Blue dream flowers. Blue Dream
S. Yesenin’s poem “Letter to a Mother” is one of the poet’s programmatic works studied by schoolchildren in the 11th grade. This is a kind of confession of the poet. It reflects the feelings and mood that he experienced in last years life. In it, he addresses the person most dear to him, pities and reassures his mother, and says how much he loves her. The poem “Letter to a Mother” is an appeal to the mother and the poet’s self-analysis. In it he talks about himself, his mistakes, criticizes and feels sorry for himself.
You can read the poem “Letter to a Mother” (Yesenin) in online mode or download and print. The work was written in 1924 and is one of the works created by Yesenin in the Caucasus. All the lyrics of this time are autobiographical. The poet writes poems in which his soul is revealed, creates images without which his work cannot be imagined.
The text of Sergei Yesenin’s poem “Letter to a Mother” is interesting because it reveals the true talent of the poet, his unique manner. In 1924, he drew attention to the “lyrical feeling and imagery”, which he “was the first to develop and put in stone in his poems.” In its simplicity and sincerity, the poem is similar to Pushkin’s lyrics. This is what Yesenin was striving for.
Are you still alive, my old lady?
I'm alive too. Hello, hello!
Let it flow over your hut
That evening unspeakable light.
They write to me that you, harboring anxiety,
She was very sad about me,
That you often go on the road
In an old-fashioned, shabby shushun.
And to you in the evening blue darkness
We often see the same thing:
It's like someone is in a tavern fight with me
I stabbed a Finnish knife under my heart.
Nothing, dear! Calm down.
This is just a painful nonsense.
I'm not such a bitter drunkard,
So that I can die without seeing you.
I'm still as gentle
And I only dream about
So that rather from rebellious melancholy
Return to our low house.
I'll be back when the branches spread out
Our white garden looks like spring.
Only you have me already at dawn
Don't be like eight years ago.
Don't wake up what was noted
Don't worry about what didn't come true -
Too early loss and fatigue
I have had the opportunity to experience this in my life.
And don’t teach me to pray. No need!
There is no going back to the old ways anymore.
You alone are my help and joy,
You alone are an unspeakable light to me.
So forget about your worries,
Don't be so sad about me.
Don't go on the road so often
In an old-fashioned, shabby shushun.
To whom did Pushkin dedicated these lines: “Are you still alive, my old lady? "
- Actually Yesenin's mother
Are you still alive, my old lady?
I'm alive too. Hello, hello!
That evening unspeakable light.
They write to me that you, harboring anxiety,
She was very sad about me,
That you often go on the road
In an old-fashioned, shabby shushun.
And to you in the evening blue darkness
We often see the same thing:
It's like someone is in a tavern fight with me
I stabbed a Finnish knife under my heart.
Nothing, dear! Calm down.
This is just a painful nonsense.
I'm not such a bitter drunkard,
So that I can die without seeing you.
I'm still as gentle
And I only dream about
So that rather from rebellious melancholy
Return to our low house.
I'll be back when the branches spread out
Our white garden looks like spring.
Only you have me already at dawn
Don't be like eight years ago.
Don't wake up what was noted
Don't worry about what didn't come true -
Too early loss and fatigue
I have had the opportunity to experience this in my life.
And don’t teach me to pray. No need!
There is no going back to the old ways anymore.
You alone are my help and joy,
You alone are an unspeakable light to me.
So forget about your worries,
Don't be so sad about me.
Don't go on the road so often
In an old-fashioned, shabby shushun.
he called her old lady and loved, standing under an icy maple tree, hugging her with his other hand and holding onto the tree with the other
Whirling snow whirlwinds;
Then, like a beast, she will howl,
Then he will cry like a child,
Then on the dilapidated roof
Suddenly the straw will rustle,
The way a belated traveler
There will be a knock on our window.
Our dilapidated shack
And sad and dark.
What are you doing, my old lady?
Silent at the window?
Or howling storms
You, my friend, are tired,
Or dozing under the buzzing
Your spindle?
Let's have a drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief; where is the mug?
The heart will be more cheerful.
Sing me a song like a tit
She lived quietly across the sea;
Sing me a song like a maiden
I went to get water in the morning.
The storm covers the sky with darkness,
Whirling snow whirlwinds;
Then, like a beast, she will howl,
She will cry like a child.
Let's have a drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief: where is the mug?
The heart will be more cheerful.
Yesenin wrote the poem and it’s called a letter to his mother
The only truly close person turned out to be a serf nanny. Everything was as it should be. She was at the same time condescending and grumpy, innocently religious and extremely businesslike. Bas-relief by Seryakov. They offered her freedom. She refused. And finally:
The poet continually addressed the nanny in verse. Everyone knows such, for example, sincere lines
Here I forgot for a second. And he shuddered when he heard his own voice:
You are still alive, my old lady, I am also alive, hello to you, hello!
