Marina Tsvetaeva. I Will Win You Back From All Lands, From All Heavens Part 4

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Marina Tsvetaeva. I Will Win You Back From All Lands, From All Heavens Part 4
Marina Tsvetaeva. I Will Win You Back From All Lands, From All Heavens Part 4

Video: Marina Tsvetaeva. I Will Win You Back From All Lands, From All Heavens Part 4

Video: Marina Tsvetaeva. I Will Win You Back From All Lands, From All Heavens Part 4
Video: Y.Povolotsky "Marina's Nights" on Poems by M.Tsvetaeva/Ю.Поволоцкий "Ночи Марины", стихи М.Цветаевой 2024, December
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Marina Tsvetaeva. I will win you back from all lands, from all heavens … Part 4

More and more sonic immersions, still filled with creativity. "Living with its daily bread" makes sound focusing a rare outlet between kitchen and laundry. Konstantin Rodzevich is a sudden and brief gift of fate. Seven days of urethral passion and the timelessness of sound emptiness. The birth of a son.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

The years of obscurity are over. Sergei Efron is alive and waiting for a meeting. Life in exile alienates spouses from each other. Sergei is busy with himself, Marina - with everyone. More and more sonic immersions, still filled with creativity. "Living with its daily bread" makes sound focusing a rare outlet between kitchen and laundry. Konstantin Rodzevich is a sudden and brief gift of fate. Seven days of urethral passion and the timelessness of sound emptiness. The birth of a son.

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"I think about him day and night, if I knew that I was alive, I would be completely happy …" (from a letter to Tsvetaeva's sister). Sometimes it seemed to her that everyone around had long known about the death of her husband, only they did not dare to speak. Marina sank deeper and deeper into depression, where only one thing saved from a complete fall - poetry.

Everything is cooler, everything is cooler

Wring your hands!

Not miles between us

Earthly - parting

Heavenly rivers, azure lands, Where is my friend forever -

Inalienable.

The cycle of poems "Parting" is dedicated to Sergei Efron, in fact, Marina is preparing for separation from life. Sound concentration on the Word saved Tsvetaeva from a fatal step not for the first time. Several months of relentless concentration on the fate of her husband, several months of raising verse prayers have borne fruit. Marina received a letter from Sergei. He is alive, he is in Constantinople: "I live by faith in our meeting …" Tsvetaeva is going to leave Russia, from the "khan's polon", where "on a fresh dance of food on a krovushka".

With all the bitterness against the new government, parting with Russia and Moscow is not easy for Tsvetaeva: “I'm not afraid of hunger, I'm not afraid of the cold - dependence. Here, torn shoes are a misfortune or valor, there is a shame …”The absence in the European mentality of the spiritual sound search, with which the life of Russia is inextricably linked, was the main reason for the torment of the first wave of emigrants. European cutaneous pragmatism contradicts the Russian urethral will.

Very soon, Russian emigrants understand: they will not be able to live like in Russia. They are comforted that this is not for long. They are trying to influence the fate of Russia from abroad, but this is utopia. Payback for participation in anti-communist organizations overtakes inevitably, trying to clumsily cooperate with the Land of the Soviets are not immediately destroyed, first they must benefit the new Russia. From each according to his ability - to each according to his merits.

The hour of landless brotherhoods, the hour of world orphans (M. Ts.)

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Tsvetaeva arrives in Berlin in the spring of 1922. The first significant and very symbolic meeting here is Andrei Bely, who has completely lost "the remnants of earthly gravity and balance." Marina is immediately imbued with the plight of the poet, and not so much his material failure as his spiritual loss. Everything in Berlin is alien to the Russian soul, the skin landscape for a person with an urethral mentality, and even with such a powerful sound as in Bely, is a barracks.

