"War and Peace" ("War and Peace") - a poem by Vladimir Mayakovsky, written in / 1916.
First publications
For the first time, the 5th part of the poem was published in the Chronicle magazine in 1917 (No. 2-4); prologue - in Nos. 7 and 8; 4 part - in the collection "Miracle in the Desert" (Odessa); Part 3 - in the newspaper "New Life". Fully separate edition published by the Parus publishing house in St. Petersburg in 1917.
Idea
Already in 1914, Mayakovsky came close to the main topics of our time: poetry and reality, man and society, war and peace. His first poetic response to military events - the poem "War is declared" - is riddled with gloomy associations, contains a specific, dramatic disclosure of the poet's feelings on the evening of the declaration of war. In the poem "War and Peace" (the second half of the title in pre-revolutionary spelling was written through "i", "mir" - that is, the universe), the extraordinary breadth of poetic associations, the hyperbolism of Mayakovsky's poetic style are combined with his awareness of an unprecedented scope social contradictions life.
What do they
returned,
your sorrows
what to them
some fringe verses?!
Them
on a pair of used pieces of wood
somehow limp the day!
The scene of the poem is a huge arena, the whole world (mir), and characters- not only peoples and countries, but the whole universe. The poet interprets his voice as "the only human" among the screeching and howling of war. Feeling all the human pain for people crippled by a senseless massacre, the poet asks the question: “Who is to blame?”
Doctors
one
taken out of the coffin
to understand people's unprecedented decline:
in a broken soul
golden-footed microbe
the ruble soared.
Such, according to Mayakovsky, is the cause of the first imperialist war. October 8, 1915 - the date Mayakovsky was drafted into the army.
Structure
The structure of the poem is built as follows:
- Prologue
- Dedication (Leela)
- Part 1
- Part 2
- Part 3
- Part 4
- Part 5
In order to convey to the reader his musical associations with some of the problems posed, in addition to words, the poet often uses notes (for example, argentine tango). They occur in whole lines among stanzas.
Source
see also
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Write a review on the article "War and Peace (poem)"
An excerpt characterizing War and Peace (poem)
The powdered old servant who was sitting in the waiter's room stood up with a quiet movement and announced in a whisper: "You're welcome."From behind the door came the steady sounds of the machine. The princess timidly pulled on the lightly and smoothly opening door and stopped at the entrance. The prince worked at the machine and, looking around, continued his work.
The huge office was filled with things, obviously, incessantly used. A large table on which books and plans lay, high glass cabinets of the library with keys in the doors, a high table for writing in a standing position, on which lay an open notebook, a lathe, with tools laid out and shavings scattered all around - everything showed a constant, varied and orderly activities. From the movements of a small foot, shod in a Tatar, embroidered with silver, boot, from the firm overlay of a sinewy, lean hand, the stubborn and enduring strength of fresh old age was visible in the prince. Having made several circles, he took his foot off the pedal of the machine, wiped the chisel, threw it into a leather pocket attached to the machine, and, going up to the table, called his daughter. He never blessed his children, and only, offering her a bristly, still unshaven cheek today, said, sternly and at the same time attentively tenderly examining her:
- Healthy? ... well, sit down!
He took a geometry notebook, written in his own hand, and moved his chair with his foot.
- For tomorrow! he said, quickly finding a page and marking from paragraph to next with a hard fingernail.
The princess bent down to the table over the notebook.
“Wait, the letter is for you,” the old man suddenly said, taking out an envelope, inscribed with a woman’s hand, from a pocket attached above the table, and throwing it on the table.
The princess's face was covered with red spots at the sight of the letter. She took it hastily and leaned close to him.
From Eloise? asked the prince, showing his still strong and yellowish teeth with a cold smile.
“Yes, from Julie,” said the princess, looking timidly and smiling timidly.
“I’ll skip two more letters, and read the third one,” the prince said sternly, “I’m afraid you write a lot of nonsense. Read the third.
- Read at least this, mon pere, [father,] - answered the princess, blushing even more and handing him a letter.
“Third, I said, third,” the prince shouted shortly, pushing away the letter, and, leaning on the table, pushed the notebook with geometry drawings.
“Well, madam,” the old man began, bending close to his daughter over the notebook and placing one hand on the back of the chair on which the princess was sitting, so that the princess felt herself surrounded on all sides by that tobacco and senilely pungent smell of her father, which she had known for so long . “Well, madame, these triangles are similar; if you please, the angle abc...
The princess looked in fright at her father's shining eyes close to her; red spots shimmered over her face, and it was clear that she did not understand anything and was so afraid that fear would prevent her from understanding all further interpretations of her father, no matter how clear they were. Whether the teacher was to blame or the student was to blame, but every day the same thing was repeated: the princess's eyes were clouded, she did not see, did not hear anything, she only felt the dry face of her strict father near her, felt his breath and smell, and only thought about how she could leave the office as soon as possible and understand the task in her own space.
While in two-room apartment Brikov was full of disputes about modern poetry, the street was seething with other passions. In the summer of 1916, Russia was close to defeat, but it still managed to turn the tide of the war, and the next summer the Russian army was able to go on the offensive.
Two days after the assassination of Rasputin, Mayakovsky wrote Elsa a "nervous" letter. Neither in it nor in other letters of this period is there a single reference to what is happening outside of it. own life. It was as if he lived in a world where nothing existed but himself and his own feelings. It is possible that not all letters have been preserved, but correspondence from other periods allows us to see a clear pattern here: political and social reality is almost never commented on. However, social events did not pass without a trace, the suffering of war - like love - was reflected in poetry.
In addition to satirical and propaganda poems, Mayakovsky wrote in 1916-1917 another major work- the poem "War and Peace". In this poem, the former, somewhat primitive view of the war was replaced by an existential reflection on its madness and horrors. The guilt is collective, and the poet, Vladimir Mayakovsky, is not only a scapegoat, but also an accomplice. Therefore, he personally asks for forgiveness from humanity - perhaps repenting of those propaganda exaggerations that he allowed at the beginning of the war: "People! / Dear ones! / For Christ's sake, / For Christ's sake / forgive me!" At the same time, he sees the dawn of a new time.
During these years, the idea of the doom of the old world was widespread, especially among writers. Just like in The Cloud, awareness of the universal vulnerability of man is balanced by a messianic conviction in the birth of a new, more harmonious world order:
"And he, free, yells about whom I am, a man - he will come, believe me, believe!
Long live political life Russia and long live art free from politics!
