"Gold autumn" analysis of the work - theme, idea, genre, plot, composition, characters, issues and other issues are discussed in this article.
Autumn in central Russia proceeds slowly and comes gradually, completely imperceptibly, which gives every Russian person the opportunity to slowly enjoy the beauty of the “lush nature of the withering”. That is why the golden autumn has inspired more than one poet to create immortal creations: “There is in the original autumn...” by F. Tyutchev, “Falling Leaves” by I. Bunin or “Autumn” by A. Fet.
Poem by Boris Leonidovich Pasternak "Gold autumn " can also rightfully be considered a masterpiece landscape lyrics. Unhurried admiration of the beauty of the coming autumn gives the poem the character of a philosophical reflection on life, on the change of seasons, on the eternity of nature.
It should be noted that in his early lyrics, Pasternak’s poetics were based on the idea of the interpenetration of individual objects of reality, the unity of the entire sensory world, where it is impossible to separate man from nature, poetry from life. Therefore, he tried his hand at both poetry and prose. By the way, later this inseparability of two forms of art will most clearly manifest itself in his famous novel “Doctor Zhivago”, in which all the events happening to the main character will be embodied in the poems of Yuri Zhivago and will appear in a completely different expression.
The poem “Golden Autumn” was written in 1956, already at a fairly mature age. At first glance, the name does not please with its originality, because this has long been the customary name for the initial period of autumn. However, the constant epithet "golden" usually accompanying the word "autumn", creates its own unique image in the imagination of each reader.
In Pasternak’s poem, the first lines convey the feeling of a fairy tale:
Autumn. Fairytale palace
Open for everyone to review.
But the name “Golden Autumn” will still remind you of itself in almost every quatrain. “unprecedented gilding”, That "golden hoop" linden or "gilded frames" from maples. Such an abundance of gold does not seem unnecessary, because the image is created in a new way every time. Autumn for Pasternak has many faces: sometimes these are exhibition halls of paintings, sometimes young newlyweds - a linden tree in a crown and a birch tree “under a wedding veil and transparent”.
The next three quatrains using anaphora Where as if they are completing their acquaintance with the golden autumn, leading the reader through the final halls of the exhibition. It is here that such signs appear that are difficult to find in any other Russian poets. For example, September sunset “leaves an amber mark on the bark”.
And it is in September that the leaves fall en masse, and until they are caught by frost, until they are covered with the first snow, they rustle, acting as a kind of alarm. That's why the poet writes that “You can’t step into a ravine without it becoming known to everyone”, because there “Every step is raging, there’s a tree leaf underfoot”.
And suddenly at the very end of the poem an unexpected metaphor:
And dawn cherry glue
Solidifies in the form of a clot.
For a moment it evokes a feeling of anxiety: cherry blossom is associated with blood, and the word "clump" semantically, first of all, it is connected specifically with blood. Perhaps the setting sun also symbolizes the end of life, because the already middle-aged Boris Leonidovich, who by that time had suffered a heart attack, outlived many of his friends, suffered the disfavor of the authorities, who reproached the poet for “a worldview that does not correspond to the era,” could not help but think about the inevitability of the last line.
This is probably why the poem ends with a reflection on the fact that for lyrical hero of this poem, autumn is a time of rethinking the days lived, when everything experienced becomes “an ancient corner of old books, clothes, weapons”,
Where is the treasure catalog
The cold turns over the pages.
And yet, the most amazing thing about this poem is that after the difficult-to-understand lyrical works allegedly written by Yuri Zhivago, which require the reader not only to know the artistic fabric of the novel, but also many historical realities, difficult Christian laws, this poem allows you to breathe a sigh of relief . Here you don’t need to look for hidden meanings or comprehend the mysteries of existence, you just need to walk with the hero through a fabulous autumn forest, enjoying the peace and tranquility.
"Golden Autumn" Boris Pasternak
Autumn. Fairytale palace
Open for everyone to review.
Clearings of forest roads,
Looking into the lakes.Like at a painting exhibition:
Halls, halls, halls, halls
Elm, ash, aspen
Unprecedented in gilding.Linden gold hoop -
Like a crown on a newlywed.
The face of a birch tree - under a veil
Bridal and transparent.Buried land
Under leaves in ditches, holes.
In the yellow maple outbuildings,
As if in gilded frames.Where are the trees in September
At dawn they stand in pairs,
And the sunset on their bark
Leaves an amber trail.Where you can't step into a ravine,
So that everyone doesn't know:
It's so raging that not a single step
There is a tree leaf underfoot.Where it sounds at the end of the alleys
Echo at a steep descent
And dawn cherry glue
Solidifies in the form of a clot.Autumn. Ancient Corner
Old books, clothes, weapons,
Where is the treasure catalog
The cold turns over the pages.
