The trees bared their shoulders, the yellow ball hides the masks, Whoever says that time heals has never known love ...
Tyutchev Fedor
Whatever life teaches us
But the heart believes in miracles...
Tyutchev Fedor
This day, I remember for me
It was the morning of a life day:
She stood silently in front of me.
Her chest was heaving,
Scarlet cheeks, like the dawn,
Everything is hotter than reddening and grief!
And suddenly, like a young sun,
Love confession golden
burst out of her chest...
And I saw a new world!
Tyutchev Fedor
But all charms are short, they are not allowed to visit us.
Tyutchev Fedor
I love your eyes my friend
With their fiery-wonderful play,
When you suddenly raise them
And, like lightning from heaven,
Take a quick circle...
But there is a stronger charm:
Downcast eyes
In moments of passionate kissing,
And through lowered eyelashes
Gloomy, dim fire of desire.
Tyutchev Fedor
There's not just one memory
Then life spoke again, -
And the same charm in you,
And the same love in my soul! ..
Tyutchev Fedor
Your shrine will not break
The poet's clean hand
But inadvertently life will suffocate
Ile will carry away for the clouds.
Tyutchev Fedor
Oh, how deadly we love
As in the violent blindness of passions
We are the most likely to destroy
What is dear to our heart!
Tyutchev Fedor
Still languishing longing desires
I still long for you with my soul -
And in the darkness of memories
I still catch your image ...
Your sweet image, unforgettable,
He is before me everywhere, always,
unattainable, immutable,
Like a star in the sky at night...
Tyutchev Fedor
Love, love - says the legend -
The union of the soul with the soul of the native -
Their union, combination,
And their fatal merger,
And ... a fatal duel ...
Tyutchev Fedor
Let the blood run thin in the veins,
But tenderness does not fail in the heart ...
Oh, last love!
You are both bliss and hopelessness.
Tyutchev Fedor
You loved and since you love,
No, no one has been able to
Oh my God! And survive it
And my heart didn't break!
Tyutchev Fedor
So sweet, thank you
Airy and light
my soul a hundredfold
Your love was
Tyutchev Fedor
In separation there is a high meaning:
No matter how you love, at least one day, at least a century,
Love is a dream, and a dream is a moment,
And early or late, or awakening,
And the man must finally wake up...
Tyutchev Fedor
How long have you been proud of your victory?
You said she's mine...
A year has not passed - ask and tell,
What is left of her?
Where did the roses go,
The smile of the lips and the sparkle of the eyes?
All scorched, burned out tears
Its combustible moisture.
Tyutchev Fedor
Not what you think, nature:
Not a cast, not a soulless face -
It has a soul, it has freedom,
It has Love, it has a language.
Tyutchev Fedor
Be silent, hide and hide
And your feelings and dreams -
Let in the depths of the soul
They get up and come in.
Tyutchev Fedor
She was sitting on the floor
And sorted through piles of letters,
And, like cooled ashes,
Picked them up and threw them away.
I took familiar sheets
And it was wonderful to look at them,
How souls look from above
On their abandoned body...
Oh, how much life was here
Irrevocably experienced!
Oh, how many sad minutes
Love and joy killed!..
I stood silently aside
And the mouth was ready to kneel, -
And I was terribly sad
As from an inherent sweet shadow.
Tyutchev Fedor
How many times have you heard the confession:
"I'm not worthy of your love."
Let her be my creation -
But how poor I am in front of her...
Before your love
It hurts me to remember myself -
I stand, I am silent, I revere
And I bow to you...
When, sometimes, so tenderly,
With such faith and prayer
Involuntarily bend your knee
Before the cradle dear,
Where she sleeps - your birth -
Your nameless cherub, -
Understand well and you my humility
Before your loving heart.
Tyutchev Fedor
I met you - and all the past
In the obsolete heart came to life;
I remembered the golden time -
And my heart felt so warm...
Like late autumn sometimes
There are days, there are hours
When it suddenly blows in the spring
And something stirs in us -
So, all covered with spirit
Those years of spiritual fullness,
With a long forgotten rapture
I look at the cute features ...
As after centuries of separation,
I look at you as if in a dream -
And now - the sounds became more audible,
Not silenced in me...
