To the 120th anniversary of his birth
Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovsky
Block and cloud, passionate rebel,
new word foundation,
flute of the twentieth, windows and steel
in the sun of leaning buildings.
Soviet passport, all the business is huge,
compressed into words by a genius,
all villages and all cities,
syllables imbued with life.
The voice of the Revolution, its symbol,
throat of the twentieth century,
all firearms poets forend,
everyone from Moscow to Pevek.
Red banner riot and excitement,
red imperishable carrots,
the rain once slightly squinted my eyes,
and of course - Lenin.
Lump, Giant and Giant-Man
of our Soviet era, -
It’s a pity that he didn’t give us more centuries like this,
It’s a pity that there is no more God in Poetry!
Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovsky was born in Georgia, in the village of Baghdadi, in the family of a forester. From 1902 he studied at a gymnasium in Kutaisi, then in Moscow, where after the death of his father he moved with his whole family. In 1908 he left the gymnasium, devoting himself to underground revolutionary work. At the age of fifteen he joined the RSDLP(b) and carried out propaganda tasks. He was arrested three times; in 1909 he was in Butyrka prison in solitary confinement. There he began to write poetry. Since 1911 he studied at the Moscow School of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture. Having joined the Cubo-Futurists, in 1912 he published his first poem, “Night,” in the futurist collection “A Slap in the Face of Public Taste.”
In terms of the strength of his talent and the scope of his literary activity, Mayakovsky is one of the titanic figures of Russian art. His poetry is an artistic chronicle of our country during the era of the Great October Revolution and the building of socialism. Mayakovsky is a true singer of October; he is, as it were, a living personification of a new type of poet - an active fighter for the bright future of the people. His poems and poems “weightily, roughly, visibly” entered the history of the 20th century forever...
http://www.vmayakovsky.ru/
There are many interesting articles on the Internet dedicated to Vladimir Mayakovsky. And even though many of them have almost forgotten such great works as the poem “Vladimir Ilyich Lenin”, the poem “Good” and many poems from the times of the Great October Revolution and the Civil War, which the new bourgeois-criminal regime does not like, they must be read, and most importantly you need to read Mayakovsky himself. Mayakovsky is not snot, not drool, but strength, power, passion, the like of which is difficult to find in all world literature. The older generation was brought up on Mayakovsky’s poems, and I would really like for young people to know him too. In the meantime, let's remember his most famous poems and excerpts from poems:
1. This is one of the first published poems
Mayakovsky:
The crimson and white are discarded and crumpled,
they threw handfuls of ducats into the green,
and the black palms of the running windows
burning yellow cards were handed out.
The boulevards and squares were not strange
see blue togas on buildings.
And before, running like yellow wounds,
the lights wrapped their legs in bracelets.
The crowd is a motley-haired fast cat -
floated, bending, drawn by the doors;
everyone wanted to drag at least a little
a mass of laughter cast into a coma.
I, feeling the dresses calling paws,
squeezed a smile into their eyes, frightening them
with blows to the tin, the araps laughed,
a parrot's wing blooming above his forehead.
2.Vladimir Mayakovsky
"Here!"
An hour from here to a clean alley
your flabby fat will flow out over the person,
and I opened so many verse boxes for you,
I am a spendthrift and spender of priceless words.
Here you are, man, you have cabbage in your mustache
somewhere half-eaten, half-eaten cabbage soup;
Here you are, woman, you have thick white paint on you,
you are looking at things as an oyster.
All of you on the butterfly of the poet's heart
10 Perch up, dirty, in galoshes and without galoshes.
The crowd will go wild, they will rub,
the hundred-headed louse will bristle its legs.
And if today I, a rude Hun,
I don’t want to grimace in front of you - so
I will laugh and spit joyfully,
I'll spit in your face
I am a spender and spendthrift of priceless words.
If you remember or find out where and when these lines were read
and to whom they are addressed, you will appreciate both the poem and the twenty-year-old Mayakovsky.
3. Everyone knew these poems in Soviet times...
Vladimir Mayakovsky
"POEMS ABOUT THE SOVIET PASSPORT"
I would be a wolf
gnawed it out
bureaucracy.
