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Evgeny Yevtushenko

Talent is a non-random miracle [book of articles]

Soviet writer

Yevgeny Yevtushenko, a famous Soviet poet, publishes for the first time a collection of his

critical prose. The last years of Evg. Yevtushenko, while retaining his inherent talent

poetic activity, increasingly appears in print and as a critic. In critical

the poet's prose manifested his public temperament, she sometimes openly published

Stichna and at the same time figurative, emotional and poetic.

Evg. Yevtushenko is primarily a poet, therefore, quite naturally, most of his

articles devoted to poetry, but he also talks about cinema, and about prose, and about music (about

Shostakovich, film adaptation of Chekhov's "Steppe", actress Churikova).

In the book the reader will find articles about poets - Pushkin and Nekrasov, Mayakovsky and

Neruda, Tvardovsky and Tsvetaeva, Antokolsky and Smelyakov, Kirsanov and

Samoilov, S. Chikovani and Vinokurov, Voznesensky and Mezhirov, Gevorg Emine and

Kushner, about prose writers - Hemingway, Marquez, Rasputin, Konetsky.

The main idea that unites these articles is the idea of duty and responsibility of talent.

before his time, people, humanity.

EDUCATION BY POETRY

A glorious educator of any person is his life experience. By this notion

we must include not only the “external” biography, but also the biography

"internal", inseparable from our assimilation of the experience of mankind through books.

The events in Gorky's life were not only what happened in the dye-house

Kashirin, but also every book he read. A person who doesn't like a book

unhappy, though not always aware of it. His life can be filled

interesting events, but he will be deprived of an equally important event -

empathy and reading comprehension.

not true - a person who does not love poetry cannot truly love prose,

education in poetry is the education of a taste for literature in general.

The poet Selvinsky once rightly said: "The reader of verse is an artist."

Of course, the reader of prose must also have the artistry of perception. But the charm is over,

poetry more than prose, is hidden not only in thought and plot construction, but also in

the music of the word itself, in intonation modulations, in metaphors, in the subtlety of epithets.

Pushkin's line "we look at the pale snow with diligent eyes" will be felt in all

its freshness is only a highly qualified reader. Genuine reading

artistic word (in poetry or prose) implies not a cursory

information

but the enjoyment of the word, its absorption by all nerve cells, the ability

feel this word with your skin...

"Citizens, listen to me...". Stravinsky seemed to be listening half aloud, and suddenly

line "fingers confusedly wise" exclaimed, even closing his eyes from

pleasure: "What a delicious line!" I was amazed because such a discreet

not every professional poet could mark a line. I'm not sure

that there is an innate poetic ear, but that such an ear can be

thief, I am convinced.

And I would like, however belatedly and not comprehensively, to express my deep

thanks to all the people in my life who raised me in love with poetry.

If I had not become a professional poet, it would still matter until the end of my days

would remain a devoted reader of poetry.

My father, a geologist, wrote poetry, it seems to me that they are talented:

Shooting back from melancholy, I wanted to run away somewhere, But the stars are too high, And

high pay for the stars ...

He loved poetry and passed on his love for it to me. Excellent read from memory and,

if I didn’t understand something, I explained, but not rationally, but precisely by the beauty of reading,

emphasizing the rhythmic, figurative power of the lines, and not only Pushkin and

Lermontov, but also modern poets, reveling in the verse, which they especially liked

The stallion under him sparkles with white refined sugar.

(E. Bagritsky)

The wedding twists with a silver hem, And in her ears she doesn’t have earrings - tunnels.

(P. Vasiliev)

From Makhachkala to Baku, the moons float on their sides.

(B. Kornilov)

Eyebrows from under the shako threaten the palaces.

(N. Aseev)

Nails would be made from these people, Stronger would not be in the world of nails.

(N. Tikhon)

Teguantepec, Teguantepec, foreign country,

Three thousand rivers, three thousand rivers surround you.

(S. Kirsanov)

Of foreign poets, my father often read Burns and Kipling to me.