There's not just one memory
Then life spoke again -
And the same charm in us,
And the same love in my soul! ...
Tyutchev Fedor
Yes, and the "crown of nature" implies something ideal, perfect. Can a person become perfect outside of nature, following only the lead of progress?
Here is what the greatest minds of mankind think about it:
Quotes by Seasons
Quotes about nature and man
"Man made a huge mistake when he imagined that he could separate himself from nature and disregard its laws"
V. I. Vernadsky(Russian and Soviet scientist, thinker and public figure)
We are created according to the laws of nature, and therefore it is foolish not to follow them. Without knowing the basic rules and laws of nature, humanity will not be able to conquer the elements, control them and become superior in relation to other creatures on earth.
“Man, of course, is the master of nature, but not in the sense of its exploiter, but as one who understands it and bears moral responsibility for the preservation and improvement in it (and, consequently, in itself) of everything living and beautiful.”
A.S. Arseniev(PhD in Philosophy)
Using the gifts of nature, shouldn't we take care of their preservation. Unfortunately, human activity is often aimed at destruction. We created atomic bombs, we build plants and factories that poison the world around us. But, a zealous owner will never allow the destruction of his economy. So people should strive not for wars and destruction, but for the management of natural cycles. And this is possible if we study nature and love it without fail.
"Let's not ... be too deceived by our victories over nature. For each such victory, she takes revenge on us."
F. Engels(German philosopher, one of the founders of Marxism)
And we see confirmation of this more and more often: scorched steppes that have turned into deserts, irreversible climate change, poisoned air in megacities, dirty water in the seas and oceans - this can lead to the death of all life on the planet.
"A country with an invariable climate cannot be especially beautiful ... A country in which there are four sharply demarcated seasons is always beautiful and never gets bored. A true nature lover welcomes every season as the most beautiful."
M. Twain(American writer)
The beauty of nature is hidden in everything that surrounds us - and in the sunny day and the gentle sea that splashes under our feet. In the lush greenery in which the gardens are buried in summer. But winter is just as beautiful - with its endless blizzards and frost. How much perfection and the finest beauty in a single snowflake! What about autumn? Caressed by the sun and washed by the rains, sometimes sad, sometimes grouchy, sometimes tender, sometimes gloomy ... Love for nature, the ability to enjoy its gifts, care for it and endless gratitude for everything that it has created - this is the main moral quality of a real person.
Quotes from Russian writers about nature
In the traditions of Russian literature, love nature and admire it. Only in unity with nature is the meaning of human existence seen. And without this careful attitude to the surrounding world, a person is weak, stupid and insignificant.
"Moving away from the conditions of society and approaching nature, we unwittingly become children."
M. Yu. Lermontov(Russian poet)
Nature gave birth to man. Therefore, when visiting her, we feel like children who have returned to their father's house, crouched at the breast of their own mother. Society imposes a social struggle on us, forces us to follow customs and traditions, often far-fetched and false. And only when we are alone with nature can we feel free - in the full sense of the word. Such as only children can be: free, loving everyone and everything, naive and believing in a miracle.
"Not what you think, nature:
Not a cast, not a soulless face -
It has a soul, it has freedom,
It has love, it has a language...
F. I. Tyutchev(Russian poet)
The great Russian poet, who dedicated his work to nature, cannot be mistaken. For some, nature is only an eternal supplier of raw materials: wood, water, minerals. For others, nature is just a beautiful landscape outside the window. But those who study nature know that nature is life itself in all its splendor.
"Grand things are done by grand means. Nature alone does great things for free."
A. I. Herzen(Russian publicist, writer)
This is another confirmation of how majestic nature is. You can count on your fingers the great creations of man, the Egyptian pyramids, spaceships, submarines or skyscrapers. Too much work and effort put into their creation. Mountains, rivers and seas, flowers and animals created by nature are an example of perfection. And man is a creation of nature.
"Love for one's native country begins with love for nature."
K. Paustovsky(Russian Soviet writer)
The Russian writer was not alone in his assertion. Dostoevsky said the same thing, arguing that one who does not love nature cannot be considered a person and a citizen. Nature is our common home. And taking care of the house is the love for the Motherland.
