Пряхин Андрей Александрович : другие произведения.

Sergei Alexandrovich Yesenin Сергей Александрович Есенин

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  • Аннотация:
    SERGEI ALEXANDROVICH YESENIN (1895-1925) The No 1 of the Russian poetry of the 20 c., one of the greatest poets of the Russian literature comparable only with Alexandre Pushkin. Besides, he is often presented in a rather lop-sided way as a singer of wooden Russia, Russian village and peasants (as well as Leo Tolstoy). They were in some sense though not all the way. By the way, Sergey Yesenin, one of the Russianest of the Russian poets though he liked to be jocularly addressed `Sergey Duncan`, was one of the Baudelaire`s Russian literary grandson. Baudelaire played the same part in the history of the so called Silver Age of the Russian Poetry that Lord Byron had played during its Golden Age in the 19th c. Videos (in order of appearance): The Russian TV series `Sergei Yesenin`. Sergei Yesenin - Sergei Bezrukov (Russia), Isadora Duncan - Sean Young (USA) https://youtu.be/tlEKFFBNxHQ Sergei Bezrukov incomparably reciting the Sergei Yesenin`s poem `I"m tired of my native land ...` https://youtu.be/QLbQcUNq0aw Poem `Witch` by Sergey Yesenin to the music by Zara Levina against the background of the photos of Theda Bara (Theodosia Burr Goodman) (1885-1955), the Vamp of the silent era of cinema. Sung by Nina Isakova. https://youtu.be/ABL6TcQvXKA Yesenin`s poem `To Pushkin` is being recited by Andrei Guriev, a pupil of the 3rd class of the Classical School #4, 9 years old, Kursk City (Oct. 2015) https://youtu.be/0lZItvDI0X8


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THE GOLDEN HEAD

Moscow. The Famous Bohemian Nest in a house where Mikhail Bulgakov placed Woland`s flat in his novel
`The Master and Margarita` later, in the 30s.
Voices: Gentleman, Ms. Duncan`s here! Mademoiselle ...
Duncan: No! Comrade Duncan.
Sergei Yesenin: Really here?! Van`ka keep it. Let`s go!
Voice: It`s Bohemia!
Duncan: Fine! Me too!
Voice: Ladies and gentlemen, Isadora Duncan!
Duncan: To my high spirits!
Yesenin: Who came with her? Her husband?
His friend: Her interpreter!
Yesenin: It`s great he`s just her interpreter!
Interpreter: Comrades, I warn you to never ask her about her children! They died in the traffic accident!
Duncan: Is it Yesenin?

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Interpreter: Sergei Alexandrovich, if you please, just do not misbehave!
Duncan: Zolotaya golova! (Golden Head). Angel!
Bohemians: Serezha, come on! Don`t let us down! Well done! You dare-devil! Well done!
Interpreter: Comrades! Ms. Duncan presents us the food ration she`d been given in the Kremlin! Help yourself,
comrades!
Duncan: What`s this? Is it a Russian instrument? GarmYshka?
Yesenin: GarmOshka! (Russian accordeon) There are many kinds of garmoshkas at my birthplace, in Ryazan. To
sing to its accompaniment, solo or in chorus!
Duncan: What? To drink?
Yesenin: Nope! To sing! Not gonna drink any more! Gonna sing: A-a-a-a-a!
Duncan: I`m a dancer!
Yesenin: I know you`re a dancer. As to me I`m a poet!
Duncan: Da-a-a! I know it! Tchiort! (A dare-devil!)
THE END


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Сергей Есенин
Устал я жить в родном краю
В тоске по гречневым просторам,
Покину хижину мою,
Уйду бродягою и вором.

Пойду по белым кудрям дня
Искать убогое жилище.
И друг любимый на меня
Наточит нож за голенище.

Весной и солнцем на лугу
Обвита желтая дорога,
И та, чье имя берегу,
Меня прогонит от порога.

И вновь вернуся в отчий дом,
Чужою радостью утешусь,
В зеленый вечер под окном
На рукаве своем повешусь.

Седые вербы у плетня
Нежнее головы наклонят.
И необмытого меня
Под лай собачий похоронят.

А месяц будет плыть и плыть,
Роняя весла по озерам...
И Русь все так же будет жить,
Плясать и плакать у забора.
<1915>

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By Sergei Yesenin
I"m tired of my native land,
I"m longing for the buckwheat open.
I"ll leave my cabin in the end,
I"ll go to be a thief and hobo!

