The essay “Ancient Mists of Love” (the theme of love in the lyrics of M. Tsvetaeva). Literature lesson "M.I. Life and creativity. The theme of love in Tsvetaeva's lyrics"

Marina Tsvetaeva - Russian poetess; Her creative heritage includes lyrical poems, poems, poetic dramas and tragedies. The originality of Tsvetaeva’s poetic voice combines “absolute naturalness and striking willfulness” (N. Ya. Mandelstam). Her lyrical heroine is always on the border of passions - the militant Amazon and saving Ariadne, the prophetic Cassandra and the prayerful Magdalene. A supporter of rebellious individualism, Tsvetaeva chose to remain outside poetic movements in literature. Among her creative legacy are the collections “Evening Album” (1910), “Magic Lantern” (1912), “From Two Books” (1913), “Milestones” (1921).

Marina Tsvetaeva was born into the family of a professor, art critic, and founder of the Moscow Museum. fine arts Ivan Tsvetaev, who with his own hard work paved the way to science. Have, Maria Alexandrovna, was a gifted pianist and sought to instill a love of music in her daughters Marina and Anastasia. Marina began writing her first poems at the age of six, publishing at the age of sixteen, and at eighteen, after the release of her first collection of poems, “Evening Album” (1910), she became a recognized poetess. Her creative debut was highly praised famous poets V. Bryusov, G. Voloshin. G. Gumilyov noted that Tsvetaeva “instinctively guessed all the most important laws of poetry, so this is not only a cute book of girls’ recognized ones, but also a book of beautiful poems.”

The poetics of her work is distinguished by expressiveness, pressure, audacity, the destruction of conventional canons and a spontaneous search for the only correct intonation. “The emotional pressure in Tsvetaeva is so strong and abundant,” noted V. Khodasevich, “that the author can barely keep up with the flow of this lyrical flow. Tsvetaeva seems to value every impression, every emotional movement so much that her main concern becomes to consolidate the greatest number of them in the strictest sequence, without evaluating, without separating the important from the secondary, seeking not artistic, but psychological authenticity.”

The poetry of M. Tsvetaeva is distinguished by its richness of intonation: she radiates love and sincerity, her verse “strives for peace and, as it were, tries to embrace the whole world” (G. Adamovich). Her poems are a poetic diary of a restless, passionate, rebellious female soul, written from all generosity and wastefulness. Her poetry, which is woven from objections, contradictions, extremes, is characterized as “the poetics of paradoxes.” The poetic syntax reflects the intermittent passion of the language, close to the “stream of consciousness” technique; the sentence gravitates towards an ellipse, between keywords phrases - the whole Universe

The themes of her first poetry collections were girlish love, poetic purpose, the dialectic of life and death (“So many of them have fallen into this abyss”, “Idesh, like me”, “Literary Rockourers”, “I like that it’s not me that you are sick with”) , “Soul and name”).

Christ and God! I long for a miracle

Now, now, at the beginning of the day!

OH, let me die until

All life is like a book for me.

(“Prayer”, 1909).

The theme of love has become the main one in the poetry of M. Tsvetaeva. Love for Tsvetaeva’s heroine is “a fire in her chest,” an eternal miracle that is impossible to get used to. This love is all-encompassing, it reveals the poetry of the world. The theme of love in her poetry finds many interpretations. This is a tender, heartfelt feeling (“We are only two echoes of you,” “Tilt”) and a reckless and passionate element (“Two suns are freezing, - in God, have mercy!”). Love is both a crafty game (“Comedian”) and ordeal("Love"). She is both majestically wise (“Nobody took away anything”) and tragic (“Gypsy Passion of Separation”). The poetess connects with love strong determination and a feeling of doom (“Poem of the End”).

The endless variety of shades of love experiences testify to the boundlessness of feelings and the richness of the soul of the lyrical heroine Tsvetaeva. She subtly senses the beauty of the world, she is attracted by both reality and the world of fantasies and dreams. She's in equally dear present, and past, and “the area of ​​the devotee.” It's strong bright personality, she is driven by the desire to understand and experience everything: “I crave all roads at once!” The elemental power of her nature is so great that she is ready to challenge the whole world:

Under the whistling of the fool and the tradesman, laughter

One of all - for all - against all!

The turning point in life and creativity was determined by the October revolutionary events of 1917, which she “did not understand and did not accept.” The cycle of poems “Swan Pledge” (1917-1920) reflects nostalgic feelings for Russia, which has receded into the past. Tsvetaeva waxes poetic about the Russian army and turns to bright ideals Russian culture, to the chivalrous spirit of its defenders in the poems “For the Youth - for the Dove - for the Son”, “Moscow coat of arms: the hero pierces the reptile”, in the cycle of poems “Moscow”.

At the gates, like Good News,

Let the white guard stand - Honor

(“Obscurantism. - Tornado. - Sodom”, 1918).

Separation from a man, Sergei Efron, an officer of the White Guard, and the desire to reunite the family forced Marina Tsvetaeva to follow the man from Soviet Russia into emigration. In 1922, Tsvetaeva and her daughter Ariadna went abroad. The family lived in the Czech Republic, France; Here the bitter bread of a foreign land, constant needs and moving in search of the most modest housing awaited them. In her work of this period, Marina Tsvetaeva addressed the reader who remained in Russia; in her poems there is longing for her homeland, thoughts about the life she is passing, rethinking “eternal” themes and images - Hamlet and Ophelia, Christ and Magdalene, Fedri and Hypolita . In 1928, her last lifetime collection of poems, “After Russia,” was published.

The theme of “poetic craft” occupies one of the central places in Tsvetaeva’s legacy. She is confident in the saving power of words. For her, creativity is a moral support, an image to resist evil, unbelief, and death. She sees the purpose of a poet in worshiping truth and beauty (“To Literary Prosecutors”, “My Poems Written So Early”). Her poetry is from youth carried within itself the prophetic stamp of providence:

Scattered in the dust around the shops,

(Where no one took them and no one takes them!),

My poems are like precious wines,

Your turn will come.

(“My poems written so early”, 1913).

M. Tsvetaeva feels an internal twinning with the poetic muse of O. S. Pushkin, whose genius she was in awe of. The Pushkin theme occupies a special place in Tsvetaeva’s work: for her he is a god and a brother in the era. Among the dedications to the great poet is the cycle “Poems to Pushkin” (1931). The rebellion of Pushkin’s spirit and the unbridledness of his poetry found a warm response in her work (the book “My Pushkin”, 1937).

All his science is

Power. Light - I look:

Pushkin's hand

I press, not lick

(“The Machine”, 1931).

The main themes and motives of M. and. Tsvetaeva also has a theme of childhood (“Our Kingdoms”), where the heroine’s “paradise of childhood life” is reproduced; The theme of the house with him is “knightly spirit” and “lives on a high order.” The image of the mother in Tsvetaevsky’s poetry is filled with a special sound; not only poems (“To Mom”) are dedicated to her, but also prose, “Mother’s Tale” (1934). The Moscow theme is imbued with nostalgia and the aroma of old memories (“Houses of Old Moscow”, “Poems in Moscow”). Poetic appeals to contemporary poets constituted one of the best pages in Tsvetaeva’s legacy (“Poems to Blok”, “Akhmatova”. The poetess’s indignation was caused by the spread of fascism in Europe, the anti-fascist theme is heard in her later poems (the cycle “Poems to the Czech Republic”).