Vladimir Mayakovsky, March 1917
I returned to Moscow in complete confidence that we were before the revolution, - recalled Roman Yakobson, - it was quite clear from the university moods. "It was not only students who rebelled. On the occasion of the International women's day On February 23, 1917, a peaceful demonstration took place in Petrograd, the participants of which demanded bread and peace. More demonstrations took place in the days that followed, dispersed by the police. On February 27, the Pavlovsky Regiment voted to refuse the order to shoot civilians, and on the same day most of Petrograd was in the hands of the regiment. On February 28, unrest began in Moscow. Two days later, on March 2, Nicholas II abdicated. The monarchy was overthrown, the Provisional Government was created - the February Revolution took place. On March 8, Elsa wrote a letter to Mayakovsky, in which, as an exception, she commented on the events taking place outside the walls of her apartment: "Dear Uncle Volodya, what's going on, the splendor is right!" Roman, who so clearly foresaw everything, entered, she says, into the police, carries weapons and arrested six police officers - he, as a student at Moscow University, was asked to help restore order on the streets.
The revolution aroused great enthusiasm among the general population, people sincerely believed in the possibility of profound transformations. The political spring had come, the air was filled with freedom. These sentiments are reflected in a letter written by philosopher Lev Shestov to relatives in Switzerland a week after the coup:
“We all here think and talk exclusively about the grandiose events that took place in Russia. It is hard to imagine for someone who did not see what happened here. Especially in Moscow. As if by order from above, everyone, like one person, decided that it was necessary to change The old order was decided and everything was done in one week.Even in Petrograd there were some frictions - in Moscow there was one continuous holiday.<... >in less than one week, the whole vast country, with calmness, which happens only on solemn and great holidays, left the old and moved on to the new.
Specific demands were presented to the new government: to normalize the food situation and bring the war to victory, or at least to a worthy end. However, few people knew exactly how the political future of Russia should look after the overthrow of the autocracy. The feeling of liberation, euphoria dominated. The revolution gave Mayakovsky and other writers and artists hope that they would be able to create without the interference of censorship bodies and academies. In March 1917, the Union of Artists was formed, which included representatives of all political and artistic trends, from conservatives to anarchists, from aesthetic retrogrades to the most radical futuristic groups. Mayakovsky was elected to the presidium as a representative of writers, which caused surprise and protest: why the scandalous futurist, and not Gorky, who is known throughout the world? The election of Mayakovsky was due to the fact that Gorky agreed to join the government commission, thus betraying the interests of cultural figures. The newly formed Union fought for the independence of art and artists from the state, and those who collaborated with the government were considered collaborators.
“My motto and everyone in general is long live the political life of Russia and long live art free from politics!” Mayakovsky proclaimed two weeks after February Revolution, specifying: - I do not refuse politics, only in the field of art there should not be politics. "That art should be independent of the state, and the left and right flanks of the Union were united. The same unanimity was observed in their attitude towards the war Mayakovsky was just as defencist as most of the others, Mayakovsky, who was awarded the medal "For Diligence" in January, proudly explained that "we not only have the first art in the world, but also the first world army". It was quite possible to combine patriotism with aesthetic avant-gardeism and political radicalism: the hopes that the course of the war would change with the new government were great.
In the poem "Revolution", published in May 1917 in the social democratic internationalist newspaper Novaya Zhizn, founded by Gorky, Mayakovsky hails the revolution as a triumph of the "great heresy socialists". However, he was not a member of any party - his political ideal was socialism with a strong anarchist bias. He did not adhere to more definite political convictions at that time.
Having once taken part in raising money for the families of the victims of the revolution, he gave them to the editors of the Rech newspaper, published by the liberal party of the Cadets. The dizzying joy of overthrowing the tsarist regime inspired unrealistic hopes for the future. The fact that Mayakovsky's belief in the possibility of revolution was somewhat naive is evidenced by an episode told by Nikolai Aseev. For the first time in Russian history any person got the opportunity to put forward his candidacy in the elections, and all of Moscow was plastered with posters and election leaflets. Next to the posters of the major parties on the walls of the houses were the appeals of lesser-known political associations, such as various anarchist groups and small organizations like the "union of chefs". Once, when Aseev and Mayakovsky were walking around the city, looking at posters, Mayakovsky suddenly suggested compiling his own electoral list, consisting of futurists. He should be in the first place, Kamensky in the second, and so on.
"To my bewildered objection that who will vote for us, Vladimir Vladimirovich replied thoughtfully: The devil knows! Now the time is like this: what if they elect the president ...?"
If Mayakovsky's worldview was romantic and divorced from reality, then Osip had a highly developed political instinct. Apparently, at this time his attitude towards Bolshevism was more positive than that of Mayakovsky. When Lenin returned to Russia in April 1917 after more than a decade of emigration, he was met in Petrograd at the Finland Station by a jubilant crowd. Osip was also in the crowd, who went there out of curiosity. “It seems crazy, but terribly convincing,” he made a judgment preserved for posterity by Roman Yakobson, who spent this fateful night for Russia over cognac and playing billiards in the company of Mayakovsky and other friends.
211 -
PROLOGUE
Good for you.
The dead have no shame.
Malice
to the dead murderers of the carcass.
Washed with cleansing moisture
the sin of a departed soul.Good for you!
And me
10 through the system,
through the roar
how to carry love to the living?
stumble -
and the last baby lover
forever sink into a smoky pool.What do they
returned,
your sorrows
what to them
some fringe verses?!
20 Im
on a pair of used pieces of wood
somehow limp the day!Are you afraid!
Coward!
Will kill!
212 -
And so
You can still grow for fifty years, slave.
Lie!
I know,
30 and lava attacks
I will be the first
in heroism,
in courage.Oh who
the tocsin of perishing years
called,
Brav won't work?
All!
And I
40 on the ground
one
herald of future truths.Today I rejoice!
without splashing,
soul
managed
managed to deliver.
The only human
in the midst of the howl
50 in the midst of a screech,
voice
I'll pick it up today.And there
shoot,
tie to the pole!
Will I change my face!
Want to -
ace
I'll pin it on my forehead
60 so that the target burns brighter ?!
213 -
DEDICATION
October 8th.
1915
Dates
time
watching the ceremony
initiation of me as a soldier.“Listen!
Every,
even unnecessary
70 must live;
it is forbidden,
can't it
into the graves of trenches and dugouts
dig in alive
the killers!"They don't listen.
The six-pound non-commissioned man squeezed like a press.
