Sergei Yesenin - poetry
Anthology of Russian poetry AUTUMN
R.V. Ivanov
Quietly in the juniper thicket along the cliff.
Autumn, a red mare, scratches her mane.
Above the river bank cover
The blue clang of her horseshoes is heard.
The schema-monk-wind steps cautiously
Crumples leaves along road ledges
And kisses on the rowan bush
Red ulcers for the invisible Christ.
Read by R. Kleiner
Rafael Aleksandrovich Kleiner (born June 1, 1939, village of Rubezhnoye, Lugansk region, Ukrainian SSR, USSR) - Russian theater director, People's Artist of Russia (1995).
From 1967 to 1970 he was an actor at the Moscow Taganka Drama and Comedy Theater.
Yesenin Sergei Alexandrovich (1895-1925)
Yesenin was born into a peasant family. From 1904 to 1912 he studied at the Konstantinovsky Zemstvo School and at the Spas-Klepikovsky School. During this time, he wrote more than 30 poems and compiled a handwritten collection “Sick Thoughts” (1912), which he tried to publish in Ryazan. The Russian village, the nature of central Russia, oral folk art, and most importantly, Russian classical literature had a strong influence on the formation of the young poet and guided his natural talent. Yesenin himself at different times named different sources that fed his work: songs, ditties, fairy tales, spiritual poems, “The Tale of Igor’s Campaign,” the poetry of Lermontov, Koltsov, Nikitin and Nadson. Later he was influenced by Blok, Klyuev, Bely, Gogol, Pushkin.
From Yesenin's letters from 1911 to 1913, the complex life of the poet emerges. All this was reflected in the poetic world of his lyrics from 1910 to 1913, when he wrote more than 60 poems and poems. Yesenin's most significant works, which brought him fame as one of the best poets, were created in the 1920s.
Like any great poet, Yesenin is not a thoughtless singer of his feelings and experiences, but a poet and philosopher. Like all poetry, his lyrics are philosophical. Philosophical lyrics are poems in which the poet talks about the eternal problems of human existence, conducts a poetic dialogue with man, nature, earth, and the Universe. An example of the complete interpenetration of nature and man is the poem “Green Hairstyle” (1918). One develops in two planes: the birch tree - the girl. The reader will never know who this poem is about - a birch tree or a girl. Because the person here is likened to a tree - the beauty of the Russian forest, and she is like a person. The birch tree in Russian poetry is a symbol of beauty, harmony, and youth; she is bright and chaste.
The poetry of nature and the mythology of the ancient Slavs permeate such poems of 1918 as “Silver Road...”, “Songs, songs, what are you shouting about?”, “I left my home...”, “Golden leaves swirled...” etc.
Yesenin's poetry of the last, most tragic years (1922 - 1925) is marked by a desire for a harmonious worldview. Most often, the lyrics convey a deep understanding of oneself and the Universe (“I don’t regret, I don’t call, I don’t cry...”, “The golden grove dissuaded...”, “Now we are leaving little by little...”, etc.)
The poem of values in Yesenin's poetry is one and indivisible; everything in it is interconnected, everything forms a single picture of the “beloved homeland” in all the variety of its shades. This is the highest ideal of the poet.
Having passed away at the age of 30, Yesenin left us a wonderful poetic legacy, and as long as the earth lives, Yesenin the poet is destined to live with us and “sing with all his being in the poet the sixth part of the earth with the short name “Rus”.
We offer you beautiful autumn poems by Sergei Yesenin. Each of us knows well from childhood poems by Sergei Yesenin about autumn, and someone reads them to their children and grandchildren. These poems are included in the school curriculum for different grades.
Yesenin's short stories help not only to develop speech and memory, but also to get acquainted with the beautiful season of autumn.
The golden grove dissuaded me - Sergei Yesenin
The golden grove dissuaded
Birch, cheerful language,
And the cranes, sadly flying,
They don’t regret anyone anymore.
Whom should I feel sorry for? After all, everyone in the world is a wanderer -
He will pass, enter and leave the house again.
The hemp plant dreams of all those who have passed away
With a wide moon over the blue pond.
I stand alone among the naked plain,
And the wind carries the cranes into the distance,
I'm full of thoughts about my cheerful youth,
But I don’t regret anything about the past.
I don't feel sorry for the years wasted in vain,
I don’t feel sorry for the soul of the lilac blossom.
There is a fire of red rowan burning in the garden,
But he can't warm anyone.