Quotes about nature and ecology
"Ecology has become the loudest word on earth, louder than war and the elements."
V. Rasputin(Russian prose writer)
Mankind has behaved like an unreasonable master on the planet for too long. Creating amenities for a comfortable life, we completely forgot that the resources of nature, alas, are far from unlimited, that our children will have to live in cities where the air is dirty and poisoned. It is time to remember that nature does not forgive mistakes. A person must take care of nature, remember that he himself is a part of this nature. Is it wise to cut the branch you are sitting on?
“There is no greater crime than to rape, mutilate, pervert nature. Nature, the unique cradle of life in the Universe, is also the mother who gave birth, nurtured, raised us, and therefore we must treat her like our mother, with the highest degree of moral love."
Y. Bondarev(Russian Soviet writer)
Another confirmation that everything that nature creates is perfect. And our mission is to protect and improve nature, but not to destroy it.
"...Forests without birds
And land without water.
Less and less
surrounding nature,
More -
environment".
R. I. Rozhdestvensky(Russian poet, publicist)
Is this the future we want for our children? Of course not. But it all depends on the person. Anyone who is able to cut down forests for the sake of his whims and for the sake of a thirst for enrichment - acts unwisely. Taking something from nature, you must definitely give something in return. Otherwise, we will end up with a bare planet - without forests and seas, without plants and animals.
"We are all children of the same ship named Earth, which means that there is simply nowhere to transfer from it ...
There is a firm rule: get up in the morning, wash your face, put yourself in order - and immediately put your planet in order.
Antoine de Saint-Exupery(French writer, poet)
This is the main rule of life, which should become the main condition for the existence of every person in this world. We are responsible not only for ourselves and our home, but for all of humanity. Taking care of nature, protecting it and increasing its wealth, we take one more step towards prosperity.
Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev, (1803–1873), poet
Not what you think, nature:
Not a cast, not a soulless face -
She has, she has freedom
It has love, it has a language...
From edge to edge, from city to city
Fate, like a whirlwind, sweeps people,
And whether you're happy or not happy
What does she need? .. Forward, forward!
We stand blindly before Fate,
It’s not for us to tear off the cover from her ...
Play while over you
Still cloudless azure;
Play with people, play with fate
You are life assigned to battle
You are the heart that yearns for storms.
Blessed is he who has visited this world
In his fatal moments!
He was called by all the good
Like an interlocutor at a feast.
He is a spectator of their high spectacles,
He was admitted to their council -
And alive, like a celestial,
I drank immortality from their cup!
Tell me what does man mean?
Where is he from, where is he going?
And who lives above the star vault?
Ah, writing is a terrible evil, it is, as it were, the second fall of the poor mind, as it were, the strengthening of matter.
Over the years, a person's dependence increases, until, finally, one fine morning, he is nailed to his place, like a tree to the ground.
Every person at a certain age is a lyric poet. And you just need to untie his tongue.
For society, as well as for the individual, the first condition for progress is self-knowledge.
Alas, the most unpunished of all kinds of responsibility is the irresponsibility of stupidity.
Childhood impressions become younger as a person ages.
And senile love is more disgraceful
Grumpy old age.
When memories fade in our hearts, death causes them to bloom again in their hands.
Lovers, madmen and poets
Merged from one imagination!.
Thought spoken is a lie.
On earth, where everything changes,
There is no greater good than glory.
It must be confessed that the position of the Russian God is not a sinecure.
Happy is he who visited this world In its fatal moments!
A written conversation is almost as tiring as a game of chess by correspondence.
I do not have homesickness, but longing for a foreign land.
Russian history before Peter the Great is a continuous memorial service, and after Peter the Great - one criminal case.
... In the field and alone
Perhaps a valiant and brave warrior.
In separation there is a high meaning:
No matter how you love, at least one day, at least a century,
Love is a dream, and a dream is a moment
And early or late, or awakening,
And the man must finally wake up...
“This is our life,” you said to me,
Not light smoke, shining in the moonlight,
And this shadow running from the smoke ... "
There are two forces - two fatal forces,
All our lives we are at their fingertips,
From lullaby days to the grave, -
One is Death, the other is
Human court.
My soul, Elysium of shadows,
Silent, bright and beautiful shadows,
Nor the thoughts of this violent year,
Not involved in joys or sorrows ...