During the war years at Zima station, I was placed in the care of my grandmother, who

did not know poetry as well as my father, but she loved Shevchenko and often recalled

his poems, reading them in Ukrainian. Visiting taiga villages, I listened and even wrote down

ditties, folk songs, and sometimes he composed something. Probably upbringing.

poetry is generally inseparable from the education of folklore, and whether he can feel

the beauty of poetry is a person who does not feel the beauty of folk songs?

A person who loves both folk songs and poems by modern poets turned out to be my

stepfather, accordionist. From his lips I first heard "Sergey Yesenin" by Mayakovsky.

I was especially struck by: "You are rocking a bag of your own bones." I remember I asked: "Who

such Yesenin? - and for the first time I heard Yesenin's poems, which then were almost

impossible to get. Yesenin's poems were for me at the same time a folk song,

and modern poetry.

Returning to Moscow, I greedily pounced on poetry. Pages published then

poetry collections were, it seemed, sprinkled with the ashes of the conflagrations of the Great

Patriotic. “Son” of Antokolsky, “Zoya” Aliger, “Do you remember, Alyosha, the roads

Smolensk region ... "Simonova, "Woe to you, mothers of the Oder, Elbe and Rhine ..." Surkov, "Do not

in vain we cherished friendship, as infantrymen cherish a meter of bloody earth when it

they take battles ... "Gudzenko," Hospital. All in white. The walls smell of damp chalk...”

Lukonina, “The boy lived on the outskirts of the town of Kolpino ...” Mezhirova, “To become

a man, it’s not enough for them to be born ... ”Lvova,“ Guys, pass the field to pass today they sang

nightingales..." Dudin; all this entered into me, filled me with the joy of empathy, although I

was a boy. But during the war, the boys also felt part of

great fighting people.

I liked Shefner's Suburbia, with its alienated imagery: "And,

slowly rotating the emeralds of green eyes, thoughtless, as always, frogs, as if

little buddhas sat on logs by the pond.” Tvardovsky seemed to me then

too rustic, Pasternak too complicated. Poets such as Tyutchev and

Baratynsky, I hardly read - they looked boring in my eyes, far from

the life we all lived during the war.

Once I read to my father my poems about a Soviet parliamentarian who was killed

fascists in Budapest:

The huge city grew dark, The enemy lurked there. White by accident

Flag of truce.

My father suddenly said: "There is poetry in this word" unexpected ".

In forty-seven, I studied at the poetry studio of the Dzerzhinsky House of Pioneers

district. Our leader L. Popova was a peculiar person - she did not

only did not condemn the enthusiasm of some studio members for formal

experimentation, but even supported it in every possible way, believing that in

At a certain age, the poet must be ill with formalism. My friend's line

“and now autumn is running away, flashing with yellow spots of leaves” was cited as an example. I

wrote then:

The hosts - Kipling's heroes - Greet the day with a bottle of whiskey. And it seems that

blood among the bales lay down Seal on tea bags.

Once poets came to visit us - students of the Vinokurov Literary Institute,

Vanshenknn, Soloukhin, Gana-bin, Kafanov, still very young, but already past

front school. Needless to say, how proud I was to perform with my poems

with real poets.

The second military generation that they represented brought a lot of new things to our

poetry and defended whether

rnsm, from which some older poets began to move away

rhetoric. Subsequently written quiet lyrical poems "The Boy" Van-

Shchenko and Vinokurov's Hamlet impressed me as a broken

"Do you love Bagritsky?" - he asked me after a speech at the House of Pioneers

The young master's eyebrow went up in surprise. We became friends, despite the noticeable

then the difference in age and experience.

I am forever grateful to the poet Andrei Dostal. For more than three years, he

worked with me every day in the literary consultation of the publishing house "Young

guard." Andrey Dostal discovered Leonid Martynov for me, in whose unique

intonation - "Did you spend the night in flower beds?" - I immediately fell in love.