Shaved neatly from ear to ear.
target
80 for forehead
put on a cross
warrior.Now I'm going west!
I will go and go there
until your eyes cry
under the rubric
"killed"
recruited by petit.
214 -
PART I
And so
to the stage
shaken by the fire of the orchestra,
the belly popped out.
And started!
Grew in the eyes, as in thousands of magnifying glasses.
Snaked.
Sweat was beading.
All of a sudden -
100 stopped the flashing navel,
wriggled out.What happened!
Bald heads stuck together in one moon.
Eyes blurred, slitting.
Even the beach
splashing salty saliva,
he grinned at his house-studded jaw.Got out.
mouths,
110 as electric current,
twisted "bravo".
Bravo!
Bra-avo!
Bra-a-vo!
Bra-a-a-a-vo!
B-r-a-a-a-a-o!
215 -
Who is this,
Who?
This mass-meaty
120 bull-faced horde?Poems cannot be squeezed into silent volumes
cry of anger.
These are the grandchildren of Columbus,
Galilean descendants
neigh, entangled in a serpentine seine!
And there,
vshlobuchas for the evening ceremonial,
130 women
swayed with a stopper hat.
And men thumped in the keys of the sidewalks,
street harlots frenzied tapers.to the right,
left,
at random,
at random,
frantizing the fields of the bosom,
swirled strung on the earth's axis
140 carousels
Babylon,
Vavilonchikov,
Babylon.Above them
bottles,
admiring length.
216 -
Under them
glasses
drunk pit.
150 People
or rolled
like a drunken Noah,
or rumbled muzzle mnogohamoy!Get drunk
and then,
in night blindness
falling out like meat in fluff and cotton wool,
crawl on top of each other to sweat,
cities shuddering with the creaking of beds.160 The earth is rotting,
lamp lights her
blow up the bark with a mountain of blisters;
trembling cities with agony,
people are dying
at the stone in the hole.Doctors
one
taken out of the coffin
to understand people's unprecedented decline:
170 in a gnawed soul
golden-footed microbe
the ruble soared.To all ends
to get out sooner
death,
stirring people up to the roofs,
hearts of capitals thousand-strong Diesels
loaded wagons of infected blood.Quiet!
180 They didn't live long.
Straightaway
iron rail climbed up the vein
217 -
in the tan of the villages of the cities the contagion.
Where the birds sang - clanging cymbals.
Where the boron was - the square with a hundred-house sodom.
Six-story fauns rushed to dance
brothel after brothel.The sun will raise its red head
caked hangover on a swollen mouth,
190 and no strength to stay naked -
take
do not return to the nativity scene at night.And still won't make it
night, arapka,
lie down, venal,
to rest,
in the shade -
on her
climbed a red-hot carcass
200 new hungry day.The roofs are jammed!
A handful of stars
yell!
Shy away frightened, evening monk!
Let's go!
Let's inflate on females
nostrils,
eaten by the teeth of cocaine!PART II
It happened one autumn
210 were
combustible-dry
All.
The sun was rushing
crazy painter,
orange tint of dusty stains.
218 -
from somewhere
to the ground
rumors abounded.
Quiet.
220 Walked in on tiptoe.Their whisper of anxiety in the chest evicted,
but fear
under the skull
red hand
untangled, untangled and untangled thoughts,
and it became unbearably clear:
if you do not gather people in bunches of mouths,
not to take and cut people's veins -
contaminated land
230 she will die -
die paris,
berlins,
Vienna!What's softened?!
It's too late to whine!
Before, remorse would dawn!
Thousand-armed doctors
handed out with lancets
armory weapons.240 Italy!
King
do I barber
It's clear -
she has nowhere to go!
Already today
reyali
Germans over Venice!Germany!
Thoughts,
250 museums,
books,
dip into open vents.
219 -
Zevy roar, bare your teeth impudently!
Burshi,
ride on Kant!
Knife in the teeth!
Checkers naked!Russia!
Has the robbery heat of Asia cooled down?!
260 In the blood of desire seething horde.
Drag out the Tolstoys who have huddled under the gospel!
For a skinny leg!
Stone beard!France!
Drive the love whisper from the boulevards!
In new dances - to catch the young men!
Do you hear, dear?
Fine
burn and rape to the music of the mitraleza!270 England!
Türkiye!..
T-r-a-a-ah!
What is this?
I heard!
Do not be afraid!
Nonsense!
Earth!
Look,
what about her hair?
280 Wrinkles of the trenches lay on the forehead!
T-s-s-s-s-s-s... -
bolt.
Drums, music?
Really?
She is this
is she the one?
Yes!
BEGAN.
220 -
PART III
From South
Constantinople,
baring the mosques
vomited up
carved
to the Bosphorus.
410 Waves!
Label them
biting their teeth into the bits of prosphora.
224 -
And again,
chest exposing charges,
floating through the springs
breaking through the winter
army after army
row by row
flood miles of land.Flares up.
430 new drags from oak trees.
Fire pentagram in the threshold of the meadow.
Barbed wire lightning
devoured burned into coal.Batteries white-hot heat.
They jump over the corpses of towns and villages.
They eat copper snouts
All.Firebringer!
Where you will not find, punish!
440 I'll get mixed up in a rocket,
I will run into the sky
from the sky,
red,
blushing at the edge
Pegu's blood.And firmly
and water
and the air is blown.
Where will I direct my step?
450 Already distraught,
already sobbing
escaping, the soul prays:"War!
Enough!
Take them away!
Already naked on the ground.
225 -
The slain, pursued by running, rushed,
and further
minute
460 run headless.And above all this
devil
the glow of a yawn smokes.
It's in the constellation of railroad lines
costs
illuminated by gunpowder factories
sky in Berlin.Nobody knows
are the days
470 years,
since on the field
gave the first blood to the war,
drop by drop into a bowl of earth.Equally -
stone,
swamp,
is it a slut
human blood soaked all of it.
Everywhere
480 steps
squealed the same
kneading the smoking mess of the world.In Rostov
worker
on holiday
wanted
squeeze out water for the samovar, -
and recoiled:
in all plumbing
490 oozed the same red goo.In the telegraphs, Morse machines were torn.
They shouted to the cities about the young ones.
Somewhere
226 -
Dancing.
Wind from under the sock.
He moved his hats,
caressed two hairs on the dead,
570 and beyond -
smelling.Fifth day
shot in the head
trains twist bend after bend.
In a rotting wagon
for forty people
four legs.PART IV
Hey!
You!
