“Your name is a bird in your hand…” M. Tsvetaeva. Analysis of the poem "Your name is a bird in your hand ..." by M. I. Tsvetaeva Analysis of Tsvetaeva's poem "Your name is a bird in your hand ..."
Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
Your name is a bird in your hand
Your name is ice on the tongue.
One single movement of the lips.
Your name is five letters.
Ball caught on the fly
Silver bell in the mouth.
A stone thrown into a quiet pond
Sigh like your name is.
In the light clicking of night hooves
Your loud name thunders.
And call him to our temple
A loud clicking trigger.
Your name - oh, you can't! -
Your name is a kiss in the eyes
In the gentle cold of motionless eyelids.
Your name is a kiss in the snow.
Key, icy, blue sip…
With your name - sleep is deep.
Alexander Blok
Marina Tsvetaeva was very skeptical about the work of poets she knew. The only person whom she idolized in the truest sense of the word was Alexander Blok. Tsvetaeva admitted that his poems have nothing to do with the earthly and ordinary, they were written not by a person, but by some kind of sublime and mythical creature.
Tsvetaeva was not closely acquainted with Blok, although she often attended his literary evenings and each time did not cease to be surprised at the power of the charm of this outstanding person. It is not surprising that many women were in love with him, among whom were even close friends of the poetess. Nevertheless, Tsvetaeva never spoke about her feelings for Blok, believing that in this case there can be no talk of love. After all, for her the poet was inaccessible, and nothing could belittle this image created in the imagination of a woman who loves to dream so much.
Marina Tsvetaeva dedicated quite a few poems to this poet, which were later framed in the cycle “To Blok”. The poetess wrote some of them during the life of the idol, including a work called “Your name is a bird in your hand ...”, which was published in 1916. This poem fully reflects the sincere admiration that Tsvetaeva feels for Blok, arguing that this feeling is one of the strongest that she has ever experienced in her life.
The name Blok is associated with the poetess with a bird in her hand and an ice floe on her tongue. “One single movement of the lips. Your name is five letters,” the author claims. Some clarity should be introduced here, since Blok's surname was indeed written with a yat at the end before the revolution, therefore it consisted of five letters. And it was pronounced in one breath, which the poetess did not fail to note. Considering herself unworthy of even developing the topic of a possible relationship with this amazing person, Tsvetaeva seems to try his name on the tongue and write down the associations that are born in her. “A ball caught on the fly, a silver bell in the mouth” - these are far from all the epithets that the author rewards his hero with. His name is the sound of a stone thrown into the water, a woman's sob, clatter of hooves and thunder. “And the loudly clicking trigger will call it to our temple,” the poetess notes.
Despite her reverent attitude towards Blok, Tsvetaeva still allows herself a little liberty and declares: “Your name is a kiss on the eyes.” But the coldness of the other world emanates from him, because the poetess still does not believe that such a person can exist in nature. After Blok's death, she will write that she is surprised not by his tragic picture, but by the fact that he generally lived among ordinary people, while creating unearthly poems, deep and filled with hidden meaning. For Tsvetaeva, Blok remained a mystery poet, in whose work there was a lot of mysticism. And it was precisely this that elevated him to the rank of a kind of deity, with whom Tsvetaeva simply did not dare to compare herself, believing that she was unworthy even to be next to this extraordinary person.
Addressing him, the poetess emphasizes: "With your name - sleep is deep." And there is no pretense in this phrase, since Tsvetaeva really falls asleep with a volume of Blok's poems in her hands. She dreams of amazing worlds and countries, and the image of the poet becomes so intrusive that the author even catches himself thinking about some kind of spiritual connection with this person. However, she has not been able to verify whether this is actually the case. Tsvetaeva lives in Moscow, and Blok lives in St. Petersburg, their meetings are rare and random, they do not have romance and high relations.
Marina Tsvetaeva and Alexander Blok
But this does not bother Tsvetaeva, for whom the poet's poems are the best proof of the immortality of the soul.
I am. You'll. Marina Tsvetaeva
I am. You will be.
My Translation from Marina Tsvetaeva. June, 1918
I am. You will be. Between us
................................. store of wisdom.
I drink. You thirsty. Agreement - uselessness.
Us dozens, centuries, hundreds of thousands of years
separate. - God does not build bridges.
Please Be! - this is my commandment.
Please, Let me pass by, with b"ated breath...
I am. You will be. You'll tell me over
...................................ten Springs,
............through many trials: "I am..." ,
...............................and I "ll answer:
"Once up on a time...,
....................we shall wait long before..."
(Marina Tsvetaeva)
I am. You'll. Between us -
...................................abyss.
I drink. You are thirsty. Talking is futile.
We are ten years old, we are a hundred millennia
Disconnect. - God does not build bridges.
Be! - this is my commandment. Give - by
Pass, breathing without disturbing growth.
I am. You'll. Ten springs later
You say: - there is! - and I will say: -
.................................... once upon a time...
********************************************
2.
(YOUR NAME IS a BIRD ON MY PALM!)
Your name is a bird on my palm.
Your name is ice on my tongue.
Your name is a stone in a swamp.
It is a bullet, and a cramp.
Your name is an invisible moment
of my lips
A kiss in the eyes
My breath in your hold.
Sometimes - a reasonable advise.
Sometimes - snow, and a scold.
A horse on a cloud
A ball which I try to catch,
A candle which is blown out,
A painful skin scratch...
It is a light from darkness,
A nap which is deep and clean.
Your name is a holy sparkle
A game which I need to win.
*
POEMS TO THE BLOCK
YOUR NAME IS A BIRD IN THE HAND.
Marina Tsvetaeva
Your name is a bird in your hand
Your name is ice on the tongue
One single movement of the lips
Your name is five letters.
Ball caught on the fly
Silver bell in the mouth
A stone thrown into a quiet pond
Your loud name thunders.
And he will call him to our temple
A loud clicking trigger.
Your name - oh, you can't! -
Your name is a kiss in the eyes
In the gentle cold of motionless eyelids,
Your name is a kiss in the snow.
Key, icy, blue sip...