“Unity,” proclaimed the oracle of our days,
Perhaps soldered with iron and blood only ... "
But we will try to solder it with love -
And there we will see that it is stronger ...
Living, be able to survive everything:
Sorrow and joy and anxiety.
What to wish? What to worry about?
The day survived - and thank God!
We follow our age
How Creusa followed Aeneas:
Let's go a little - weaken,
We slow down - we fall behind.
And the abyss is naked to us
With your fears and darkness
And there are no barriers between her and us -
That's why we are afraid of the night!
No matter how hard the last hour -
That incomprehensible to us
The languor of mortal suffering, -
But even worse for the soul
Watch how they die in it
All the best memories...
As the ocean embraces the globe,
Earthly life is surrounded by dreams...
Night will come - and sonorous waves
The element hits its shore.
How can the heart express itself?
How can someone else understand you?
Will he understand how you live?
Thought spoken is a lie.
When decrepit forces
We are starting to change
And we must, as old-timers,
Give newcomers a place, -
Save us then, good genius,
From cowardly reproaches,
From slander, from anger
For life changing...
When sympathetic to our word
One soul responded -
We do not need another retribution,
Enough with us, enough with us.
Grace is available only to those
Who is in the temptations of strict life,
How could you, loving, suffer,
Aliens heal ailments
He knew how to suffer,
Who laid down his soul for others
And endured to the very end.
Love, love - says the legend -
The union of the soul with the soul of the native -
Their union, combination,
And their fatal merger,
And ... a fatal duel ...
And than one of them is more tender
In the struggle of unequal two hearts,
The more inevitable and more certain
Loving, suffering, mleya sadly,
It finally wears out...
Be silent, hide and hide
And your feelings and dreams -
Let in the depths of the soul
They get up and come in
Silently, like the stars in the night,
Admire them - and be silent.
We can't predict
How our word will respond, -
And we get sympathy.
How do we get grace...
Not the flesh, but the spirit has become corrupted in our days.
And the man is desperately longing ...
He rushes to the light from the night shadow
And, having found the light, grumbles and rebels.
Don't argue, don't bother!
Madness seeks, stupidity judges;
Treat daytime wounds with sleep,
And tomorrow to be something, it will be.
Oh, how in our declining years
We love more tenderly and more superstitiously ...
Shine, shine, parting light
Last love, evening dawn!
Oh, how deadly we love
As in the violent blindness of passions
We are the most likely to destroy
What is dear to our heart!
Nature is a sphinx. And the more she returns
With his temptation, he destroys a person,
What, perhaps, no from the century
There is no riddle, and there was none.
Let the blood run thin in the veins,
But tenderness does not fail in the heart ...
Oh, last love!
You are both bliss and hopelessness.
Happy in our age, who wins
It was given not by blood, but by the mind,
Happy is he who points to Archimedes
I was able to find in myself, -
Who is full of cheerful patience,
Combined calculation with courage -
He restrained his aspirations,
That timely dared.
There's not just one memory
Then life spoke again, -
And the same charm in you,
And the same love in my soul! ..
The Muse has various addictions,
Her gifts are not given equally;
A hundred times more divine than happiness,
But wayward, as it is.
Alas, isn't it young
The smile of women's lips and eyes,
Not admiring, not seducing.
Old age only confuses us.
Russia cannot be understood with the mind,
Do not measure with a common yardstick:
She has a special become -
One can only believe in Russia.
Dejected by the burden of the godmother,
All of you, dear land,
In the form of a slave, the king of heaven
Went out blessing.
Hours of monotonous fight,
A tormenting night story!
The language is foreign to everyone
And intelligible to everyone, like conscience!
Whatever life teaches us
But the heart believes in miracles:
There is an unrelenting strength
There is also imperishable beauty.
Tyutchev's son-in-law was a publicist and poet, one of the most active figures of Slavophilism. He is known as the author of the biographical essay "Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev", published a year after the death of the poet. Based on the personal impressions and memoirs of the author, the book contains valuable information about the personality of Tyutchev, his life and work.
