“Spring Day” Igor Severyanin
Dear K. M. Fofanov
The spring day is hot and golden, -
The whole city is blinded by the sun!
I am again - I am: I am young again!
I'm cheerful and in love again!The soul sings and rushes into the field,
I call all strangers by “you”...
What space! What a will!
What songs and flowers!Hurry up - in a chaise over potholes!
Hurry to the young meadows!
Look into the faces of ruddy women,
Like a friend, kiss an enemy!Make noise, spring oak groves!
Grow, grass! Bloom, lilac!
There is no one to blame: all people are right
On such a blessed day!
Analysis of Severyanin’s poem “Spring Day”
In 1913, thanks to the Moscow publishing house "Count", the collection "The Thundering Cup" was published. He brought the young Northerner all-Russian fame. It was after its release that the poet began to publicly speak with his poems and went on a tour of the country, accompanied by Sologub. “Spring Day” is a work created in April 1911 and included in the first section of the book “The Lilac of My Spring.” It reflected some of the key features of The Thundering Cup - the worship of love and fascination with the spring revival of the human soul and nature.
The poem “Spring Day” is dedicated to Konstantin Mikhailovich Fofanov, a poet and publicist, a representative of Russia’s first futurists and impressionists in literature. In addition, he is considered the predecessor of the Russian Symbolists. The northerner called himself a student of Fofanov and called him his king. There is indeed something in common in the poets' lyrics. For example, in 1887, after the release of the collection “Poems,” many critics accused Konstantin Mikhailovich of violating grammatical norms, a large number of negligence, and refusal to strictly select works. Similar claims were made to Severyanin after the release of the second book, “Zlatolir”. The poet was friends with Fofanov from 1907 to 1911. The friends saw each other very often. Before the death of Konstantin Mikhailovich, Severyanin was on duty at his bedside. After Fofanov’s death, he took an active part in organizing a decent funeral.
“Spring Day” is an expression of the impulse of the soul, yearning for a harmonious and simple life. The poem is filled with exclamatory sentences that convey the highest degree of delight, youthful, boundless. The lyrical hero of Severyanin’s work is a city man who knows little about nature and overly romanticizes and aestheticizes it. Therefore, in the poet’s landscapes there are often images with a touch of bourgeois vulgar artistocracy: a trout river, a dacha called a chalet or cottage, a woman likened to the Mother of God of the great Correggi. The impulse of the soul expressed in “Spring Day”, unfortunately, will remain only an impulse. Most likely, the lyrical hero will not have enough strength or courage to break free from urban reality. You will only have to transform the not-too-exotic Russian landscape in your dreams, inventing incredible metaphors and epithets for it.
Thunderous Goblet
This book, like all my Creativity, is dedicated to Maria Volnyanskaya, my thirteenth and, like the Thirteenth, my last.
Preface:
I am an opponent of auto-prefaces: my job is to sing, it’s up to critics and the public to judge my singing. But I would like to say once and for all that I, in my own way, treat my poems very strictly and publish only those poems that I have not destroyed, that is, that are vital. I work a lot on poetry, guided only by intuition; I find it murderous for them to correct old poems in accordance with the ever-improving taste: it is clear that at one time they completely satisfied me, if I did not burn them then. Replacing any unsuccessful expression of that period with “the delicacy of this day” is wrong: this kills what is hidden, which is often the nerve of all poetry. The stillborn is burned by me, and if the living is sometimes not entirely beautiful - I admit, even ugly - I cannot destroy it: it was brought to life by me, it is dear to me, and finally, it is mine!
Foreword by Fyodor Sologub:
One of the sweetest consolations of life is free poetry, an easy, joyful gift from heaven. The appearance of a poet brings joy, and when a new poet appears, the soul is excited, just as it is excited by the arrival of spring.
I love the poems of Igor Severyanin. Let them tell me that this or that in them is incorrect with the rules of piitika, irritates and teases - what do I care about that! The poems may be better or worse, but the most important thing is that I like them. I love them for their light, smiling, inspired origin. I love them because they were born in the depths of the poet’s daring, fiery will, intoxicated soul. He wants, he dares, not because he has set himself the literary task of wanting and daring, but only because he wants and dares, because he wants and dares. The will to free creativity constitutes an involuntary and inalienable element of his soul, and therefore his appearance is truly an unexpected joy in the gray darkness of a northern day. His poems, so capricious, light, sparkling and ringing, flow because the loudly boiling cup is overflowing in the light hands of the windy Hebe, the laughing and generous celestial being, who accidentally tilted it. She looked at the eagle of Zeus, which she was feeding, and boiling streams poured from the goblet, and she laughed playfully, carelessly listening to how “the first thunder of spring, as if frolicking and playing, rumbles in the blue sky.” (Fedor Sologub)
Lilac of my spring
Spring day
The spring day is hot and golden, -
The whole city is blinded by the sun!
I am again - I am: I am young again!
I'm cheerful and in love again!
The soul sings and rushes into the field.
I call all strangers by “you”...
What space! what a will!
What songs and flowers!