With your name - sleep is deep.
The smell, the smell of your cigarette! M. Tsvetaeva
Scent, scent of your cigarette. Marina Tsvetaeva.
(My Translation from Marina Tsvetaeva).
Scent, scent
of your cigarette!
Dark complexioned cigar's
Scent!
Finger-rings, feathers,
Eyes, panamas...
blue night
in Monaco.
Fu "nny scent,
Musty a little:
West in red haze
lamppost-
a single illuminated pillar -
moonlight,
roar of Temza river waves,
What else?
What else...
Ah! It smells like Vein!
Perfume, hay, an open stage,
like-
......Betrayal,
...............Adultery!
***
(Marina Tsvetaeva)
Smell, smell
Your cigarette!
Of a swarthy cigar
Smell!
Rings, feathers,
Eyes, hats...
blue night
Monaco.
The smell is strange
Slightly musty:
In the red mist
West.
Lamp post
And the roar of the Thames
What else?
With what?
Ah, Vienna!
Spirits, hay,
open stage,
Treason!
.............................................
*********************************************
I kiss you on the forehead. Marina Tsvetaeva.
(My Translation from Marina Tsvetaeva. June 1917)
A kiss on the forehead - to wash away care,
...................to white it out.
I kiss your forehead.
A kiss on the eyes - your sleeplessness
terminal.
...................... Insomnia stop.
I kiss your eyes.
Ah, kiss on these lips! Quench, slake
thirst forever! Drink water, my love!
I kiss your lips.
A kiss on the forehead - drop out of memory.
You'll never be missed!
I kiss on your forehead.
Kissing on the forehead - erase care. M. Tsvetaeva
Marina Tsvetaeva
Kissing on the forehead - erase care.
Kiss you on the forehead.
Kissing in the eyes - relieve insomnia.
Kiss you in the eyes.
Kiss on the lips - drink water.
Kiss you on the lips.
Kiss on the forehead - erase the memory.
Kiss you on the forehead.
***
illustration by the artist Gino
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Your name is a bird in your hand
Your name is ice on the tongue.
One single movement of the lips.
Your name is five letters.
Ball caught on the fly
Silver bell in the mouth.
A stone thrown into a quiet pond
Sigh like your name is.
In the light clicking of night hooves
Your loud name thunders.
And call him to our temple
A loud clicking trigger.
Your name - oh, you can't! -
Your name is a kiss in the eyes
In the gentle cold of motionless eyelids.
Your name is a kiss in the snow.
Key, icy, blue sip…
With your name - sleep is deep.
Analysis of the poem "Your Name is a Bird in Hand" by Tsvetaeva
M. Tsvetaeva treated the creativity and the personality of A. Blok with great trepidation and respect. Between them there was practically no, even friendly relations. This is partly due to the fact that the poetess idolized the symbolist poet, considering him an unearthly creature who mistakenly visited our world. Tsvetaeva dedicated a whole cycle of poems to Blok, including "Your name is a bird in your hand ..." (1916).
The work, in fact, is a set of epithets with which the poetess endows the name of Blok. All of them emphasize the unreality of the poet, in which Tsvetaeva was sure. These diverse definitions are united by swiftness and ephemerality. A five-letter name (according to pre-revolutionary spelling, the letter “er” was written at the end of Blok’s surname) for the poetess is like “a single movement of the lips.” She compares it with objects (ice, ball, bell) in motion; short-term, jerky sounds (“clicking ... hooves”, “clicking trigger”); symbolic intimate actions (“kiss on the eyes”, “kiss on the snow”). Tsvetaeva deliberately does not pronounce the surname itself (“Oh, you can’t!”), Considering this blasphemy in relation to an incorporeal being.
Block really made a strong impression on nervous girls, who often fell in love with him. He was at the mercy of the symbols and images created in his imagination, which allowed him to exert an inexplicable influence on those around him. Tsvetaeva fell under this influence, but managed to preserve the originality of her own works, which undoubtedly benefited her. The poetess was very subtly versed in poetry and saw real talent in Blok's work. In the poems of the poet, which for an inexperienced reader seemed to be complete nonsense, Tsvetaeva saw a manifestation of cosmic forces.
Of course, in many ways, these two strong creative personalities were similar, especially in the ability to completely detach from real life and exist in the world of their own dreams. Moreover, Blok succeeded in this to an incredible degree. That is why Tsvetaeva respected and secretly envied the symbolist poet to such an extent. The main difference between the poetess and impressionable young ladies was that there was no question of a love feeling. Tsvetaeva could not imagine how one could feel too “earthly” a feeling for an ephemeral being. The only thing the poetess counts on is spiritual intimacy without any physical contact.
The poem ends with the phrase "With your name - sleep is deep", which brings the reader back to reality. Tsvetaeva admitted that she often fell asleep while reading.
Marina Tsvetaeva's poem “Your name is a bird in your hand” was written in 1916 and is dedicated to Alexander Blok. This poem opens a whole cycle of Tsvetaeva's poetry, written from 1916 to 1921.
The verse “Your name is a bird in your hand” is dedicated to Blok, however, Tsvetaeva never mentioned his name in the work itself, but everyone understands who it is about. Blok and Tsvetaeva were kindred spirits, rebellious spirit, inexhaustible energy, rebelliousness and eccentricity - all this made them similar.
In the poem, the poetess tries to beat every sound of Blok's name. His name is something warm like a bird in your hand, but elusive, you open your palm and it will fly away. The sound “l” in the name of the poet prompted Tsvetaeva to associate with an ice floe on the tongue. His image for her is at the same time disturbingly cold - one sound, one movement of the lips pronounced: “Block” tickle the tongue with a chill and touch the innermost corners of the soul.
For Tsvetaeva Blok is the embodiment of her spiritual love, he is like an angel, like a man, but sublime, elusive and immaterial.
The name of Blok is only “five letters”, the poet always signed “A. Block ”, but the musicality of the poem is amazing, here is the ringing of a bell, and the clatter of hooves, and the clicking of a trigger. The word "Block" for Tsvetaeva is such a palette of sounds - and a ball caught in the wind, and a stone thrown into a quiet pond, and the sound of a kiss.