To the mandates
there is no respect.
To any
to hell with their mothers
roll
any piece of paper.
But this...
Along the long front
coupe
and cabins
official
suave moves.
Handing over passports
and I
I rent
mine
purple book.
To one passport -
smile at the mouth.
To others -
careless attitude.
With respect
take, for example,
passports
with double
English left.
With my eyes
after eating out the good uncle,
without ceasing
bow,
they take
as if they take tips,
passport
American.
In Polish -
they look
like a goat in a poster.
In Polish -
stick out their eyes
in tight
police elephantiasis -
where, they say,
and what is this
geographic news?
And without turning
heads of cabbage
and feelings
no
without having experienced
they take
without blinking,
Danish passports
and different
others
Swedes
And suddenly,
as if
burn,
mouth
grimaced
Mr.
This
Mr. official
beret
mine
red-skinned passport.
Beret -
like a bomb
takes -
like a hedgehog
like a razor
double-edged
beret,
like a rattlesnake
at 20 stings
snake
two meters tall.
Blinked
meaningfully
porter's eye
at least things
will give you away for nothing.
Gendarme
questioningly
looks at the detective
detective
to the gendarme.
With what pleasure
gendarmerie caste
I would be
whipped and crucified
for
what's in my hands
hammer-fingered,
sickle
Soviet passport.
I would be a wolf
gnawed it out
bureaucracy.
To the mandates
there is no respect.
To any
to hell with their mothers
roll
any piece of paper.
But this...
I
I get it
from wide legs
duplicate
priceless cargo.
Read,
envy
I -
citizen
Soviet Union.
4. And this excerpt from the poem "Vladimir Ilyich Lenin"
Almost everyone knew:
If
exhibit in a museum
crying Bolshevik
all day
in the museum
the mouths were sticking out.
Still -
such
You won’t see it for centuries!
Five-pointed stars
burned on our backs
Pan's governors.
Live,
up to your head in the ground,
gangs buried us
Mamontova.
In locomotive furnaces
The Japanese burned us
the mouth was filled with lead and tin,
renounce! - they roared,
but from
burning sip
just three words:
- Long live communism! -
Chair after chair,
row in row
this steel
this is iron
tumbled in
twenty second of January
in a five-story building
Congress of Soviets.
We sat down,
threw a smile,
decided
casually
small matter.
It's time to open!
Why are they delaying?
What
presidium,
like cut down, thinned out?
Why
eyes
redder than the stock?
What's wrong with Kalinin?
It barely holds on.
Misfortune?
Which?
It can't be!
What if with him?
No!
Really?
Ceiling
on us
went down like a raven.
Heads down -
Bend it some more!
Suddenly began to tremble
and turned black
chandeliers blurred lights.
Choked
the bell is an unnecessary click.
Overcame himself
and Kalinin stood up.
You can't chew away the tears
from the mustache and cheeks.
Issued.
They shine on the beard on the wedge.
Thoughts are mixed up
my head is wracked.
Blood in whiskey
bubbles in the vein:
- Yesterday
at six fifty minutes
Comrade Lenin has died!
5. And this unfinished poem is addressed to descendants, -
that is, to us and what a pity that we did not live up to his hopes...
Dear
comrades descendants!
Swarming
in today's
petrified shit
our days studying the darkness,
You,
Maybe,
ask about me too.
And perhaps he will say
your scientist,
cut with erudition
a swarm of questions,
that there once lived such a thing
singer boiled
and an ardent enemy of raw water.
Professor,
take off your bicycle glasses!
I'll tell you myself
about time
and about myself.
I, the sewer man
and a water carrier,
revolution
mobilized and called up,
went to the front
from lordly gardening
poetry -
women are capricious.
I planted a cute little garden,
daughter,
dacha,
water
and smooth surface -
I planted the kindergarten myself,
I'll water it myself.
Who pours poetry from a watering can,
who sprinkles
putting it in your mouth -
curly Mithreikas,
wise Kudreiki -
who the hell can figure them out!
There is no quarantine to break through -
mandolin playing from under the walls:
“Tara-tina, tara-tina,
t-en-n...”