In 1949, I was lucky again when in the newspaper "Soviet Sport" I met with

journalist and poet Nikolai Tarasov. He not only printed my first

poems, but also sat with me for long hours, patiently explaining which line

good, which is bad and why. His friends - then a geophysicist, and now a literary

critic V. Barlas and journalist L. Filatov, now editor of the weekly "Football -

hockey,” they also taught me a lot in poetry, letting me read from their libraries

rare collections. Now Tvardovsky no longer seemed rustic to me, and Pasternak

overly complicated.

I managed to get acquainted with the work of Akhmatova, Tsvetaeva, Mandelstam.

However, on the poems that I was printing at that time, my expanding "poetic

education had no effect at all. As a reader, I was ahead of myself, the poet. I'm in

basically imitated Kirsanov and, when he met him, expected his praise, but

Kirsanov rightly condemned my imitation.

An invaluable influence on me was my friendship with Vladimir Sokolov, who,

By the way, he helped me enter the Literary Institute, despite the absence

matriculation certificate. Sokolov was, of course, the first poet of the post-war

generations who found the lyrical

expression of his talent. It was clear to me that Sokolov knew brilliantly

poetry and his taste does not suffer from group limitations - he never divides

these are on "traditionalists" and "innovators", but only on good and bad. To this he

forever taught me.

At the Literary Institute, my student life also gave me a lot to

understanding of poetry. At seminars and in corridors, judgments about each other's poems were

sometimes ruthless, but always sincere. It is this ruthless sincerity of my

comrades and helped me jump off the stilts. I wrote the poems "Vagon", "Before

meeting”, and, obviously, this was the beginning of my serious work.

I met a wonderful, unfortunately still underestimated poet

Nikolai Glazkov, who then wrote:

I'm ruining my own life by playing the fool. From the sea of lies to the field of rye, the road is far.

I learned from Glazkov the freedom of intonation. stunning impression

I was struck by the discovery of Slutsky's poems. They seemed to be anti-ethical, and

at the same time, they sounded the poetry of a mercilessly naked life. If before I

sought to fight in his poems with "prosaism", then after Slutsky's poems

tried to avoid excessively sublime "poeticisms".

Studying at the Literary Institute, we, young poets, were not free from mutual influences either.

Some poems by Robert Rozhdestvensky and mine, written in 1953-1955,

were like two drops of water. Now, I hope you will not confuse them: we have chosen

different roads, and this is natural, like life itself.

A whole galaxy of female poets appeared, among which, perhaps, the most

Akhmadulina, Moritz, Matveeva were interesting. Returned from the North Smelyakov

brought the poem "Strict Love" full of chaste romanticism. Welcome back

Smelyakov's poetry became somehow stronger, more reliable. Samoilov began to publish. His

poems about Tsar Ivan, "Tea House" immediately created

him a stable reputation as a highly cultured craftsman. Have you been published

"Cologne Pit", "Horses in the Ocean", "Let's wave our fists after the fight..."

Boris Slutsky, innovative poems in form and content. All over the country they sang

Okudzhava's songs breathed out by time. Coming out of a long crisis, Lugovskoy wrote:

“After all, the one that I knew does not exist ...”, Svetlov again broke through his

charming clean tone. There was such a large-scale work as "For

far - far" Tvardovsky. Everyone was reading Martynov's new book,

"Ugly girl" Zabolotsky. How fireworks arose Voznesensky. Circulations

Poetry books began to grow, poetry came out on the square. It was the heyday

interest in poetry, hitherto unknown either in our country or anywhere else in the world. I am proud that I

I had to witness the time when poetry became popular

event. It was rightly said: “An amazingly powerful echo, obviously, such

A powerful echo, however, not only gives the poet great rights, but also imposes on him

great responsibilities. The education of a poet begins with the education of poetry. But

subsequently, if the poet does not rise to self-education by his own

responsibilities, he slides down, despite professional sophistication.

There is such an imaginary beautiful phrase: "No one owes nothing to nobody". All

owe to everyone, but the poet especially.

To become a poet is the courage to declare oneself in debt.

The poet is indebted to those who taught him to love poetry, for they gave him the feeling

the meaning of life.

