Yesenin is my last and only friend. “Sing, sing. On the damned guitar..." S. Yesenin
“Sing, sing. On damn guitar..." Sergei Yesenin
Sing, sing. On the damn guitar
Your fingers dance in a semicircle.
I would choke in this frenzy,
My last, only friend.Don't look at her wrists
And silk flowing from her shoulders.
I was looking for happiness in this woman,
And I accidentally found death.I didn't know that love is an infection
I didn't know love was a plague.
Came up with a narrowed eye
The bully was driven crazy.Sing, my friend. Remind me again
Our former violent early.
Let her kiss each other,
Young, beautiful trash.Oh, wait. I don't scold her.
Oh, wait. I don't curse her.
Let me play about myself
To this bass string.The pink dome of my days is flowing.
In the heart of dreams there are golden sums.
I touched a lot of girls
He pressed a lot of women in the corner.Yes! there is a bitter truth of the earth,
I spied with a childish eye:
Males lick in line
Bitch leaking juice.So why should I be jealous of her?
So why should I be sick like that?
Our life is a sheet and a bed.
Our life is a kiss and a whirlwind.Sing, sing! On a fatal scale
These hands are a fatal disaster.
You just know, fuck them...
I will never die, my friend.
Analysis of Yesenin’s poem “Sing, sing. On the damn guitar..."
The beginning of the twenties was marked for Yesenin by a serious mental crisis, largely due to disappointment in the Great October Revolution and the power of the Bolsheviks. The poet’s tragic worldview is reflected in the cycle “Moscow Tavern,” included in the collection of the same name. Lyrical hero series of poems deliberately turns to wine, trying to lose himself in an alcoholic stupor, to escape from real life and its inherent problems. He seeks salvation from mental anguish in the world of drinking establishments. Similar motifs are found in Blok’s poetry of 1907-1913. His hero also tried to lose himself in the tavern, to hide from reality by drinking himself into unconsciousness. The texts included in “Tavern Moscow” are very different from most of Yesenin’s poems that preceded them. In them, the rainbow of colors and glorification of nature were replaced by gloomy night urban landscapes, presented from the point of view of fallen man. The place of heartfelt sincerity and deep emotionality was taken by naked sensitivity, hysterical intonations, and plaintive melodiousness inherent in gypsy romances.
The poem “Sing, sing. On the damned guitar...” (1922) is part of the Moscow tavern series. In the text, the lyrical hero demonstrates an ambivalent attitude towards the woman to whom he is clearly not indifferent. In the second stanza there is open admiration of the lady’s beauty. The hero calls on his interlocutor to look at her wrists, at “the flowing silk from her shoulders.” Then there is a sharp change in mood. The man begins to realize that the object of his adoration is so strong feelings not worthy. He calls the woman “young beautiful trash.” This representative of the fairer sex is not capable of bringing happiness; her passion threatens her with death. Fifth stanza – the intonation changes again. The lyrical hero does not seem to want to scold his beloved, does not want to curse her. However, his blissful state does not last long. In the following lines he reduces love only to physical intimacy, and an animal at that, it is not for nothing that a vivid image of a bitch in heat appears in the poem. Victories in bed are declared the meaning of life:
Our life is a sheet and a bed,
Our life is a kiss and a whirlwind.
The poem ends on an optimistic note, as the hero proclaims his own immortality. At the same time, the work leaves a painful impression. The world that is depicted in it is a space with a distorted idea of love, which does not give a holiday to the heart, but destroys a person like a plague.
Sing, sing. On the damn guitar
Your fingers dance in a semicircle.
I would choke in this frenzy,
My last, only friend.
Don't look at her wrists
And silk flowing from her shoulders.
I was looking for happiness in this woman,
And I accidentally found death.
I didn't know that love is an infection
I didn't know that love was a plague.
Came up with a narrowed eye
The bully was driven crazy.
Sing, my friend. Remind me again
Our former violent early.
Let her kiss each other,
Young, beautiful trash.
Oh, wait. I don't scold her.
Oh, wait. I don't curse her.
Let me play about myself
To this bass string.
The pink dome of my days is flowing.
In the heart of dreams there are golden sums.
I touched a lot of girls
He pressed a lot of women in the corner.
Yes! there is a bitter truth of the earth,
I spied with a childish eye:
Males lick in line
Bitch leaking juice.
So why should I be jealous of her?
So why should I be sick like that?
Our life is a sheet and a bed.
Our life is a kiss and a whirlwind.
Sing, sing! On a fatal scale
These hands are a fatal disaster.
Just you know, fuck them...
I will never die, my friend.
<1923>
Sing, old. The cursed guitar
Your fingers dance vpolukrug.
Would drown in this frenzy,
My last only friend.
Don't look at her wrist
And with her arms flowing silk.
I was looking at this woman happiness,
But I found perdition.
I did not know what love is - an infection,
I did not know what love is - the plague.
Came over and squinting eyes
Bully brought to mind.