I. S. Aksakov wrote about Tyutchev “The mind is strong and firm - with weak-heartedness and impotence of will, reaching weakness; a sharp-sighted and sober mind - with the sensitivity of the nerves of the most subtle, almost feminine - with irritability, flammability, in a word, with the creative process of the poet's soul with all its instantly flashing ghosts and self-deception. An active mind, knowing neither rest nor help - with a complete incapacity for action, with the habits of laziness learned from childhood, with an irresistible aversion to any kind of coercion; the mind is constantly hungry, inquisitive, serious, penetrating with concentration into all questions of history, philosophy, knowledge; a soul insatiably thirsty for pleasures, excitements, distractions, passionately surrendering to the impressions of the current day ... ". Directly, it should be said, an unflattering, but deep personal characteristic.
From memories
F.F. Tyutcheva (1860-1916) son of Tyutchev and Denisyeva. The writer, colonel of the tsarist army wrote about his father: “His face ... but is it possible to describe the face of Fyodor Ivanovich in such a way that a person who has never seen him could imagine this special, indescribable expression? .. It was not only a human face, but some kind of elusive, involuntarily striking everyone, a combination of lines and strokes in which the high spirit of genius lived and which, as it were, shone with inhuman, spiritual beauty. A sad and at the same time ironic smile constantly wandered on tightly compressed lips, and his eyes, thoughtful and sad, looked mysteriously through the glasses, as if seeing something ahead. And in this smile and in this sadly ironic look, there seemed to be pity for everything around, as well as for oneself.“Feelings of neglect and contempt were completely unknown to his bright soul, as they would be unknown to any spirit, if such could live among people. Reading in the souls and minds surrounding him, as in an open book, seeing the shortcomings and vices of his neighbors, being himself full of all sorts of human weaknesses, which he clearly recognized in himself, but which he was unable and did not even want to get rid of, Fyodor Ivanovich never condemned anyone, accepting humanity as it is, with some special imperturbable, complacent indifference ... ".
“For him, the human race was divided into two halves - into interesting people and boring people, and then it was indifferent to him with whom fate pushed him: with the highest-ranking dignitary, or the most mere mortal. And with both, he behaved exactly the same.
A detailed personal description of Tyutchev is given by the writer V.Khodasevich in the article "About Tyutchev" (1928), written for the 125th anniversary of Tyutchev's birth. Below are excerpts from that article.
The executors of the project reserve the right to disagree with some of the statements of the author of the article.
«
Tyutchev was one of the most remarkable Russian people. But, like many Russian people, he did not realize his true calling and place. He pursued something for which he was not born, and not only did he not appreciate his true gift at all, but he did not appreciate it and not for what was most amazing in it.He was a man of strong passions and phenomenal distraction. However, there is nothing unexpected in the fact that he entered the civil service. It is not surprising that Tyutchev served, and in the end served badly.
But here's what is strange: being a not very serviceable official of the diplomatic department, he was eager for the most active work in this field all his life. And especially - in those years when he was out of work, in disgrace. He did not know how to serve, but the political fate of Europe and Russia worried him extremely, and he wanted to participate in them not only contemplatively, but also actively. In his articles and letters - before us is a man who is violently striving for political influence and action. But - we are still celebrating the one hundred and twenty-fifth anniversary of the birth of not the politician Tyutchev, but the poet.
At that time, when Tyutchev himself had not yet been "discovered", the compilers of anthologies and anthologies recommended him as "an outstanding description of nature." But in order to understand him as a "descriptor", one had to ignore the main thing in his poems, to pass by what lay under the apparent surface of the "description". Sometimes they acted with barbaric naivete: they simply crossed out what was the true subject of the poem and for which the "picture of nature" served only as a motivation or preparation. So, the famous poem "I love a thunderstorm at the beginning of May" was often printed without the last stanza, the most important for Tyutchev's plan, but "inappropriate" and "superfluous" for lovers of description.