The poet is completely disoriented in space, he wanders aimlessly around the city in an absurd headscarf and looks completely sick. Like a small child, Andrei Bely rushed towards Marina, she supports him, regretting that she cannot give more, in response to his lines: "Sweet news that there is some kind of homeland, and that nothing has perished." And here Tsvetaeva gave up to a lack, with her urethrality she revealed a piece of her homeland, filled the voids of sound with verses.

And now the long-awaited meeting with Sergei Efron and moving to Czechoslovakia. Sergei is still engulfed in the "white idea", but the pathos is gradually fading away. Other tasks are faced by Sergei Yakovlevich, for the first time he must provide for his family himself. However, in his thoughts he has studies, some kind of literary projects, the Efrons live on the allowance and rare fees of Marina. The life of the couple is far from idyllic, for four years of separation, both have changed too much, there are no more enthusiastic children of Marina and Seryozha on the Koktebel beach. They are more and more apart.

But close together

Even the joy of the mornings

Pushing my forehead

And leaning inside

(For the wanderer is a Spirit

and goes alone) …

Sergei is seething with mostly completely empty editorial activities, Marina spends her days as a hermit, nursing sound deficiencies in the mountains. "No land can be opened together" … The quiet life of a housewife is not for her, she compares such a life with a cradle and a coffin, "and I have never been a baby or a dead man." Marina is deeply aware of her responsibility for Sergei, but her ardent nature is not satisfied with the parallel existence of people weaned from each other.

Passion weakens, and again the poet goes into sound, into poetry. Tsvetaeva begins the poem "Well done", conducts an interesting correspondence with BL Pasternak, her sonic brother. Pasternak complains that it is hard for him, to which Marina advises to start a big thing: "You will not need anyone and nothing … You will be terribly free … creativity is the best medicine for all life's troubles!"

Boris Pasternak later admitted that the novel "Doctor Zhivago" is part of his debt to Marina Tsvetaeva. Much in the line of Yura and Lara from their correspondence. Marina passionately desires a meeting with Boris Leonidovich, but he is too indecisive to share this "need" of her. To regret that he missed then "from Tsvetaeva herself", Pasternak will be much later. Feeling his guilt before Marina, he will help her daughter Ariadne in the hard times of prison ordeals and after.

And then, in 1923, Tsvetaeva was deeply worried about the impossibility of meeting such her, such a sonic Pasternak. Fleeing from a complete failure into the emptiness of loneliness, she writes poetry, writes out her pain, throwing new and new amazing poems into the insatiable sound womb: "Wires", "Hour of the Soul", "Sink", "Poem of the Mountain" …

My name is gone

Lost … All the veils

Taking off - growing out of losses! -

So once over the reed

Daughter bowed like a basket

Egyptian …

I told you: there is a Soul. You told me: there is - Life (M. Ts.)

And again, in the darkest time that happens before dawn, a new passion bursts into Marina's life - Konstantin Rodzevich. Very earthly, without any sound "cutoffs", without the slightest idea of poetry, strong, passed through the fire and water of the civil war, who visited both the Reds and the Whites, pardoned by Slashchev-Krymsky himself (the prototype of Khludov in the play by M. A. Bulgakov " Running "), Rodzevich fell in love in Marina not with the heights of the mountains, but with a living, earthly woman.

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Everyone who had met Marina before obeyed her, retreating before her urethral will. Rodzevich did not back down. He said, "You can do anything." But, admiring, he remained himself. The love of the urethral Tsar Maiden and the gentle skin-visual prince gave way to the passion of equal men and women in the urethra. Seven days were given to them, but these days Marina and Constantine seemed to have lived several lives. “You are the first Harlequin in a life in which Pierrot cannot be counted, for the first time I want to take, not give,” she writes to Constantine. “You are my first POST (from the hosts). Move away - rush! You are Life!"

Sergei Efron learns about this passion by accident. At first he does not believe, then he is depressed and torn by jealousy. In a letter to M. Voloshin, he complains about "little Casanova" (Radzevich is not tall, it's true) and asks to guide him on the right path, Efron himself cannot make decisions. Without Marina, his life loses all meaning, but he cannot continue to live with her under one roof.