580 Put out the enthusiastic little eyes!
Put your pen boats in your pocket!
This
Worthy reward
for squeezed out of paper and ink.What should I clap for?
I didn't write anything.Do you think:
lying!
229 -
Shot nowhere.
590 In intact temples, the beating cannot be settled,
if they applaud
his drums trill,
his curses rhymed roulade.Gracious sovereigns!
Do you understand?
You take the pain
grow and grow her:
chest pierced by all peaks,
a face twisted with all gases,
600 smashing citadel of the head with all artillery -
my every quatrain.Not then
cocked
along the mounds of bodies she
so that, woeful,
blew a weeping vile;
the terrible weight of everything that has been done,
without any
"Beautiful",
610 pressed down, rotten.Killed -
and I don't care,
me or him
killed.
At the fraternal cemetery
at the heart in the hole,
millions lay down, -
rot,
move, raised by worms!620 No!
Not poetry!
Better
I'll tie my tongue in a knot
than to talk.
230 -
This
can't be said in verse.
Whether the polished language of the poet
burning braziers to lick!This!
630 In hand!
Look!
This is not a lyre for you!
Ripped open with remorse,
tore out the heart
tear the aorta!Do not mix your hands into the porridge of applause!
No!
Don't mix!
Rush, the rooms are cozy!
640 Look,
stone underfoot.
On frontal place standing.
Last sips
air...flow out, cut down,
but with blood
name "killer"
branded on a person.
Listen!
650 of me
blind wiem
time yells:
"Raise,
lift me up
forever and ever!”The universe will bloom again
joyful
new.
So that there would be no senseless lies behind her,
660 I confess:
I
231 -
one is to blame
in the growing crunch of broken lives!Hear -
the sun gave out the first rays,
still not knowing
Where,
having worked, it will go, -
It's me,
670 Mayakovsky,
the foot of the idol
carried
decapitated baby.Sorry!
The Christian teeth are incisors
sticking,
the lions roared.
Do you think - Nero?
It's me,
680 Mayakovsky
Vladimir,
drunken eye enveloped the circus.Excuse me!
Resurrected Christ.
Svili
one love
you are with your mouth;
Mayakovsky
heretics
690 in the underground of Seville
twisted his joints on end.Sorry,
excuse me!Days!
Get out of the shack years!
232 -
Which one to reveal
more?
I drag with a smoky tail over my eyelids
fire-feathered carnage!700 Came.
Today
not german,
not Russian,
not a Turk
It's me
myself,
skinned from a living
I eat the meat of the world.
Carcasses on the bayonets of the mainland.
710 Cities - heaps of clay.Blood!
Drain from your river
at least a drop
in which I am innocent!There is no such!
This
gouged eyes -
prisoner,
labeled by me.
720 I,
in bows breaking his knees,
starved the lands of the Germans.Sword of fire red strands.
Wolf bristles from the crown of the pits.
People!
Expensive!
For Christ's sake
for the sake of Christ
excuse me!
233 -
730 No,
I will not raise a face distorted by melancholy!
All the more accursed
until it breaks
I will break my forehead in repentance!stand up
prostrated by lies,
broken by wars
cripples years!
Rejoice!
740 Himself executed
the only cannibal.No,
unconvicted contrived trick!
Let me not collect the torn parts from the chopping block, -
doesn't matter
knock yourself out,
one worthy
new days to take communion.flow out cut down,
750 and no one will -
there will be no one to torment a person.
People are born
real people
God himself is more merciful and better.PART V
Maybe,
more
time is a chameleon
and no colors left.
Twitch still
760 and lie down
234 -
breathless and awkward.
May be,
intoxicated with smoke and battles,
the head of the earth will never rise.May be...
No,
can't be!
Someday, yes, a whirlpool of thoughts will emerge,
someday he will see how the al̀ is gushing from the bodies.
770 Over the rearing hair will wring his hands,
groan:
"God,
what have I done!"
No,
can't be!
Breast,
slay the avalanche of despair.
In the coming happiness, dig out the touch.
Here,
780 want
from the right eye
take out
a whole flowering grove?!
Swarm birds of whimsical thoughts.
Head,
throw yourself enthusiastic and proud.
My brain
funny and smart builder,
build a city!790 To all,
who else teeth
malice squeezed out,
I'm going
in the shining eyes of the dawn.
Earth,
get up
thousands
in robes the glow of dressed-up Lazarus!
235 -
And joy
800 joy! -
through the smoke
bright faces i
I see.
Here,
opening a dead eye,
first
Galicia rises.
I wrapped myself in the grass with a peeled side.Throwing the burdens of guns,
810 straightened humpbacked,
bloodied gray hairs sunk into the sky,
Alps,
Balkans,
Caucasus,
Carpathians.And above them
still higher -
two giants.
Got up golden
820 prays:
"Closer!
To you from the bottom pitted with explosions I.
This is the Rhine
licks with wet lips
the head of the Danube, cut by destroyers.To the colonies that fled the walls of China
to the sands where Persia is lost,
every city
roaring,
830 throwing death, -
now beaming.Whisper.
All earth
parted her black lips.
236 -
Louder.
hurricane roar
boils up.
"Swear
don't mow down anyone else!"
840 They rise from the burial mounds,
buried bones are covered with meat.Was it
so that the cut legs
would look for
hosts,
ragged heads called by name?
Here
on a skull stump
jumped scalp,
850 feet ran up,
they live under it.From the bottom of the oceans and seas,
on the yards
deposits of the revived drowned floated up.
Sun!
Warm them up in your palms,
lick your eyes with your tongues!
Your old face
laughing
860 time!
Healthy and whole, we will return to our families!
Then
over the Russians
over the Bulgarians
over the Germans
over the Jews
above all
under the firmament of heaven,
from the glow of scarlet,
870 row to row,
seven thousand flowers shone
from a thousand different rainbows.
237 -
Through fragments of peoples,
by the scattered gang
echoed
confused
"A-ah! .."
The day opened like this
that Andersen's fairy tales
880 puppies crawled at his feet.Now I can't believe
what could go
in the twilight of the streets, dark, groping.
Today
at the drip girl
on the nail of the little finger
sun more,
than before all over the world.Eyes around the earth with big eyes
890 people.
growing,
reached the head of the mountains.
Boy
in a new suit
- in your freedom -
important
even laughable with pride.Like the priests
to remember the redemptive drama,
900 come out with communion, -
every country
came to the man with her gifts:“Immeasurable America I bring you strength,
machine power!
