The last poet of the village
The work of Sergei Yesenin is inextricably linked with the theme of the village. Growing up on the “freeze of green Leh,” the poet perceived Russia as a living organism, developing according to special laws known only to her. Rus Yesenin – a village, patriarchal. This is a very symbolic image. a village consisting of several yards fenced with wattle, which was lost somewhere in the swamps and marshes.
This perception of Russia is peculiar to the young poet. His hero feels himself a particle of nature, and in animals he sees “our smaller brothers.” Esenin’s early verses in Russia are good for everyone: trees, animals and birds, huts, fields, a month, even. .. cockroaches. Once critics were outraged that the beginning lyricist in the poem “In the Hut” poeticized not only the peasant life, but also cockroaches. But A. Tolstoy heard in Yesenin’s early poems “the melodic gift of the Slavic soul, the dreamy, carefree, mysteriously-agitated
This idyllic picture collapsed with the onset of Soviet life. The poet conveyed his idea of the revolution through different images. For example, in Pantokrator it is a red horse – an image of a romantic, fantastic, but birch tree, bird-cherry tree, related to the world, the world of Russian nature, that is, everything that made up the soil of Esenin poetry embodied his ideas about a beautiful, harmonious life.
When Yesenin was convinced that the revolution will accelerate the transition of Russia from the village rut to the highways of modern technology, he painfully took it. Revolutionary events, global changes in the countryside, technological progress – all this in the representation of Yesenin foreshadowed the death of patriarchal Russia. It seemed to him that the poetic realm of life, close to nature, also disappears, which means that the sphere of feelings expressing an unattainable ideal of the spiritual world and calm clarity.
Brighter this whole confrontation of patriarchal life and the mechanical world of machine civilization manifested
The living horses were won by the steel cavalry.
After the death and destruction of the old peasant world Yesenin begins to feel his own doom. Therefore, he calls his poem written in 1920, “I am the last poet of the village”. This farewell with the former sounds in almost every line. Standing behind a farewell dinner among the “leaf-eating birches”. the hero experiences a consciousness of his own uselessness. He has no choice but to burn out with a “golden flame”. And for the embodiment of his own “I” the poet finds an amazing metaphor – “from a solid wax candle.” Indeed, a person is defenseless in the face of nature, and what, if not a candle, underscores this fragility of human existence.
Another bright metaphor – “the moon clock is wooden” – underscores the irreversibility of the changes taking place. As you know, “time can not be stopped for a single moment.” So, the changes are inevitable:
On the path of the blue field Coming soon will be an iron guest.
Behind the image of the “iron guest” it is not difficult to see a combine or a tractor-those machines that, according to the government’s plan, should facilitate peasant labor. Only this guest does not have a soul, and therefore his palms are “not living, alien”. and a handful is “black.” But live Russia is represented by “ears of grain” (again the image of a horse!), Which will grieve about the former peasant master.
As a result, anyone becomes aware that the poet is against technical progress, which destroys the ancient poetic world, which is associated with patriarchal antiquity, with harmony between man and nature. His “blue Russia” he contrasted the world with people building factories and factories instead of temples, and the living world of the village – the mechanical soulless of the city.
Yesenin worries that industrial progress will ruin the beauty of the folk rite, spring thaws, grasses, “the dawn of watered.” Therefore, the poem “I am the last poet of the village” can be considered a kind of funeral service, because it is “a panikhid dance”. according to the author’s opinion, the wind will cope when:
Soon, soon the wooden clock Will wheeze my twelfth hour!
These lines are more like a verdict. And let Sergei Yesenin was then close to Imagism. which can explain the unnecessarily harsh character of many lines, but the pain of loss can not be drowned out – only by cruel words in its truthfulness.
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