My favorite poems
… In the soul of every person there is a valve,
Open only in poetry…
N. Nekrasov
My favorite poet is Sergei Yesenin. About him and his poetry, recalling the poet’s reading of his poems, Gorky said very expressively: “After these poems, it was involuntarily thought that Sergei Yesenin is not so much a man as an organ created by nature exclusively for poetry, to express the inexhaustible sorrow of fields, love to everything living in the world and mercy… “
Whatever Yesenin wrote, everything is illuminated by his sincere feelings, extraordinary poetic talent, so natural and so Russian. Ryazan fields, where the peasants mowed, where they sowed their bread, is the birthplace of the poet, the country of his childhood. All the beauty of the native land: the fire of the dawn and the smoothness of the lakes, the rustle of the reeds and the immense blue of the heavens, the soft splashing of the waves and the birch branches sprinkled
O Rus – crimson field
And blue, fallen in the river, –
I love to joy and pain
Your melancholy melancholy.
Yesenin from an early age very sensitively perceived earthly beauty and then embodied these impressions in unforgettable images. At the poet the dawn “wipes his mouth with a paw”, like a kitten on the roof, horses on the bank of the Oka barely “drank the moon”, and the trees in the oak forests so loudly speak as if “they call branches to the river”. Wherever the poet was, he remembered, loved, saw in his dreams his dear homeland.
Yesenin tragically experienced a revolutionary breakdown in general, and breaking the peasant foundations – especially. And then his soul shrank with pain for Russia – “the heart is a sweet land.” This pain brought to life an image that touches me to tears: the “red-haired foal” jumps, “thin legs throwing to the head,” behind the train “on the paws
Dear, sweet, funny dumb,
Well, where, where is he chasing?
Do not he know that the living horses were
defeated by the steel cavalry?
These are the prophetic lines: the steel heel of Bolshevism already at the very beginning crushed all living things, all the dissidents. And put it down for many decades. The poet saw this in the 1920s and gave himself and his readers the word that he would continue to “sing with all his being… the sixth part of the earth with the name” Rus “short.” Not Soviet Russia, namely Russia.
And I also love those poems of S. Yesenin, in which there are lyrical thoughts about life and youth: “I do not regret, I do not call, I do not cry…”, “The golden grove has dissuaded…” “We are now leaving little by little.. . “,” Life is a deception with a charming smile, “” Flowers tell me – good-bye… “and others. How much in them is the secret, personally experienced! Cornered in a new life, Yesenin did not become bitter, did not get angry:
But all the same, tight and persecuted,
I, looking with a smile on the dawn,
On earth, to me close and beloved,
This life I thank for all.
But, perhaps, most of all I love his “Persian motifs.” You read, and the soul responds to every line of love. Although every poem of “Persian motifs” is permeated with the aromas and bliss of Shiraz, the poet remains a Russian who took gold hair from the rye, who “has a ringing bell in his heart” that remembers “about rippling rye in the moonlight” and about “a distant northerner” .
Reading and rereading Yesenin’s favorite lines, I always feel that I feel good from them. Years and centuries will preserve for the people the work of this poet “golden log cabin.”
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