The poet is indebted to those poets who came before him, for they gave him the power of the word.

The poet is indebted to today's poets, his comrades in the shop, for their

breath is the air that he breathes, and his breath is a particle of that air,

which they breathe.

The poet is indebted to his readers, contemporaries, for they hope him

The poet is indebted to his descendants, for through his eyes they will someday see us.

The feeling of this heavy and at the same time happy debt never

left me and, I hope, will not leave.

After Pushkin, a poet without citizenship is impossible. But in the 19th century

called "common people" was far from poetry, if only because of their illiterate

ness. Now, when poetry is read not only by intellectuals, but also by workers and

peasants, the concept of citizenship has expanded - it means more than ever

spiritual connections of the poet with the people. When I write lyric poetry, I always

I want them to be close to many people, as if they wrote them themselves.

When I work on things of an epic nature, I try to find myself in those

the people I write about. Flaubert once said, "Madame Bovary is me." Could he

to say this about a worker in some French factory? Of course not. And I

I hope I can say the same, for example, about Nyushka from my " Bratsk HPP" and

about many heroes of my poems and poems: "Nyushka is me." Citizenship nine-

twentieth century could not be as internationalist as it is now, when the fate of all

countries are so closely related to each other. So I tried to find people close to me

the spirit of people, not only among the builders of Bratsk or the fishermen of the North, but also wherever

there is a struggle for the future of mankind - in the United States, in Latin America and during

many other countries. Without love for the motherland, there is no poet. But today there is no poet without

participation in the struggle taking place all over the globe.

To be a poet of the world's first socialist country, on one's own

historical experience that tests the reliability of the ideals suffered by mankind,

– this imposes a special responsibility. The historical experience of our country is being studied

and will be studied in our literature, in our poetry, for no document itself

does not in itself have a psychological insight into the essence of the fact. So

Thus, the best in Soviet literature acquires high value moral

a document that captures not only the external, but also the internal features of the formation

new socialist society. Our poetry, if it does not stray

peppy embellishment, not in the direction of skeptical distortion, but has

harmony of a realistic reflection of reality in its development, can be

living, breathing, sounding history book. And if this textbook is true,

then it will rightfully become a worthy tribute to our respect for the people who nurtured us.

The turning point in the life of a poet comes when, brought up on poetry

others, he is already beginning to educate readers with his poetry. "Powerful Echo"

returning, can knock the poet down with the force of the return wave, if he is not enough

staunch, or so shell-shocked that he loses his hearing both to poetry and to time. But such an echo

can educate. So the poet will be brought up by the return wave

own poetry.

I sharply separate readers from admirers. The reader, with all his love for the poet, is kind,

but exacting. I found such readers both in my professional environment and among

people of various professions in different parts of the country. It was they who were

poetry and now I often repeat the lines of Tyutchev, whom I fell in love with in recent years:

It is not given to us to predict How our word will respond, - And sympathy is given to us,

How do we get grace...

I feel happy because I was not deprived of this sympathy, but

sometimes I feel sad because I don’t know if I will be able to thank him in full

Beginning poets often write letters to me and ask: “What qualities

do you have to possess to become a real poet?” I never answered this one

as I thought, a naive question, but now I'll try, although this may also be

There are five such qualities.

First: you need to have a conscience, but this is not enough to become a poet.

Second: you need to have a mind, but this is not enough to become a poet.

Third: you need to have a sense of humor, but this is not enough to become a poet.

Fourth: you need to love not only your own poems, but also those of others, but this is not enough,

to become a poet.

Fifth: you need to write poetry well, but if you don’t have all the previous

qualities, this is also not enough to become a poet, for

There is no poet outside the people,

There is no son without a father's shadow.

Poetry, according to a well-known expression, is the self-consciousness of the people. "To understand

himself, the people and creates his own poets.

RUSSIAN CLASSICS LESSONS

young Lukonin, who had just returned from the Great Patriotic War, once wrote

Where do good poems grow?