In June 1939, Marina Tsvetaeva and her son Georgiy returned to the USSR, following the man and daughter Ariadna, who had returned two years earlier. Totalitarian reality, the arrests of family members broke her soul and led to tragic ending August 31, 1941. Thus ended the earthly fate and began the posthumous fate great poet essy

“Any of her works is subject only to the truth of the heart,” noted A. Sahakyants, author of a book about Marina Tsvetaeva. - Hundreds of lyrical works, eight plays, more than ten poems. And about fifty works in prose: memories in childhood, in the family, in contemporary poets, treatises in poetry. One can only be amazed at the inextinguishability of this creative burning...”

Joseph Brodsky wrote: “Tsvetaeva’s strength lies precisely in her psychological realism, in this voice of conscience that is not pacified by anything or anyone...”

From literary theory

The lyrical hero is the second lyrical “I” of the poet; a conventional literary concept that affects the range of lyrical works of a certain author, the form of embodiment of his insights, thoughts, and experiences. However lyrical hero is not identified with the poet, with his state of mind, he lives his life, in a new artistic reality

Poetics - in a broad sense - is a field of literary theory that studies the structure literary work and the system of aesthetic means used in it. In the narrow sense - a system artistic means and the techniques inherent in the individual writer, the currents.

Expression (lat. expressio - “expression”, “expression”, from exprimo - “clearly visualize, depict”) - special welcome transformation of poetic speech with the active use of various artistic means (tropes, stylistic figures, sound repetitions, etc.). Expression promotes the “swiftness” of rhythm in expressing the polyphony of dynamic experiences embodied in a vibrant artistic form

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• Introduction
• 2. Motifs of love lyrics
• 5. “Space of Love” M. Tsvetaeva
• Conclusion
• Literature

Introduction

...My poems, as precious inAndus

its turn will come.

M.I. Tsvetaeva

Among the priceless spiritual treasures with which Russia is so rich, a special place belongs to women's lyric poetry. This genre is in tune with the female soul. Speaking about women's lyrics, we should consider all its diversity - philosophical, civil, landscape and love lyrics. Only by immersing himself in all the diversity of the lyrical element does the poet gain strength, completeness and integrity of the feeling of life. Lyricism is the poet’s wonderful ability, every time, in the uniqueness of a given moment, to see the world as if anew, to feel its freshness, original charm and stunning novelty. Namely, these qualities are inherent in the female soul.

Lyrics are born from an irresistible need for spiritual self-disclosure, from the poet’s greedy desire to know himself and the world as a whole. But that's only half the story. The second half is to infect another with your understanding, to excite and surprise him, to shake his soul. This is the wonderful property of lyric poetry: it serves as a catalyst for feelings and thoughts. The whole range of feelings is accessible to women's lyrics - love and anger, joy and sadness, despair and hope.

Since lyric poetry is based on specific personal experience, it does not and cannot exist without the personality of the poet, without his spiritual experience. DI. Pisarev argued: “Only first-class geniuses have the right to be lyricists, because only a colossal personality can bring benefit to society by drawing its attention to their own private and mental life.” This is said too categorically, but in essence it is absolutely true: only he has the right to confession and can count on the reader’s empathy who has something to say. The poet's personality must certainly be significant, spiritually rich and subtle. Only under this condition is lyric poetry able to solve its main task - to introduce the reader to the good and the beautiful. And who else but a woman poet is capable of doing this?

Life sends some poets such a fate that, from the very first steps of conscious existence, puts them in the most favorable conditions for the development of a natural gift. All in environment contributes to the rapid and full approval of the chosen path. And even if in the future it turns out difficult, unsuccessful, and sometimes tragic, the first note, struck with precision and fullness by the voice, is not changed until the very end.

Such was the fate of Marina Tsvetaeva, a bright and significant poet of the first half of the twentieth century. Everything in her personality and poetry (for her this is an indissoluble unity) came out sharply general circle traditional ideas, dominant literary tastes. This was the strength and originality of her poetic word, and at the same time the annoying doom of living not in the main stream of her time, but somewhere next to it, outside the most pressing demands and demands of the era. With passionate conviction, the life principle she proclaimed in her early youth: to be only yourself, not to depend on time or environment in anything, later turned into insoluble contradictions of personal fate.

The purpose of this essay is to review and study the work of M. Tsvetaeva.

1. Love lyrics and romance are the basis of the soul and the meaning of life

The power of Tsvetaeva’s poems was all the more striking because their subjects were not only traditional for women’s lyrics, but to some extent even ordinary. But if earlier He spoke about love or on His behalf, now in the voice of Tsvetaeva, She, a woman, speaks about love - as an equal of equals. In Tsvetaeva’s first album there are poems in the form of a sonnet, which suggests high skill, the ability to say a lot in fourteen lines. Attention to the sonnet required not only high poetic culture, but also the capacity of the image and clarity of thought. The poems of early Tsvetaeva sounded life-affirming and major. But already in her first poems there was a rigidity and harshness previously unknown in Russian poetry, rare even among male poets. Marina Tsvetaeva’s poems contain both the fortitude and strength of the master:

I know that Venus is the work of

Craftsmen - and I know the craft.

You open any page and immediately plunge into its element - into an atmosphere of spiritual burning, immensity of feelings, acute dramatic conflicts with the world surrounding the poet. There is not a trace of peace, tranquility, or contemplation in Tsvetaeva’s poetry. She is all storm, action and deed. Tsvetaeva’s word is always fresh, direct, concrete, it means only what it means: things, meanings, concepts. But it has its own peculiarity - it is a word-gesture that conveys a certain action, a kind of speech equivalent of a spiritual gesture.

Love in Marina Ivanovna’s lyrics is a boundless sea, an uncontrollable element that completely captures and absorbs. Tsvetaeva’s lyrical heroine dissolves in this magical world, suffering and tormented, grieving and sad.

Yesterday I looked into your eyes,

And now everything is looking sideways!

Yesterday I was sitting before the birds, -

All larks these days are crows!

The dear ships are taking away,

The white road leads them away...

And there is a groan all along the earth:

“My dear, what have I done to you?”

Marina Ivanovna was given the opportunity to experience the divine feeling of love, loss and suffering. She emerged from these trials with dignity, pouring them into beautiful poems that became an example of love lyrics. Tsvetaeva is uncompromising in love, she is not satisfied with pity, but only with a sincere and great feeling in which you can drown, merge with your loved one, and forget about the cruel and unfair world around you.

- My! - and about what awards

Paradise, when in your hands, at your mouth -

Life: Open Joy

Say hello in the morning!

The author's open and joyful soul can handle great joys and sufferings. Unfortunately, there were few joys, and there was enough grief for a dozen destinies. But Marina Ivanovna walked proudly through life, bearing everything that had befallen her. And only poetry reveals the abyss of her heart, which contains the seemingly unbearable.