In general, the whole poem is a monologue of the poetess. There is no plot in the verse, it is just a set of emotions. When you read Tsvetaeva's lines, diametrically opposed feelings replace each other. Warmth from the bird in the palm of your hand, then suddenly a chill, then some suddenness from the lines about the caught ball, then as if a quiet sound is heard from a stone thrown into the water and then a loud clatter of hooves, and in the finale, first a warm loving and unforgettable kiss in the eyes and cold and sobering - in the snow.
Such an expression of feelings arises from the poem, probably Blok himself evoked such feelings in Tsvetaeva. Symbolically, the verse ends with the word "deep", a word that contains all the sounds of Blok's name and reflects his essence, the depth and immensity of his poetry.
Your name is a bird in your hand
Your name is ice on the tongue
One single movement of the lips
Your name is five letters.
Ball caught on the fly
Silver bell in the mouth
A stone thrown into a quiet pond
Sigh like your name is.
In the light clicking of night hooves
Your loud name thunders.
And call him to our temple
A loud clicking trigger.
Your name - oh, you can't! -
Your name is a kiss in the eyes
In the gentle cold of motionless eyelids,
Your name is a kiss in the snow.
Key, icy, blue sip…
With your name - sleep is deep.
gentle ghost,
Knight without reproach
By whom are you called
Into my young life?
In the gray haze
You stand, riza
Snow dressed.
That is not the wind
Drives me through the city
Oh, it's the third
Evening I smell the enemy.
blue-eyed
jinxed me
Snow singer.
snow swan
Feathers spread under my feet.
Feathers fly
And slowly sink into the snow.
So for feathers
I go to the door
Which is followed by death.
He sings to me
Behind the blue windows
He sings to me
distant bells,
long cry,
Swan click -
Calling.
Sweet ghost!
I know that everything is a dream.
Do me a favor:
Amen, amen, loosen up!
Amen.
You pass to the West of the Sun,
You will see the evening light
You pass to the West of the Sun,
And the blizzard covers the trail.
Past my windows - impassive -
You will pass in the snow silence,
God's righteous man is my beautiful,
Quiet light of my soul.
I'm on your soul - I will not bury!
Your path is unbreakable.
In the hand, pale from kisses,
I won't drive my own nail.
And I won't call by name
And I won't stretch my arms.
Wax holy face
I just bow down.
And, standing under the slow snow,
I'll kneel in the snow
And in your holy name
Kiss the evening snow. -
Where majestic steps
You passed in deathly silence
Quiet light - saints of glory -
Ruler of my soul.
Beast - lair,
Wanderer - the road
Dead - drogi.
To each his own.
A woman - to dissemble,
King to rule
me to praise
Your name.
In Moscow, the domes are on fire!
In Moscow, the bells are ringing!
And I have the tombs in a row, -
In them queens sleep, and kings.
It's easier to breathe - than on the whole earth!
And you don't know that the dawn is in the Kremlin
I pray to you - until dawn!
And you pass over your Neva
About that time, as over the Moscow River
I stand with my head down
And the lights flicker.
With all my insomnia I love you
With all my insomnia, I will heed you -
About that time, as throughout the Kremlin
Ringers are waking up...
But my river - yes with your river,
But my hand is yes with your hand
They will not converge, my joy, until
Dawn will not catch up - dawn.
Thought it was a man!
And forced to die.
Died now, forever.
- Cry for the dead angel!
He is at sunset
He sang evening beauty.
Three wax fires
Trembling, hypocritical.
Rays came from him -
Hot strings in the snow!
Three wax candles
Sun something! Luminous!
Oh look how
The eyelids are dark!
Oh look how
His wings are broken!
Black reader reads
Idle hands are baptized...
- Dead lies the singer
And Sunday is celebrated.
Must be behind that grove
The village where I lived
It must be - love is easier
And easier than I expected.
Hey, idols, may you die! -
I got up and raised the whip,
And shout after - ohlest,
And again the bells sing.
Over the roll and miserable bread
Behind the pole rises - the pole.
And wire under the sky
Sings and sings death.
And clouds of gadflies around indifferent nags,
And the wind swollen native Kaluga kumach,
And the whistle of quails, and the big sky,
And waves of bells over waves of bread,
And talk about the German, until you get bored,
And yellow-yellow - behind the blue grove - a cross,
And sweet heat, and such a radiance all over,
And your name, which sounds like an angel.
Like a weak beam through the black haze of hells -
So your voice under the roar of exploding shells.
And in the thunders, like a certain seraph,
Notifies with a deaf voice, -
From somewhere in the ancient foggy mornings -
How he loved us, blind and nameless,
For a blue cloak, for treachery - a sin ...
And how tenderly of all - that one, deeper than all
Sunk into the night - dashing deeds!
And how I did not stop loving you, Russia.
And along the temple - with a lost finger
Everything drives, drives ... And more about
What days await us, how God will deceive,
How will you call the sun - and how will it not rise ...
So, a prisoner with myself alone
(Or is the child talking in his sleep?)
It appeared to us - the whole area wide! -
Sacred heart of Alexander Blok.
Here he is - look - tired of foreign lands,
Leader without squads.
Here - he drinks with a handful from a mountain rapid -
Prince without a country.
Everything is there for him: both the principality and the army,
Both bread and mother.
Red is your heritage - own it,
A friend without friends!
Remain us a stranger:
Pretty, beloved,
handwritten trebnik,
Cypress casket.
To all - to one - women,
To them, swallows, to us, married,
We, gold, those gray hairs,
To all - to one - son
You will remain, everyone - the firstborn,
Forsaken, abandoned
With our strange staff,
Our early wanderer.
To all of us with a short inscription
Cross at the Smolensk cemetery
Look for everyone to join the queue,
Everyone, ………, do not believe.
All - son, all - heir,
All - the first, the last.
His friends - do not disturb him!
His servants - do not disturb him!
It was so clear on his face:
My kingdom is not of this world.