Unimportant honor
so that from these roses
my statues towered
through the squares,
where tuberculosis spits,
where the hell... with the bully
yes syphilis.
And me
agitprop
stuck in my teeth,
and I would
scribble
romances for you, -
it's more profitable
and prettier.
But I
myself
humbled
becoming
on the throat
own song.
Listen,
comrades descendants,
agitator,
loudmouth leader.
Muffled
poetry flows,
I'll step
through lyrical volumes,
as if alive
talking to the living.
I'll come to you
to the communist far
not like that
like a song-like evityaz.
My verse will reach
across the ridges of centuries
and through the heads
poets and governments.
My verse will reach
but he won’t get there that way, -
not like an arrow
in the cupid-lyre hunt,
not how it comes
worn-out nickel to the numismatist
and not as the light of dead stars reaches.
My verse
labor
the vastness of years will break through
and will appear
weighty,
rough,
visibly
like these days
the water supply came in,
worked out
still slaves of Rome.
In the mounds of books,
buried the verse,
string glands are accidentally discovered,
You
Sincerely
feel them
like old
but a formidable weapon.
I
ear
in a word
not used to caressing;
girl's ear
in curls of hair
with semi-obscenity
don't fall apart, touched.
Unfurling the parade
my pages troops,
I'm passing
along the line front.
Poems are worth
leaden-heavy,
ready for death
and to immortal glory.
The poems froze
pressing the muzzle to the muzzle
targeted
gaping titles.
Weapons
beloved
genus,
ready
rush in the boom,
froze
cavalry of witticisms,
raising the rhymes
sharpened peaks.
And that's it
armed troops over their teeth,
that twenty years of victories
flew by
right up to
last sheet
I give it to you
planet proletarian.
worker
enemy class communities -
he is my enemy and
notorious and long-standing.
They told us
go
under the red flag
years of labor
and days of malnutrition.
We opened
Marx
every volume
like at home
own
we open the shutters,
but without reading
we figured it out
which one to go in,
in which camp to fight.
We
dialectic
They didn’t teach according to Hegel.
The rattling of battles
she burst into verse,
When
under bullets
The bourgeoisie ran away from us,
like us
once upon a time
ran from them.
Let
for geniuses
inconsolable widow
glory trudges along
in the funeral march -
die, my verse,
die like a private
like nameless
Our people died during the assaults!
I don't care
a lot of work on bronze,
I don't care
on marble slime.
Let us be considered glory -
after all, we are our own people, -
let us
will be a common monument
built
in battles
socialism.
Descendants,
dictionaries check floats:
from Lethe
will swim out
remnants of such words
like "prostitution"
"tuberculosis",
"blockade".
For you,
which
healthy and agile
poet
licked
consumptive spitting
rough language of the poster.
With a tail of years
I become likeness
monsters
fossil-tailed.
Comrade life,
Let's
let's stomp quickly,
let's trample
according to the five-year plan
days remaining.
To me
and ruble
didn't accumulate lines,
cabinetmakers
They didn’t send furniture to the house.
And besides
freshly washed shirt,
I'll tell you in all honesty,
I just need nothing.
Having appeared
in Tse Ka Ka
walking
bright years,
over the gang
poetic
grabbers and burning
I'll lift you up
like a Bolshevik party card,
all one hundred volumes
my
party books.
Read, study Mayakovsky! People like HIM are not born every century.
Until they loosened their grip on the weapon,
A different will is commanded.
We bring new tablets to the earth
From our gray Sinai.
V. Mayakovsky
V. Mayakovsky is the founder of a new type of poetry, which combined socio-historical, moral and philosophical directions with a lyrically frank story of a person “about time and about himself.” His work had and is having a huge influence on the development of all poetry, being an effective weapon against lack of ideas and formalism in literature.
Many of Mayakovsky's works are deeply patriotic. The inability and reluctance to accumulate any kind of values, the desire for an active and productive spiritual life, sacrifice and dedication, which underlie his human and poetic essence, led Mayakovsky to thoughts about the people, about a world “without pain, troubles and insults.” , to the acceptance of the revolution, forcing one to live a “tenfold life.” For this poet, the idea of an insurmountable contradiction between art and life, art and revolution, ingrained in the minds of many (including very talented) artists, did not exist.