Hurry up - in a chaise over potholes!
Hurry to the young meadows!
Look the rosy-cheeked women in the face!
Like a friend, kiss an enemy!
Make noise, spring oak groves!
Grow, grass! bloom, lilac!
There is no one to blame: all people are right
On such a blessed day!
To the eyes of your soul
To the eyes of your soul - prayers and sorrows,
My illness, my fear, the cry of my conscience,
And everything that is here at the end, and everything that is here at the beginning -
To the eyes of your soul...
To the eyes of your soul - lilac rapture
And the liturgy is a hymn to the jasmine nights;
Everything - everything that is dear, that awakens inspiration -
To the eyes of your soul!
The eyes of your soul - visions of terrible clergy...
Execute me! torture! torture me! strangle! -
But you must accept!.. And the crying and laughter of the lyre -
To the eyes of your soul!..
Sun and sea
The sea loves the sun, the sun loves the sea...
The waves caress the clear luminary
And, lovingly, they will drown, like a dream in an amphora;
And when you wake up in the morning, the sun is shining!
The sun will justify, the sun will not condemn,
The loving sea will believe in him again...
It was forever, it will be forever,
Only the sea cannot measure the power of the sun!
In sin there is oblivion
You are a woman, and you are right.
Valery Bryusov
All joy is in the past, so distant and irrevocable,
And in the present there is prosperity and hopelessness.
The heart is tired and vaguely thirsty, in the sunset fire,
Love and passion; - he is captivated by carelessness...
The heart is tired of the narrow framework of well-being,
It is despondent, it is in chains, it is languid...
Desperate to cut, despairing to believe, in the silent darkness,
It trembles with such sorrow, everything is in a cast of laziness...
And life enchants and seduces, and with change
The whole way of family everyday life draws you somewhere!
The heart is confused: it is afraid of its betrayal
Violate your well-being in the hours of sunset.
Both loyalty to a friend and motherhood are subject to him,
It is afraid to leave loved ones like pitiful orphans...
But its beating is lonely, and there is no unity...
But life passes, and a cold crypt may be dug...
Oh, heart! heart! your salvation is in your madness!
Burn and fight while you can - burn and fight!
Sin more courageously! - let virtue be the lot of mummies:
In sin there is oblivion! and there - at least a bullet, and there - at least rails!
After all, you are loved, sick heart! because you are loved!
Love back! love hello! love thoughtlessly!
And be calm: live, you are right! doubts are gone!
Rejoice, my heart: you are still young! And fight noisily!
In the birch cottage
On the northern trout river
You live in a birch cottage.
Like Our Lady of the Great Correggi,
You are blessed. In a silver wig
Shakes the dust off the tapestry reliefs
The butler is yours. You are dreaming, Madeleine,
With an ostrich fan in hand.
Your fragile son of eleven years old
Drinks milk on a marble terrace;
He painted his nose with strawberries;
How did you go! You are wrapped in a blanket
And, with disgust, frowning black eyebrows,
Irritated, losing my cool,
Suddenly you see a diamond bracelet,
Like a marriage chain hanging on a hand
Of your own hand: you will soon... be many years old,
You are married, you are a mother... All the joy is in the past,
And the future seems vulgar to you...
What are you waiting for? But morphine - or a shot?..
Salvation is in madness! Light up
Love me, the giver of the past,
Wife and mother! Stab yourself with a needle
Wake up to love! Be bold in your whim!
Sinless sin - shaking hands
To the one who gives both youth and bliss...
My tracks to you alone in the snow
To the banks of the trout river!
Berceuse autumn
Alosiz Day. Lemon leaf forest
Drapes the trunks into a foggy tunic.
I'm going into the wilderness, under the autumn berceuse,
I take mushrooms and bitter lingonberries.
Who told me that I have a husband
And the thrice-coated child?..
This is nonsense! this is just nonsense!
I lie down in the grass, losing five combs...
The soul sings, under the autumn berceuse,
Reliably waits and sweetly painfully believes,
That he will come, my gallant Excess,
He will take me and brutalize me virginally.
And, having quenched my hungry instinct,
Will return me to my aimless reality,
Leaving me an invisible hyacinth,
Holier than willows and chrysanthemums are crafty...
I'm going, I'm going, under the autumn berceuse,
Not finding a place anywhere from the dream,
I want him to disappear, to disappear
The house where I am a married bride!..
..............................................................................
Copyright: Igor Severyanin poet's poems
The spring day is hot and golden, -
The whole city is blinded by the sun!
I am again - I am: I am young again!
I'm cheerful and in love again!
The soul sings and rushes into the field,
I call all strangers by “you”...
What space! What a will!
What songs and flowers!
Hurry up - in a chaise over potholes!
Hurry to the young meadows!
Look into the faces of ruddy women,
Like a friend, kiss an enemy!
Make noise, spring oak groves!
Grow, grass! Bloom, lilac!
There is no one to blame: all people are right
On such a blessed day!
Analysis of the poem “Spring Day” by Severyanin
The work “Spring Day” by Igor Severyanin was published with a dedication to Konstantin Mikhailovich Fofanov.