This one deliberately baby question there is no answer in adults, and not unfortunately, but to

happiness. There is no recipe for art and there cannot be, just as there cannot be a recipe for a miracle.

You can't teach being talented. If you cannot step into the same river twice, then

one cannot swallow twice the same air of history, because it

changes - it is poisoned in a different way and fresh in a different way. Today's lungs

twenty-year-old man of our country is not touched by either the fumes of war or ominous

exhausts of frighteningly uninvited cars, but they still get residual rust

after all, irreversibly destroyed iron curtain, but in these lungs with

strontium particles are scattered throughout infancy, but there is less oxygen in these lungs, because

that there is less and less greenery on the planet, which is announced to us by the sad alarm

ecology. In the air, I and which today's twenty-year-olds breathe, there is no mountain

taste of our youthful illusoryness, for which we were subsequently punished, but

sometimes byva-I . dryish, sore taste of skepticism, for which they will

*Ear. g.vtushiko

they are punished. The advantage of this generation is the contempt learned from childhood for

false citizenship. The disadvantage is that contempt is passive and that fear

falling into false citizenship leads to a fear of citizenship in general.

The substitution of false romance for social alienation is a substitution

fake another fake. Any generation is heterogeneous, and it has both healthy and

unhealthy start. But it is sad when the spiritually healthy is powerless, and the unhealthy

full of strength. When I see a twenty-year-old young man - smart, kind,

capable, but infected with social inertia, and next to him - his

peer, enviably redeeming lack of talent with efficiency, full

crushing penetration and dubious energy, I want to exclaim:

talented kind people, do not give citizenship into the hands of the mediocre

unkind people, bring mediocrity to the point that they, and not you, are forced

become socially passive!

Young writers, remember that you have breathed in the new air of history. But inside

your lungs this air is processed. Tomorrow's air will be like this

will be your breath. If you feel like there's nothing you can change in the air

stories with your exhalation, it is pointless to write and you need to find the courage to do

another matter. Youth without hope of changing the air of the world is unnatural.

There are, of course, many complexities which it is easy to invoke in justification of one's

non-omnipotence. Our publishing houses are criminally slow, and when young

writers with lush forelocks bring their manuscripts to the editors, then they receive

still in moments of despair, remember that despair is not permissible. Remember

Mayakovsky's lines:

This time -

hard for a pen, but you say

cripples and cripples,

which great chose

to trodden and easier?

When there is no soul good works, nothing to refer to external

difficulties. You can temporarily prevent something from being printed, but you cannot prevent it

write. Behind us - great story great country, filled with victories and

tragedies, and literature has no right to be less great than reality.

It has always been difficult to be a Russian writer, and it is not easy to be one now. But

Russian writer has one great happiness - nowhere, like in our country, is not

love literature. Nowhere has the word "writer" been raised as high as in

understanding of our people. The feeling of our happiness should more than exceed all

heavy, and sometimes bloody payment for the noble title of a Russian writer.

I wanted the best of you, without falling into either commercial efficiency or

self-destructive social inertia would deserve Pushkin's words about

poet: “He never tried cowardly to please the prevailing taste and

requirements of instant fashion, never resorted to quackery, exaggeration

to produce a greater effect, never neglected ungrateful labor,

seldom noticed, the labor of finishing and distinctness, never trailed on the heels of his

the age of captivating genius, picking up the dropped ears of corn; he walked his way alone

and independent ... "It is said for all ages, as long as the Russian language and Russian

literature. Since this was said, history has taught many new

lessons that not only did not refute, but confirmed the immortal lessons of Russian

classics.

“A person born with tender feelings, endowed with a strong imagination,

prompted by philanthropy-|M, it is torn out from among the people. Ascends to the frontal

Place. All eyes are on him;

The clapping of hands or ridicule awaits him, worse than death itself. How to be |

mediocre? - so he once defined Radi-IIH and the moral impossibility

spiritual mediocre! i and for any person who wants to be called Russian

If you have squeezed out the last juices from your world-(shimmering), then I note: there is copper on

millions of people in the world who are not on

wrote not a line in their life, and they live ... why don’t you follow them

example?"