Patriotism was the main feature and direction of Mayakovsky’s work, because he considered personal responsibility for everything that happens around him to be the basis of spiritual existence. The poet’s numerous revolutionary works were the result of precisely this worldview.
The runs of the planets, Holding existence, Subject to our wills. Our earth. The air is ours. Our stars are diamond mines. And we will never, Never! We will not allow anyone! To tear our earth with cannonballs, To tear apart our air with the edges of sharpened Spears.
"Left March" by V. Mayakovsky is a call to arms, to a courageous, active struggle against the old world. Mayakovsky's word - an explosive charge capable of shaking the most inert consciousness - calls on thought to immediately turn into action:
Will the eyes of the eagle fade? Will we begin to stare at the old? Strengthen the fingers of peace on the throat of the Proletariat! Bravely chest forward! Cover the sky with flags!
No precepts of the past burdened the poet; he walked towards the revolution without any internal struggles: “To accept or not to accept? For me... there was no such question. My revolution.”
Mayakovsky is, first of all, a man of decisive actions that allowed him to become the first poet of the revolution. The poet's poems were a reaction to what was happening in the world around him and within himself.
Anything but contemplation - this is the key to the philosophical and ethical nature of Mayakovsky’s talent. Efficiency always and in everything is the distinctive quality of a poet.
I hate it
All kinds of dead things! I love all kinds of life!
Mayakovsky deliberately turned the art of poetry into a difficult, risky ascent to the top, from which, as it seemed to him, the horizons of a new, unprecedented life opened up. He always wrote only what interested people, worried them or was incomprehensible, because the poet, according to Mayakovsky, is the people's servant.
If I am the People's Driver and at the same time the People's Servant?
Mayakovsky's legacy is enormous. He enriched Russian and world poetry with immortal works of art that will never lose their sense of novelty, confidence and strength, since his heart was forever given to the people.
2.1 Patriotic motives in V. Mayakovsky’s poems dedicated to the USSR
The first type of patriotic motives in V. Mayakovsky is associated with the glorification of the Soviet Union. For Mayakovsky, art is inextricably linked with the idea of the party and the propaganda of its ideas. The main function of art is to focus on communism and implement the ideas of the party.
For example, the poem “To Comrade Nette” - the steamship and the person” and “Poems about the Soviet passport” most clearly realize patriotic motives. The first poem is a memory of the Soviet diplomatic courier Theodor Nette, who died heroically in the line of duty. The introduction to the topic is Mayakovsky’s meeting with the ship bearing the name of the famous hero. But gradually the ship becomes animated, as it were, and the image of a man appears before the poet.
It's him - I recognize him
In saucer-glasses of lifebuoys.
Hello Nette!
(Mayakovsky, 2009, P.55).
Mayakovsky was extremely sincere in his unconditional faith in the revolution. He was driven not by religious desires to quickly swear allegiance to the new government, but by a deep civic conviction in the sanctity of revolutionary ideas. The poem “Revolution” was written hot on the heels of the February revolutionary events and has the subtitle “Poetochronicle”.
Drunks, mixed with police, soldiers
they shot at the people (Mayakovsky, 2001, P.34).
The last guns roar in bloody disputes,
The factories are cutting the last bayonet.
We'll make everyone spill gunpowder.
We will give away grenade balls to the children
(Mayakovsky, 2001, P.34).
And yet the poet was not entirely sure of the correctness of revolutionary methods; Mayakovsky characterizes the revolution this way, emphasizing its inconsistency:
Oh, bestial!
Oh, children's!
Oh, cheap!
Oh, great one!
(Mayakovsky, 1998, P.39).
Mayakovsky strives to be original even in the genre definition of the work. Undoubtedly, there are numerous historical and documentary chronicles that meticulously describe the events of 1917, telling about them in the existing language of numbers and dates. Mayakovsky poses a different problem. Only artistic (and especially poetic chronicle) can fill a narrative with vitality. Mayakovsky shows how the popular movement grows and expands (“Wider and wider wings of the weapon”). The text of the work often contains slogans and appeals designed to enhance the dynamics of the plot. The victory of the revolution is also associated in the author’s mind with the end of international wars:
And we never, never!