238 -
“I give Naples warm nights,
Italy.
Burning,
wave palms with fans.910 "In the cold of the north, freezing,
African sun to you!"Africa burned by the sun,
you,
with your snows
Tibet has descended from the mountains!”"France,
first woman in the world
lips brought scarcity."Youth - Greece,
920 they are best in body naked."People,
faceted for centuries
Germany
thought brought.930 "All
filled to the core with gold,
India
brought gifts to you!"Hail, man,
forever and ever live and be glorified!
Anyone
239 -
living on earth
glory,
glory,
940 glory!You will choke!
And here I am too.
I walk carefully
huge
clumsy
Oh how great I am
in the most radiant
from my countless souls!Past the congratulators
950 festive past me,
- cursed
don't poke you! -
here she is
towards."Hello, darling!"
I caress every hair
curly,
golden.
Oh what winds
960 which south,
performed a miracle with a buried heart?
Your eyes bloom
two meadows!
I roll in them
cheerful child.And all around!
Laugh.
Flags.
Chamomile.
970 Past.
Uplifted.
Thousands.
240 -
Through.
Running.
In every youth gunpowder Marinetti,
Hugo's wisdom is in every elder.Lips are not enough smile capital.
All
from apartments
980 in the square
out!
Silver balls
from capital to capital
let's spread the fun
laughter,
ringing!You won't understand
it's the air
is it a flower
990 bird l!
And sings
and fragrant
and motley at once, -
but from this
faces are burning
and the sweetest wine intoxicates the mind.
And not only people
the joy of the liche
blossomed,
1000 beasts smartly curled their fleece,
raging yesterday
seas,
purring,
lay down at their feet.You won't believe
that floated,
spewing death, they.
In the holds
241 -
forever forgotten about gunpowder,
1010 armadillos
transported to safe harbors
all sorts of nonsense bright heaps.Who is afraid of gang guns -
these,
meek,
tear?
They
in front of the house,
on the lawn,
1020 peacefully nibbling grass.See
not a joke,
not the laughter of satire -
in the middle of the day,
quiet,
in pairs,
bully kings
walk under the supervision of nannies.Earth,
1030 Where does love like this come from?
Imagine -
there
under the tree
seen
with Cain
playing checkers Christ.Can't you see
squinted, looking for?
Eyes - two slits.
1040 Wider!
Look,
my eyes -
the open door of the cathedral.
242 -
People! -
favorite,
unloved,
familiar,
unfamiliar,
pour out in a wide procession through those doors.
And he,
free,
yelling about who I am
Human -
he will come
believe me
believe!Prikhodovskaya E.A.
“Four pre-October poems by V. Mayakovsky.
Their names and content
Mayakovsky's early work has been studied extensively and in various aspects. The task of this work is somewhat more modest: the object is limited (four pre-October poems) and the angle of its consideration (titles, content). Although the concept of "content" can be interpreted quite broadly; the content is not limited to a linear progressive plot, which, by the way, is not so easy to crystallize from Mayakovsky's poems.
The most "epic", many-sided, objective and "poly-voiced", in my opinion, is the poem "War and Peace"(work on it was in the autumn of 1915). Testimony epic this poem is, first of all, a clearly SIGNIFICANT title (Mayakovsky has no insignificant titles, he is extremely attentive to this, as indicated in the article by I. Pravdina "Today I will play the flute"). It is no coincidence that the poem is not called “An Essay on the First World War” and not in any other way, more specifically locally, but contains a global philosophical opposition that goes back to the fundamental dichotomy "life death": "peace - war". Such a global posing of the question is already a sign, the author's "application" for the scale of the problem; besides, any educated person at the words "War and Peace" instantly recalls two huge volumes of Leo Tolstoy's epic. This is another - already associative - "application" for epic globality. L.N. Tolstoy is also mentioned in the poem itself:
Drag out the Tolstoys who have huddled under the gospel!
For a skinny leg!
Stone beard!
and in one of the early, about the same time (a little earlier, 1914), poems:
The hours hung like a rough scolding,
Behind the fifth was the sixth.
And some rubbish looked from the sky
Majestic, like Leo Tolstoy.
Moreover, such an “eternal” opposition, abstract and not specified in any way in the title, brings the poem to the level general philosophical from chronicle-descriptive, observed in the first chapters of the poem.
What will be said next applies not only to War and Peace, but also to other early poems (and indeed to creative method Mayakovsky), but here such specificity of the language is most justified and directly serves to create epic And globality , the integrity of the system of images.
The most characteristic feature of Mayakovsky, especially the early Mayakovsky, which we can observe in the example of the poem "War and Peace" is the desire for TO TOTAL SYNTHESIS all funds used. This synthesis contributes to the creation of a multi-level associative field, about which Y. Mineralov speaks ( "About the poetic speech of Mayakovsky"): “... As a result of our transformations, a syntax close to the syntax of oral speech ... was replaced by the usual syntax of a written type. Meaning became linear, unidirectional. He lost the returns, parallels, associations characteristic of oral speech ... intertwined in the outwardly “incoherent” passage of Mayakovsky very tightly. Mayakovsky moves away from the logical sequence of discrete words to the creation COMPLEX IMAGES OF THOUGHT ; often the impression from any stanza is irrational and does not lend itself to lexico-semantic analysis. This property leads to a paradoxical situation: one can speak of "harmonic" Mayakovsky's language, about semantic "chords" - due to holistic perception, meanings are comprehended not LINEARLY, but, as it were, SIMULTANEOUSLY, in a complex "consonance"; while the very nature of poetry is essentially LINEAR, it unfolds in time and always has its own single line relief (although, of course, one should take into account the "zonal nature" of the meaning, a kind of "gravitational field" that forms between words in the process of their organization in single system, which, in turn, has an ambiguous meaning at the macro level). But still, harmonic consonance and overtones of one sound are different concepts. In Mayakovsky we can observe the first. Words in its "consonances" exist RELATIVE TO EACH OTHER, in a functional relationship, not on their own; these are not independent particles (or quanta) connected by a field, but an integral field.
Such subconsciously perceived constructions as the PRINCIPLE of building an image give rise to a suggestive analogy with the work of Velemir Khlebnikov: the analogy is very justified both stylistically and biographically; but Mayakovsky did not stray so far from the SEMANTIC side of the word, did not absolutize the phonetic structure, although he undoubtedly assigned one of the leading roles to it. Mayakovsky's image, as a rule, is not associative-auditory, but associative-semantic, although sound recording is one of his favorite techniques:
Splashed by the thunder of the city surf ...
in the robes of the glow of the dressed-up Lazarus ...