There are lucky men and women,

Those who can't sing. Them -

Shedding tears! How sweet it is to pour out

I'm burning - like a torrential downpour!

So that something would tremble under the stone. For me -

Vocation is like a whip

Between the lamentations of the tombstone

Duty commands to sing!

Amazing personal fullness, depth of feelings and power of imagination allowed M.I. Throughout her life, Tsvetaeva—and she is characterized by a romantic sense of the unity of life and creativity—draws poetic inspiration from her own soul, boundless, unpredictable, and at the same time constant, like the sea. In other words, from birth to death, from the first lines of poetry to last breath she remained if you follow her own definition, “pure lyricist.” One of the main features of this “pure lyricist” is self-sufficiency, creative individualism and even egocentrism. They manifest themselves in a constant feeling of one’s own dissimilarity from others, of the isolation of one’s existence in the world of other - uncreative - people, in the world of everyday life. The uniqueness of Tsvetaeva’s position lies in the fact that her lyrical heroine is always absolutely identical to the poet’s personality. Tsvetaeva advocated for the utmost sincerity of poetry, so any “I” in poems should, in her opinion, fully represent the biographical “I”, with its moods, feelings and integral worldview.

Tsvetaeva's poetry is, first of all, a challenge to the world. She speaks about her love for her husband in an early poem: “I wear his ring with defiance!”; reflecting on the frailty of earthly life and earthly passions, he will passionately declare: “I know the truth! All previous truths are lies! Love for Marina Tsvetaeva was the most important part of life. It is impossible to imagine the heroine of Tsvetaeva’s lyrics outside of love. The premonition of love, the expectation of it, blossoming, disappointment in a loved one, jealousy, the pain of separation - all this sounds in Tsvetaeva’s lyrics. In a word, Tsvetaeva’s love is multifaceted.

Jealousy, the constant companion of love and separation, also did not remain aloof from Tsvetaeva’s lyrics. Lines about jealousy touch no less than lines about tender feelings, but they sound a hundred times more tragic.

Most bright that an example is “An Attempt of Jealousy,” which was written on November 19, 1924. It is filled with reproaches to the lover who abandoned the heroine and his new darling: “How do you live with someone else? - It’s easier, isn’t it? ... How do you live with Market goods? Quirk is cool.” It is known that jealousy is one of the most powerful human emotions, comparable to both love and hatred, and therefore it belongs to love lyrics.

2. Motifs of love lyrics

Like for any woman, for Marina Tsvetaeva love was an important part of life, perhaps the most important. It is impossible to imagine the heroine of Tsvetaeva's lyrics outside of love, which would mean for her - outside of life. The premonition of love, the expectation of it, blossoming, disappointment in a loved one, jealousy, the pain of separation - all this sounds in Tsvetaeva’s lyrics. Her love takes on any form: it can be quiet; trembling, reverent, tender, and maybe reckless, spontaneous, frantic. In any case, she is always internally dramatic.

The young heroine Tsvetaeva looks at the world with wide open eyes, absorbing life at all pores, opening up to it. It's the same in love. Prudence and prudence are incompatible with sincere, deep feeling. To give everything, to sacrifice everything - this is the only law of love that Tsvetaeva accepts. She does not even seek to win her beloved; it is enough for her to be “just a verse in your album.”

Tsvetaevskaya's heroine is unthinkable without admiration and admiration for her beloved. The recklessness of her feelings makes her love all-encompassing, permeating everything. the world. Therefore even natural phenomena often associated with the image of a loved one:

You are a fraction of stream voices

Your brain is moving like poetry...

The movement of one human heart to another is an immutable law of life, a natural part of existence. And if for other people separation often weakens feelings, then for Tsvetaeva it’s the opposite. Love intensifies a thousandfold when away from the beloved; distance and time have no power over it:

More tender and irrevocable

No one looked after you...

I kiss you through hundreds

Years of separation.

Separation, separation, failed love, unfulfilled dreams are a frequent motif in Tsvetaeva’s love lyrics. Fate separates two people destined for each other. The reason for separation can be many things - circumstances, people, time, inability to understand, lack of sensitivity, mismatch of aspirations. One way or another, Tsvetaeva’s heroine too often has to comprehend the “science of parting.” This tragic worldview is best reflected in just two lines of the famous poem:

O cry of women of all times:

"My dear, what have I done to you??"

Here is the age-old grief of all women in the world - Tsvetaeva’s contemporaries, women who died long before her and those who were not yet born - and their own suffering, and a clear understanding of doom. This poem is about when one of the two leaves, and there is an even more difficult separation - by the will of circumstances: “They broke us - like a deck of cards!” Both separations are difficult, but neither has the power to kill feelings.

Jealousy, the constant companion of love and separation, also did not remain aloof from Tsvetaeva’s lyrics. Lines about jealousy touch no less than lines about tender feelings, but they sound a hundred times more tragic. The most striking example of this is “Attempt of Jealousy.” Along with Tsvetaeva’s characteristic torment from the loss of love, there is so much bile, so much bitter sarcasm that the author of the lines appears in a completely new light. She has a thousand faces, and you never know which one will appear in the next poem.

The image of the lyrical heroine in Tsvetaeva’s work is double. On the one hand, this is a woman full of tenderness, vulnerable, thirsting for understanding (“Unlived tenderness is suffocating”), on the other hand, she is a strong personality, ready to overcome all obstacles and confront the whole world, defending her right to love and happiness. Both appearances are two sides of the same coin, a single whole, appearing in different guises. A heroine with these traits is characterized by a concentrated soul, immersion in love until complete dissolution. At the same time, she is not subject to self-destruction and maintains the integrity of the individual. In all this - Tsvetaeva herself. Images and feelings are not far-fetched, since sincerity is the poetess’s main weapon.

But one should not conclude that in Tsvetaeva’s love lyrics the main place is occupied by failed love, unrequited or rejected feelings. Her poems are like life itself; they are both hopeless and hopeful, both dark and bright. Sometimes the heroine appears full of serene happiness and a sense of celebration, breathing in life itself with all her breasts:

Darling, darling, we are like gods:

The whole world is for us!

And it’s no longer an embittered woman, tormented by jealousy, looking at us, but young girl, reveling in love, full of unspent tenderness.

Love never dies, it simply reincarnates, takes on different guises and is forever reborn. This constant renewal for Tsvetaeva is explained very simply: love is the embodiment of creativity, the beginning of being, which has always been so important to her. Just as she could not live and not write, so she could not live and not love. Tsvetaeva belongs to those few people who managed to perpetuate both themselves and their love.

Young Tsvetaevskaya poetry generously and masterfully, in all voices, glorifies earthly love. We hear the voice of a warlike Amazon: “I will conquer you from all lands, from all heavens...” and next to it is the voice of a woman, most tenderly dissolved in her beloved: “I am a village, a black earth. / You are a ray and rain moisture to me. / You are Lord and Master, and I am / Black soil and white paper.” And we also hear the voice of joy and the voice of suffering, inviting coquetry and desperate complaint, assurance of devotion and declaration of freedom... All the many faces of love feelings find expression in the lyrics of the young Tsvetaeva.