We won’t let anyone, anyone!
tear up our earth with cannonballs,
tear our air apart with sharpened spears
(Mayakovsky, 1999, P.178)
Numerous repetitions and patriotic pathos are intended to emphasize the most important idea about the struggle for the land, unity, and universal faith in the positive outcome of the revolutionary movement. It is extremely important for a poet to believe and encourage Soviet citizens to do a good deed for the sake of a prosperous future for the entire Soviet Union.
The same motives can also be heard in the poem “Our March,” the marching rhythm of which symbolizes the triumphal procession of the victors.
Are our golds more heavenly?
Will the wasp's bullets sting us?
Our weapons are our songs.
(Mayakovsky, 1997, P.45)
Having made the propaganda of communist ideas and ideals of patriotism one of the main tasks of his work, Mayakovsky could not help but write about the leader of the Bolsheviks. The poems “Vladimir Ilyich!”, “Lenin is with us!”, “Conversation with Comrade Lenin” and a number of other works are dedicated to V.I. Lenin.
we will carry
Ilyichevo, banner
(Mayakovsky, 2005, P.33)
The author tried to glorify, propagandize, and illuminate not the biography of the leader, but Lenin’s cause. “The central work dedicated to the leader of the state of workers and peasants is the poem “Vladimir Ilyich Lenin.” The idea that the birth of Lenin in Russia is a historical pattern runs through the entire work” (Dyadichev V.N., 2006, P.128).
Anti-war motives are another important facet of Mayakovsky’s patriotic lyrics, which arose in connection with the outbreak of the First World War. In the poem “War has been declared,” the very news of the beginning of the war is likened to a “stream of blood.” Thanks to the repetitions, the first and last stanzas of the work form a ring composition: “a stream of crimson blood flowed and flowed.” The imagery of the poem is divided into two parts; the first includes images that responded energetically and positively to the beginning of the war. Mayakovsky emphasizes the bravura poster slogans, the exaggerated rise of the human spirit, “when even bronze generals are ready to rush to the front.” The second part includes images and phenomena of the opposite order, people who deny and do not accept violence: “the sky, torn by bayonet stings,” “red snow,” “falling in juicy shreds of human flesh.”
The poem “Magnificent Absurdities” debunks the beliefs of those who look at the war with bravura and ceremonial views.
They will all stand up
will be back
and, smiling, they will tell their wife,
what a funny and eccentric owner.
They will say: there were no cannonballs or landmines
and, of course, there was no fortress!
The birthday boy just made up a lot
some magnificent absurdities!
(Mayakovsky, 1996. P.277).
The patriotic orientation of Mayakovsky's poetry is directed towards the future. In the poems “Red Envy” and “The Secret of Youth,” the poet addresses children. For their sake, for the sake of future large-scale economic achievements, the older generation makes sacrifices and hardships.
For the first time
kids, let me
drumming
I'll envy you.
rush into the future,
beat down
his threshold
the future is
at twenty
you're pacing
thunderous feet
(Mayakovsky, 1993. P.44).
Young -
who is fighting
thinned ranks
all children:
Let’s remake earthly life!”
(Mayakovsky, 2001. P.38).
Dedicating the best lines to one’s native land is a deep tradition of both Russian classical poetry and literature in general since its ancient history. Particularly relevant are reflections on the fate of the homeland, the glorification of its greatness and turning points when the choice of the further path of development of the state for many years is determined.
Mayakovsky's patriotic lyrics are multifaceted. Most of the patriotic poems glorify the new Soviet country. But there are also poems about our small homeland:
Just set foot in the Caucasus,
I remembered that I am Georgian
Elbrus, Kazbek. And also - how do you like it?!
Load mountains onto mountains!
(Mayakovsky, 2001. P.55).
stupidity - Eden and paradise!
sang about it
must be
joyful land,
the poets meant...
(Mayakovsky, 2001. P.79).