But sound recording does not serve to create an abstract state, but only to enrich, colorize, “harmonize” the lexical semantic structure. The same “harmonization” of meaning is served by complex means of expression, bordering on other types of art: in relation to Mayakovsky, the concepts “music of the word”, “painting of the word”, “relief of the word” are quite usable, he can even realize in words “olfactory” and "tactile" effects. For example, in the 1st chapter of "War and Peace" the melodies are written out directly in the text, which are necessary in one place or another for the "harmonization" of thought. Fragments of church hymns “God rest with the saints” and “God rest the soul of your deceased servant” participate in the text as a kind of “off-screen commentary”, and the imitation of drumming is even woven into the structure of the rhyme:
The chest of the divisions shuddered from the cry.
Foam at the mouth.
Smashing George at the banners in the motto,
drums:
Tra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta
Tra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta
V. Pertsov writes about the "picturesque" side of Mayakovsky's poetry in a two-volume book "Mayakovsky": "... It can be said that Mayakovsky's first experiments in the art of the word still give off fresh oil paint ... The poet, as it were, is looking for correspondences in the word to the pictorial language in which he first tried to speak in art." Mayakovsky's visual outline and "volume", a certain "spatial form" of the subject are extremely accurate, although not detailed. In this regard, Mayakovsky's poetry is comparable to Bulgakov's prose: laconic, sparse, but unusually well-aimed characteristics that do not describe the subject in detail, but grasp only the most important thing, its very essence - are characteristic of both authors. The work in the "ROSTA Windows" obviously contributed to the cutting of Mayakovsky's catchiness and brevity of expressions, and also did not contradict his synthetic, "boundary" thinking between the spheres of art.
Such a desire to synthesize "all the arts" in poetry brings to the fore THEATRICALITY as a property of Mayakovsky's creativity. This is evidenced by one of its main qualities: DECLARATION; Mayakovsky's poetry is designed not for the reader, but rather for the listener, and thus involves the inclusion in the dialogue "author - reader" third person - reader actor- reciter. Thus, the poems here do not live on paper, but on the stage, in SOUND incarnation, which includes, in addition to the text, intonation, gestures, accent rhythm, voice coloring and, most importantly, the energy of the actor. Mayakovsky's poem read aloud is a kind of "mono performance", and "mono" here is not in a lyrical focus on the subject, but in a look at the many-voiced, diverse, polyphonic reality "from the first person". In this, by the way, there is also a similarity with Bulgakov: political processes described not by an “all-seeing” historian, but by a simple citizen, to whom events reach in the form of “rumors” or “signs” - can also be observed in “War and Peace” Mayakovsky, and in Bulgakov's The White Guard.
In "War and Peace" there is, in fact, no lyrical hero more like a hero "collective" - this is its specificity: the emphasis is not on distinctive features of a particular character on whose behalf it is being said, but, on the contrary, on universal, typological, and the aforementioned “ordinary citizen” is not a unique person with his own detailed character, but a TYPICAL UNIT of a certain homogeneous mass. This also works to increase the scale of the picture being drawn; the hero in "War and Peace" is a kind of "extended" personality, like a choir in ancient Greek tragedy expressing a collective opinion, but speaking in the first person singular. This big "I" is a characteristic evidence of total hyperbole in the work of Mayakovsky, as V. Alfonsov writes in the article "Hey you! Sky!..".
The hyperbolicity of images corresponds to generalization, the “macrolevel” of the associative field - due to the through, continuous presence systems of CHRISTIAN IMAGES (figurative dictionary Christian religion- the most general and "all-penetrating" symbolic series, ineradicable in the minds of any person of the New Age, even an atheist). So in "War and Peace" is formed "secondary plot", a kind of macro-structure of the ETERNAL problematics, showing through all the specifics of historical and descriptive details, moving in the background, but subordinating the first in meaning - like a giant shadow of a headless horseman passing through the sky. This poem is characterized parable (due to the branching of allegories) and apocalyptic .
You can trace the development of the “macro plot” chapter by chapter:
1. present, static situation ("Babylon", "Sodom"), accumulating internal energy of self-destruction;
2. anxiety, rumors, forebodings - “It has begun” (a kind of “overture” to the subsequent action);
3. Apocalypse - an analogy with a giant theater, violence and death as a monstrous entertainment; destruction, corruption; not without reason Nero is displayed here as an iconic figure - a symbol CRISIS, SUNSET era and the highest degree arbitrariness;
4. The atoning sacrifice is the acceptance of all the sins and sufferings of mankind; in fact - the crucifixion;
5. Resurrection - forgiveness and repentance, as if on the "Judgment Day".
"War and Peace" is a grandiose symphony with an enlightened, major finale, giving a powerful cathartic momentum is exactly CATHARSIC! Not by hope for a brighter future, obviously impossible (the resurrection of the dead is an eternal utopia!), not by oblivion of the past, not by unfounded optimism, but tragic catharsis explains the bright ending of "War and Peace". The fifth chapter of the poem is amazing CINEMATOGRAPHIC - like a "reverse" chronicle of the war; everything that happened, happens in exactly the same way, but the “tape” is launched in the opposite direction:
"Swear
don't mow down anyone else!"
They rise from grave mounds,
buried bones are covered with meat.
so that the cut legs
ragged heads called by name?
on a skull stump
jumped scalp,
legs ran up
living under it they...