The poem was written in 1911. Its author turned 24 at this time; he has been a devoted student of the poet K. Fofanov for several years. An older friend helped the young man make his choice life path, moreover, suggested a successful pseudonym. The genre is almost an ode to the acceptance of the world and oneself; the size is iambic with cross rhyme, 4 stanzas. The lyrical hero is the author himself. The pronoun “I” overflows stanza 1: I am cheerful and in love again! In essence, he was young in age, but his soul was apparently depressed. The intonation is jubilant, sometimes silly. There are 13 exclamations for four quatrains. It looks somewhat eccentric in its enthusiasm, because the poem was created during the period of K. Fofanov’s next, which turned out to be near-death, illness. Anaphora: I'll do it again soon. “Gold”: a kind of neologism. Metaphors: the soul sings and breaks. All people seem like family and friends. Life reigns, not death. The life-affirming spring of nature revives strength and optimism in a person. Down with pallor - long live blush! Comparison is an oxymoron: like a friend, kiss an enemy. All the feuds seem insignificant, the thirst for adventure calls. The poet, like Adam, the crown of nature, almost commands every blade of grass and every living creature: grow, make noise, bloom! He feels involved in the ongoing transformation. The lilac is apparently early (the poem was written in April). “There are no guilty”: an echo of the work set to music by L. Beethoven. He is ready to hug every passerby and share food with the enemy. Everything, as in childhood, amazes and leads a mysterious conversation with the hero. Not only does he open his arms to the world, but the world embraces him in return. This day intoxicated the hero. How long this mood will last is unknown, but what will remain is a wonderful work of a young poet in love, clear in its simplicity. It seems to him that God is blessing this day. There are no experiments with form, no themes that are considered the poet’s calling card. There is no exoticism, because even a trip attracts him only “in a chaise over potholes.” Epithets: young meadows, blessed day. The dash in stanza 3 emphasizes the dynamics of the verse. The poet is open to the reader, calling on him to triumph with himself.
“Spring Day” by I. Severyanin was included in the debut book of poems by the young poet.
Poem "Spring Day" Igor Severyanin signed as follows: “Dear K.M. Fofanov.” Such a verbal expression of gratitude is only a small part of what the poet felt towards his teacher and friend. Konstantin Mikhailovich Fofanov, a Russian poet, one of the predecessors of symbolism, welcomed the appearance of Northerner in literature, and throughout his creative life he supported him, and one might even say, was a comrade-in-arms in the creative world.
The work “Spring Day” was written in April 1911 and published in the author’s first published collection, “The Thundering Cup.” From this moment on, Severyanin, together with Fofanov, went on a tour of large Russian cities to read their works to the general public.
Nature theme has always worried poets and writers. This is natural, because a person throughout his life feels the power and influence of a powerful environment. Nature is an inexhaustible source of inspiration for the poet. Literature gives him the opportunity to experience this wonderful world and express himself through it.
The spring city in the golden colors of a sunny day appears to the reader from the first lines of the poem: “The whole city is blinded by the sun!” The author rejoices at the beauty he sees, feels young, in love, and cheerful. But his “soul sings and rushes into the field” - this is where you can get real pleasure from the charm of the awakened world. The poet tremblingly describes his desire to ride "in a chaise over potholes" "in the young meadows". And, of course, he does not forget to mention the rosy-cheeked women - Severyanin in many of his poems uses a description of the greatness of his native nature combined with the beauty of Russian women.
The poem repeats several times the author’s attitude towards the people around him: he calls all strangers to "You", is ready to kiss an enemy like a friend, and declares that all people are right and "no one is guilty". Such an impulse of generosity is inspired by the simplicity and harmony of the universe.
The lyricism of the hero in the work is expressed by the state of love, youth, and the spiritual impulse to love and forgive everyone. One feels that he has mentally escaped from city life to plunge into the vastness of fields and meadows. And a feeling of love and admiration rises to the pedestal of life.
The author used such visual and artistic means of language as expressive epithets - "hot and gold" spring day, face "Ruddy women", metaphors – “the soul sings and breaks”, "The city is blinded by the sun", comparisons – "like a friend, kiss an enemy".
Used when writing a poem two-syllable iambic meter, and the rhyme scheme in the versification is cross: gold-blinded-young-in love.
The poem “Spring Day” refers to landscape lyrics. It reflects the focus of poetry on the perception and understanding of the natural world. The landscape is transformed under the author’s pen, conveying his mood, feelings and thoughts. Nature in its cycle creates the artist himself, therefore the author in his work is as complex and polyphonic as she is.
Our native nature is familiar to us, but not everyone is able to see its beauty. And people of art see new, unusual, beautiful in the familiar. Igor Severyanin’s poem “Spring Day” once again demonstrated this to us. Landscape lyrics gave the poet the opportunity, through a description of nature and feelings, to show the originality of his vision of the world, to convey to the reader his own, non-standard idea of \u200b\u200bthe connection between the worldview and the creativity of the artist of words.