In the poem “Vladikavkaz-Tiflis” the lyrical hero travels to his native places, freely moving in space and time. To create a national flavor, Mayakovsky uses Georgian phrases. He longs for progressive changes in the life of his native country, the scope of construction, the development of industry; Mayakovsky would like to see how his Georgia prospers and transforms.
With all your labor speed, it’s not a pity for the construction to break!
Even if
Kazbek gets in the way - tear it down!
Still can't be seen in the fog.
To summarize the paragraph, it should be noted that patriotic motives in the poems of V.V. Mayakovsky is realized in the images of individual citizens (Theodore Nette, V.I. Lenin), and the people as a whole: Russian soldiers, ordinary Soviet citizens, fellow countrymen, youth (“Vladimir Ilyich!”, “Lenin is with us!” “To Comrade Nette” , poem “Vladimir Ilyich Lenin” “Poems about the Soviet passport”). The poet emphasizes his devotion to the people's leader, thanks and loves him, and also calls on the entire Soviet people to follow the leader towards a bright future.
The poet advocates for universal unity, fights for his homeland, glorifies the revolution as a way to change people’s lives for the better (“Revolution”, “War has been declared”, “Weapons spread wider and wider”, “Magnificent absurdities”, “Our March” ).
Mayakovsky’s patriotism and love is also realized through the image of his small Motherland, in such works as “Vladikavkaz-Tiflis”, “Yubileinoe”. The author cares and worries about the future of his native land, dreams of seeing Georgia as a progressive and prosperous country with the establishment of a new system.
Vladimir Mayakovsky worries about the young Soviet generation (“Red Envy”, “The Secret of Youth”), calls on them to take care of and care for the good of the Soviet Union. Originality, innovation, powerful energy, the uniqueness of the lyrical hero, the belief that he defends with all his might and inexhaustible patriotism - this is what distinguishes the poetry of Vladimir Mayakovsky.
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Originality, innovation, powerful energy, the uniqueness of the lyrical hero, faith in what he defends with all his might - this is what distinguishes the poetry of Vladimir Mayakovsky. In my opinion, this is one of the most talented Russian poets.
Of course, one of the leading themes of this artist’s work is the patriotic theme. Moreover, everything that this poet wrote about was in one way or another connected with concern for the fate of his Motherland, with the global changes taking place in it, with the establishment of a new system.
Mayakovsky's lyrics are clearly divided into two periods. Works written before the 1917 revolution are filled with loneliness, the hero’s longing for love and understanding, for a kindred spirit, which he does not see in the reality around him. Hence the protest, rebellion, shockingness, the desire of the lyrical hero to reorganize the whole world, the entire Universe. But he wants to start from his native country.
In the poem “Here!” (1913) the hero confronts the soulless and vulgar public. He throws his poems to this public like a sop, no longer hoping for their understanding, much less a worthy assessment of his work.
The lyrical hero talks to people about the most painful things, about what he tears from the heart, about his most intimate: “I opened so many verses of boxes for you, I am a spendthrift and a spender of priceless words.” But what about the public? She doesn't care:
Here you are, man, you have cabbage in your mustache
somewhere half-eaten, half-eaten cabbage soup;
Here you are, woman, you have thick white paint on you,
you are looking at things as an oyster.
These people are mired in petty concerns from the “world of things.” They have tightly hidden their souls in the shell and are now unable to understand anything that does not concern their stomach. But the lyrical hero considers himself free from the opinions of the crowd. He can openly tell these people everything he thinks about them. His hero allows himself any shocking behavior in order to somehow “stir up” the crowd, make them feel.
In the poem “A Cloud in Pants,” the lyrical hero exposes the bourgeois society in which he, like millions of other people, is forced to live. This is a society of “fat, “stomachs in Panama”, which has nothing sacred, has no soul and heart.
The poem consists of four parts, each of which represents the cry of the lyrical hero: “Down with your love!”, “Down with your art!”, “Down with your system!”, “Down with your religion!”
The lyrical hero “destroys” all the foundations on which the Russian social system rested. In reality, the revolution must end the old world. Only she, according to the poet, can change the lives of people and the country once and for all.
It is interesting that the hero sees in revolution not only a way of social transformation of the world. For him it is also a moral cleansing. This is where the true crucible for the soul is, and not the religion that the old system offers people.
