Who is the author of late autumn rooks. "Uncompressed strip" N

Late fall. The rooks have flown away, the forest is bare, the fields are empty, only one strip is not compressed... It brings a sad thought. It seems that the ears of corn are whispering to each other: “It’s boring for us to listen to the autumn blizzard, It’s boring for us to bend down to the very ground, bathing fat grains in dust! Every night we are ravaged by the villages of every passing voracious bird, the hare tramples us, and the storm beats us... Where is our plowman? What else is he waiting for? Or were we born worse than others? Or did we not bloom and bloom together? No, and long ago the grain poured in and ripened in us. dispelled the autumn? ..” The wind brings them a sad answer: “Your plowman has no urine. He knew why he plowed and sowed, But he did the work poorly - he doesn’t eat or drink, The worm is sucking his sick heart, The hands that made these furrows dried up into splinters, hung like whips, The eyes dimmed, and the voice disappeared, That he sang a mournful song, As, leaning his hand on the plow, the Plowman walked thoughtfully in a stripe. November 22 - 25, 1854

Notes

Published according to Article 1873, vol. I, part 1, p. 137-138.

Included in the collected works for the first time: St. 1856. Reprinted in the 1st part of all subsequent lifetime editions of Poems.

In the R. book it is dated: “1855”, but, obviously, it was written earlier (see the date of the censorship of the first publication in C). In St. 1879 it is dated (probably at the author’s direction) to 1854. A more precise date is reported in the authorized copy of the GBL: “November 22-25.”

The image of an uncompressed strip may have been suggested to Nekrasov by the well-known beginning of a folk song: “Is it my stripe, but a little stripe, Is it my stripe, but not a plowed one...”, etc. (Sobolevsky A.I. Great Russian folk songs, vol. 3. St. Petersburg, 1897, p. 51).

The poem was perceived by some readers as allegorical: in the image of a plowman who “started a job beyond his strength,” they probably saw an allusion to Nicholas I, who led the country to a military disaster and died during the Crimean War (see: Garkavi A. M. N. A. Nekrasov in the fight against tsarist censorship. Kaliningrad, 1966, p. 135). This interpretation is arbitrary, especially since the poem was written before the death of Nicholas I (cf. commentary on the poem “In the Village”). K.I. Chukovsky believed that “The Uncompressed Strip” has an autobiographical basis and was written “under the influence of a serious illness that Nekrasov fell ill with in 1853.” (PSS, vol. I, p. 550). Indirect confirmation of this: in Art. 1856, the “Uncompressed Strip” is included in the 4th department, composed of lyrical works; in one of his last poems, “Dream” (1877), Nekrasov wrote about himself as a sower who collects “ears of grain from his unharvested strip.”

The influence of the “Uncompressed Strip” is felt in V. V. Krestovsky’s poem “The Strip” (1861).

Set to music many times (N. Ya. Afanasyev, 1877; V. I. Rebikov, 1900; I. S. Khodorovsky, 1902; A. T. Grechaninov, 1903; A. A. Spendiarov, 1903; P. G. Chesnokov , 1904; V. P. Adamov, 1910; A. E. Lozovoy, 1913; A. P. Maksimov, 1913; R. S. Bunin, 1971;

Stanitsa - The director of the Kyiv Military Gymnasium, P. N. Yushenov, turned to Nekrasov with a request to clarify the meaning of this word. In a letter dated March 31, 1874, Nekrasov replied: “I<...>I used the word “stanitsa” because since childhood I heard it among the people, by the way, in this sense: birds fly villages; sparrows village flew over, etc.<...>The words: group, party, even flock, which could replace it in “The Uncompressed Strip,” in addition to their prosaic nature, would be less accurate, depriving the expression of the shade that characterizes the migratory bird (which is discussed in the poem), located in time from time camp on convenient places for resting and feeding."

"Uncompressed strip"

Late fall. The rooks have flown away
The forest is bare, the fields are empty,

Only one strip is not compressed...
She makes me sad.

The ears seem to whisper to each other:
"It's boring for us to listen to the autumn blizzard,

It's boring to bow down to the ground,
Fat grains bathing in dust!

Every night we are ruined by the villages1
Every passing voracious bird,

The hare tramples us, and the storm beats us...
Where is our plowman? what else is waiting?

Or are we worse born than others?
Or did they bloom and spike unharmoniously?

No! we are no worse than others - and for a long time
The grain has filled and ripened within us.

It was not for this reason that he plowed and sowed
So that the autumn wind will scatter us?..”

The wind brings them a sad answer:
- Your plowman has no urine.

He knew why he plowed and sowed,
Yes, I didn’t have the strength to start the work.

The poor fellow is feeling bad - he doesn’t eat or drink,
The worm is sucking his aching heart,

The hands that made these furrows,
They dried up into slivers and hung like whips.

As if laying your hand on a plow,
The plowman walked thoughtfully along the strip.