Rowan berry brushes will not get burned,
The yellowness will not make the grass disappear,
Like a tree silently shedding its leaves,
So I drop sad words.
And if time, scattered by the wind,
Rakes them all into one unnecessary lump...
Say this... that the grove is golden
She answered with sweet language.
Sergei Yesenin - The fields are compressed, the groves are bare...
The fields are compressed, the groves are bare,
Water causes fog and dampness.
Wheel behind the blue mountains
The sun went down quietly.
The dug-up road sleeps.
Today she dreamed
Which is very, very little
All we have to do is wait for the gray winter...
Autumn
R.V.Ivanov
Quietly in the juniper thicket along the cliff.
Autumn, a red mare, scratches her mane.
Above the river bank cover
The blue clang of her horseshoes is heard.
The schema-monk-wind steps cautiously
Crumples leaves along road ledges
And kisses on the rowan bush
Red ulcers for the invisible Christ.
***
An owl calls in autumn
An owl calls in autumn
Over the expanse of road wounds.
My head flies around
The bush of golden hair withers.
Field, steppe “ku-gu”,
Hello, Mother Blue Aspen!
Soon it will be a month, swimming in the snow,
Will sit in his son's sparse curls.
Soon I will feel cold without leaves,
The ringing of stars fills your ears.
The young men will sing without me,
The elders will not listen to me.
A new poet will come from the field,
The new forest will be filled with whistling sounds.
The wind blows like autumn,
The leaves whisper like autumn.
Golden foliage began to spin - Sergei Yesenin
Golden leaves swirled
In the pinkish water of the pond,
Like a light flock of butterflies
Freezingly, he flies towards the star.
I'm in love this evening,
The yellowing valley is close to my heart.
The wind boy up to his shoulders
The hem of the birch tree was stripped.
Both in the soul and in the valley there is coolness,
Blue twilight like a flock of sheep,
Behind the gate of the silent garden
The bell will ring and die.
I've never been thrifty before
So I did not listen to rational flesh,
It would be nice, like willow branches,
To capsize into the pink waters.
It would be nice, smiling at the haystack,
The muzzle of the month chews hay...
Where are you, where, my quiet joy,
Loving everything, wanting nothing?
The road was thinking about the red evening...
The road thought about the red evening,
Rowan bushes are more misty than the depths.
Hut-old woman jaw threshold
Chews the fragrant crumb of silence.
Autumn cold gently and meekly
Sneaks through the darkness towards the oat yard;
Through the blue glass a yellow-haired youth
He turns his eyes to the game of tick.
Embracing the pipe, it sparkles across the air
Green ash from a pink stove.
Someone is missing and the thin-lipped wind
Whispers about someone who disappeared in the night.
Someone can no longer crush their heels through the groves
Chipped leaf and gold grass.
A drawn-out sigh, diving with a skinny ringing,
Kisses the beak of a tufted owl.
The gloom is getting thicker, there is peace and slumber in the stable,
The white road will pattern a slippery...
And the barley straw groans tenderly,
Hanging from the lips of nodding cows.
***
Autumn
Autumn! The sky is cloudy
The wind is noisy.
Nature is boring
He looks everywhere.
The flowers have faded;
Trees are bare:
The gardens have died down
Sad are the valleys.
And you can't hear the birds
Everyone flew away.
For the last time in spring
They sang a song.
Autumn! The sky is cloudy.
The rain is pouring down
Sad, boring
Time is ticking.
Yesenin dedicated a lot of his works to nature and its seasons. The writer comes from a village, so he likes to observe the phenomena that happen around him. Yesenin notices every little thing and tries to describe it beautifully and colorfully. The writer seems to draw some kind of parallel between nature and man and compares them.
In this poem Yesenin writes that autumn has come. It's time when the leaves fall from the trees and everything becomes gray and dull. The writer writes that autumn is quietly approaching, and the leaves are already beginning to turn yellow. The horse's mane is represented here in the form of leaves, which turn from yellow to crimson-red. Soon all the leaves will fall and everything will be covered with snow, but for now Yesenin is watching the beauty of the transformation.
Yesenin writes as if he hears autumn tapping its hoof near the river. The first autumn frosts grabbed the banks of the river, and the crunch of the crust makes you plunge into the silence and tranquility of nature. Yesenin always imagines autumn in the image of the passing years of the poet’s life and therefore the poems turn out to be a little sad. After all, every year goes away as quickly as a yellowed leaf falls from a tree.