Let it flow over your hut
I froze. Now someone will shout:
Madman and ignoramus! This is Yesenin Letter to his mother
I continued to recite, thinking feverishly:
Yes, comrades, you are absolutely right. Of course, this is Yesenin. And indeed a Letter to Mother. But how close, mind you, is Pushkin’s intonation to Sergei Yesenin’s lyrics! How organically they are realized in Yesenin’s poetics And so on.
I continued to recite. Somewhere at the end a Finnish knife was shining menacingly
Are you still alive, my old lady?
I'm alive too. Hello, hello!
Let it flow over your hut
That evening unspeakable light.
They write to me that you, harboring anxiety,
She was very sad about me,
That you often go on the road
In an old-fashioned, shabby shushun.
And to you in the evening blue darkness
We often see the same thing:
It's like someone is in a tavern fight with me
I stabbed a Finnish knife under my heart.
Nothing, dear! Calm down.
This is just a painful nonsense.
I'm not such a bitter drunkard,
So that I can die without seeing you.
I'm still as gentle
And I only dream about
So that rather from rebellious melancholy
Return to our low house.
I'll be back when the branches spread out
Our white garden looks like spring.
Only you have me already at dawn
Don't be like eight years ago.
Don't wake up what was dreamed of
Don't worry about what didn't come true
Too early loss and fatigue
I have had the opportunity to experience this in my life.
And don’t teach me to pray. No need!
There is no going back to the old ways anymore.
You alone are my help and joy,
You alone are an unspeakable light to me.
So forget about your worries,
Don't be so sad about me.
Don't go on the road so often
In an old-fashioned, shabby shushun.
Other lyrics of songs "147 to the verses of S. Yesenin"
Other titles for this text
- Valery Vlasov - Are you still alive, my old lady? (music unknown author - art. S. Yesenin) (al. "Sergei Yesenin" 2006)
- 147 to the verses of S. Yesenin - You are still alive, my old lady
- Alexander Kirikov - You are still alive, my old lady Yesenin Sergey
- A. Petrov (poems by S. Yesenin) - You are still alive, my old lady
- Sergei Yesenin - You are still alive, my old lady / Letter to mother (Spanish: Alexander Malinin
- A. Malinin - You are still alive, my old lady (S. Yesenin)
- Menshikov - You are still alive, my old lady (S. Yesenin)
- Maxim Troshin - Letter to Mother
- Maxim Troshin - You are still alive, my old lady (Sergei Yesenin)
- Valery Vlasov - You are still alive, my old lady.....(words by S. Yesenin)
- Maxim Tsar - You are still alive, my old lady (Yesenin)
- 4 Alexander Malinin (V.Lipatov - S.A. Yesenin) - Letter to his mother (You are still alive, my old lady)
- Alexander Malinin - Letter to Mother - You are still alive, my old lady (S. Yesenin)
- Songs based on poems by Sergei Yesenin - You are still alive, my old lady
- Alexander Petrov - You are still alive, my old lady
- A. Malinin - You are still alive, my old lady
- Maxim Troshin - You are still alive, my old lady (poems by Sergei Yesenin)
- Alexander Malinin - You are still alive, my old lady (S. Yesenin)
- Maxim Troshin - letter to his mother
Also, Sergei Yesenin’s communication with his mother Tatyana Fedorovna was not cloudless. The poet was jealous of her illegitimate son and even declared in his hearts that he never wanted to see her again. About the mothers of Pushkin, Yesenin and other writers - in the material “Dilettante”.
Nadezhda Osipovna Pushkina
Daughter of a military man Nadezhda Osipovna Hannibal secular society created a real sensation: an educated and friendly girl stood out from the crowd of Russian beauties with her unusual appearance- the genes of Ibrahim’s great-grandfather, born in Ethiopia, made themselves felt. In 1796, the 21-year-old “beautiful Creole” - as Nadezhda Osipovna was called by her acquaintances - married Sergei Lvovich Pushkin.
Nadezhda Osipovna Pushkina (Hannibal). Source: wikipedia.org
The Pushkin couple had eight children, but four of them died as infants. His mother treated Alexander rather coldly, preferring his brother Leo. However, during Nadezhda Osipovna’s illness, which led to her death in 1836, Alexander Sergeevich paid much more attention to her than the rest of the family. Of all the children of Nadezhda Osipovna, only he went with the coffin to the Svyatogorsk Holy Dormition Monastery, where the poet’s mother was buried.
Tatyana Fedorovna Yesenina
With his mother, sung by the poet in poetry, in reality Yesenin had difficult relationship. This was largely due to the fact that Tatyana Fedorovna had an illegitimate son, the half-brother of Sergei Alexandrovich. Great love The woman never had any feelings for her husband, therefore, leaving her family in 1901 and going to work in Ryazan, she started an affair on the side. This relationship turned into an unplanned pregnancy for Tatyana Fedorovna. The born boy was named Alexander Ivanovich and received the surname of the nurse to whom he was given to be raised - Razgulyaev.