Analysis of Pasternak's poem "Golden Autumn"
Boris Pasternak never considered himself a lyricist, but among his works one can still find landscape sketches that very accurately and subtly convey the beauty of the world around him. At the same time, the poet never allowed himself to write only about what he sees. Each of his works has a deep philosophical meaning and draws parallels with various events. The poem “Golden Autumn” is no exception in this regard. At first glance, it seems that the author is admiring the autumn forest and admiring its beauty. In fact, he compares this time of year with that period of life when a person becomes experienced, wise and mature, but at the same time understands that youth is gone forever.
The first part of the poem is dedicated to the autumn forest, which the poet compares to an unusual museum. Each grove is a separate room with its own unique “exposition”. What all these “halls” have in common is that they are decorated in golden-crimson tones - the color of autumn, which gives the forest a special elegance and helps create a festive mood. At the same time, Pasternak selects very precise metaphors that create a vivid and unforgettable picture. “The golden linden hoop is like a crown on a newlywed,” the author notes, and one feels that he spent many delightful hours observing nature.
However, already in the third quatrain a very characteristic metaphor “buried earth” appears - a subtle hint that autumn is a transitional period between life and death. Its symbol is fallen golden leaves, on which it is impossible to step without leaving a mark. Likewise, human life, at the moment of its decline, imposes special obligations on each of us. You have to weigh your every action, every word and every step, because with age they are seen in a completely different light and can receive a diametrically opposite assessment. Nevertheless, in the autumn of human life, Pasternak also sees its charms. "Autumn. An ancient corner of old books, clothes, weapons,” this is how the poet describes his wealth, implying that each person has a certain baggage of not only things, but also knowledge. And it is precisely the acquired experience that is so dear to each of us, because with its help we can solve any life problems that puzzled us in our youth. True, now “the cold is leafing through the treasure catalogue,” as if reminding us that all these riches cannot be passed on by inheritance, and they will certainly sink into oblivion after a person’s death.
The wide blue Neva, just a stone's throw from the sea. It was the river that forced Peter to make a decision and found a city here. He gave him his name. But the Neva is not always blue. It often turns black and gray and freezes for six months of the year. In spring, the Neva and Ladoga ice melts, and huge ice floes rush to the sea. In autumn, the wind blows and fog envelops the city - “the most abstract and most deliberate city on the entire globe.”
In awe of the greatness of the name and the extraordinary personality of Anna Andreevna Akhmatova, I never even dared to think about ever daring to sculpt her full-scale portrait. It seemed to me that the very idea of meeting her, who had already become a classic of modern Russian literature during her lifetime, smacked of impudence and adventurism. And I probably would never have dared to approach her with a request to pose if...
For Blok, everything is not easy even in these first months of the revolution. There are things that confuse him: he cannot help but notice them and remain indifferent. In the Ukraine, Russian soldiers fraternize with the Germans, but to the north, on the Riga front, the Germans are advancing rapidly. There is not enough bread, they shoot at night, a cannon roars in the distance.
Autumn. Fairytale palace
Open for everyone to review.
Clearings of forest roads,
Looking into the lakes.
Like at a painting exhibition:
Halls, halls, halls, halls
Elm, ash, aspen
Unprecedented in gilding.
Linden gold hoop -
Like a crown on a newlywed.
The face of a birch tree - under a veil
Bridal and transparent.
Buried land
Under leaves in ditches, holes.
In the yellow maple outbuildings,
As if in gilded frames.
Where are the trees in September
At dawn they stand in pairs,
And the sunset on their bark
Leaves an amber trail.
Where you can't step into a ravine,
So that everyone doesn't know:
It's so raging that not a single step
There is a tree leaf underfoot.
Where it sounds at the end of the alleys
Echo at a steep descent
And dawn cherry glue
Solidifies in the form of a clot.
Autumn. Ancient Corner
Old books, clothes, weapons,
Where is the treasure catalog
The cold turns over the pages.
Analysis of the poem “Golden Autumn” by Pasternak
In the late period of his work, B. Pasternak moved from works that were difficult to perceive to poems written in simple and accessible language. The poem “Golden Autumn” (1956) belongs to pure landscape lyricism.
Beginning with Pushkin, many Russian poets enthusiastically described the beauty of Russian autumn, especially the last warm period - “Indian summer”. Pasternak was no exception, experiencing exactly the same feelings about the “golden era”. The epithet “golden”, already contained in the title, and the poet uses its various declensions throughout the poem (“gilding”, “gilded”). It most accurately conveys the color that forests turn during the period of decline.
The autumn forest in Pasternak’s mind appears as a huge collection of exhibition halls with an incredibly rich number of exhibits. Walking through these halls can never get boring. The enthusiastic visitor will discover more and more masterpieces at every step: “a golden linden hoop,” “the face of a birch tree under a veil.” The fairytale forest transforms the world around us. Instead of black earth, a thick carpet of fallen leaves is spread under your feet, forming unique patterns. The creation of human hands - the lonely outbuildings, thanks to the surrounding maples, receive a golden frame.
The forest lives its own life, in which love reigns. Anticipating a long winter sleep, the trees strive to spend their last moments closer to each other: “at dawn they stand in pairs.” The “amber trace” left on the bark by the setting sun symbolizes the tears of trees that are about to soon be separated.