The autumn wind carries leaves along the ravines and turns the roads into a whirlpool of rainbow leaves. It looks very beautiful and exciting. The writer walks along the paths of the forest and enjoys the rustling of leaves under his feet. At this moment, Yesenin remembers his youth, which he spent hanging out in taverns and in the arms of numerous women. The writer wanted to find the one in life with whom he wanted to live his whole life, but, alas, this was not destined to come true. Every time, connecting his destiny with someone, he thought that it was love, but over time, the fire in his soul died down and they parted.
In the last line of the poem, Yesenin describes how the red bunches of viburnum turn into the wounds of Jesus Christ. The writer is ready to atone for his life, but he does not regret anything.
Picture for the poem Autumn
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Yesenin expressed his feelings perfectly, choosing each rhyme competently. Reading his poems, you are transported into the world described by the author, a distinct landscape filled with vibrant colors and harmony becomes noticeable. His work is like a sincere conversation with listeners. The poet himself admitted that he writes his lyrical works as if for close friends, putting all his soul and frankness into his lines.
And at the same time, Yesenin was a deep thinker with complex and sometimes contradictory feelings that injected passionate notes into his extraordinary lyrics. The Russian author is revered in different countries of the world, and the magnificent poet gained this fame well deservedly!
The theme of nature in the work of the great poet
Sergei Yesenin was a great patriot of his homeland; he could not imagine life away from it. His mad love and devotion to the Russian land was always expressed in his creativity, which is why most of the works of this author tell about the colorful and sometimes foggy landscapes of his native land. Many lyrical authors have covered the theme of nature, but no one has been able to glorify its beauty and unique views with such enthusiasm and devoted romanticism. Yesenin presents Russian nature in the most original genre. His poems, like a pleasant melody, reveal to readers the vulnerable soul of natural phenomena, the feelings of which are comparable to human emotions.
Detailed descriptions of landscapes, often found in Yesenin’s works, are not an artistic rendering of the visual background. The author described the beauties of nature, passing them through the very soul. Often the impetus for the lyrical mood was childhood memories that remained with the poet forever.
The work of Sergei Alexandrovich is recognized by the world community. Hundreds of critics admire his ability to colorfully convey natural motifs in rhymed form. Yesenin, like no one else, was able to revive Russian nature in the eyes of the reader, to show the natural beauty and uniqueness of colors, especially highlighted in the autumn period of the year...
Autumn in Yesenin's works
Each poet idolized his own season. Some were close to winter landscapes, other authors sang of spring streams and the ringing singing of birds. Yesenin gave preference to autumn; it seemed that this time of year somehow inspired the talented poet in a special way to create his next poem, and he was right! The autumn lyrics sunk into the reader’s soul. Magnificent rhymes are studied with interest in the school curriculum; even preschool children quickly grasp the melodic lines glorifying the autumn landscapes of their native country.
Autumn, in the poems of Sergei Yesenin, is always mysterious and lyrical, sometimes sad and somewhat thoughtful. The poet conveys the mood of tired nature with special inspiration, although, for this time of year, the feeling of fatigue, anxiety and some depression is more relevant. It seems that these feelings do not tire the author, but, on the contrary, bestow unrealistic strength to create brilliant poems that are loved by the entire world community.
Yesenin, like no one else, was able to describe this wonderful time of year in a special, sophisticated form. According to his lyrical works, autumn is perceived as a young and tender time, but at the same time wise and purposeful. In this incredible melancholy, different emotions and feelings are intertwined: passionate love and indescribable loneliness, insane joy and bitter disappointment, great mood and stormy melancholy...
Sergei Aleksandrovich Yesenin always selected successful rhymes. His poems about autumn are full of touching and warm words, emphasizing the magnificent beauty and harmony of Russian nature.
What is autumn characterized by? A cold stream of air, a chilly breeze, lingering clouds and sudden rain. This time of year prepares nature for winter, which is inexorably approaching its native land. It is not always possible to consider all the beauty of the autumn season, however, the talented Russian poet of the 20th century, Sergei Yesenin, brilliantly succeeded!
Good for autumn freshness
Good for autumn freshness
Shake off the apple tree soul with the wind
And watch how it cuts over the river
The blue water of the sun is plowed.
Good to knock out of the body
A nail that intensifies the songs.
And in festive white clothes
Wait for the guest to knock.
I'm learning, I'm learning with my heart
Cherish the color of bird cherry in your eyes,
Only in stinginess do feelings warm themselves,
When the ribs are broken by a leak.
The starry belfry hoots silently,
Every leaf is a candle at dawn.
I won't let anyone into the upper room,
I won't open the door for anyone.
