newly found Motherland - this is the only thing that warms her soul, keeps her on this sinful earth.
Now in a foreign land for the heroine, the image of a man whose love she rejected twice becomes closer and closer. Upon learning that the man who once loved her is still alive, is still in his homeland, Anna sends him a letter in which she opens her soul.
So often I dream of a fence
Gate and your words ...
But you are still nice to me
Like home and like spring.
Most likely, she does not wait for an answer to her letter, and she herself will not write anymore. She has already expressed everything necessary, relieved her soul, but there is no return to the old, time cannot run back.
This poem by Yesenin strikes with the depth of content with the outward simplicity of the narration. It confirms the genius and skill of the poet.
Essay on literature on the topic: Yesenin's poem "Anna Snegina"
Other writings:
- S. Yesenin's poem "Anna Snegina" begins and ends with a lyrical chord - the author's memories of early youth, of "a girl in a white cape." The plot develops in the first part of the poem: the hero returns to his native place after a three-year absence. The February Revolution is over, but Read More ......
- S. Yesenin's poem "Anna Snegina" begins and ends with a lyrical chord - the author's memories of early youth, of "a girl in a white cape." The plot develops in the first part of the poem: the hero returns to his native place after a three-year absence. The February Revolution is over, but Read More ......
- The theme of this poem is the revolution and the person in it in the 17th year, the hero of the poem, Sergei, met a deserter from the First World War, because “Scoundrels and parasites were driven to the front to die.” He returned to his native village, but life there does not bring peace: Read More ......
- The theme of the Motherland is the main theme in the work of S. A. Yesenin. Whatever he writes about, the image of his native land is present in all his poems. The poem "Anna Snegina" written in 1925 reflects Yesenin's impressions from trips to his native village of Konstantinovo Read More ......
- Sergei Yesenin's long poem "Anna Snegina" was a kind of result of the work of the poet, who himself considered it his best work. In this poem, Yesenin reflects the events in Russia in 1917 and, like a real poet-prophet, foreseeing trouble, as if warning of the danger threatening Read More ......
- The poem “Anna Snegina” is autobiographical: a few years later, the lyrical hero returns to his native village, where much has changed: people have ceased to value human life, and Pron Ogloblin, Buldyzhnik, a fighter, a rude man, has been placed at the head of the neighboring village. He is always embittered at all, From morning to Read More ......
- “Anna Snegina” is a lyric-epic poem by S. Yesenin. It was started by the poet in November 1924 and completed in January 1925. This poem can be called a memory poem. No, not childhood - youth. They are alive in memory - those "severe, formidable years." Read More ......
- This poem, written in 1925, according to the poet, "is the best that I have written." The genre of the poem is defined as lyrical-epic: the inner, lyrical plot of the work is inextricably linked with the story of what “happened, what happened in the country”. Yesenin served as a role model Read More ......
...I understood what poetry is. Do not speak,..
that I stopped finishing poetry.
Not at all. On the contrary, I'm now in shape
became even more demanding. I just came to simplicity...
From a letter to Benislavskaya
(while writing a poem)
I think it's the best thing I've written.
S. Yesenin about the poem
Lyric plan of the poem. Name.
The image of Anna Snegina. The image of the main character - Poet
The poem is autobiographical, based on memories of youthful love. But in the poem, the personal fate of the hero is comprehended in connection with the fate of the people.
In the image of the hero - the poet Sergei - we guess Sergei Yesenin himself. The prototype of Anna is L.I. Kashin (1886-1937), who, however, did not leave Russia. In 1917, she gave her house in Konstantinov to the peasants, she herself lived in the estate on the White Yar on the Oka. Yesenin was there. In 1918 she moved to Moscow and worked as a typist and stenographer. Yesenin met with her in Moscow. But the prototype and the artistic image are different things, and the artistic image is always richer; The richness of the poem, of course, is not limited to a specific biographical situation.
The poem "Anna Snegina" is lyric-epic. Its main theme is personal, but epic events are revealed through the fate of the poet and the main character. The title itself suggests that Anna is the central image of the poem. The name of the heroine sounds especially poetic and ambiguous. In this name - full sonority, the beauty of alliteration, the richness of associations. Snegina - a symbol of the purity of white snow, echoes the spring color of bird cherry, white as snow, this name is a symbol of lost youth. There are also many images familiar from Yesenin's poetry: "a girl in white", "thin birch", "snowy" bird cherry ...