During these years, she not only glorifies love, but in her poetry it is ecstatic love that is ecstatically glorified.

Who is made of stone, who is made of clay,

And I am silver and sparkling.

My business is treason, my name is Marina,

I am the mortal foam of the sea...

And if loyalty is declared in Tsvetaeva’s young poems, then this is a special loyalty - to one’s own heart:

Nobody, rummaging through our letters,

I didn’t understand deeply

How treacherous we are - that is

How true to ourselves.

The voice of a young creature, trying on the masks of the daring Mariula, the “dancer and piper,” the seductive Carmen and even the submissive Manon—this voice rings with challenge, mischief, and flirtatious teasing in the young Tsvetaeva. And it would be absurd to interpret these elegantly cheerful poems with ponderous seriousness.

Even in the difficult years for her - the first years of the revolution - she would write many recklessly cheerful poems in the spirit of Omar Khayyam:

Champagne is treacherous

But still pour and drink!

No pink no chains

You'll sleep in a black grave.

You are not my fiancé, not my husband,

My head is in a fog.

And forever the same

Let the hero in the novel love!

4. Oddities of Tsvetaeva’s love poems

Tsvetaev’s “I love” suspiciously often did not fit into the idea of ​​the feelings usually associated with this word, ending up in some non-standard chain of causes and effects, emotions and concepts. Collected works and letters of Tsvetaeva, published in 1994-1995. in Moscow, together with the appearance of the “Composite Notebooks” (1997), provided substantial food for thought.

It turned out to be difficult to classify the poet’s poetic and prosaic statements. And even impossible. Not because there are so many of them (a lot!), and not because of their inconsistency (they clearly have their own sequence), but mainly because in Tsvetaeva’s extraordinarily rich world an innumerable number of facets of love feelings were revealed . And each, as Tsvetaeva would say, is more important than the other. So it is not easy to select the most important among them.

In her biography, one is struck by an almost continuous series of loves, and not only in her young years, but also at what is called a respectable age. A banal oddity, one might say - if we were talking about a man - and everything looks different if we are talking about a woman. Traditional morality frowns disapprovingly, and the successes of emancipation do not soften its assessments one iota. True, one can recall the characteristics of “creative” women like George Sand, for example, but this does not help the matter in any serious way.

If only Tsvetaeva were simply in love! But her passion was to live living life through the word; She always listened, felt, and thought with a pen in her hands. And because people of other professions usually remain on the periphery of memory and consciousness, that which, as a rule, is hidden from those near and far (and often even from themselves), is almost always brought out by Marina Tsvetaeva’s ear. to the sun. That is, ink on Blank sheet paper - out of her inherent close attention to the details of her mental life, constantly slipping into oblivion. And as a result, Tsvetaeva’s legacy left us with a lot of intimate evidence; Almost every outburst of feelings, every heartbeat is recorded, highlighted and enlarged a hundredfold by the strongest spotlight - in poetry and prose. To the delight of everyone who is interested. And, of course, those interested flock in; the subtle “connoisseur” is presented with a sweet space for discussing (and condemning) the artist’s heartfelt whims. Such is human nature: barely other features of our mental life, habitually kept silent, are pulled out of hiding into the light of God - we do not recognize or recognize them.

Studying Tsvetaeva’s biography even today would make it possible to compile something similar to the “Don Juan list” of our classic. True, the principle of selecting names would have to be changed, because in our case the list would not have been compiled “ love affairs"in their established meaning, namely, heartfelt passions and loves. This is a difference - but somehow it easily disappears from the memory of those who want to gossip. Let me remind you of a passage from Tsvetaeva’s prose - “The House at Old Pimen”: “When I lift my head further and further into the past, trying to establish, to grasp who I loved first, the very first in my very first childhood, before childhood, - I despair, because the very first one (the green actress from The Merry Wives of Windsor) turns out to have an even better one (...), and this one has an even better one (...), etc. etc. (...), when it turns out, according to the poet’s words:

I looked into so many eyes

What I forgot forever

When I loved for the first time

And he didn’t love - when? --

and I myself am in the ignorant position of someone who has loved from birth, and from birth: who immediately started from the second, and maybe from the hundredth...” (5, 123).

This feature of Marina Tsvetaeva’s nature - ardent amorousness - was at one time harshly characterized in the famous letter from her husband to Maximilian Voloshin, written in November 1923, that is, when the life “interlinear” of the most beautiful of poems about love created in our century, - "Poems of the End". Here is an excerpt from this letter: “M. - a man of passions. Surrendering headlong to her hurricane became a necessity for her, the air of her life. A huge stove that requires wood, wood and wood to heat. Unnecessary ash is thrown away; the quality of the firewood is not so important. The draft is still good - everything turns into flames. Worse wood burns faster, better wood takes longer. (...) My week-long departure served as an external reason for the start of a new hurricane. I found out by accident. (...) It was necessary to somehow end our life together, filled with lies, inept conspiracy, and so on and so forth. poisons (...) I informed M about my decision to leave. For two weeks she was in madness. She was torn from one to another (at this time she moved in with friends). She didn’t sleep at night, she lost weight, it was the first time I saw her in such despair. And finally she announced to me that she could not leave me, because the consciousness that I was alone would not give her a moment of not only happiness, but simply peace.

M. is eager to die. The ground has long gone from under her feet. She talks about this constantly. Yes, even if she didn’t say it, it would be obvious to me...”

The choice of words and intonation are always determined in our speech by internal assessment. The same “plot” could have been told differently, more calmly, and everything would have looked different. In the letter from Sergei Yakovlevich Efron, the thickening of colors, dictated by painful jealousy and suffering, is clearly noticeable. To extract the truth, correction is necessary here. But the main thing can be trusted. Let us only note the most significant point: Efron relates everything he named not to the moral depravity or frivolity of his wife, but to the peculiarities of her natural make-up, to the force of the elemental hurricane to which she is subject.

Returning from emigration to her homeland in 1939, Tsvetaeva began writing - at the suggestion of Evgeny Tager - her autobiography for Literary Encyclopedia. I finished - and immediately, in continuation of biographical reflections on events and dates, began to write poetry. They remained unfinished, but they are also good with unfinished lines:

Everyone was showered and spoiled

-- -- -- country -- relatives --

Love is not included in the biography

The tramp remains outside.

All dates, except those unknown,

All terms, except those in the eyes,

All meetings, except those under the stars,

All faces except those in tears...

Many are mine! O drinkers

Soul right at the roots.

O beings in dispersion

Companions of my soul!

The entry made by Tsvetaeva on the same days sounds like a commentary and transcript: “I owe all my poems to the people I loved - who loved me - or did not love me.” This confession was recorded in January 1940 by forty-seven-year-old Tsvetaeva.

The leitmotif of her confessions over the years is the primacy of the soul in the feeling of love. The motif is more than once embodied in poetic lines:

The soul is tireless in us,

And her lips are not enough...