Foggy weather, golden foliage, rainy romance and the invigorating power of a light autumn breeze are skillfully described by the author, infusing the most vivid and pleasant emotions on the reader. Yesenin superbly depicts every phenomenon relevant for a given time.
Describing atmospheric phenomena, the poet chooses a pictorial representation, expressing his observations figuratively. Anthropomorphic and zoomorphic comparisons are clearly visible in the work. In the poetry of another famous author, Alexander Alexandrovich Blok, the wind is presented as an astral and even cosmic phenomenon. And in Yesenin’s poems, he acquires a certain animation.
In many of Sergei Alexandrovich’s lyrical works there is a beautiful description of the celestial month and the enchanting moon. The poet masterfully emphasizes its unique shape, excellent silhouette and simply stunning “subtle lemon” or “lunar blue” light.
According to critics, detailed descriptions of the moon introduce special romance and elegiac motifs into the poems of the great Russian author. But rhymes about the picturesque month are compared with folklore, because this heavenly body appears in Yesenin’s work as a glorious character from a good fairy tale.
In his autumn poetry, Yesenin touched on various elements of the surrounding nature: the picturesque Russian forest, beautiful trees in golden outfits, animals preparing for hibernation and other, no less important and quite natural images. His autumn poetry is impressive and inspiring!
Golden leaves swirled
Golden leaves swirled
In the pinkish water of the pond,
Like a light flock of butterflies
Freezingly, he flies towards the star.
I'm in love this evening,
The yellowing valley is close to my heart.
The wind boy up to his shoulders
The hem of the birch tree was stripped.
Both in the soul and in the valley there is coolness,
Blue twilight like a flock of sheep,
Behind the gate of the silent garden
The bell will ring and die.
I've never been thrifty before
So I did not listen to rational flesh,
It would be nice, like willow branches,
To capsize into the pink waters.
It would be nice, smiling at the haystack,
The muzzle of the month chews hay...
Where are you, where, my quiet joy,
Loving everything, wanting nothing?
Analysis of the poem “Leaves are falling, leaves are falling...”
The poem “Leaves are falling, leaves are falling” was written by the author at the end of summer, in 1925. During this period, Yesenin was experiencing a difficult crisis in his personal life, which was clearly reflected in the written lyrical work. Reading the lines of this verse, one morally senses the total fatigue of the author, his confusion in relation to himself and those around him. The semantic plan of the work is based on the transfer of emotional experiences; Sergei Yesenin boldly declares his regrets associated with his lost youth. It's like he's trying to sum up his own life...
In his rhymes one can hear a malicious premonition of his own death. From the very first lines one can read the author's pessimism, his melancholy and heartache. He longs for joyful changes or typical tranquility, but windy weather seems to confuse all the thoughts of the creator, preventing the mind from making the right decision and deciding on its own desires.
In the last lines of the poem, the poet expresses his distrust of the female sex; one feels some contempt for crafty human relationships and unjustified love. Now the author is thinking about what could radically change internal contradictions and calm the soul. The lyrical character is trying to find his beloved, who has the power to pacify the sick soul and broken heart of the distressed poet.
Yesenin was looking for such a woman for a long time, but, apparently, like the hero of this poem, he was unable to make his wish come true...
"Leaves are falling, leaves are falling..."
Leaves are falling, leaves are falling.
The wind is moaning
Extended and dull.
Who will please your heart?
Who will calm him down, my friend?
With heavy eyelids
I look and look at the moon.
Here the roosters crow again
Into the surrounded silence.
Pre-dawn. Blue. Early.
And the grace of flying stars.
Make a wish,
I don't know what to wish for.
What to desire under the burden of life,
Cursing your lot and home?
I would like a good one now
Seeing a girl under the window.
So that she has cornflower blue eyes
Only for me -
Not to anyone -
And with new words and feelings
Calmed my heart and chest.
So that under this white moon,
Accepting a happy destiny,
I didn’t melt over the song, I didn’t get thrilled
And with someone else's cheerful youth
I never regretted mine.
Analysis of the poem "Autumn"
The first lines of the poem “Autumn” are based on the author’s imaginary comparison “autumn is a red mare, scratching her back...”. The literary image of a horse is freedom, and it was this that the poet chose for comparison in order to convey to the reader the elusive character of this time of year. However, the dynamism of a real animal is absent in Yesenin’s lyrical work. He exposes it from a different angle, captured for one moment, to announce to the whole earth about the approaching changes. The poet fills autumn with bright colors, but at the same time points out the characteristic fading of nature at this time. If we combine all the images presented in the poem, we can reveal the main essence laid down by the lyricist: the image of the autumn season conveys to us an understanding of the transience of human life, it, like a dull time, cannot be stopped in order to be held for a long time...