So, according to our classics, mediocrity is impermissibility, lack of

worldview should veto the use of ink. One might object: "Not

everyone should be geniuses. There are also honest, modest workers of the pen. By the man

who calls himself a writer, although he obviously cannot write, is indiscreet in this. Tem

such a person is more dishonest if he expects praise and rewards for this

indiscretion, which sometimes hypocritically pretends to be modesty. Can't claim

from every writer to be a genius. But one should still demand from everyone

writer, so that he is not mediocrity, although in some cases this is irreversible

late. Mediocrity most often comes from ignorance. Let's leave aside

ignorance is shy, simple-hearted, mild-mannered, often happening not according to

own fault. But we will not forgive the ignorance of the self-satisfied, triumphant,

turning into moral midgetism, embittered at all who are higher

growth. Triumphant ignorance is sometimes well mimicked, playing

education - he always has at least a few quotations ready - but dig

deeper than an arrogant ignoramus and you will see that he never really

was reading. There is a more dangerous subtype of ignorance - this is educated ignorance, deeply

well-read, but behind this erudition there is no world outlook. And when

in the absence of a worldview, even the most encyclopedic knowledge leads again to

the same ignorance cynically armed with external culture. Absence or

the blurring of the worldview is also one of the inexorable signs

mediocrity. The absence of a worldview is a dangerous readiness for any compromise.

misses. Here is what Leskov said about this: “I recognize the compromise in what

case: if they tell me to ask for someone and the one from whom I will ask is stupid

man, then I will write to him - Your Excellency ... But in the field of thought - no, and

there can be no compromises." The young writer faces many

compromises, and one of the first is a compromise with the word. Insignificance of words

deals even with the significance of motives. Why is language good?

Because this is a creation, not an essay...” – said A. Ostrovsky, who created

the whole world on the stage, first of all, thanks not to situations, but to the full-blooded

the language of their characters. The averageness of language inevitably leads to the averageness of feelings,

because only strong words can express strong feelings. The present

living language has two enemies - simplicity, which is worse than theft, and pretentiousness,

masking the void. “The simplicity of language cannot be exclusive and

an extraordinary sign of poetry, but refinement of expression can always

serve as a sure sign of the absence of poetry. Chekhov's call: "Do not lick, do not

grind, but be clumsy and impudent, ”of course, amateurs can adopt

laxity, ready to turn literature into slovenly waste. But there is

clumsiness from irresponsibility is also natural clumsiness - from

overloaded with emotions and thoughts, as it was, for example, in Dostoevsky.

Dostoevsky wrote not in phrases, but with an idea. Taken out of context, his phrases sometimes

they may look clumsy, but inside the plan they fit one into one. If Nekrasov

learn only the clumsiness of his wrong accents, putting aside how

secondary is his talent for audacity of design, then even from Nekrasov you can make

negligence teacher. Learning from the classics only their shortcomings is an occupation

unrespectable. Lermontov became great not because he wrote: “And the Terek, jumping,

like a lioness, with a shaggy mane on the ridge ... "With the help of grammatical or

zoological errors are not included in the literature. However, now among some

young writers notice panache by negligence. Trying to practice

higher mathematics without knowledge of arithmetic is ridiculous. Uninhibited gh language, form,

renewal of traditions is possible only with the full mastery of the already existing

cul-ghur heritage. In the expression "cultural pisa-Gel" there is a direct

a tautology, but in many young writers culture dawns very vaguely.

but, abruptly. Instead of a feast of the mind - piecewise-io on the run. Employment is not

justification. What employment of a writer can be higher than that of a writer? Is

Pushkin was little occupied with editorial and other matters, but they did not interfere

he knows well

native language and several foreign ones, folklore, history, philosophy,

domestic and foreign literature. I foresee the answer: "He was an aristocrat,

the conditions were different...” Was Gorky also an aristocrat? With a copper tray

bad pennies. “If you consider it superfluous to acquire knowledge for yourself, why

then you will teach others?” Korolenko rightly reproached the mental lazybones.