Sergei Yesenin's parents are Tatyana Fedorovna and Alexander Nikitich. Source: ser-esenin.ru
Sergei Yesenin learned about his brother Alexander in 1916. Subsequently, he was often jealous of his mother’s illegitimate son. For example, in 1925, the poet wrote to his father: “I understood everything. The mother went to Moscow not to visit me at all, but to visit her son. Now I understand where those ill-fated 3,000 rubles went. I learned everything from the servants. When my mother came, he came to my apartment, and they went with him to drink tea. Tell her not to set foot in Moscow again.”
Varvara Petrovna Turgeneva
The mother of Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev was a woman with a difficult character - it was she who served as the prototype for the ruthless lady in the story “Mumu”. The writer himself called his own mother “Saltychikha” and recalled his childhood with nothing less than a shudder. Varvara Petrovna was not only power-hungry, but also stingy: she refused to erect a monument on her grave own husband, saying that he no longer cares. As a result, the writer’s father’s grave, which did not receive proper care and identification marks, was lost.
Varvara Petrovna Turgeneva (Lutovinova).
Are you still alive, my old lady?
Let it flow over your hut
That evening unspeakable light.
They write to me that you, harboring anxiety,
She was very sad about me,
That you often go on the road
In an old-fashioned, shabby shushun.
And to you in the evening blue darkness
We often see the same thing:
It's like someone is in a tavern fight with me
I stabbed a Finnish knife under my heart.
Nothing, dear! Calm down.
This is just a painful nonsense.
I'm not such a bitter drunkard,
So that I can die without seeing you.
I'm still as gentle
And I only dream about
So that rather from rebellious melancholy
Return to our low house.
I'll be back when the branches spread out
Our white garden looks like spring.
Only you have me already at dawn
Don't be like eight years ago.
Don't wake up what was dreamed of
Don't worry about what didn't come true -
Too early loss and fatigue
I have had the opportunity to experience this in my life.
And don’t teach me to pray. No need!
There is no going back to the old ways anymore.
You alone are my help and joy,
You alone are an unspeakable light to me.
So forget about your worries,
Don't be so sad about me.
Don't go on the road so often
In an old-fashioned, shabby shushun.
Analysis of the poem “Letter to Mother” by Yesenin
The touching and pure poem “Letter to a Mother” was written by Yesenin in 1924. By this time, the poet already had wide fame, he was surrounded by numerous fans. Stormy life did not give the poet the opportunity to visit his homeland, the village of Konstantinovo. However, Yesenin always returned there in his thoughts. Yesenin's lyrics are imbued with motifs of his home. After an eight-year absence, the poet still finds the opportunity to make a trip to his village. On the eve of his departure, he wrote the work “Letter to his Mother.”
The poem begins with a joyful greeting.
Are you still alive, my old lady?
I'm alive too. Hello, hello!
After for long years separation, the meeting might not have taken place. The poet’s mother is already very old, and he himself could well have lost his life with his restless character. Yesenin receives information about his mother’s condition. She also knows about her son from stories and rumors. The poet understands that he literary fame and fame have no meaning for the mother. The peasant woman imagined the future of her son completely different: calm family life and simple village labor. Poetic activity for her is a useless, frivolous activity, for which her son receives money from the same eccentrics and losers. And what happiness can there be in money if it is spent on endless holidays and drinking bouts?
Yesenin had a bad reputation in city circles as a hooligan and brawler. His frequent clashes with law enforcement agencies are known. The poet understands how monstrous these rumors could reach, reaching a remote village through dozens of people. Yesenin bitterly imagines his mother’s experiences, her sleepless nights, during which an ominous image of a “Finnish knife” appears, aimed at the heart of her beloved son.
In the poem, Yesenin tries to reassure his mother, claiming that “I’m not such a bitter drunkard.” His soul, thanks to the memories of himself dear person, remained just as clean and bright. The poet does not give himself the right to die without seeing his mother. In this address, Yesenin reassures himself. Knowing the details of his life, we can confidently assume that the poet has come face to face with death more than once. A stray bullet or a drunken knife never takes into account a person's feelings.
In the finale, Sergei Yesenin imagines a happy meeting with his mother. He is overwhelmed by a wave of tenderness for home. The poet longs to return to familiar surroundings. He anticipates in advance the quiet sadness of this return. The poet became an adult, experienced serious suffering and hardship, many things were “dreamt” and “did not come true.” The accumulated experience will not allow him to completely immerse himself in his native atmosphere. Only his mother will give him the opportunity to feel like a child again. She is the only joy and hope in life prodigal son, “unspeakable light” in the dark unknown.