This was formulated in 1923. But then, almost without pause, the opposite also receives poetic embodiment:

Quench my soul! (It is impossible, without touching your lips,

Satisfy our soul!) You cannot fall to your lips,

Don’t fall for Psyche, the flitting guest of souls.

Quench my soul! - so, quench your lips.

And in the poem addressed to Pasternak, the complaint of disembodied loneliness sounds sadly:

Oh sadness

Crying without a shoulder...

Certainly, loving woman you need both lips and a shoulder. But with the tenacity of a self-torturer, Tsvetaeva gets used to her refusal, her renunciation, because she is convinced: the retribution will be a miserable end to love. Her hot hymns of platonic love tell us all the more about this because their author, according to at least, knew the opposite was true! This is evidenced by an episode in 1928, when Tsvetaeva’s young friend, poet Nikolai Gronsky, was seriously worried new love his mother and her departure from the family. Gronsky was inclined to unconditionally blame his mother, but Tsvetaeva gently interceded: “Have you thought about the last hour - in her - of a woman? Loving sometimes means kissing. Not only “to coincide in soul.” Because of the affinity of souls, they do not leave home. (...) Oh, Stickleback, this kind of care is much more difficult than even you can understand. Maybe she felt bad with your father from the first time (not selflessly - bad), and she stayed, like 90 or 100 stay - stayed (...) out of shame, out of contempt for the body, out of the height of the soul. (...) She’s over forty, another 5 years... And another. And the dream of the soul - to finally come true! Thirst for that self, not the world of ideas, the chaos of hands and lips. Thirst for yourself, secretly. Myself, the last one. Myself, unprecedented” (7, 203-204).

There were periods of happiness in Tsvetaeva’s life earthly love. Then she tried to achieve what she herself considered ideal: “the soul to gain flesh, merge with it, stop separating it.” One of the most significant such attempts - “to be like everyone else” - dates back to the period of her love for the hero of “The Poem of the Mountain” Konstantin Rodzevich. It was hot, mutual love, albeit short-lived. And many years later, Tsvetaeva remembered her as the most strong passion, experienced by her in life. And in the midst of love, she confessed to her lover: “You performed a miracle on me, for the first time I felt the unity of heaven and earth. (...) I didn’t know how to deal with the living! Hence the consciousness: not a woman - a spirit! (...) You, giving full tribute to the other in me, said: “You are still living! This is impossible” (6, 660). On the same days, in another letter, she writes: “Perhaps this current hour will work a miracle on me - God willing! -- m.b. I will truly become a man, I will be incarnated...” (6, 616).

That is, she herself considers her nature to be flawed in some way. But (and this is the whole “but” of Tsvetaeva!) almost at the same time she makes a confession to another addressee - and there the complaint is clearly expressed: love awakens the forces of chaos in her, and this interferes with creativity!.. “Creativity and love are incompatible. You live either there or here. I get too involved...” (6, 617). The dream of “fulfillment” - and the fear of chaos. It seems to her that too earthly love turns out to be “the game of some blind demons.” And she is no longer happy about it. For she always has her own reliable stronghold - the soil under her feet - support, and she is rather ready to lose love than this stronghold: her faithful desk...

Isn’t this where the key to the piercing heights and passionate intensity of Tsvetaeva’s lyrics lies? For it is precisely between these poles that its dazzlingly bright Voltaic arc arises: between a sober understanding of the world order that has existed for centuries - and a heart that thirsts, no matter what, for happiness...

5. “Space of Love” by M. Tsvetaeva

There is no doubt that before us is a striking phenomenon. Fortunately for us, the person in whom he incarnated was also awarded the gift of recording, writing, and, in addition, the gift of introspection - and even combined with an almost incredible sincerity.

And we have already talked enough about the fact that the basis of many oddities lies in Tsvetaeva’s special organic nature, which determined the appearance of more than one brilliant masterpiece in Russian poetry. However, this is not enough for us when we are faced, for example, with Tsvetaeva’s passionate declaration of uselessness mutual love or with her fear of real meetings, with hymns of “absentee” love, or with a statement about the fatal impossibility of high relationships between people on earth. Here we will have to talk no longer about the poet’s natural make-up, but about the supernatural space of his spirit.

In the early 1920s, such serious changes occurred in Tsvetaeva’s worldview that this period could well be called a “change of milestones”: decisive positions in her spiritual world took up completely different value coordinates than before. The crude, so to speak, “everyday” materialism of the first revolutionary years, the lumpen denial of the significance of the spiritual principle of being - combined with aggressive atheism - played their role. And from the beginning of the 1920s, the main interest and care of Marina Tsvetaeva became precisely what was trampled upon in the world around her.

It is significant: in Tsvetaeva’s lyrics the appearance of the heroine changes dramatically. If her young poems were characterized by Mariula, Carmen, Manon, the glorification of reckless self-will and sinful earthly love, now the voices of Sibyl, Eurydice, Ariadne, Phaedra, the voice of the “author’s” heroine themselves, are replacing them. And all of them are already tragic heroines. They know the attractive joys of earthly love, but they also know that above them, they can no longer be happy as before; a new dimension has appeared in their vision of the world: “the voice of heavenly truth against earthly truth.” But, as Tsvetaeva herself once said, “the fourth dimension is taking revenge!” He takes revenge with the departure of the ease of existence and the rise of demands - towards himself and towards the world. The appearance of new heroines is just a sign of the rapid growth of tragic feelings in Tsvetaeva, a sign of the loss of hopes and trust in the world, a sign of the decisive victory of renunciation over the previous openness to living life.

Life is a place

Where you can't live:

Jewish quarter...

Isn’t it a hundred times more worthy?

Become the Eternal Jew?

For for everyone who is not a reptile,

Jewish pogrom --

Life.

These lines of the “Poem of the End” sounded like a formula for high tragedy. This is how Tsvetaeva, in her mature years of creativity, embodied her conviction in the hopeless tragedy of man’s earthly fate, dooming him to a joyless chain of unrealistic hopes. This was not only a reaction to revolutionary events, but also a pessimistic view of development " technical progress"and civilization as a whole.

A decade later, the same view of the world would be formulated by existential philosophy (Sartre, in particular). Joseph Brodsky, who characterized Tsvetaeva’s life position as a persistent refusal to reconcile with the existing world order, believed that along this path of refusal “Tsvetaeva went the furthest in Russian and, it seems, world literature. In Russian, in any case, she took a place extremely separate from all - including the most remarkable - contemporaries...”

Naturally, the new Tsvetaeva saw the “space of love” so necessary for the human heart, having already abandoned her recent defiant frivolity. She now outlines the space of “absentia” (“Zwischen-raum,” Rilke called it in his own way), spacious for the soul and spirit. Life, as man created it, the “world of measures”, which does not know the value of spiritual and spiritual “weightlessness”, will always be hostile to the aspirations and aspirations of a pure soul. And only in absentia can he survive high love, rooted in the world of “materialities.” Yes, such love is like a pie in the sky, it is only for those whom Tsvetaeva called “celestials of love.” The human majority - the “common people of love” - choose the bird in their hands.