Prophetic blizzards circled along the veins,
Shoulders stooped bent from the wings,
In the singing slot, in the caked ardor -
Swan lost his soul!
Fall, fall, heavy copper!
Wings have tasted the right to fly!
Lips that screamed the word: answer! -
They know that this is not - to die!
Zori drinks, the sea drinks - in full satiety
Gossips. - Do not serve a memorial service!
For the one who commanded forever: to be! -
Bread will get him to feed!
And above the plain -
Swan cry.
Mother, don't you recognize your son?
This is sky-high - he is miles away,
This is the last - he - I'm sorry.
And above the plain -
Prophetic blizzard.
Virgo, don't you recognize your friend?
Torn robes, a wing in the blood ...
This is the last he: - Live!
Over the damned -
The takeoff is radiant.
The righteous soul snatched - hosanna!
The convict found a bed - warm.
Stepson to mother in the house. - Amen.
An unbroken rib
Broken wing.
Not shooters right through
Chest shot through. Do not take out
This bullet. They don't make wings.
Mutilated walked.
Chain, chain of thorns!
What is the trembling of the mob to the deceased,
Feminine flattery swan fluff ...
Passed alone and deaf,
Freezing sunsets
The void of eyeless statues.
Only one else lived in it:
Broken wing.
Without a call, without a word, -
Like a roofer falling from rooftops.
And maybe again
He came, are you lying in the cradle?
You burn and do not fade
Lamp of few weeks...
Which of the mortals
Rocking your cradle?
Blissful heaviness!
Prophetic singing reed!
Oh who will tell me
What cradle are you in?
"Not sold yet!"
Only with this jealousy in mind
by the great detour
I will go on Russian soil.
midnight countries
I'll go from end to end.
Where is the mouth-his-wound,
Eyes bluish lead?
Grab it! Stronger!
Love and love him only!
Oh who will whisper to me
What cradle are you in?
pearl grains,
Muslin sleepy canopy.
Not a laurel, but a thorn -
The cap is a sharp-toothed shadow.
Not a canopy, but a bird
Opened two white wings!
- And be born again
So that the blizzard swept over again ?!
Rush him! Above!
Hold! Don't just give it away!
Oh, who will breathe me
What cradle are you in?
Or maybe false
My feat, and for nothing - works.
As laid in the ground
Perhaps you will oversleep until the pipe.
Huge hollowness
Your temples - I see again.
Such fatigue
You can't lift it with a pipe!
Sovereign pasture,
Reliable, rusty silence.
The watchman will show me
What cradle are you in?
How sleepy, how drunk
Surprised, unprepared.
Temporal pits:
Sleepless conscience.
Empty Eyes:
Dead and light.
dreamer, seer
Empty glass.
Are you not
Her rustling mantle
Didn't make it -
The reverse gorge of Hades?
Not this one
Full of silver sound
Along sleepy Gebra
Swimming head?
Yes, Lord! And my obol
Accept for the approval of the temple.
Not your love arbitrariness
I sing - the wound of my homeland.
Not a stingy rusty chest -
Granite worn by the knees.
Everyone is given a hero and a king,
To all - the righteous - the singer - and the dead.
Breaking the ice with the Dnieper,
Coffin, not embarrassed by the tes,
Russia - Easter floats to you,
A flood of thousands of voices.
So, heart, cry and glorify!
Let your cry be a thousand which? -
Jealous of mortal love.
The other rejoices in the choir.
Marina Tsvetaeva's poem "Your name is a bird in your hand..." performed by actress Daria Melnikova.
As part of the special project "This is for you" of the Moscow 24 TV channel, popular actors, musicians, journalists, famous residents of the city and ordinary Muscovites read poems about true feelings.
Your name is a bird in your hand
Your name is ice on the tongue.
One single movement of the lips.
Your name is five letters.
Ball caught on the fly
Silver bell in the mouth.
A stone thrown into a quiet pond
Sigh like your name is.
In the light clicking of night hooves
Your loud name thunders.
And call him to our temple
A loud clicking trigger.
Your name - oh, you can't! -
Your name is a kiss in the eyes
In the gentle cold of motionless eyelids.
Your name is a kiss in the snow.
Key, icy, blue sip…
With your name - sleep is deep.
Marina Tsvetaeva devoted quite a few poems to this poet, which were later framed in the cycle “To Blok”. The poetess wrote some of them during the lifetime of the idol, including a work called “Your name is a bird in your hand ...”, which was published in 1916. This poem fully reflects the sincere admiration that Tsvetaeva feels for Blok, arguing that this feeling is one of the strongest that she has ever experienced in her life.
The name Blok is associated with the poetess with a bird in her hand and an ice floe on her tongue. “One single movement of the lips. Your name is five letters,” the author claims. Some clarity should be introduced here, since Blok's surname was indeed written with a yat at the end before the revolution, therefore it consisted of five letters. And it was pronounced in one breath, which the poetess did not fail to note. Considering herself unworthy of even developing the topic of a possible relationship with this amazing person, Tsvetaeva seems to try his name on the tongue and write down the associations that are born in her. “A ball caught on the fly, a silver bell in the mouth” - these are far from all the epithets that the author rewards his hero with. His name is the sound of a stone thrown into the water, a woman's sob, clatter of hooves and thunder. “And the loudly clicking trigger will call it to our temple,” the poetess notes.
Despite her reverent attitude towards Blok, Tsvetaeva still allows herself a little liberties and declares: “Your name is a kiss on the eyes.” But the coldness of the other world emanates from him, because the poetess still does not believe that such a person can exist in nature. After Blok's death, she will write that she is surprised not by his tragic picture, but by the fact that he generally lived among ordinary people, while creating unearthly poems, deep and filled with hidden meaning. For Tsvetaeva, Blok remained a mystery poet, in whose work there was a lot of mysticism. And it was precisely this that elevated him to the rank of a kind of deity, with whom Tsvetaeva simply did not dare to compare herself, believing that she was unworthy even to be next to this extraordinary person.