When other young writers snobbishly boast of "knowledge of life" which,

they say, above "book knowledge", they recklessly forget that each

a great book is the knowledge of life compressed into pages. Opposite

swagger, snobbishly based only on "book knowledge" and arrogantly

rooted in a living, continuously changing reality, also

rightly condemned by the classics. “They always say that reality is boring,

different: to amuse themselves, they resort to art, fantasy, read novels.

For me, on the contrary: what could be more fantastic and more unexpected than reality!”

(Dostoevsky). Reality daily calls to writers, tragically

yearning for its unimpressedness - after all, left unwritten, it disappears from

memory of mankind, dissolves in the abyss of non-existence. Historical literature is

redemption of what was not captured by contemporaries. But it is also based not only on

conjecture, not only on retrospective prophecies, but is based on a generalization

crumbs of testimonies, inherited by a happy accident. If these crumbs also disappear,

then failures in history are inevitable, and once committed, but not

analyzed tragedies menacingly increase in a criminally absurd

repetition possibilities. The power of literature is to warn with

past and present future.

The connection between these two knowledge - knowledge of the past and knowledge of the present - is the only one

possibility of pre-knowledge of the future. But great literature is higher than knowledge. Knowledge

can be impassive, literature never. Even the pure truth written

fact limits. A coldly portrayed human tragedy may

leave cold. In the absence of passion, even the most subtle thoughts do not help. AT

What is the beauty of thoughts if they do not radiate a genuine warmth of feeling? Through the tears

blurred eyes, you can see much more than the most keen, but

indifferent eyes. Only indifference is true vision, and everything else

- blindness. You can scrupulously collect facts, but lose your way of life

generally. “Who is able to be completely satisfied with the microscopic dust particles of thought

and feelings, who knows how to make himself immensely famous by collecting these

Creativity has long been a part of our lives. Everything that is inside us - thoughts, experiences, feelings can take on a certain form. But not everyone is able to create a product of creativity. I believe that the embodiment of one's creative potential may be the main task in the life of every person. After all, it makes our life more interesting, brighter, richer.

In the proposed text, E.

A. Yevtushenko raises the problem of educating love for poetry. The author suggests thinking about the value of poetry, its significance in the life of each of us. After all, poetry is such a verbal creativity that equally affects the moral education of both youth and adults. Yevtushenko leads us to the conclusion that a person who does not love poetry cannot really and seriously love prose either.

The author's position is difficult to dispute, here I absolutely share the opinion that one can cultivate a feeling of love for poetry "by the beauty of reading, by emphasizing the rhythmic, figurative power of lines." We know the names of many great poets, whose works have remained for centuries, and do not lose their relevance to this day.

Poetry is not only beautiful, it is also diverse, because it embraces and reflects global problems.

The theme of the poet and his work is one of the main topics that are raised in Russian classical literature. The lines written by the poet with a guitar Vladimir Vysotsky immediately come to mind:

"Poets walk with their heels on the blade of a knife

And they cut their bare souls into the blood!

In my discussion, I would also like to mention the poetry of M. Yu. Lermontov. The literary heritage of the poet is unique. It touches on various topics: loneliness, love, friendship, and among them the theme of the poet and poetry. The image of the poet, which is depicted in Lermontov's poems, is a man of strong will. So, in the poem, which is called "The Poet" (1828), the poet is compared with the artist, who, in admiration for his art, "fell before the picture." But after this moment of delight leaves, and the artist does not remember him. Lermontov makes an attempt to understand the essence of the poet and inspiration in particular. With regard to the topic of the appointment of the poet and poetry, Lermontov was a worthy successor to another great poet - A. S. Pushkin.

Thus, no matter how rich a person’s “external” biography is, according to the author, without books he will not be able to fully understand the world, other people, and finally, himself, through this the “internal” biography is formed and replenished.