Many poets have noted that the autumn forest is in a state of fragile numbness. Along with the silenced sounds, time seems to freeze. Any movement in absolute silence will resound loudly throughout the surrounding area. In Pasternak, this phenomenon is expressed in the “raging” of foliage underfoot.
The poem ends with a very beautiful poetic comparison. The huge autumn treasury, a collection of “old books, clothes, weapons,” will very soon close its doors to visitors. The time has come to hand over the keys to the strict watchman - winter. The first preparations for this transfer have already begun: “the cold is leafing through the treasure catalog.”
The poem “Golden Autumn” is Pasternak’s worthy contribution to the collection of Russian landscape poetry.
Pasternak's poems about autumn enchant with their style and unique description of the stormy season. Boris Pasternak shows us his autumn - in unprecedented gilding, in the reckless play of leaves.
"Gold autumn"
Autumn. Fairytale palace
Open for everyone to review.
Clearings of forest roads,
Looking into the lakes.
Like at a painting exhibition:
Halls, halls, halls, halls
Elm, ash, aspen
Unprecedented in gilding.
Linden gold hoop -
Like a crown on a newlywed.
The face of a birch tree - under a veil
Bridal and transparent.
Buried land
Under leaves in ditches, holes.
In the yellow maple outbuildings,
As if in gilded frames.
Where are the trees in September
At dawn they stand in pairs,
And the sunset on their bark
Leaves an amber trail.
Where you can't step into a ravine,
So that everyone doesn't know:
It's so raging that not a single step
There is a tree leaf underfoot.
Where it sounds at the end of the alleys
Echo at a steep descent
And dawn cherry glue
Solidifies in the form of a clot.
Autumn. Ancient Corner
Old books, clothes, weapons,
Where is the treasure catalog
The cold turns over the pages.
Pasternak's metaphors are bold, daring, and stunning. Metaphors run like a red thread through all of his work. What is an autumn forest? A fairy-tale palace... This is how the forest kingdom seemed to the poet. What's there in the fairy-tale palace? A golden linden hoop is a crown on a newlywed... And a lot more sensual, original things.
"Autumn"
Since those days, it began to move over the depths of the park
Harsh, leaf-chilling October.
Dawns forged the end of navigation,
My larynx was spiraling and my elbows were aching.
There was no more fog. Forgot about cloudiness.
It got dark for hours. Through all the evenings
Opened up, in the heat, with fever and runny nose,
The sick horizon looked around the courtyards.
And the blood ran cold. But they didn’t seem to get cold
Ponds, and - it seemed - since the last weather
The days do not move, and it seemed - taken out
From the world, the firmament is transparent, like sound.
And it became so far, so difficult to see
Breathe, and it hurts to look, and so
The peace has spread, and is so deserted,
Such an unconsciously ringing peace!
1916
It is quite difficult to imagine Pasternak's poetry without metaphors. There are many outstanding poets for whom the means of artistic expression are not prevalent. And Pasternak sees the world like this. And the world is getting richer from it.
"Autumn"
I let my family leave,
All loved ones have long been in disarray,
And the everlasting loneliness
Everything is complete in the heart and nature.
And here I am here with you in the guardhouse.
The forest is deserted and deserted.
Like in a song, stitches and paths
Half overgrown...
...Even more magnificent and reckless
Make noise, fall off, leaves,
And a cup of yesterday's bitterness
Exceed today's melancholy.
Affection, attraction, charm!
Let's dissipate in the September noise!
Bury yourself in the autumn rustle!
Freeze or go crazy!..
Autumn... How much exciting, great joy this time of year brings. Pasternak knew how to see the charming in the ordinary. All autumn novelties that are subject to the gaze of man were included in his poetic chronicle.
"Bad weather"
The rain made the roads swampy.
The wind cuts their glass.
He tears the scarf from the willow
And she cuts their heads.
Leaves flutter to the ground.
People are coming from a funeral.
A sweaty tractor plows the winter field
B eight disc harrows.
Black plowed plowland
Leaves fly into the pond
And along the indignant ripples
The ships are sailing in a row.
Rain splashes through the sieve.
The pressure of the cold is getting stronger.
It’s as if everything is covered in shame,
It's like a shame in autumn.
Just a shame and a reproach
In flocks of leaves and crows,
And rain and hurricane,
Whiplashing from all sides.
"Indian summer"
The currant leaf is rough and fabric-like.
There is laughter in the house and the glass is clinking,
They chop and ferment and pepper in it,
And cloves are put into the marinade.
The forest is abandoned like a mocker,
This noise on a steep slope,
Where is the sun-burnt hazel tree?
As if scorched by the heat of a fire.
Here the road descends into a gully,
Here and dried old driftwood,
And I feel sorry for the rags of autumn,
Sweeping everything into this ravine...
"Autumn. We've lost the habit of lightning..."
Autumn. We are unaccustomed to lightning.
It's raining blindly.
Autumn. Trains are crowded
Let me pass! Everything is behind us.