Poem by Nekrasov N.A. - Uncompressed strip

Analysis of Nekrasov’s poem “Uncompressed Strip”

Nikolai Nekrasov grew up in a noble family, but his childhood was spent on the family estate of the Yaroslavl province, where the future poet grew up with peasant children. The cruelty of his father, who not only beat the serfs, but also raised his hand against members of the household, left a deep mark on the soul of the poet for the rest of his life, who in his own home was as powerless as the serfs. Therefore, Nekrasov not only sympathized with representatives of the lower classes of society, but also in his work constantly addressed their problems, trying to show the life of peasants without embellishment.

Nekrasov left his parents' home very early, but never for a moment forgot what he had seen and experienced in his childhood. A quarter of a century later, in 1854, the poet wrote the poem “The Uncompressed Strip,” in which he again touched on the topic of serfdom. The author of this work, which would later become a textbook, sincerely believed that if the peasants received freedom, they would be able to build their lives in such a way as not to experience hunger and need. However, the poet was deeply mistaken, since the abolition of serfdom on paper drove ordinary people into even greater bondage, since it deprived them of the most valuable thing in life - land.

“The Uncompressed Strip” is a poem that reveals how important farming was to the average peasant at that time. This was the only source of his well-being, and it depended on the harvest whether a peasant family would have bread in winter, or whether it would have to starve. But a good harvest was not always the key to prosperity, and the poet was able to convey this very clearly in his work.

“Late autumn, the rooks have flown away” - these lines, known to every schoolchild, create a peaceful and almost idyllic picture. However, against the backdrop of a serene autumn landscape, when nature is already preparing for hibernation, the author sees an unharvested strip of wheat and notes that “it brings a sad thought.” Indeed, it is difficult to imagine that a peasant, who has invested so much labor to obtain a harvest on which his life directly depends, could be so dismissive of bread. Moreover, the grain has grown beautifully, and is now forced to become prey to the wind, birds and wild animals. Using the technique of animating inanimate objects, the author, on behalf of the unharvested wheat, asks the question: “Where is our plowman? What else are you waiting for?

However, the ever-present wind brings a disappointing answer to the heavy ears of corn, telling the sad story of a peasant who is unable to harvest his crops due to illness. “He knew why he plowed and sowed,” the poet notes, but at the same time emphasizes that it is unlikely that a zealous owner who knows the value of his work will be able to reap its fruits. And this means that the peasant will inevitably die by starvation, and no one will come to his aid, because most families have exactly the same problems, among which hunger and disease occupy one of the first places.

Having given the floor to the wheat and the wind, Nekrasov tried to abstract himself from the picture he saw and evaluate it as impartially as possible. After all, the only explanation for the fact that one of the peasants did not harvest the harvest is a serious illness. However, the saddest thing in this situation is that this does not surprise anyone and does not evoke sympathy - people, according to the poet, are so accustomed to death that they simply do not notice it. And this submission to fate causes a feeling of annoyance in Nekrasov, he is convinced that by the right of his birth a person is free, therefore he must build his life so that it does not depend on circumstances.

Great ones about poetry:

Poetry is like painting: some works will captivate you more if you look at them closely, and others if you move further away.

Small cutesy poems irritate the nerves more than the creaking of unoiled wheels.

The most valuable thing in life and in poetry is what has gone wrong.

Marina Tsvetaeva

Of all the arts, poetry is the most susceptible to the temptation to replace its own peculiar beauty with stolen splendors.

Humboldt V.

Poems are successful if they are created with spiritual clarity.

The writing of poetry is closer to worship than is usually believed.

If only you knew from what rubbish poems grow without shame... Like a dandelion on a fence, like burdocks and quinoa.

A. A. Akhmatova

Poetry is not only in verses: it is poured out everywhere, it is all around us. Look at these trees, at this sky - beauty and life emanate from everywhere, and where there is beauty and life, there is poetry.

I. S. Turgenev

For many people, writing poetry is a growing pain of the mind.

G. Lichtenberg

A beautiful verse is like a bow drawn through the sonorous fibers of our being. The poet makes our thoughts sing within us, not our own. By telling us about the woman he loves, he delightfully awakens in our souls our love and our sorrow. He's a magician. By understanding him, we become poets like him.

Where graceful poetry flows, there is no room for vanity.

Murasaki Shikibu

I turn to Russian versification. I think that over time we will turn to blank verse. There are too few rhymes in the Russian language. One calls the other. The flame inevitably drags the stone behind it. It is through feeling that art certainly emerges. Who is not tired of love and blood, difficult and wonderful, faithful and hypocritical, and so on.

Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin

-...Are your poems good, tell me yourself?
- Monstrous! – Ivan suddenly said boldly and frankly.
- Do not write anymore! – the newcomer asked pleadingly.
- I promise and swear! - Ivan said solemnly...

Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov. "Master and Margarita"

We all write poetry; poets differ from others only in that they write in their words.

John Fowles. "The French Lieutenant's Mistress"

Every poem is a veil stretched over the edges of a few words. These words shine like stars, and because of them the poem exists.

Alexander Alexandrovich Blok

Ancient poets, unlike modern ones, rarely wrote more than a dozen poems during their long lives. This is understandable: they were all excellent magicians and did not like to waste themselves on trifles. Therefore, behind every poetic work of those times there is certainly hidden an entire Universe, filled with miracles - often dangerous for those who carelessly awaken the dozing lines.