Because it is necessary - at least someone

Happiness at home, and happiness at home!

But over time, they almost always become convinced that they have lost not only the crane: “So they will die with a tit in their hands,” the philosopher Lev Shestov, Tsvetaeva’s friend, wrote about them, “and will never see either the cranes or the sky” (“On Job's scales").

I will conclude this peculiar register of Tsvetaeva’s statements about love with the last quote. This diary entry; not ready-made conclusions, but a process painful reflection- and reading the text is not too easy.

France, 1938, three years before his death. “At the cafe counter, looking at the flaunting bell-homme - the owner (...) - I suddenly realized that I had lived all my life abroad, absolutely isolated - beyond the border of someone else's life - as a spectator: a curious (not very !), sympathetic and compliant - and never accepted into someone else's life - that I don't feel anything like they do, and they - nothing - like me - and that more important than feelings- we had completely different engines, that what is an engine for them simply does not exist for me - and vice versa (and what a vice versa!).

Love - where for me everything was always in the balance - intonation, a hair raised, eyebrows raised in bewilderment (someone else's and mine) - the sword of Damocles of this hair - and their love: kissing - right away (how to do the job!) and, at the same time, in 10 days to agree (...) in Russia it was - the same thing everywhere and everywhere - it was and will be, p.ch. this is life, but that (i.e. I) was (is and will be) is completely different.

What's his name??" (NST, 555-556).

There are no words, I think. There is a name: Marina Tsvetaeva.

Conclusion

“Without a soul, this whole world was and is nothing more than a dead corpse, a dark abyss and some kind of non-existence; something that even the gods are terrified of.” These words of Plotinus, an ancient philosopher who died more than seven hundred years ago, could be taken as a postscript to the fate of Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva, the greatest poet of the era of the tragic loss of man. Forty-nine years of continuous soul in a soulless and suffocating world.

Marina Tsvetaeva - the poet cannot be confused with anyone else. Her poems can be unmistakably recognized - by their special chant, constant rhythms, and unusual intonation.

Tsvetaeva is a great poet, and her contribution to the culture of Russian verse of the twentieth century is significant. The legacy of Marina Tsvetaeva is great and difficult to see.

“Tsvetaeva is a star of the first magnitude. It is a blasphemy of blasphemy to treat a star as a source of light, energy or a source of minerals. Stars are anxiety, impulse and purification of thoughts about infinity, which is incomprehensible to us, shaking up the spiritual world of a person...” - this is how the Latvian poet O. Vitsietis spoke about Tsvetaeva’s work and he was very right.

Marina Tsvetaeva - the poet cannot be confused with anyone else. Her poems can be unmistakably recognized - by their special chant, fixed rhythms, and not by general intonation. WITH teenage years The special “Tsvetaev’s” grip in handling the poetic word, the desire for aphoristic clarity and completeness, has already begun to show itself. The concreteness of these homely lyrics was also captivating.

For all her romanticism, young Tsvetaeva did not succumb to the temptations of that lifeless, imaginary meaningful decadent genre. Marina Tsvetaeva wanted to be diverse, she looked for different paths in poetry. Marina Tsvetaeva is a great poet, and her contribution to the culture of Russian verse of the twentieth century is significant. The legacy of the great Marina Tsvetaeva is difficult to discern. Among the works created by Tsvetaeva, in addition to lyrics, are seventeen poems, eight poetic dramas, autobiographical, memoir, historical-literary and philosophical-critical prose.

You can't fit her into a frame literary movement, boundaries of the historical period. She is extremely unique and always stands apart. Some are close to her early lyrics, others - lyric poems; someone will prefer poems - fairy tales with their powerful folklore overflow; some will become fans of the imbued modern sounding tragedies on antique stories; someone will be closer philosophical lyrics 20s, others will prefer prose or literary writings that incorporate the uniqueness of Tsvetaeva’s artistic worldview. However, everything she wrote is united by the powerful power of spirit that permeates every word.

Literature

1. Bavin S., Semibratova I. “The Fates of the Silver Age Poets: Bibliographical Essays.” - Book Chamber, 1993 - 480 p.

2. Pavlovsky A.I. “Rowan bush: about the poetry of M. Tsvetaeva 1989

3. Kedrov K. “Russia is a golden and iron cage for poetesses” New Izvestia” No. 66, 1998.

4. Saakyants A.A. “Marina Tsvetaeva. Pages of life and creativity (1910-1922), 1986

5. Tsvetaeva M. “In my singing city: poems, play, novel in letters.” K.V. Currant. - Saransk: Mordovian book publishing house, 1989 - 288 p.

6. “Poet - Marina Tsvetaeva.” Osorgin M.: Olympus, 1997

7. From the article “Marina Tsvetaeva”. Pavlovsky A. M.: Olympus, 1997

8. Magazine “Steps”, February 92. Literary evening"Russia... Fate... Tragedy."

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Another sacred theme of Tsvetaeva’s lyrics is the theme of love. I don’t know another poetess who would write about her feelings like that.

From seduction to disappointment - such is the “love cross” of Tsvetaeva’s heroine; passions and characters were revealed in poetry, images of living people were completely destroyed in his mind. The only person whose image, neither in life nor in poetry, was not only not destroyed, but did not fade at all, was Sergei Efron. “I wrote on a slate board...” is the title of a poem dedicated to my husband. In it, Tsvetaeva confesses her love: the fourfold repetition of the word “love” speaks of the desire for this feeling, of joy, of happiness:

And finally - so that everyone knows! -

What do you love! love! love! love! -

Signed with a heavenly rainbow.

The earth is not enough for her, she needs the sky so that it can hear and know about her love. In the last lines of the poem, Tsvetaeva vows to perpetuate her husband’s name:

Unsold by me! - Inside the ring!

You will survive on the tablets.

A poet is always an enthusiastic person; a poet, in love, forgets about everything in the world except the person whom he has chosen as his half. Marina Tsvetaeva herself created the person she loved, created him the way she wanted to dress him up and was broken when this person could not withstand her onslaught of feelings, tension in relationships, the state of “always being on the crest of a wave.” We know that Tsvetaeva is not easy in relationships with people, this is her essence, her condition. She gave herself entirely to love, without reserve, without looking back. In the poem of the cycle "N.N.V." "Nailed", dedicated to Vysheslavtsev, the graphic artist, most interesting person, the apotheosis of unheard-of, grandiose love, not afraid of death, is given. Almost every line here sounds like a formula:

Nailed to the pillory

I will still say that I love you.

...You won’t understand, my words are small! -

How little shame I have for the pillory!

(Nailed, 1920)

No collision can be equal to this love, for which the heroine will sacrifice everything:

What if the regiment entrusted me with the banner,

And suddenly you would appear before my eyes -

With another in hand - petrified like a pillar,

My hand would release the banner...

Tsvetaeva's heroine is ready to die for love; being a beggar, she is not afraid of losing blood, because even in an unearthly life - in the land of “silent kisses” - she will love her chosen one.