The life of nature is comparable to the life of every person. Nature loses its colors and the summer aroma of fragrant plants, like our life, leaves without looking back, leaving pleasant memories of the lost years of youth.
The wind in the lyrical work of Sergei Yesenin represents the image of freedom, and the red rowan berries can be compared with the bloody wounds of Jesus Christ. These lines convey the idea of redemption, based on the mistakes made and the sins of youth.
“Autumn” is a wonderful poem by the talented poet Sergei Yesenin, filled with deep philosophical meaning. By carefully reading the rhymes, you can remove the main essence of the lyrical work, conveyed by the brilliant author to every listener...
Autumn
Quietly in the juniper thicket along the cliff.
Autumn, a red mare, scratches her mane.
Above the river bank cover
The blue clang of her horseshoes is heard.
The schema-monk-wind steps cautiously,
Crumples leaves along road ledges.
And kisses on the rowan bush,
Red ulcers for the invisible Christ.
Poems about autumn by S. Yesenin belong to his best creations. Yesenin wrote how he breathed, how he felt. His perception of autumn is stunning. Everything is lived, conditioned, suffered.
“An owl hoots like autumn”
An owl calls in autumn
Over the expanse of road wounds.
My head flies around
The bush of golden hair withers.
Field, steppe “ku-gu”,
Hello, Mother Blue Aspen!
Soon it will be a month, swimming in the snow,
Will sit in his son's sparse curls.
Soon I will feel cold without leaves,
The ringing of stars fills your ears.
The young men will sing without me,
The elders will not listen to me.
A new poet will come from the field,
The new forest will be filled with whistling sounds.
The wind blows like autumn,
The leaves whisper like autumn.
What can you tell me about, autumn? What are you thinking about? Your thoughts, your reflections are a mystery. Autumn leaves whisper quite loudly. For what subject? This is also a secret related to the secrets of autumn and the poet.
“The fields are compressed, the groves are bare...”
The fields are compressed, the groves are bare,
Water causes fog and dampness.
Wheel behind the blue mountains
The sun went down quietly.
The dug-up road sleeps.
Today she dreamed
Which is very, very little
We have to wait for the gray winter.
Oh, and I myself am in the ringing thicket
I saw this in the fog yesterday:
Red moon as a foal
He harnessed himself to our sleigh.
Among the most striking pages of Russian literature is the poem “The Golden Grove Dissuaded.” The Soviet composer Ponomarenko set these poems to music. The romance “The Golden Grove Dissuaded” is sincere and sincere.
“The golden grove dissuaded me”
The golden grove dissuaded
Birch, cheerful language,
And the cranes, sadly flying,
They don’t regret anyone anymore.
Whom should I feel sorry for? After all, everyone in the world is a wanderer -
He will pass, enter and leave the house again.
The hemp plant dreams of all those who have passed away
With a wide moon over the blue pond.
I stand alone among the naked plain,
And the wind carries the cranes into the distance,
I'm full of thoughts about my cheerful youth,
But I don’t regret anything about the past.
I don't feel sorry for the years wasted in vain,
I don’t feel sorry for the soul of the lilac blossom.
There is a fire of red rowan burning in the garden,
But he can't warm anyone.
Rowan berry brushes will not get burned,
Yellowness will not make the grass disappear,
Like a tree silently shedding its leaves,
So I drop sad words.
And if time, scattered by the wind,
Rakes them all into one unnecessary lump...
Say this... that the grove is golden
She answered with sweet language.
“Quiet in the juniper thicket along the cliff...”
Quietly in the juniper thicket along the cliff.
Autumn, a red mare, scratches her mane.
Above the river bank cover
The blue clang of her horseshoes is heard.
The schema-monk-wind steps cautiously
Crumples leaves along road ledges
And kisses on the rowan bush
Red ulcers for the invisible Christ.
"Autumn! The sky is cloudy..."
Autumn! The sky is cloudy
The wind is noisy.
Nature is boring
He looks everywhere.
The flowers have faded;
Trees are bare:
The gardens have died down
Sad are the valleys.
And you can't hear the birds
Everyone flew away.
For the last time in spring
They sang a song.
Autumn! The sky is cloudy.
The rain is pouring down
Sad, boring
Time is ticking.