The lyrical plot - the story of the heroes' failed love - is barely outlined in the poem, and it develops as a series of fragments. The failed romance of the heroes of the poem takes place against the backdrop of a bloody and uncompromising class war. The characters' relationships are romantic, unclear, and their feelings and moods are impressionistic and intuitive. The revolution led the heroes to part, the heroine ended up in exile - in England, from where she writes a letter to the hero of the poem. But time, the revolution did not take away the memory of love from the heroes. The fact that Anna Snegina ended up far from Soviet Russia is a sad pattern, a tragedy for many Russian people of that time. And Yesenin's merit is that he was the first to show this. But this is not the main point of the poem.
The poet - the hero of the poem - constantly emphasizes that his soul is already largely closed to better feelings and wonderful impulses:
Nothing broke into my soul, Nothing confused me. Sweet smells flowed, And there was a drunken fog in my thoughts ... Now I would have a good romance with a beautiful soldier.And even at the end of the poem, after reading a letter from this woman forever lost to him, he seems to remain cold and almost cynical: "A letter is like a letter. No reason. I would never write such a thing."
And only in the finale a bright chord sounds - a memory of the most beautiful and forever, forever lost. Separation from Anna in the lyrical context of the poem is the poet's separation from youth, separation from the purest and most holy that a person has at the dawn of life. But - and this is the main thing in the poem - everything humanly beautiful, bright and holy lives in the hero, remains with him forever as a memory, as a "living life":
I'm walking through an overgrown garden, my face touches the lilac. So dear to my flashing glances Hunched wattle fence. Once at that gate over there I was sixteen years old, And a girl in a white cloak Said to me affectionately: "No!" They were far, dear!.. That image did not die out in me. We all loved in these years, But, therefore, they loved us too.epic plan. The attitude of the hero to the world and fratricidal civil war; images of peasants (Pron Ogloblin, Labuti Ogloblin, miller)
The main part of the poem (four chapters out of five) reproduces the events of 1917 on the Ryazan land. The fifth chapter contains a sketch of rural post-revolutionary Rus' - the action in the poem ends in 1923. The events are given in sketches, and it is not the events themselves that are important to us, but the attitude of the author towards them, - after all, the poem is primarily lyrical. Yesenin's poem is both about time and about what remains unchanged at all times.
One of the main themes of the poem is the theme of the imperialist and fratricidal civil war. In the village during the revolution and the civil war, it is restless:
We are now restless here. Everything blossomed with sweat. Solid peasant wars - They fight village against village.These peasant wars are symbolic; they are the prototype of a great fratricidal war, a national tragedy, from which, according to the miller's wife, Raseya almost "disappeared." The condemnation of the war - imperialist and civil - is one of the main themes of the poem. The war is condemned by various characters in the poem and by the author himself, who is not afraid to call himself "the country's first deserter."
I think: How beautiful is the Earth And on it is a man. And how many unfortunate Freaks are now crippled with the war! And how many are buried in the pits! And how many more will be buried! And I feel in my stubborn cheekbones A cruel spasm of cheeks...Refusal to participate in the bloody massacre is not a pose, but a deep, hard-won conviction.
Yesenin, despite the fact that he sees the basis of people's life in the working peasantry, does not idealize the Russian peasantry. The words that representatives of different intellectual strata called the peasant sound sarcastically:
Fefela! Breadwinner! Iris! Owner of land and livestock, For a couple of scruffy "katek" He will let himself be torn out with a whip.Yesenin foresees the tragedy of the peasantry of 1929-1933, observing and experiencing the origins of this tragedy. Yesenin is worried that the Russian peasant is ceasing to be a master and worker on his land, that he is looking for an easy life, striving for profit at any cost.
For Yesenin, the main thing is the moral qualities of people, and in his poem he draws a number of colorful peasant types of the post-revolutionary era.
Revolutionary freedom poisoned the peasants with permissiveness, awakened moral vices in them. The poem, for example, does not romanticize the revolutionary nature of Pron Ogloblin: Pron for Yesenin is a new manifestation of the national character. He is a Russian traditional rebel of a new formation. People like him either go into the depths of people's life, or again break out to the surface in the years of "crazy action."