Tsvetaeva contrasts the love of a mother for her son and the love of a woman for a man, believing that even a mother is not capable of loving her child as much as a woman loves a man, and therefore the mother is ready to “die” for her son, and she is ready to “die.”

When on earth, ordinary life a woman loves a man, she tries to be proud, even if it is very difficult for her, not to humiliate herself, not to sink to a state where the man himself will be unpleasant to be around.

“Having trampled” the last part - “Below your feet, Below the grass”, she did not sink, she did not lose pride (what is pride - when you love?!) because she was nailed down by the hand of her beloved - “a birch tree in the meadow”. She is not afraid of gossip and condemnation: “And not the roar of crowds - It’s the pigeons cooing early in the morning...”

The third part of this poem differs from the first two: it has six couplets, of which the first and last stanzas sound like a hymn of love. A hymn to Tsvetaeva’s love, for every woman in love is capable of “being - or not being”, for her, if “to be” - then with love, beloved, if “not to be” - then not to be at all:

You wanted it. - So. - Hallelujah.

I kiss the hand that hits me.

...With cathedral thunder - to strike to death! -

You, a scourge that flew up like white lightning!

(Nailed, 1920)

Lightning - it kills, it is instantaneous, but dying at the hands of a loved one, apparently, is happiness for Tsvetaeva’s heroine, which is why there is an exclamation point at the end of the line.

Tsvetaeva dedicated a few words to her husband Sergei Efron. Tremendous human devotion and admiration are expressed in the poem “I wear his ring with pride!”

It is thin with the first thinness of its branches.

His eyes are - wonderful - useless! -

Under the wings of open eyebrows -

Two abysses...

(to Sergei Efron, 1920)

Just a boy - he was eighteen years old - he was a year younger than Marina. Tall, thin, slightly dark. With a beautiful, delicate and spiritual face, on which huge bright eyes radiated, shone, and were sad:

There are huge eyes

Colors of the sea...

(to Sergei Efron, 1920)

Family, “Efron’s” eyes - the same ones were in Seryozha’s sisters, and then in daughter Tsvetaeva’s. "Enter stranger into the room, you see these eyes and already know - this is Efron,” said one artist who knew them all in Koktebel.

Maybe it all started with a Koktebel pebble? A bunch of semi-precious stones lurking on the Koktebel beaches, they dug them up, collected them, and were proud of each other about their finds. Be that as it may, in fact, Tsvetaeva connected her meeting with Seryozha with the Koktebel stone.

“1911. After measles, I had my hair cut. I was lying on the shore, digging, Voloshin Max was digging nearby.

Max, I will only marry the one from all over the coast who can guess what my favorite stone is.

Marina! (Max's insinuating voice) - lovers, as you may already know, become stupid. And when the one you love brings you (in the sweetest voice) ...a cobblestone, you will quite sincerely believe that this is your favorite stone!

...With a pebble - it came true, because S.Ya. Efron...almost on the first day we met, he opened it and handed it to me - the greatest rarity! - ...a carnelian bead, which is still with me to this day. "

Marina and Seryozha found each other instantly and forever. Their meeting was what Tsvetaeva’s soul longed for: heroism, romance, sacrifice, high feelings. And - Seryozha himself: so handsome, young, pure, so drawn to her as to the only thing that could tie him to life.

At the beginning of her journey, Marina couldn’t wait to sculpt her hero according to the image created by her imagination. She projects onto Seryozha a reflection of the glory of the young generals - the heroes of 1812, of ancient chivalry; she is not only convinced of his high purpose - she is demanding. It seems that her early poems addressed to Seryozha are commanding, Tsvetaeva strives, as it were, to curse fate: so be it!

I defiantly wear his ring

Yes, in Eternity - a wife, not on paper. -

His overly narrow face

Like a sword...

Tsvetaeva begins a poem in which she draws a romantic portrait of Seryozha and makes wishes about the future. Each stanza of it is a step leading upward to a pedestal - or a scaffold? - last lines:

In his person I am faithful to chivalry.

To all of you who lived and died without fear! -

Such - in fatal times -

They compose stanzas and go to the chopping block.

(to Sergei Efron, 1920)

She could not yet imagine that “fateful times” were just around the corner. There is no doubt that I felt like an elder, an adult next to this young man. Having fallen in love with Seryozha - herself a recent teenager - Marina accepted his pain and responsibility for his fate. She took him by the hand and led him through life. But if she herself was out of politics, then Efron went to fight on the side of the White Army, although according to the logic of family tradition, it was more natural for Sergei Efron to end up in the ranks of the “Reds”. But here Efron’s mixed origin also intervened in the turn of Fate. After all, he was not only half Jewish - he was Orthodox. How did Tsvetaeva miss the word “tragically”?

There was a tragic look in his face

Two ancient bloods...

(to Sergei Efron, 1920)

Why is it tragic? Did he himself feel the duality of his position as a half-breed and suffer from it? And wasn’t that what made the word “Russia”, “my Russia” sound more painful?

The tragedy of the situation lies in the fact that the choice he made was not final. He was tossed from side to side: the White Army, the departure from volunteerism, the feeling of his “guilt” before the new Russia... For now, in the summer of 1911, the future was depicted as a happy fairy tale. Tsvetaeva experienced a huge turning point in her life: a loved one appeared! - who needed it. Therefore, the poem ends with a stanza that sounds almost like a formula:

In his person I am faithful to chivalry.

Like any poet, the theme of love could not bypass Tsvetaeva’s work. Love is the most for her strong feeling on the ground. Her heroine is not afraid to speak boldly about her feelings, and is not afraid of the shame associated with declaring her love. Marina Tsvetaeva dedicated several lines to her husband, Sergei Efron. The height to which Tsvetaeva raised her husband in her poems could only be sustained by an impeccable person. Not to anyone else to a real person She did not address anyone with such exactingness - except perhaps to herself; she did not raise anyone so high. From seduction to disappointment - this is the “love cross” of Tsvetaeva’s heroine.

All poems by M.I. Tsvetaeva's works are imbued with a magical and wonderful feeling - love. She was not afraid to open her feelings and experiences to the whole world. She sincerely talks about the love she experienced, about how she loved someone. Women are still engrossed in her love lyrics, because in her poems Tsvetaeva managed to convey those feelings that are familiar to every woman.

She wrote about that love that you want to shout to the whole world, sharing your joy with everyone. The theme of unrequited and unrequited love is also often encountered. The lyrical heroine speaks of her love as a hopeless feeling that still will not bring long-awaited happiness. The woman in Tsvetaeva’s lyrics is a strong personality, capable of much for the sake of her love. Most likely, this is exactly what the poetess herself was like.

There is also a place of jealousy in the lyrics. She always walks next to love. In any case, all of Tsvetaeva’s poems convey feelings experienced by many people. In each work the reader finds something of his own, something that he did not dare to talk about or tell anyone about. Love is an eternal theme, it will never die. Therefore, Tsvetaeva’s lyrics will live forever and stir the most intimate feelings in the souls of readers.