Almost half a century before the birth of the international political slogan “For Peace!” Mayakovsky advances and affirms in a powerful apotheosis the ANTI-MILITARIAN idea, the idea of the “last war”. First World War struck not by the multiplicity of participants (pan-European conflicts, even with the involvement of the countries of the “third world”, had already occurred more than once by that time) and not by the senselessness (“What are we fighting for?”) - senseless wars in the history of mankind cannot be counted. She impressed with the invention and application weapons of mass destruction when a person felt like a helpless grain of sand in the raging chaos of time; a lot of soldiers dying from laughing gas even WITHOUT ENGAGING IN BATTLE - it was a shock to human consciousness. Personal qualities - courage, training, discipline - have lost all meaning, PERSONALITY has lost any meaning at all, human life has depreciated to zero. If in “Crime and Punishment” (dialogue between Raskolnikov and Marmeladov) the question was still raised whether “ human life”and“ a figure of statistics ”- now a completely unambiguous answer was already given: a person is nothing, the“ masses ”live and die (Kuprin also wrote about the depersonalization of people in the“ gray mass ”in“ Duel ”). Along with the advent weapons of mass sounded no less terrible Nietzsche "God is dead". Separately, both the depersonalization of the “mass” and disbelief arose in history, but when combined, they formed a “critical mass” and gave rise to a terrible reaction in the mass consciousness - the disintegration and annihilation of all - ideological, religious, moral, ethical, aesthetic - foundations. Atheism, which affirmed the original absence of God, was born in the Renaissance and in XVII century - the century of Enlightenment; but then it was connected with the idea of strength and self-development of the human spirit. Now, merging with the indisputability of the insignificance and helplessness of man before the forces of destruction, unbelief gave rise to the idea of a "dead god" - he was, but now he is gone, and chaos reigns. This is actually the idea of the “end of the world”, an APOCALYPTIC idea; It was this upheaval of consciousness, as if “seeing firsthand” the incarnation of the Apocalypse, that gave rise to a huge trend in the art of the early twentieth century - EXPRESSIONISM . Mayakovsky is largely characteristic character traits expressionism: poetics of extreme states (already mentioned hyperbolization, bringing the image or emotion "to the limit"), apocalyptic idea , brightness, some outrageousness images (unexpected comparisons, unusual characteristics and situations, etc.), persistent, very often pursued idea suicide (in Mayakovsky's poems, as well as in poetry early period, a lot of predictions of one's own suicide committed different ways: a very striking example is the Prologue from "Flute-Spine"; hardly st O um tie it to the real biographical fact- it is too far in time from the early poems). The entire expressionist "dictionary" of expressive means was embodied in early work Mayakovsky; however, for the revolutionary protest thinking of the poet, one of the main foundations of expressionism is fundamentally unacceptable - the idea of helplessness, brokenness, doom and hopeless loneliness of a person in the bloody and unpredictable chaos of the movements of the "masses" and soulless "machines". In fact, the whole poem "Human"- even by its name - a passionate, but somewhat recklessly desperate protest against such an idea. Reality does not allow such an optimistic assessment human strength. Therefore, along with admiring the greatness of man, a certain “Lord of Everything” appears, for whom even “God is his nimble cook.” Again, the analogy begs: who is this “Lord of Everything”, if not the biblical Golden Calf? Such an analogy reveals the entire “turning inside out”, the enormity of the situation: God is a “nimble cook”, a slave to a golden idol; behind this image lies a terrifying idea: spirituality serves profit; individual structures within humanity bring the ideological and ethical platform to their advantage. People keep God in the service of the Golden Calf... This despair leads to lines that are paradoxical for the revolutionary Mayakovsky:
Shake up the revolutions of the kingdoms of the calf.
The human herd changes drivers.
But you, the owner of the uncrowned hearts,
None touch the riot.
Next, a grandiose rite of service to the Golden Calf unfolds, a real religious service - even the pronouns that replace the name of the "Lord of Everything" are written with capital letter, as in religious texts - pronouns that replace "god" or "Christ":
It's coming
the townspeople are coming
bathe in His abundance.
The idea of worshiping the Golden Calf was widespread at the beginning of the 20th century and is often found in the literature of this era: for example, in Bunin (“The Gentleman from San Francisco”), in Bulgakov (“Running”); the beginning of the 20th century "was ill" with the "gold rush", and it left its mark on people's consciousness. No wonder Mayakovsky "Cloud in Pants" mentions Jack London, whose stories are mostly about the fate of the Klondike gold diggers:
You said:
"Jack London,
passion", -
and I saw one:
you are Gioconda,
to be stolen!
Bulgakov and Mayakovsky give pictures of "idolatry" that are close in meaning. For comparison - Bulgakov:
…And suddenly the world is anxious!
And now they're on their way! They're coming! There are thousands, then millions! Their heads are sealed in steel helmets! They are coming! Then they run! Then they rush with their chests to the barbed wire! Why did they rush? Because somewhere the divine dollar was insulted! But now the world is quiet, and everywhere, in all cities, trumpets shout triumphantly! He is avenged! They scream for the dollar!
Mayakovsky:
Dying around.
But, like a drill into the sky,
your - radiant - dignity:
Br-r-a-vo!
Hosanna! …
A figurative-ideological analogy with Bulgakov also suggests itself when reading the chapter “Mayakovsky in the Sky” - one immediately recalls the dream of Alexei Turbin from the White Guard. Both narratives are sustained in a somewhat playful, fabulously ironic, but good-natured tone. You can find a lot of things in common even in details, but this is already the task of a special study "Mayakovsky and Bulgakov" ...
Unlike "War and Peace", "Man" does not carry an apocalyptic, but rather an EVANGELISTIC idea - the secondary plot is built like the Gospel, like a biography, "the life of a prophet." The secondary plot here is not veiled, but, on the contrary, is carefully and even deliberately put on display, as evidenced even by the titles of the chapters: "Mayakovsky's Christmas", "Mayakovsky's Passion", "Mayakovsky's Ascension", etc., not to mention the many details in the text itself (at least a direct indication of the "gospel" theme in the introduction: "I kiss the thousand-year-old Gospel of the days of my love"). But here it is emphasized human the essence of the hero, and therefore its natural component - mortality . The whole poem, as it were, comes out of one point and “shrinks” into it in the finale: it is “ringed” with quotations from the funeral service and unfolds between “Now let go” and “Let the saints rest in peace”. This is a tragic circle outlined by time for man and by man himself for his consciousness; a person thinks about death - his own future or others' past - very often, if not continuously. Death surrounds us everywhere - from a dead fly on the window to our own funeral and the Apocalypse. Death is a running theme in almost all poetry; and in Mayakovsky, regarded as an “optimistic revolutionary” in school curricula, it serves as a thematic core - especially in early poems.
The aesthetics of evil and morbidity (“pale”, “sighing”, “suffering” and “outcast” heroes are types of romanticism stamped in the mass consciousness) resonates in some way with Christian values: weakness, suffering of the flesh - but the greatness of the spirit. In A Cloud in Pants, Mayakovsky gives an image that is fundamentally PROTEST against this cliché:
I'm going - beautiful,
Twenty-two years old.