Sing, my friend. Waft me again
Our previous violent early.
Let it drugova kisses,
Young, beautiful stuff.
Oh, wait. I didn't scold.
Oh, wait. I didn't wear.
Give you about myself I will play
Under this string bass.
Raining days my pink dome.
At the heart of the golden dreams scrip.
A lot of girls I pereschupal,
Many women in the corner pressed.
Yes! there is a bitter truth land
I spied childish eye:
Lick in all males
Expiring bitch juice.
So what am I jealous of her.
So what am I hurt this.
Our lives - yes bed sheet.
Our lives - yes kiss into the maelstrom.
Sing, old! In fatal sweep
These hands are fatal trouble.
Only you know, went on their dick...
I will not die, my friend, never.
Read by R. Kleiner
Sergey Yesenin
x x x
Sing, sing. On the damn guitar
Your fingers dance in a semicircle.
I would choke in this frenzy,
My last, only friend.
Don't look at her wrists
And silk flowing from her shoulders.
I was looking for happiness in this woman,
And I accidentally found death.
I didn't know that love is an infection
I didn't know that love was a plague.
Came up with a narrowed eye
The bully was driven crazy.
Sing, my friend. Remind me again
Our former violent early.
Let her kiss each other,
Young beautiful trash.
Oh, wait. I don't scold her.
Oh, wait. I don't curse her
Let me play about myself
To this bass string.
The pink dome of my days is flowing.
In the heart of dreams there are golden sums.
I touched a lot of girls
He pressed a lot of women in the corners.
Yes! there is a bitter truth of the earth,
I spied with a childish eye:
Males lick in line
Bitch leaking juice.
So why should I be jealous of her?
So why should I be sick like that?
Our life is a sheet and a bed.
Our life is a kiss and a whirlwind.
Sing, sing! On a fatal scale
These hands are a fatal disaster.
Just you know, send them to...
I will never die, my friend.
Yesenin Sergei Alexandrovich (1895-1925)
Yesenin was born in 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. Russian village, nature of central Russia, oral folk art, and most importantly - Russian classical literature provided strong influence His natural talent was directed towards the formation of the young poet. Yesenin himself different times named various 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 of 1911 - 1913 emerges difficult life poet. All this is reflected in poetic world his lyrics from 1910 to 1913, when he wrote more than 60 poems and poems. The most significant works of Yesenin, which brought him fame as one of best poets, created in the 1920s.
Like everyone 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 eternal problems 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 “The Silver Road...”, “Songs, songs, what are you shouting about?”, “I left home...”, “The golden foliage began to spin...”, 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”.
Alexander Novikov I didn’t know that love is an infection poems by S. Yesenin - Sergei Lyubavin - Farewell to Isadora Song based on poems by S. Yesenin Ships are sailing to Constantinople. Trains leave for Moscow. From human noise whether, from the accumulation Every day I feel melancholy. That’s why, when I meet a foreigner, I hear the voice of a crying Talyanka and the distant cry of cranes to the creaks of schooners and ships. Let you be drunk by others, But what’s left for me, what’s left for me is Glass smoke in your hair And autumn fatigue in your eyes!!! The pink dome of my days is flowing. In the heart of dreams are golden bags. I groped a lot of girls, I pressed a lot of women in the corners. So why should I be jealous of her? So why should I be sick like that? Our life is a sheet and a bed. Our life is a kiss and a whirlwind. I didn't know that love was an infection, I didn't know that love was a plague. She came up and drove the Hooligan crazy with her narrowed eye. I would forget taverns forever, And I would give up writing poetry, If only I could subtly touch your hand and your hair with the color of autumn. Let you be drunk by others, But what’s left for me, what’s left for me is Glass smoke in your hair And autumn fatigue in your eyes!!! Let... you be drunk... by others...
The text of the ode in its entirety and for free:
Sing, sing. On the damn guitar
Your fingers dance in a semicircle.
I would choke in this frenzy,
My last, only friend.
Don't look at her wrists
And silk flowing from her shoulders.
I was looking for happiness in this woman,
And I accidentally found death.
I didn't know that love was a plague.
Came up with a narrowed eye
The bully was driven crazy.
Sing, my friend. Remind me again
Our former violent early.
Let her kiss each other,
Young, beautiful trash.
Oh, wait. I don't scold her.
Oh, wait. I don't curse her.
Let me play about myself
To this bass string.
I didn't know that love is an infection
I didn't know that love was a plague.
Came up with a narrowed eye
The bully was driven crazy.
The pink dome of my days is flowing.
In the heart of dreams there are golden sums.
I touched a lot of girls
He pressed a lot of women in the corners.
So why should I be jealous of her?
So why should I be sick like that?
Our life is a sheet and a bed.
Our life is a kiss and into the pool.
I didn't know that love is an infection
I didn't know that love was a plague.
Came up with a narrowed eye
The bully was driven crazy.
Sing, sing on a fatal scale
These hands are a fatal disaster.
You just know, fuck them...
I will never die, my friend.