Pron is the embodiment of the Pugachev principle. Let us recall that Pugachev, who declared himself tsar, stood above the people, was a despot and a murderer (see, for example, Pushkin's "History of Pugachev" with a huge list of Pugachev's victims attached to it). Pron Ogloblin also stands above the people:
Ogloblin is standing at the gate And drunk in the liver and in the soul The impoverished people are dying. "Hey, you! Cockroach offspring! All to Snegina! .. R-time and kvass! You give, they say, your land Without any ransom from us!" And then, seeing me, Lowering his grumpy agility, He said in genuine insult: "The peasants still need to be cooked."Pron Ogloblin, in the words of an old miller's woman, is "a brawler, a rude man" who "is drunk for weeks in the morning...". For the old miller's woman, Pron is a destroyer, a killer. And the poet himself Pron evokes sympathy only where it is said about his death. In general, the author is far from Pron, there is some kind of uncertainty between them. Later, a similar type of turning point will be encountered by M. Sholokhov in Virgin Soil Upturned (Makar Nagulnov). Having seized power, such people think that they are doing everything for the good of the people, justifying any bloody crimes. The tragedy of depeasantization in the poem is only foreseen, but the very type of leader standing above the people is correctly noticed. Pron is opposed in Yesenin's poem by a different type of popular leader, about whom the people can be said: "He is you" (about Lenin). Yesenin claims that the people and Lenin are united in spirit, they are twin brothers. The peasants ask the Poet:
"Tell me, who is Lenin?" I quietly replied, "He is you.""You" - that is, the people whose aspirations were embodied in the leader. The leader and the people are united in a common faith, a fanatical faith in a quick reorganization of life, in another tower of Babel, the construction of which ended in another moral and psychological breakdown. Not opportunistic considerations forced Yesenin to turn to Lenin, but faith, perhaps, more precisely, the desire for faith. Because the soul of the poet was divided, conflicting feelings in relation to the new world fought in it.
Another character, also correctly noticed by Yesenin, the peasant type of the transitional era, Labutya Ogloblin, does not need special comments. Next to Pron, Labutya "... with an important posture, like some gray-haired veteran", turned out to be "in the Council" and lives "not a corn on his hands." He is a necessary companion for Pron Ogloblin. But if the fate of Pron, with all its negative sides, acquires a tragic sound in the finale, then Labuti's life is a miserable, disgusting farce (and a much more miserable farce than, for example, the life of Sholokhov's grandfather Shchukar, who can be pitied in some way) . It is indicative that it was Labutya who "went first to describe Snegin's house" and arrested all its inhabitants, who were subsequently saved from a speedy trial by a kind miller. Labuti's principle is to live "not a corn of the hands", he is "a boaster and a devilish coward." It is no coincidence that Pron and Labutya are brothers.
Pron had a brother Labutya, Man - what is your fifth ace: At every dangerous moment, Khvalbishka and a devilish coward. Of course, you have seen these. Their rock was rewarded with chatter ... Such people are always in mind, They live without calluses on their hands ...Another peasant type in the poem - the miller - is the embodiment of kindness, closeness to nature, humanity. All this makes the miller one of the main characters of the poem. His image is lyrical and dear to the author as one of the brightest and most popular beginnings. It is no coincidence that in the poem the miller constantly connects people. His proverb is also significant: "For a sweet soul!" He, perhaps, most of all embodies this whole, kind-hearted Russian soul, personifies the Russian national character in its ideal version.
The language of the poem
A distinctive feature of the poem is its nationality. Yesenin abandoned refined metaphor and turned to rich colloquial folk speech. In the poem, the speech of the characters is individualized: the miller, and Anna, and the old miller's woman, and Pron, and Labuti, and the hero himself. The poem is distinguished by polyphony, and this corresponds to the spirit of the reproduced era, the struggle of the polar forces.
The epic theme of the poem is sustained in the realistic Nekrasov traditions. There is a focus on national disasters, and a story about a national leader, and images of peasants with individual characters and destinies, and a story about the villages of Radovo and Kriushi, and a skaz style, and lexical and stylistic features of the speech of peasants, and a free transition from one language culture to another. It is no coincidence that in one of Yesenin's contemporary articles, the idea of a novel-poem with its polyphony and versatility of depicting life was voiced.
Anna Snegina is a character in the poem of the same name by the great Russian poet. The work is considered autobiographical and dedicated to the thoughts of Sergusha's youthful love. The main character, despite the years and circumstances lived, left in the soul of a man memories of a young girl, awkward looks and unfinished relationships.
Character Creation History
Sergei Yesenin, despite his love for refined metaphors, in this poem turned to colloquial speech. Therefore, the words of the main characters - Anna, Pron Ogloblin, Labuti and even Sergusha himself - sound so polyphonic and original. The work was written in 1924-25, during the poet's trip to the Caucasus, but the idea arose a little earlier - when visiting his native village of Konstantinovo. On the pages of the book it is referred to as Radovo.
Lydia Kashina became the prototype of Anna Snegina. A woman lived in the small homeland of Yesenin and his refuge after the horrors of the war. After the revolution, the house of the landowner became the property of the peasants, and Kashina moved to another estate.
It is unlikely that a story of love and rejection took place, but the author was a member of Lydia Ivanovna's house. Her two children were very fond of the poet. The woman did not have a good relationship with her husband. In 1918 she moved to Moscow and began working as a stenographer. An analysis of the biographies of Kashina and Snegina shows that these people have enough differences, but there are nuances that make them related.