This image of the hero echoes the ANTIQUE ideal of a healthy, beautiful, almost perfect, current hero. The aesthetics of the lyrical hero Mayakovsky has its own ancient mythological counterpart - the ancient hero citizen, active, restrained in lyrical outpourings, but true to his public duty - the same “handsome, twenty-two-year-old”! Its deep philosophical and aesthetic roots come from ANTIQUITY. This is quite understandable - Russian philosophy of that time and vast areas of art were covered CHRISTIAN themes, images of the Orthodox religion, "sacraments", "signs", etc. Mayakovsky's work, by virtue of its polemical nature, brought new topic, a new hero - but fundamentally new only in relation to direct, contemporary opponents, and in ancient art having its own prototype.
But it should be said that in the early works of Mayakovsky there are two opposite, even mutually exclusive tendencies:
1. the hero is HEDONISTIC, corresponding to ancient aesthetics;
2. hero EXPRESSIONIST, corresponding more to aesthetics gothic, similar to the paintings of Bosch or Holbein - the distortion of real forms to "phantasmagoria" in order to create the ultimate, even sometimes grotesque expression. An example of such a hero is in “Spine Flute”, in places in “War and Peace” and in “Man”, and in “A Cloud in Pants” the “handsome, twenty-two-year-old” speaks several times about suicide, which directly contradicts the declared optimistic and life-affirming image.
This inconsistency gives an internal polarity the poetic world of Mayakovsky - and at the same time its volume, ambiguity, which goes beyond the narrow framework of the school "stamp".
I wonder how they change means of expression Mayakovsky, depending on the content, or rather, on the STATE underlying the fragment. "War and Peace" is an example of the desire for VERSATILITY language, to the diversity of its characteristics depending on expressed. In How to Make Poems, Mayakovsky speaks of the SURPRISE of rhyme or turnover as the basis impact efficiency poetic speech; this statement is proved by all his work, even somewhat exaggerated in the early period (outrageousness and catchiness - what is only the name of the "manifesto" of the futurists - "Slap in the face of public taste"! - Often create "overload", "piling up of images": too many vivid comparisons, unexpected “turns” - they stun, even tire, like a too colorful crowd or loud noise; the principle of hierarchy, systemic nature, necessary in any work, is violated, and the abundance of local accents and climaxes makes it difficult to understand where is the MAIN, where is the skeleton, a lot of O figurative whole. The late Mayakovsky, in contrast to the early one, is almost classic in this respect, all the elements come into conformity and proportion). But the regularly demanded SURPRISE, unpredictability eventually becomes predictable . Since the system unwittingly appears with the multiplicity of products of creativity (means, due to their limitations, tend to line up in a hierarchical structure), it appears, paradoxically, "typology of surprises", which is an oxymoron in itself, but actually arising. When one gets acquainted with Mayakovsky's work, especially the early one, there is a steady feeling of "prehearing" unexpected turns in themes and images - the surprise itself is already expected. In "A Cloud in Trousers" and "Spine Flute" the type of speech is determined not by the content, but rather by general stylistic : Mayakovsky such, and such - everywhere, no matter what he's talking about. War and Peace is exceptional in this respect; in it, epic, fundamental OBJECTIVITY is emphasized by the universality of the language, that is, its ability to change its formal-stylistic qualities depending on the meaning. Meaning "harmonized" language means; especially indicative in this regard is the fifth, last chapter of the poem - a picture of the resurrection and reconciliation of all the warring and murdered.
Compared with the rhythm and vocabulary (and sound writing) of the previous chapter (about the “expiatory sacrifice”), the rhythm and phonetics of Chapter 5 are “smoothed out”, “pacified” - the “verbal element” calms down, as everything has calmed down here; may be said in the words of Mayakovsky:
... yesterday raging
laid down at the feet...
From the specifics of the “reverse shooting” of the First World War (“... Galicia is rising ...”) Mayakovsky comes to generalizing SYMBOLS, starting with the hyperbolic picture of the “worship of the Magi” - “gifts” to the newborn world from all warring countries. Further, we will no longer talk about those killed in 1914 - 1916, but about ALL those killed in ALL human wars, for completed " last war". All means are aimed at creating a feeling of all-embracing joy and tenderness, this chapter is capable of “moving to tears” - how unexpected this is for the traditional image of “Mayakovsky the Rebel”! Not only evenness, “roundness of corners” in rhythm, not only phonetic clarity due to the predominance of smooth, “gentle” sound combinations - but the very figurative system works to create bright tenderness and joy, as at the sight of a newborn, as at the onset of peaceful silence, which will not be followed by a new blow; here the REVIVAL of everything destroyed and destroyed is also important - and, consequently, the exclusion from the joy of the end of the war of the feeling of sorrow and irretrievability. Such, albeit utopian, "reversibility", "correctability" of the deed - pipe dream humanity, a gift not given to him by nature. This gentle, “motherly”, wonderful feeling is created due to the images of “miniature”, fragile and defenseless, these are “symbols of the world”:
The day opened like this
that Andersen's fairy tales
puppies crawled at his feet.
at the drip girl
on the nail of the little finger
more sun,
than before all over the world.
Already these images themselves, almost tangible, evoke in the reader a feeling of affectionate, bright, warm peace; Further, Mayakovsky develops this feeling to a bright, solemn apotheosis - through, again, Christian symbolism:
under the tree
playing checkers Christ.
In this apotheosis, the entire "plaque" of futuristic outrageousness, all "effects" and artificial virtuoso lexical constructions are removed; here we see a deep poetic HUMANITY, on which, like a hovercraft, all of Mayakovsky's work exists and moves.
The anti-militarist idea will sound later -
…to the world
without Russia, without Latvia
to live in a single human hostel ...
Mayakovsky contradicted his work, calling himself a "poet of the revolution." The value of Mayakovsky is not limited October Revolution or the era of Soviet power, Mayakovsky is not only an agitator of his time, otherwise now his poetry would be only historical phenomenon. But his work has the main property poetry And art in general - the ability to GENERALIZE, the ability not to lose relevance in any era and to carry HUMANIST an idea that inspires any slogans and makes them eternal. The great significance of Mayakovsky is not in his “rebelliousness”, not in his “yellow jacket” and not in his tragic love - these are all “accompanying” trifles that cannot overshadow the main thing: a powerful HUMANIST charge, an impulse of LOVE FOR THE WORLD and for people, which and contains all the value and all the immortality of any creativity, without which there is no point either in formal searches, or in technical refinements, or in any external innovations.
L I T E R A T U R A
1. V. Mayakovsky Works in 3 volumes; M., 1973
2. V. Pertsov "Mayakovsky", vol. 1; M., 1957
3. "In the World of Mayakovsky" (collection of articles), book 1; M., 1984
4. "In the World of Mayakovsky" (collection of articles), book 2; M., 1984