It is impossible to imagine the heroine of Tsvetaeva’s lyrics outside of love, which would mean for her outside of life. Premonition of love, expectation of it, disappointment in a loved one, jealousy, pain of separation - all these states of Tsvetaeva’s heroine are captured in love lyrics in numerous nuances. It can be quiet, reverent, reverent, tender - and reckless, spontaneous. At the same time, she is always internally dramatic.

The young heroine feels with particular acuteness the variability and captivating nature of every moment. The desire to remain in the memory of a loved one is heard, for example, in the poem “Inscription in the Album” (1909-1910):

Let me be just a verse in your album,

Barely singing like a spring...

So be it.

But in a half-languor

You're hanging over the page...

You will remember everything...

Can you hold back your scream...

Let me be just a verse in your album!

Love never becomes a serene delight for the lyrical heroine. In love, she asserts her right to act. She is decisive and uncompromising both in affirmation (“I will conquer you from all lands, from all heavens...”) and in denial (“Gypsy passion of separation! As soon as you meet you, you’re already rushing away!”). “About this” Tsvetaeva writes the tragic “Poem of the Mountain”, “Poem of the End” (1924), and lyrical miniatures of an almost diary nature:

And in the confinement of winter rooms

And the sleepy Kremlin -

I will remember, I will remember

Spacious fields.

And the light country air,

And noon and peace, -

And a tribute to my feminine pride

Your male tears.

Tsvetaevskaya's heroine is unthinkable without admiration and admiration for her beloved. The recklessness of her feelings makes her love all-encompassing. True feeling, according to Tsvetaeva, lives not only in the innermost depths of the soul, but also permeates the entire world around us. Therefore, the very phenomena of this world in the heroine’s mind are often connected with the image of her beloved. This is evidenced, for example, by the 1923 poem “Builder of Strings...”:.

...(In this June

You cry, you are the rain!)

And if there is thunder on our roofs,

Rain - in the house, downpour - completely, -

So you are writing a letter to me,

Which you don't send.

Your brain is moving like poetry...

The movement of one human heart to another is a natural part of existence, an immutable law of life. The conditionality of human connections by this law is emphasized in the poem “The world began in the darkness of nomadism...”. (1917), where the gravity of hearts, the search for protection and peace, the search for warmth are compared with the journey of stars and trees.

Tsvetaeva’s heroine is convinced that feelings have enormous power; they can be controlled by distance and time. In the poem “Nobody took anything away...” (1916) she writes:

More tender and irrevocable

No one looked after you...

I kiss you - through hundreds

Years of separation.

The heroine is characterized by the desire to overcome all the obstacles that stand in the way of feelings, to overcome the influence and pressure of circumstances. (Let us remember Pushkin’s: “Love and friendship will reach you / Will reach you through gloomy gates...”) Concentration of the soul, immersion in love is an important feature of the lyrical heroine. She places too high a value on herself and others to be content with the “average temperature” of passions.

However love lyrics Tsvetaeva reveals to us a soul that is not only rebellious and self-willed, but also unprotected, vulnerable, and yearning for understanding. She urgently needs the participation of a loving heart:

Unexpired tenderness is suffocating.

Even if you fall in love with me, I’ll accept it!

Indifferent friend! -

So scary to listen to

Black midnight in an empty house!

Tsvetaeva’s theme of failed love takes on a tragic sound. The main drama of love for the heroine is the “clearing up” of souls, non-meeting. Two people destined for each other are forced to part. Many things can separate them - circumstances, people, time, impossibility of understanding, lack of sensitivity, mismatch of aspirations. One way or another, too often Tsvetaeva’s heroine has to comprehend the “science of parting.” This is also stated in the 1921 poem from the “Separation” cycle:

It's getting better, it's getting better

Wring your hands!

There are not miles between us

Earthly - separations

Heavenly rivers, azure lands,

Where is my friend forever already -

Inalienable.

Only in a different, better world - the world of “intentions,” as Tsvetaeva puts it, is it possible to gain the fullness of feeling: “not here, where it is crooked, / but where it is straightened.” Only there everything that has not come true comes true. And when earthly life separates people who need each other (“And he will not look back / Life is steep-browed! / There is no date here! / There is only a farewell here...”), Tsvetaeva, with all the energy of her poetic “I,” rebels against this. Thus, in one of the most dramatic poems about love - “Distance: miles, miles...” (1925) we hear not a powerless complaint or lamentation, but an angry, furious cry. The lines of the poem sound not like a list of losses, but like an accusation. The poet's word confronts the terrible elements of the destruction of human connections.

Let us dwell in more detail on two poems - “For Joy” (collection “Magic Lantern”) and “Love! Love! And in convulsions, and in the coffin...” (1920).

In the first poem, Tsvetaeva gleefully proclaims the joy of being. Love extremely sharpens the perception of the world. The heroine in love sees poetry in everything - in the mysterious “dusty roads” that go into the distance, remembering many travelers, and in the short-lived charm of “huts for an hour”, and in the fabulous “animal dens”, and in captivatingly beautiful, like ancient music, “ palaces." Love gives her a feeling of fullness of life: “Dear, dear, we are like gods: / The whole world is for us!” The certainty that for lovers, home is everywhere, home is the whole world, sounds victorious here! It seems to them that everything around them was created for them alone, it’s easy for them everywhere, and that’s why the heroine exclaims with such delight: “We are at home everywhere in the world.” It is love that returns to the heroine her childhood sense of power over the world. Hence the rejection of the “home circle”, because at this moment “the open space and greenery of the meadow” are more valuable to her. At this moment it is so important for her to feel freedom, to see the rainbow palette of existence, to feel the spaciousness of her feelings, thoughts, her heart, her soul. She is captured and enchanted by love, and everything else seems unimportant, insignificant. While she does not want any other captivity - even the captivity of a cozy home - except for the sweet, happy, selfless captivity of love: “Dear, dear, with each other / We are forever in captivity!”

The second poem can be called a kind of oath of fidelity to love:

And in convulsions, and in the coffin

I’ll be wary - I’ll be seduced - I’ll be embarrassed - I’ll rush.

Oh dear! -

Not in a grave snowdrift,

I won’t say goodbye to you in the clouds.

For a heroine endowed with a warm heart, love is also an opportunity for complete self-expression and self-disclosure. This is the wealth of the soul that she is ready to generously and recklessly share, seeing precisely this as the purpose and meaning of her existence: “And that’s not why I was given a pair of beautiful wings / Given to keep pounds on my heart!” Love, according to Tsvetaeva, liberates the soul, gives a feeling of inner freedom, and rediscovers a person himself. Hence the proud confidence: “Swaddled, eyeless and voiceless / I will not increase the miserable settlement.” Love reveals enormous spiritual strength - strength that can withstand death itself:

Elastic body

With a single wave from your shrouds,

Death, I'll knock you out! -

Miles per thousand in the area

The snow has melted - and the forest of bedrooms.

Love is eternal; according to the poet, it is fused with the world of nature and art, since it is the embodiment of the creative principle of existence. Love cannot die - it is eternally reborn, being transformed with inspiration. Even if a loving person leaves earthly life, his love remains in this world so that, “laughing at decay, rise up in verse - or bloom like a rose!”