For Marina, Sergey's awareness is a terrible tragedy. She tears away from herself Rodzevich, as they say, with meat, passionately desiring him, and mutually. But Konstantin will survive without Marina, and Sergei will not. Her choice is obvious. As for Efron, he will soon adapt to the situation and even maintain friendly relations with Rodzevich. Marina, on the other hand, will lose the ground under her feet for a long time, complete apathy again seizes her, where aversion to poetry and books is hopelessness itself. And yet she writes The Poem of the End, a love hymn to Rodzevich.

Love is flesh and blood.

Color watered with its own blood.

Do you think love -

Conversation across the table?

Hours - and home?

How are those gentlemen and ladies?

Love means …

- Temple?

Child, replace with a scar …

Marina's tragic impossibility to "leave S." ended this amazing relationship. Tsvetaeva and Efron remained together, and on February 1, 1925, Georgy (Moore) was born, according to Sergei Efron, “Little Marine Tsvetaev”. There is an amazing photo where Konstantin Rodzevich, Sergei Efron and Moore are captured together. Rodzevich put both hands on the boy's shoulders, Efron's hands behind his back.

I'm not afraid to be outside Russia. I carry Russia in myself, in my blood (M. Ts.)

With the birth of a son, the Tsvetaeva family moved to Paris. Life here for Marina is both successful and incredibly difficult. Marina's triumph as a writer brought her not only fame and fees, quite modest, by the way, but also envious, ill-wishers, hidden and explicit. Among the Russian emigration, a split ripened into conservatives and Eurasians. Conservatives (I. Bunin, Z. Gippius, etc.) are irreconcilable to the changes in the new Russia, they hate the Council of Deputies with fierce hatred, the Eurasians (N. Trubetskoy, L. Shestov, etc.) think about the future of Russia with the hope for the best for her. Enough with the indiscriminate accusation, let Russia have what it wants.

Marina was least able to use her success as a poet. She did not think about the material benefits from this. Instead of consolidating the triumph in France, thinking about publishing, for example, a book, she writes the article "The Poet on Criticism", where with her usual directness she declares: a critic who has not understood the work has no right to judge him. Tsvetaeva called for separating politics from poetry, accusing critics of a bias towards the work of Yesenin and Pasternak.

Yesenin, like Mayakovsky later, Tsvetaeva recognized immediately and unconditionally for the equality of properties. This infuriated many in emigration. Anal critics and writers looking into the past could not accept the new poetic style of the new country. For Tsvetaeva, this novelty was organic, she could not help but feel: the urethral power came to Russia, no matter how bloody it was. Hence the poetry to Mayakovsky.

Above crosses and trumpets

Baptized in fire and smoke

Archangel Toughsfoot -

Great, Vladimir for centuries!

He is a carter, and he is a horse, He's a whim, and he's right.

He sighed, spat into his palm:

- Hold on, lorry glory!

Singer of public wonders -

Great, proud man grimy, That a stone is a heavyweight

Chosen without being seduced by a diamond.

Great cobblestone thunder!

Yawned, saluted - and again

Shaft rowing - with a wing

Archangel dray.

So praising the "singer of the revolution" could only be due to the equality of properties of the mental unconscious, which are stronger than the awareness of oneself as the wife of a white officer. Human creation is often higher than the personality of the creator. So the works of I. Bunin are much truer and more interesting than himself. We do not live - we live.

Tsvetaeva was keenly interested in poets equal to her in the properties of the psychic. Her poems to Pushkin are perhaps the most beautiful of everything dedicated to the poet, because the most faithful, written from within a kindred spirit. Only an “equal vector” poet could understand the deep essence of the poet.

Scourge of gendarmes, god of students, Bile of husbands, delight of wives, Pushkin as a monument?

A stone guest? - is he, Pigtooth, impudent

Pushkin as the Commander?