Addressing him, the poetess emphasizes: "With your name - sleep is deep." And there is no pretense in this phrase, since Tsvetaeva really falls asleep with a volume of Blok's poems in her hands. She dreams of amazing worlds and countries, and the image of the poet becomes so intrusive that the author even catches himself thinking about some kind of spiritual connection with this person. However, she has not been able to verify whether this is actually the case. Tsvetaeva lives in Moscow, and Blok lives in St. Petersburg, their meetings are rare and random, they do not have romance and high relations. But this does not bother Tsvetaeva, for whom the poet's poems are the best proof of the immortality of the soul.
In Russian literature of the 20th century, the work of Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva stands apart. Her works are distinguished by special emotional tension and expressiveness. Originality, irrepressibility, constant striving for freedom and truth bring Tsvetaeva closer to another famous Russian poet Alexander Alexandrovich Blok, who to a certain extent influenced the work of the poetess.
Tsvetaeva was not personally acquainted with the poet, but she carried her admiration for him through her whole life. In the poetry of Marina Tsvetaeva, one can single out a whole layer of works dedicated to Alexander Blok and his creativity. The most famous of them is the poem "Your name is a bird in your hand ..."
In it, Blok appears to us not as a symbolist or mystic poet, but as an unattainable ideal, a model. Tsvetaeva literally idolizes the poet, listens to him, admires him. The theme of this work is the theme of the poet and poetry. Marina Tsvetaeva's attitude to the work of Alexander Blok is revealed in awe of the poet's name alone. Practically, the whole work is the name, or rather, the surname, Blok (that's why "your name is five letters"). Tsvetaeva proved to be an unsurpassed artist of the word. The dynamic, instantaneous images created by her create a real sound picture, convey feelings of taste and touch.
So, Tsvetaeva hears the cherished "Block" in almost everything - it occupies the entire space. It should be noted the gradation of images - from the almost inaudible sound of "a ball caught on the fly" to "your name thunders loudly" and the ringing click of the trigger near the ear. This sequence indicates an increase in emotions, which at the end turn into an intonation explosion:
".. Your name, oh, you can't! -
Your name is a kiss on the eyes .. "
Numerous dashes, an exclamation mark, the interjection "ah" show the fragmentary feelings and thoughts of the poetess. The block for her is something incomprehensible, indescribable, sublime and therefore forbidden.
The last 6 lines of the poem reveal the tragic mood of the work.
Your name - oh, you can't! -
Your name is a kiss in the eyes
In the gentle cold of motionless eyelids.
Your name is a kiss in the snow.
Key, icy, blue sip…
With your name - sleep is deep.
Tsvetaeva introduces the motif of death and loneliness. In my opinion, in these lines one can hear fear, bitterness of loss. Indeed, for the poetess Blok is something elusive, every moment, every sound of his name is important to her. Alliteration (repetition of sounds [l], [l "]) creates an image of something cold, mysterious, it seems as if we looked into the most closed, intimate corners of Tsvetaeva's soul.
The work consists of 3 stanzas, each of which has a special meaning. In the first, a metaphorical, tangible image of Blok is created ("a bird in the hand", "ice on the tongue). In the second, a phonetic image. In the third, a direct relationship to the poet is revealed. Adjacent rhyming makes the poem dynamic and at the same time whole, complete.
The syntax of this work is interesting. The author uses verbless syntactic constructions, which enhances the emotionality of the poem. The dash makes you pause, which also carries a special, semantic load. Anaphora "your name" focuses on the key image of the work, making it sublime, exceptional.
This work dedicated to Blok sounds colorful and figurative. Metaphors ("bird in hand", "ice on the tongue") - they express an emotional attitude towards the poet; epithets ("gentle cold of motionless eyelids"); personification ("will call the trigger"), which makes the image of Blok more vivid, memorable.
Undoubtedly, this poem is an example of suggestive lyrics; Tsvetaeva seems to infect us with a sense of admiration and admiration for Blok and his work.
"Your name is a bird in your hand" is one of the most famous works of Marina Tsvetaeva. The special emotionality, expressiveness, depth and sincerity of emotions cannot but leave in the soul of the readers the feelings that the poetess herself experienced for the writer Blok.
Among all the poets and writers who surrounded Marina Tsvetaeva during her creative dawn, she supported only the poetic works of A. Blok. His rhyming creations delighted her. She repeatedly noticed that Blok's poems seemed to be sent from above and written under the influence of an unearthly force. Tsvetaeva simply did not take the rest of her comrades seriously.
The poetess never spoke frankly about the feelings she has towards Alexander Blok. Of course, the woman repeatedly visited his literary evenings, continuously watched the poet, his gestures, habits and behavior. And this is not surprising, because Blok had an extraordinary charm. Many women of that time fell in love with him. However, Tsvetaeva could not imagine herself in a love relationship with this man. He was her inspiration.
Tsvetaeva presented one of the cycles of her creative works to her idol. In 1916, the world will know the meaning of the poem "Your name is a bird in your hand ...".
After reading this work, the reader can fully understand and feel everything that the poetess experienced. She compares his name to a bird you can hold in your hand. She repeatedly pronounces those cherished and desired five letters that Blok's surname previously consisted of. Tsvetaeva praises the poet, she cannot imagine him next to her, in a love affair.
Further, the reader can replace the slight weakness of the poetess, who nevertheless writes that the name of the poet is like a kiss on the eyes. However, such a mood in rhymed lines is fanned with coolness. After all, Marina Tsvetaeva refers Blok to ideals that cannot exist in nature, which means that he is somehow connected with otherworldly space.
Even after the death of the poet, Tsvetaeva referred him to a man - a mystery. To some extent, she deified Alexander Blok, therefore, she did not dare to put her name on a par with him. The poetess so often fell asleep with a small collection of Blok's poems.
In her work, she writes that with the name of the poet, her sleep is so deep and so calm. He appeared before her and they talked. Tsvetaeva thought about the real spiritual connection that could exist between her and her idol. However, these were the speculations of an admiring woman and nothing more. After all, Tsvetaeva and Blok were separated by hundreds and tens of kilometers. And meetings of poets were very rare.