I"ll follow the white curls of day
To look for my new humble shelter.
My bosom friend will keen the blade
For me and hide it in shoe leather.

A yellow road"s twined around
With spring and sunlight in a meadow.
The one whose name is at my heart
Will banish me from her home"s threshold.

At the return where I belong
I"ll be consoled by a strange gladness.
At a green night, before my home,
I"ll hang myself with my sleeve"s tether.

The hoary willows near the fence
Will bend their heads a little more gently.
They"ll bury me when I go hence,
Unwashed, to dirge-like dogs` baying.

New moon will float o`er the lakes
While dropping ores on their surface.
And Russia will be likewise great,
Will dance and sob beside the hospice.
<1915>



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Сергей Есенин
КОЛДУНЬЯ
Косы растрепаны, страшная, белая,
Бегает, бегает, резвая, смелая.

Темная ночь молчаливо пугается,
Шалями тучек луна закрывается.

Ветер-певун с завываньем кликуш
Мчится в лесную дремучую глушь.

Роща грозится еловыми пиками,
Прячутся совы с пугливыми криками.

Машет колдунья руками костлявыми.
Звезды моргают из туч над дубравами.

Серьгами змеи под космы привешены,
Кружится с вьюгою страшно и бешено.

Пляшет колдунья под звон сосняка.
С черною дрожью плывут облака.
<1915>

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By Sergei Yesenin
WITCH
Her plaits are disheveled; she"s fearful, pallid,
She trots up and down, frolicksome, daring.

Dark night is afraid of her secretly, tacitly
Moon"s hiding itself in the shawl of the clouds.

Wind-songster while howling as a prophetical fool
Is off in a trice to the thick and dark wood.

Grove is threatening with the pikes of its spruces,
Owls while fleeing are uneasily hooting.

Swinging her thin bony arms the witch"s nearing,
Stars o`er the oak-groves are in fear and blinking.

Snakes like the earrings hang down so sinister.
She"s whirling with blizzard, so ghastly, so bitterly.

The witch is performing to the pinery`s tune.
The clouds are quailing and floating in gloom.
<1915>



FROM ALEXANDRE SERGEYEVITCH (PUSHKIN) TO SERGEI ALEXANDROVITCH (YESENIN)
Once Pushkin came out of a restaurant with two damsels and saw a stinking drunk in the nearest puddle.
The girls asked him if it was anything for him as a great poet to describe any ugly scene as a poetic one.
Pushkin started:
`There lies a dead drunk in the gutter
He has been lushed out of his nut...`

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He`s regularly blowjobbed posthumously!

The drunk finished:
`Beat it, you curly motherfucker
Your girls can`t wait to get a fuck... `
Pushkin: `Ladies, I`m sorry! It`s not a drunk, it`s Serge Yesenin.`


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By Sergei Yesenin
ПУШКИНУ
Мечтая о могучем даре
Того, кто русской стал судьбой,
Стою я на Тверском бульваре,
Стою и говорю с собой.

Блондинистый, почти белесый,
В легендах ставший как туман,
О Александр! Ты был повеса,
Как я сегодня хулиган.

Но эти милые забавы
Не затемнили образ твой,
И в бронзе выкованной славы
Трясешь ты гордой головой.

А я стою, как пред причастьем,
И говорю в ответ тебе:
Я умер бы сейчас от счастья,
Сподобленный такой судьбе.

Но, обреченный на гоненье,
Еще я долго буду петь...
Чтоб и мое степное пенье
Сумело бронзой прозвенеть.
<1924>


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By Sergei Yesenin
TO STATUE OF PUSHKIN
While dreaming of the mighty talent
Of one who shared Russia`s fate,
I`m standing in Tverskoy, on boulevard,
And I am talking with myself.

Blond-haired, nearly albescent,
You vanished in the fog of fame,
O Alexandre! O indecent!
Like me, a present hooligan.

But even blamable amusements
Did not cast slurs upon your fate.
You shake your proud head as usual,
Created in your glory`s brass.

The Eucharist I`m celebrating
While standing here and talking that
I`d be the happiest of all men
If only I`d had such a fate.

But doomed to trials, tribulations,
I`ll have been singing for some years,
So as my poetry`s steppe chanting
Could never die and live in brass.
<1924>

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Still alive, remembered and loved as within his life


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