Earth. A warm, green word, smelling of freshly cut hay, steamed milk, honey aroma of blooming cherries, tender mother’s palms. What can be more beautiful for a person and more! Its roots go to the ground, and he himself is the son of the earth, he is a part of her heart. The earth brings up a person in it, teaches us to live, love, fight, dream, plant and grow, take root and take care of the sprouts of a new life. The earth brings up in him a sense of beauty. Her invisible threads tie a man to his home, to the apple tree that bent towards the open window, to the song of the nightingale, to the darkening of the sunset, to the lilac evening.
It was Ryazan’s nature that brought up a sensitive, sympathetic, kind, beautiful poet in his simplicity, S. Yesenin. Pictures of the native land are imprinted in his unforgettable captivating poetry.
The poet not only admires the beauty of nature, but also sees in it an animated being. In his mind, the world is filled with new living, talking, moving, feeling images: straw “wails uncertainly hanging from the lips of nodding cows,” “a quiet sunset floats across the pond with a swan;” “spring is a wanderer with a crouching in birch bark bass.”
Nothing can compare with the pictures of the nature of the native side, imprinted in the soul of each person. Staying away from home, the poet wants to tell his beloved woman about the enchanting beauty of the Ryazan races, which once
I’m ready to tell you the field,
About the rippled rye with the moon.
No matter how beautiful Shiraz is,
He is no better than Ryazan’s ravings.
In the poem “Do not wander, do not crumple in the bush crimson” before us is the image of a once-beloved girl (“You’ve forgotten me forever).
With scarlet juice, berries on the skin,
Tender, beautiful, was
At sunset you are pink,
And, like snow, it is radiant and bright.
Details of her portrait are emphasized, tinted with images of nature, give her a special charm and charm.
The soul experiences of a person in poetry are inextricably linked with changes in nature.
Discouraged the golden grove
Birch, cheerful language.
Autumn is in nature, autumn is in the poet’s soul. The gold leaves fall sadly – sadness overcomes the poet, his soul is filled with memories of the past: “I am full of thoughts about youthful cheerfulness.” Childhood seems to him “a country of birch chintz”. He writes in the poem “I do not regret, I do not call, I do not cry”:
My life? Or did you dream to me?
Like I’m spring rumbling
Ran on a pink horse.
Yet “the lost freshness, the riot of the eyes and the flood of feelings” does not leave a deep wound in the soul of the poet. He understands that man is a particle of nature, he feels that way, and since all living things are subject to natural laws, he is no exception.
All of us, we are all perishable in this world,
Quietly pouring from the maples leaves copper.
Be thou ever blessed,
That came the proclamation and died.
The poems of S. Yesenin made a deep impression on me. His unusual comparisons, touching lines amaze with his completeness, captivate, make you admire. What seemed to never attract attention with its everyday life, in S. Yesenin’s poetry acquires new, fresh forms.