Marina Tsvetaeva was very skeptical about the work of the poets she knew. The only person she idolized in the truest sense of the word was Alexander Blok. Tsvetaeva admitted that his poems have nothing to do with the earthly and ordinary, they were written not by a person, but by some kind of sublime and mythical creature.
Tsvetaeva was not closely acquainted with Blok, although she often attended his literary evenings and each time did not cease to be surprised at the power of the charm of this outstanding person. It is not surprising that many women were in love with him, among whom were even close friends of the poetess. Nevertheless, Tsvetaeva never spoke about her feelings for Blok, believing that in this case there can be no talk of love. After all, for her the poet was inaccessible, and nothing could belittle this image created in the imagination of a woman who loves to dream so much.
Marina Tsvetaeva dedicated quite a few poems to this poet, which were later framed in the cycle “To Blok”. The poetess wrote some of them during the life of the idol, including a work called “Your name is a bird in your hand ...”, which was published in 1916. This poem fully reflects the sincere admiration that Tsvetaeva feels for Blok, arguing that this feeling is one of the strongest that she has ever experienced in her life.
The name Blok is associated with the poetess with a bird in her hand and an ice floe on her tongue. “One single movement of the lips. Your name is five letters,” says the author. Some clarity should be introduced here, since Blok's surname was indeed written with a yat at the end before the revolution, therefore it consisted of five letters. And it was pronounced in one breath, which the poetess did not fail to note. Considering herself unworthy of even developing the topic of a possible relationship with this amazing person, Tsvetaeva seems to try his name on the tongue and write down the associations that are born in her. “A ball caught on the fly, a silver bell in the mouth” - these are far from all the epithets that the author rewards his hero with. His name is the sound of a stone thrown into the water, a woman's sob, clatter of hooves and thunder. “And he will call him to the temple with a loud clicking trigger,” the poetess notes.
Despite her reverent attitude towards Blok, Tsvetaeva still allows herself a little liberties and declares: “Your name is a kiss on the eyes.” But the coldness of the other world emanates from him, because the poetess still does not believe that such a person can exist in nature. After Blok's death, she will write that she is surprised not by his tragic picture, but by the fact that he generally lived among ordinary people, while creating unearthly poems, deep and filled with hidden meaning. For Tsvetaeva, Blok remained a mystery poet, in whose work there was a lot of mysticism. And it was precisely this that elevated him to the rank of a kind of deity, with whom Tsvetaeva simply did not dare to compare herself, believing that she was unworthy even to be next to this extraordinary person.
Addressing him, the poetess emphasizes: "With your name - sleep is deep." And there is no pretense in this phrase, since Tsvetaeva really falls asleep with a volume of Blok's poems in her hands. She dreams of amazing worlds and countries, and the image of the poet becomes so intrusive that the author even catches himself thinking about some kind of spiritual connection with this person. However, she has not been able to verify whether this is actually the case. Tsvetaeva lives in Moscow, and Blok lives in St. Petersburg, their meetings are rare and random, they do not have romance and high relations. But this does not bother Tsvetaeva, for whom the poet's poems are the best proof of the immortality of the soul.
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Alexander Alexandrovich Blok is one of the key figures in the literary process of the early twentieth century. Almost all the poets and prose writers of that time admired him. They spoke of him as an extraterrestrial person, gifted from above. He was regularly mentioned in various memoirs and biographies, not just poems were dedicated to him, but entire poetic cycles. One of these cycles is just the collection "Poems to Blok" by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva, which opens with the poem "Your name is a bird in your hand ...".
The cycle was created in the period from 1916 to 1921. If you look at the dates of writing each of the poems, it becomes clear that Tsvetaeva did not plan to publish a whole collection; this idea arose after Blok's death. So, the poetess writes the first works included in the cycle in the spring of 1916, and “Your name is a bird in your hand” belongs to this group. Further work is interrupted for four years, and Tsvetaeva again turns to Blok only in 1920 in the poem “Like a weak ray through the black haze of hells ...”. This is due to the poet's performance in Moscow on May 9, 1920, at which she was personally present. Blok dies in 1921. The response to this tragedy is ten new poems, which became the result of the cycle.
Genre and size
The poem “Your name is a bird in your hand…” opens the cycle “Poems to Blok” and, contrary to popular belief, is not a response to Blok’s death (recall: it was written in 1916). So it is completely wrong to consider it a kind of epitaph.
“Your name is a bird in your hand…” bears the features of a message: a lyrical work is addressed to a specific person (which is also indicated by the title of the poetic cycle). The poem is a direct response to Blok's work, directly expresses Tsvetaeva's attitude to the poet's lyrics. Also, the poetess regularly uses the pronoun "your", which is just typical for the genre of the message.
However, it is important to remember that the lyrical heroine goes beyond ordinary conversation and appeal, the poem “Your name is a bird in your hand ...” does not imply any response, therefore, it can be attributed to the message genre only with a number of reservations.
Poetic size: four-strike dolnik.
Composition
The compositional division of the poem is as follows: 3 stanzas, each with six lines. The first and third stanzas are united by the refrain "your name":
It is also noteworthy how the dynamics of the poem changes from the first to the third stanza. If it starts with fairly neutral images (a ball, a bell, and so on), then it ends with images containing funeral semantics (cold eyelids, deep sleep). The second stanza is perhaps the most dramatic of all. Filled with sound images (splash of water, shot, thunder, click of the trigger), it stands out sharply against the background of other stanzas, more static, calm, almost soundless. As if the dramatic shot of the second stanza is followed by a sad denouement, a gradual acceptance from “oh, you can’t!” to Kiss in the Snow.
Idea
The poem "Your name is a bird in your hand" is a kind of hymn to Blok. The lyrical heroine is very emotional (in the spirit of Tsvetaeva) and completely sincerely admires the poet, talks about what he means to her. Playing with the name of Blok, Tsvetaeva encloses in these “five letters” (“Blok” in pre-revolutionary spelling) all that incredible range of images and sensations associated with the creator.