Tsvetaeva's poems by this time are becoming more and more sound, there is no trace of youthful visual transparency. Each line is a deep meaning, to understand it, you need to work. Critics are offended and offended by Marina's article: cheeky, deliberate! "You can't live with a temperature of 39 degrees all the time!"

Respectable anal sexes cannot understand that urethrality is “another organic substance that has all the rights to artistic embodiment” (I. Kudrova). In the urethra of 39 degrees, the temperature is quite "normal", as well as the absence of the concept of what is permitted and what is not permitted. The anal obstinates did not leave any possibility of dialogue, the collection "Versts" with the poems of Yesenin, Pasternak and Tsvetaeva was branded as creating "defective people", Pasternak's poems were not poetry at all, Tsvetaeva's "Poem of the Mountain" was obscenity. The more you resent your backwardness from life, the more cruelty there is in the anal vector. And although all these emissions did not touch Tsvetaev, she managed to become unwanted in the influential literary circles of the emigration in the very first year in Paris.

I don't care where to be completely lonely … (M. Ts.)

Since 1917, Tsvetaeva stoically dragged the entire burden of household chores on herself, the hated life obscured her world, but she coped, there were still performances that provided, albeit a small help to the budget, meager receipts from publications.

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If we consider such a state of the urethral-sound woman from the point of view of systemic knowledge, one can come closer to understanding all the unbearable stagnation of the poet in the “everyday word-for-word”. Communication is reduced to a minimum, a narrow circle of readers in Europe, according to Tsvetaeva, is all in a reduced form compared to Russia: not halls, but salts, not offensive speeches, but chamber evenings. And this is for the urethral sweep of her soul, for the sonic infinity of the search, for the organic need for her flock, brought here in France to her son and husband, but even they are already separate from her, the young daughter lives her own life.

In Marina's memory, the overcrowded halls of the Polytechnic are still alive, where she, in felt boots and a turned coat, “closely, that is honestly,” belted with a cadet's belt, threw lines from “Swan Camp” into the red hall, her white swan song, where she was answered with delight, not going into party strife. The rapture in battle gave Tsvetaeva that terrible time in Moscow. With sound meanings, complementary to Russia, she united the winners and the vanquished into one flock.

In Europe, the urethral-sonic leader-poet Marina Tsvetaeva cleans pots, cooks porridge, goes to the market, raises a son, and quarrels with her husband and daughter. In the noise and fumes of "edalny" there is no way to concentrate in sound. Nobody needs it here, there is no realization. A leader without a pack on an alien landscape with no hope of returning: nowhere.

Homesickness! Long

Trouble Unveiled!

I don't care at all -

Where completely alone

Be on what stones to go home

Stroll with the bazaar wallet

Into the house, and not knowing what is mine, Like a hospital or a barracks.

I don't care which among

Faces bristle captive

Leo, from what human environment

To be displaced - certainly -

Into oneself, into one-man feelings.

Kamchatka bear without ice

Where not to get along (and I'm not trying!), Where to humiliate - I am one.

(1934)

Trying once again to pull herself out of the swamp of routine by the hair, Marina again turns to Pushkin, this time in the prose "Pushkin and Pugachev". It is no coincidence that Tsvetaeva chooses this theme from the entire Pushkin legacy. The theme of "evil deeds and a pure heart", the eternal theme of mixing opposites in the Russian mentality, is, according to Marina Tsvetaeva, a great seductive force, which is pointless to resist. Concentrated reflection on the root cause and consequences of such confusion is the spiritual sound search for the key to the laws of being.

Despite the dire financial situation, the refusal of publishing houses to print the scandalous Tsvetaeva, and Sergei's stubborn unwillingness to earn anything else, besides what he liked, Marina did not have any thoughts of returning to her homeland: "They will bury me there." This was clear to Tsvetaeva. But she no longer had the strength to resist the passionate desire of Sergei and the children to return to the USSR. Marina is increasingly sound depressed.

Continuation.

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