After the revolution of 1917, the patriotic theme in Mayakovsky’s work was closely connected with the struggle for a new system, with the shortcomings that hindered the advance of communism:
Citizens, for guns!
To arms, citizens...
In “Ode to the Revolution,” the poet sees all the negative aspects of the revolution (he calls the revolution “two-faced”). Today she frees the miner, returns him human dignity and joy of life. And tomorrow - “your six-inch guns are being blown up by the stupid hogs for thousands of years in the Kremlin.”
Mayakovsky characterizes the revolution this way, emphasizing its inconsistency:
Oh, bestial!
Oh, children's!
Oh, cheap!
Oh, great one!
And yet “great” is the most important epithet for him! According to Mayakovsky, all the shortcomings are more than offset by the revolutionary idea - complete renewal, the liberation of millions of people, a new life, a new faith. That is why the poet at the end of the poem sends his blessing to the revolution:
Philistine for you
Oh, be damned three times!
Oh, glory four times, blessed one! -
Therefore, it seems quite logical for the poet to glorify the Soviet passport as a symbol of the Soviet system, the idea of communism, and revolution. In “Poems about the Soviet Passport” the hero states:
To hell with mothers
any piece of paper.
But this...
The poet describes the reaction this “red book” evokes among foreigners. After all, for them, the Soviet passport is a symbol of the USSR, a country that poses a threat to the capitalist world. Mayakovsky shows that any mention of the young Soviet country frightens foreigners:
Like a rattlesnake
Two meters tall.
And this fact makes the lyrical hero proud: his enemies are afraid of him, his document, his belonging to the great Land of the Soviets.
Vladimir Mayakovsky put all of himself into his work. He sincerely believed in the revolution, in defending a just cause. That is why, perhaps, the poet could not survive the disappointment in what he fought for. This is why, it seems to me, 1930 cut short the life of Vladimir Mayakovsky.
The heroic-patriotic theme became the leading one in Mayakovsky’s lyrics in the post-October period (“Ode to the Revolution”, “Left March”, “Working Poet”, “Last Page of the Civil War”, “Poems about the Soviet Passport”, “Comrade Nette, the Ship and the Man” etc.)
“Left March” (1918) is a poem written specifically for a performance at the Matrossky Theater in front of soldiers and sailors, one of Mayakovsky’s most popular works of the early 20s. It was the poetry of the uprising, where the step of the advancing proletariat sounded: “Left, left, left...”. The main theme in the poem becomes the theme of the unity of the lyrical hero with the people, with the masses. The author compares revolutionary events with world historical and biblical events:
Enough to live by law
Given by Adam and Eve.
Let's drive the nag of history.
In search of new forms of propaganda art, Mayakovsky turns to the intonations of a pathetic march, in which the voice of a man of the new world can be heard, calling to tighten “the fingers of the world on the throat of the proletariat!” Solving the problems of new art, the poet includes neologisms in this work (leeva, blueblouse), uses the possibilities of syntax (simplified forms of phrases), and “poster” words.
However, in the soul of the poet-tribune, love and compassion for all living things are still alive, as evidenced by the poem “Good Treatment of Horses” (1918). In this poem, the lyrical hero, familiar from Mayakovsky’s early works, reappears - he is alone in the crowd of onlookers gathered on Kuznetsky (“Kuznetsky laughed. // Only I // did not interfere with my voice in his howl”) to “gaze” at the fallen horse. The pain of a living creature is not given to passersby to feel, only the lyrical hero feels it, because “we are all a little bit of a horse, // each of us is a horse in our own way.” Using the possibilities of accent verse, rhythm, sound writing (“They beat their hooves. // They sang as if: // Mushroom. // Rob. // Coffin. // Rude...”), the poet conveys the mood of that time, its character. The semantic formula of the poem is contained in the life-affirming ending:
rushed
got to her feet,
she neighed and walked away.”
The cheerful one came,
herds in a stall.
And everything seemed to her -
She's a foal
And it was worth living
And it was worth the work.
These words express the poet’s faith in the victory of good feelings in people and in the whole world, which allows him to live and write poetry with great optimism.