So, Blok’s work for her is at the same time something light, barely perceptible, thin, fragile (“a bird in the hand”, “an icicle on the tongue”) and a sharp manifesto, a frightening challenge (“your big name thunders”, “he will call him to our temple // loudly clicking trigger"). In her eyes, the poet is a supernatural figure, almost unreal, inaccessible. Such a feeling is created due to a very interesting and unusual selection of images: almost all of them are insubstantial. These are just moments, flashes, moments, short-term and fleeting. These are echoes and barely perceptible touches. Trembling of a living bird in the palms, lips touching cold skin, the sound of a stone penetrating the calm water surface. Everything is shaky, everything slips away. The block cannot be caught and achieved, not comprehended. In this unsteadiness and elusiveness, one can discern the sad foreboding of the poet's imminent death. This is revealed in the third stanza: “A kiss on the eyes, / In the gentle cold of closed eyelids” - this is how the dead are kissed, “deep sleep” can be considered as a metaphor for death.
The poem, despite its small volume, is filled with many emotions of completely different degrees of strength and intensity. This is a somewhat childish joy of the first stanza with its playful images (ball, bell), drama, dynamics and high tension of the second, cold calmness of the third. Perhaps only the lyrical heroine Tsvetaeva is able to harmonize in herself such a wide range of emotions and feelings, smoothly flowing into each other.
Means of artistic expression
The main means of creating such vivid images in a poem is, of course, a metaphor. It is on it that, in fact, the entire lyrical work is built. “Your name is a bird in your hand...” almost entirely consists of a metaphorical play on the name of Alexander Alexandrovich Blok. “Your name is a bird in your hand, // Your name is an icicle on your tongue, // One single movement of your lips, // Your name is five letters” and the like - all these are metaphors. It is also interesting that there is a clear antithesis between some of them. So, the name of the poet in Tsvetaeva is associated with something light and quiet, but at the same time it “thunders”.
What makes the metaphor more effective is syntactic parallelism, which Tsvetaeva uses quite often. Building sentences according to one principle and resorting to anaphora (single-heartedness), the poetess seems to add more and more colors to Blok's portrait, forcing the atmosphere.
Not the least role in creating images is played by epithets. Characteristics such as "gentle cold" and "big name" make the picture richer and more convex.
When analyzing a poem, it is also necessary to pay attention to the sound writing. Alliteration is a characteristic feature of Tsvetaeva's lyrics and in the poem "Your name is a bird in your hand ..." it is also present. So, in the line “Your big name is thundering”, the repetition of the sound [p] creates a noise effect, and the repetitions of the hissing [g] in the line “Into the gentle cold of the motionless eyelids” help to convey the feeling of a lulling blizzard, snowstorm.
In the poem, the poetess also uses assonance. In the final lines (“Key, icy, blue sip ...// With your name - sleep is deep”) something drawn out, long, like, in fact, the dream itself is heard (repeat [o]).
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Blok and Tsvetaeva... What is Tsvetaeva's secret? What makes her unlike anyone else and at the same time internally connects with Blok? First of all, the originality of the personality of the fighting poets, the rebellious spirit, rebelliousness, unprecedented energy, emphasized tension. Freedom from the conventions of modern life was embodied in the peculiarities of style. These features were reflected in the poems dedicated to Blok. Love confessions in them are combined with funeral lamentation, an extremely sincere confession sounds. The tragic feeling of loneliness makes Tsvetaeva related to Blok. For her Blok is "two white wings", an angel, God's righteous man. Block is something sublime, light, but for some reason elusive and immaterial. Tsvetaeva praises the name of Blok, loves, heeds, prays to him. In all the verses of the cycle, written from 1916 to 1921, we feel the bitterness of loss and the hope of resurrection. The title in the cycle is the poem "Your name is a bird in your hand ...". It is surprising in that in it, which opens the cycle, Blok's name is never uttered, but still we can accurately determine who it is. The poem consists of 3 stanzas. In the first, Tsvetaeva recreates the phonetic and even graphic image of the word "Block", each line is significant in shaping the image of the Block. "Your name is a bird in your hand" - there is only one syllable in the word "block", but we feel this elusiveness of the moment. Here it is, a bird, alive, warm, but if you open your palms, it will fly away and it will not exist. Echoes this and the line "one single movement of the lips." Say the word - it flies away, do not return. for Tsvetaeva, every sound of the block's name is important. When we pronounce "l", an image of something light, cold, blue appears. So the line "your name is an icicle on the tongue" appeared. An icicle is a tickling chill of mystery, a touch to the innermost depths of the soul.
The musical palette of the poem is extremely saturated: here is the ringing of a bell, and the clicking of a trigger, and the clatter of hooves. The word "block" absorbs all the sounds, all the colors, so skillfully applied to the canvas of the verse by the artist. He is both "a ball caught on the fly" and "a stone thrown into a quiet pond." One wants to repeat the words of Tsvetaeva from the third stanza, reminiscent of the sound of a kiss. Blok Tsvetaeva - her love, spiritual love, unearthly. Tsvetaeva is trying to hear in the sound of the poet's name the world of his snow mask: "key, icy, blue" It is also symbolic that the last word of the poem - "deep" - contains all the sounds of the poet's name and rhymes with him, because he is immeasurable, like his poetry .
The syntax of the poem is very close to the syntax of the lok itself. Tsvetaeva uses verbless syntactic constructions, which allows her to achieve special expression in conveying her feelings. The sentences fix the present time, but they have a special, timeless character. They emphasize Blok's immortality. This allows you to focus on the main thing for her - the associative array. That is why the tension, the excitement of the poet is so great. Tsvetaeva uses syntactic parallelism: the construction of syntactic constructions of stanzas 1 and 3 are the same, which gives the poem compositional completeness and integrity. Anaphora "your name" draws our attention to the key word and enhances admiration for the poet. Even Tsvetaeva's dash carries a syntactic load - you need to pause. Helps Tsvetaeva and inversion. It makes the lines especially smooth: ".. in a slight click...". The visual image of Blok helps to create tropes: metaphors ("a bird in the hand", "ice on the tongue") - they express an emotional attitude towards the poet; epithets ("gentle cold of motionless eyelids"); personification ("will call the trigger"), which makes the image of Blok more vivid, memorable.