Updated: 2017-11-14

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"I am an educator"

“...Perhaps our work is not noticeable in appearance,

But only one thing I know - the kids are rushing to our garden,

In the morning they rush mom - come on faster, mom, hurry up!

Probably - this is the answer -

More valuable than our labor

Not in the world!

For more than fifteen years I have been working as an educator and have no regrets. Children are joy, they are the most precious thing we have. There are no other people's children for me, so I treat each child as if it were my own, with maternal care and tenderness. An educator is a person who enters the life of a child and his family, because parents trust him with the most precious thing they have - their children. Probably, there is not a single parent in the world who would not worry about their child, about what kind of relationship he will have with adults, peers, how he will grow up. It is important for me not to lose this trust, but to strengthen it. It is also very important for me to once again praise the child, even when his progress is very modest. This instills self-confidence in children, makes them want to take the next step.
The highest achievement of my work is the ability to find mutual language with children and their parents. When my children grow up and become adults, they will appreciate my efforts. The best reward for my work will be the opportunity for my pupils to live in harmony with the world around them. .I would like to believe that having received a positive charge in kindergarten, they will enter the future with confidence and will be able to easily walk through life.
The principle of my work is: “Every child is a successful person” and I try to create conditions for revealing the abilities of everyone.
Time does not stand still, and we teachers cannot work in the “old fashioned way”. New innovative technologies enter our life. I try to keep up and put into practice all possible and interesting innovations.
In my work I widely apply the method of project activity, using such technologies as: information and communication; health-saving; research; personality - oriented; game. The design method makes children active. They gain experience of independence, self-confidence. When new problems arise, the child gets into the habit of independently looking for solutions in any conditions. The peculiarity of any project is that children, parents, teachers take part in it.
What does it mean to me to be a teacher? - Communicate with children every day, find joy and pleasure in this, think about them, empathize with successes and failures, be responsible, love.
Educator is more than a profession. To be an educator for me means to live. But live in such a way that you are not ashamed of every day you live. Children do not always know how to obey adults, but they are very good at copying them. And a copy of your behavior is forever deposited in the child's soul and affects his future life. I am responsible for my students.
Being an educator also means being a unique actor who comes up with fascinating stories every day, like a kind magician and helps children believe in a miracle.
Of course, it is not easy, but I am proud of my profession, because I dedicate my life to children.

Reflection on the topic "Experience and mistakes" is always relevant - at any age, in any state with any mental orientation. However, any such reflection will certainly be carried out at its own level.

For example, for a small child, at his level, there is an understanding of legal or illegal things. If we consider a typical exemplary situation, we can draw certain conclusions. For example, a mother sends a four-year-old son to the garden to pick carrots, the son returns, but brings beets. She begins to say something reproachfully to him, the boy feels discomfort from the fact that “he brought not what was asked for”, closes in on himself and understands with some sixth sense that he made a mistake, but he made it not because of his prank or harmfulness .

No matter how old a person is, he will equally treat his mistakes - whether he is four years old or forty years old, that is, with the same measure of responsibility. He will equally worry about his mistakes, and the more he makes mistakes, the faster the necessary experience will come to him in one or another area of his activity.

It may well happen that a person repeatedly makes the same mistakes in his life, as if stepping on the same rake, which, by the way, hits the head very painfully. From here arises a feeling of dissatisfaction with what you are doing, as well as lamenting: “Well, why did this happen to me again? Why couldn't I do otherwise, after all, I've done it a thousand times already? Etc." There are many reasons for this, one of which is a special character trait when a person is in a hurry to live and does everything quickly due to some circumstances. In other words, he wants the best, but it turns out the opposite. This is how the hero of V. Shukshin Chudik behaved approximately (“Why am I like this?”)

Experience, no matter how bitter and sad it is, brings new rounds to the development of the personality. Yes, there is a residue in the depths of the soul from the fact that you did something wrong or irrationally, but the next time a similar situation happens, you can already play it safe and prevent a similar mistake.

Therefore, I would like to advise: do not be afraid of your own mistakes, it is better to smile and live on ... until a new mistake.

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