He philosophized all his life. But the thought was for him, too, a "golden veil" over the abyss of prophetic dreams, overwhelming but majestic unconsciousness, spiritual Chaos. From there he heard the beloved voices of the incomprehensible, the inexpressible. Loved the dark, chaotic nature of the soul. He was not afraid to love evil itself - because it is mysteriously and invisibly poured into everything. The ultimate evil, worse than death, suicide, he brought together with the greatest good, with love, and reveled in this rapprochement:
Everything kind of fell apart. Tyutchev was already close to fifty when he was seized by love, blind, excessive, irresistible, for E. Denisyeva, a young girl, a classy lady of the institute where his daughters studied. A prosperous life, established with such difficulty, a career forcibly restored, public opinion, which he cherished, friendships, political plans, the family itself, finally, everything went to dust. For fourteen years, from 1850 to 1864, this love storm raged "more than fiery anger". Tyutchev tormented and tormented. He overstrained himself and brought his beloved to the grave. After her death, he lived in a stupor, in "suffering stagnation." His soul "was languishing" and "dry". Tyutchev seemed to be blinded by grief and wisdom. "A short, thin old man, with long, gray hair that has fallen behind his temples, which has never been smoothed, dressed casually, not buttoned properly, not a single button, here he enters a brightly lit hall. The music thunders, the ball is spinning in full swing ... The old man makes his way along the wall with an unsteady step, holding his hat, which now seems to fall from his hands ... "
Through the swirling ball, what did his old eyes see? What did the prophetic ear hear behind this music? Where was he in spirit?
Here I am wandering along the high road
In the quiet light of the fading day.
(1803 - 1873) became classics of Russian literature. Here is what a literary critic wrote about his lyrics Yuri Lotman: “The semantics of Tyutchev's poetry is very complex. If the usual picture in the history of literature is that individual poets and entire literary movements move from one type of meaning formation to another as from stage to stage, then Tyutchev is characterized, often within the same poem, by the combination of the most diverse and historically incompatible semantic systems. Some of his words carry baroque-allegorical semantics, others are associated with romantic symbolism, others activate the mythological layer of meanings that enliven the features of deep antiquity, the fourth ones designate the material world in its objective concreteness with exceptional accuracy and simplicity..
Interesting memories of Tyutchev were left by the poet's contemporaries. We publish some of them.
“From his poems does not breathe composition; they all seem to have been written for a certain occasion, as Goethe wanted, that is, they were not invented, but grew by themselves, like a fruit on a tree ... In this sense, his poetry deserves the name efficient, that is, sincere, serious. ... His talent, by its very nature, is not addressed to the crowd and does not expect feedback and approval from it; in order to fully appreciate Mr. Tyutchev, the reader himself must be gifted with a certain subtlety of understanding, a certain flexibility of thought that does not remain idle for too long.
"Once Turgenev, Nekrasov ... they could hardly persuade me to read Tyutchev, but when I read it, I simply froze from the magnitude of his creative talent." Tolstoy named him among his favorite poets, saying that "one cannot live without him."
“Two years ago, on a quiet autumn night, I stood in the dark passage of the Colosseum and looked at the starry sky. Large stars stared intently and radiantly into my eyes, and as I peered into the thin blue, other stars appeared before me and looked at me as mysteriously and as eloquently as the first ones. Behind them, in the depths, still the finest sparkles flickered and little by little emerged in their turn. My eyes saw only a small part of the sky, but I felt that it was immense and that there was no end to its beauty. With similar feelings, I open the poems of F. Tyutchev.
Ivan Aksakov
“The mind is strong and firm - with weak-heartedness and impotence of will, reaching weakness; a sharp-sighted and sober mind - with the sensitivity of the nerves of the most subtle, almost feminine - with irritability, flammability, in a word, with the creative process of the poet's soul with all its instantly flashing ghosts and self-deception. An active mind, knowing neither rest nor help - with a complete incapacity for action, with the habits of laziness learned from childhood, with an irresistible aversion to any kind of coercion; the mind is constantly hungry, inquisitive, serious, penetrating with concentration into all questions of history, philosophy, knowledge; a soul insatiably thirsting for pleasures, excitements, distractions, passionately surrendering to the impressions of the current day ... "
Nikolai Dobrolyubov
"Tyutchev's talent has access to both sultry passion, and harsh energy, and deep thought, excited not only by natural phenomena, but also by moral questions, the interests of public life."
“He is smart and sweet; he alone knows how to stir me up and pull my tongue. “With the death of Pushkin and the absence of Zhukovsky, my literary relations are almost completely cut off. With one Tyutchev there is something else in common.