The narrative is held not so much by the plot as by the energy of Tsvetaeva's monologue. This energy is given to the poem by each of its elements.
Alexander Alexandrovich Blok is one of the key figures in the literary process of the early twentieth century. Almost all the poets and prose writers of that time admired him. They spoke of him as an extraterrestrial person, gifted from above. He was regularly mentioned in various memoirs and biographies, not just poems were dedicated to him, but entire poetic cycles. One of these cycles is just the collection "Poems to Blok" by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva, which opens with the poem "Your name is a bird in your hand ...".
The cycle was created in the period from 1916 to 1921. If you look at the dates of writing each of the poems, it becomes clear that Tsvetaeva did not plan to publish a whole collection; this idea arose after Blok's death. So, the poetess writes the first works included in the cycle in the spring of 1916, and “Your name is a bird in your hand” belongs to this group. Further work is interrupted for four years, and Tsvetaeva again turns to Blok only in 1920 in the poem “Like a weak ray through the black haze of hells ...”. This is due to the poet's performance in Moscow on May 9, 1920, at which she was personally present. Blok dies in 1921. The response to this tragedy is ten new poems, which became the result of the cycle.
Genre and size
The poem “Your name is a bird in your hand…” opens the cycle “Poems to Blok” and, contrary to popular belief, is not a response to Blok’s death (recall: it was written in 1916). So it is completely wrong to consider it a kind of epitaph.
“Your name is a bird in your hand…” bears the features of a message: a lyrical work is addressed to a specific person (which is also indicated by the title of the poetic cycle). The poem is a direct response to Blok's work, directly expresses Tsvetaeva's attitude to the poet's lyrics. Also, the poetess regularly uses the pronoun "your", which is just typical for the genre of the message.
However, it is important to remember that the lyrical heroine goes beyond ordinary conversation and appeal, the poem “Your name is a bird in your hand ...” does not imply any response, therefore, it can be attributed to the message genre only with a number of reservations.
Poetic size: four-strike dolnik.
Composition
The compositional division of the poem is as follows: 3 stanzas, each with six lines. The first and third stanzas are united by the refrain "your name":
It is also noteworthy how the dynamics of the poem changes from the first to the third stanza. If it starts with fairly neutral images (a ball, a bell, and so on), then it ends with images containing funeral semantics (cold eyelids, deep sleep). The second stanza is perhaps the most dramatic of all. Filled with sound images (splash of water, shot, thunder, click of the trigger), it stands out sharply against the background of other stanzas, more static, calm, almost soundless. As if the dramatic shot of the second stanza is followed by a sad denouement, a gradual acceptance from “oh, you can’t!” to Kiss in the Snow.
Idea
The poem "Your name is a bird in your hand" is a kind of hymn to Blok. The lyrical heroine is very emotional (in the spirit of Tsvetaeva) and completely sincerely admires the poet, talks about what he means to her. Playing with the name of Blok, Tsvetaeva encloses in these “five letters” (“Blok” in pre-revolutionary spelling) all that incredible range of images and sensations associated with the creator.
So, Blok’s work for her is at the same time something light, barely perceptible, thin, fragile (“a bird in the hand”, “an icicle on the tongue”) and a sharp manifesto, a frightening challenge (“your big name thunders”, “he will call him to our temple // loudly clicking trigger"). In her eyes, the poet is a supernatural figure, almost unreal, inaccessible. Such a feeling is created due to a very interesting and unusual selection of images: almost all of them are insubstantial. These are just moments, flashes, moments, short-term and fleeting. These are echoes and barely perceptible touches. Trembling of a living bird in the palms, lips touching cold skin, the sound of a stone penetrating the calm water surface. Everything is shaky, everything slips away. The block cannot be caught and achieved, not comprehended. In this unsteadiness and elusiveness, one can discern the sad foreboding of the poet's imminent death. This is revealed in the third stanza: “A kiss on the eyes, / In the gentle cold of closed eyelids” - this is how the dead are kissed, “deep sleep” can be considered as a metaphor for death.
The poem, despite its small volume, is filled with many emotions of completely different degrees of strength and intensity. This is a somewhat childish joy of the first stanza with its playful images (ball, bell), drama, dynamics and high tension of the second, cold calmness of the third. Perhaps only the lyrical heroine Tsvetaeva is able to harmonize in herself such a wide range of emotions and feelings, smoothly flowing into each other.
Means of artistic expression
The main means of creating such vivid images in a poem is, of course, a metaphor. It is on it that, in fact, the entire lyrical work is built. “Your name is a bird in your hand...” almost entirely consists of a metaphorical play on the name of Alexander Alexandrovich Blok. “Your name is a bird in your hand, // Your name is an icicle on your tongue, // One single movement of your lips, // Your name is five letters” and the like - all these are metaphors. It is also interesting that there is a clear antithesis between some of them. So, the name of the poet in Tsvetaeva is associated with something light and quiet, but at the same time it “thunders”.
What makes the metaphor more effective is syntactic parallelism, which Tsvetaeva uses quite often. Building sentences according to one principle and resorting to anaphora (single-heartedness), the poetess seems to add more and more colors to Blok's portrait, forcing the atmosphere.
Not the least role in creating images is played by epithets. Characteristics such as "gentle cold" and "big name" make the picture richer and more convex.
When analyzing a poem, it is also necessary to pay attention to the sound writing. Alliteration is a characteristic feature of Tsvetaeva's lyrics and in the poem "Your name is a bird in your hand ..." it is also present. So, in the line “Your big name is thundering”, the repetition of the sound [p] creates a noise effect, and the repetitions of the hissing [g] in the line “Into the gentle cold of the motionless eyelids” help to convey the feeling of a lulling blizzard, snowstorm.
In the poem, the poetess also uses assonance. In the final lines (“Key, icy, blue sip ...// With your name - sleep is deep”) something drawn out, long, like, in fact, the dream itself is heard (repeat [o]).
Interesting? Save it on your wall!
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