Max Fry. "Chatty Dead"

I gave one of my clumsy hippopotamuses this heavenly tail:...

Mayakovsky! Your poems do not warm, do not excite, do not infect!
- My poems are not a stove, not a sea, and not a plague!

Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovsky

Poems are our inner music, clothed in words, permeated with thin strings of meanings and dreams, and therefore, drive away the critics. They are just pathetic sippers of poetry. What can a critic say about the depths of your soul? Don't let his vulgar groping hands in there. Let poetry seem to him like an absurd moo, a chaotic pile-up of words. For us, this is a song of freedom from a boring mind, a glorious song sounding on the snow-white slopes of our amazing soul.

Boris Krieger. "A Thousand Lives"

Poems are the thrill of the heart, the excitement of the soul and tears. And tears are nothing more than pure poetry that has rejected the word.

The poem “The Uncompressed Stripe” was presumably written in 1854, published in Sovremennik No. 1 for 1856 and included in the collected works of 1856. The image of the uncompressed stripe could have been suggested by the folk song “It’s my stripe, but it’s my stripe.” The poem was set to music several times in the 19th and 20th centuries.

Literary direction and genre

The poem belongs to the genre of civil elegy, like the classic work of this genre - the elegy “Let changing fashion tell us.” It is precisely about the suffering of the people, according to the behest of the lyrical hero of that elegy, that this one tells us. The circumstances of the illness of the serf peasant are typical of Nekrasov’s modern times and evoke in the memory of the lyrical hero the typical image of a sick plowman. No one will be deceived by the appearance of a fairy-tale character - the wind, bringing a sad answer. In fact, this image of a sick plowman, a man whom the lyrical hero has never seen and will never see, is brought to life by Nekrasov’s artistic thinking of a realist, and the fairy-tale frame is just an entourage.

Theme, main idea and composition

The poem can be roughly divided into three parts. The first part is a peaceful landscape of late autumn. The second part is the imaginary complaints of the ears of the unharvested strip. The third part is the imaginary response of the wind. The lyrical hero in the poem seems to withdraw from himself and does not show himself. His role is to eavesdrop on the conversation between the dying ears of corn and the wind, but the whole conversation actually happens “as if,” that is, it reflects the innermost thoughts of the lyrical hero.

The theme of the poem is the hard life of a serf peasant, for whom even if the harvest fails, illness will occur.

The main idea is sympathy for a lonely sick person who has lost his health due to hard work; awareness of the mortality of all things and humility with this fact.

Some believed that the poem is an allegory, the image of the plowman is Nicholas I, who shouldered the burden of the Crimean War and died during it. But the poem needs to be interpreted more broadly.

The creation of the image of the plowman could have been influenced by Nekrasov’s serious illness in 1853. He associated himself with a sick plowman who could not do his job (to sow the reasonable, the good, the eternal), the song he sang at the plow fell silent.

Paths and images

The landscape in the first part is written in the best traditions of landscape poetry. Verbs associated with the dying of nature: rooks flew away, forest exposed, fields empty, stripe not compressed. Epithets are traditional for the autumn landscape: late autumn, autumn snowstorm. The parallelism in the state of nature and man (the boredom of the ears of grain and the sad thought of the lyrical hero) allows us to personify nature and hear the conversation of the ears of grain.

In the second part, the ears of corn complain that they are wasted, fat grains bathe in dust(metaphor). They face various dangers. The strip is ravaged by flocks (stanitas) of birds (metaphor), a hare tramples and a storm hits. The reader associates ears of corn with weak people who cannot defend themselves even from “hares,” although they carry enormous wealth - bread, that is, with serfs. The ears ask a rhetorical question about what they did wrong, and they themselves answer: “No! We are no worse than others." The ears of corn are like the peasants themselves, who do not understand where their efforts and strength go, why they plow and sow.

In the third part, the wind, the personification of natural forces that destroy labor and human life itself, responds to the ears of corn. He is all-knowing, like a pagan god. The wind, like God, evaluates the life of a plowman: the peasant knew why he plowed and sowed, “but he started the work beyond his strength.” The reader does not understand the reason for the plowman’s illness and loneliness: perhaps he is old, perhaps he has strained himself at work. Nekrasov's contemporaries understood that the unharvested strip meant the starvation of the plowman who did not harvest bread for the winter, and of his family, if he had one.

Nekrasov depicts the inner world of a farmer: he is purposeful, but thoughtful, usually singing sad songs while working. The portrait of a plowman is written using metaphors and comparisons: the plowman has no lobe, the worm is sucking his aching heart, his hands have dried up to a sliver, they hang like whips, his eyes have dimmed, his voice has disappeared.

It is not for nothing that Nekrasov ends the description of the plowman with his missing voice, as if returning again to that moment when the peasant was plowing that very strip and singing. The mournful song is a prophecy of the sad fate of the peasant, which, like work, is inseparable from the song.

The ears of corn dying in the dust share the lot of their owner, the plowman. Elegiac discussions about the frailty of existence acquire a generalized meaning and go beyond the description of the bitter fate of the serf.