The poem "You are my letter, dear, do not crumple ...".
The poem “You are my letter, dear, do not crumple ...” was written by A.A. Akhmatova in 1812 and published in the Rosary collection. The poem is dedicated to Akhmatova's husband - N. Gumilyov, it was created in a difficult period of their relationship.
The work belongs to love lyrics, its genre is a love message.
The poem has a ring composition. It begins and ends with the heroine's appeal to her beloved:
You are my letter, dear, do not crumple. Until the end of it, friend, read it. I'm tired of being a stranger, Being a stranger on your way.
The reader is presented with a love story in which the images of the hero and the heroine gradually become clearer. We understand that not everything is good and harmonious in their relationship. Probably, there was some kind of quarrel between them, perhaps they broke up. Now the heroine wants to make peace with her beloved, to return the old feelings:
Don't look like that, don't frown angrily, I'm loved, I'm yours.
Not a shepherdess, not a princess And I'm no longer a nun...
However, time inexorably runs forward, and it changes people, their characters and destinies. It also left its mark on the fate of the lyrical heroine. She became different, leaving her former images: “not a shepherdess”, “not a princess”, “no longer a nun”.
Her new face is simple, in a certain sense - "mundane". She is the "heroine of everyday life." In creating this image, Akhmatova uses specific details characteristic of acmeists. It turns out an expressive portrait:
In this gray, everyday dress,
On worn heels...
But, as before, a burning embrace,
The same fear in the huge eyes.
However, her nature remained the same, her inner world and her attitude to life did not change. She remains true to the hero and her feelings.
At the end of the poem, the motif of a beggar, a wanderer arises. Probably, this motive arose in connection with N. Gumilyov's trip abroad. And we understand that this wanderer is the beloved of the heroine. And she is ready to share his fate with him:
You are my letter, dear, do not crumple,
Don't cry about cherished lies
You put it in your poor knapsack at the very bottom.
The poem is written in anapaest. Akhmatova uses various means of artistic expression: an epithet (“about a cherished lie”), a metaphor (“I’m tired of being a stranger, Being a stranger on your way”), rows of homogeneous members (“I’m not a shepherdess, I’m not a princess And I’m no longer a nun”).
I. Gurvich noted the originality of Akhmatova's love lyrics. “Whatever the relationship between a man and a woman reproduced by the classics, their basis is a feeling with a positive sign, even if it is a passing or past feeling. And "unhappy love" is not an exception, but an aspect of the directed image ...; “unhappiness” here is on a par with “crazy happiness”, with “delight”, with “joy” ... Akhmatova, on the other hand, focuses her gaze on love-dislike, on the interweaving and clash of emotional opposites, even extremes, on the absence of genuine, deep closeness - in the presence of intimacy. Poetry masters a special, previously undepicted variant of convergence-divergence.
You are my letter, dear, do not crumple.
Until the end of it, friend, read it.
I'm tired of being a stranger
Be a stranger in your way.
Don't look like that, don't frown with anger
I am loved, I am yours.
Not a shepherdess, not a princess
And I'm no longer a nun -
In this gray everyday dress
On worn heels...
But, as before, a burning embrace,
The same fear in the huge eyes.
You are my letter, dear, do not crumple
Don't cry about cherished lies.
You have him in your poor knapsack
Put it at the very bottom.
Analysis of the poem "You are my letter, Darling, do not crumple" by Akhmatova
A. Akhmatova's relationship with her husband, N. Gumilyov, was very difficult. The spouses were strong creative personalities, which could not but cause rivalry. Akhmatova made concessions and strove to create home comfort. But Gumilyov quickly lost interest in the poetess and practically did not go home, spending time on distant expeditions. In 1912, Akhmatova was expecting the birth of a child, and her husband was on another trip. The poetess felt a burning resentment and longing, as a result of which she wrote a poetic message to Gumilyov “You are my letter, Dear, do not crumple ...”.
In this work, Akhmatova expresses to her husband the bitterness that has accumulated in her heart. From the very first lines, you can understand that not everything is going well in this marriage. The lyrical heroine is tired of being a “stranger”, “alien” for her husband. He sincerely wants this not to be the case, that he and Gumilyov spend more time together. According to contemporaries, the couple often quarreled. Akhmatova is the first to go to reconciliation and conjure her husband: "do not frown with anger." She recognizes his male superiority: "I am Yours." The poetess, in connection with the imminent appearance of a child, is ready to forget all her previous dreams (“not a shepherdess, not a princess”) and become an ordinary domestic woman who takes care of the family hearth. Wearing a "gray, everyday dress", she will turn into a caring and faithful wife.
Akhmatova urges her husband to be sure to keep her letter at the bottom of the "poor knapsack". She hopes that this will become for Gumilyov a constant reminder of his native home, in which his beloved woman always remembers and waits for him. Throughout the poem, the poetess refers to her husband exclusively with a capital letter. Thus, she makes it clear that she infinitely respects and loves Gumilyov. Akhmatova believes that all is not yet lost. The birth of a child will have to seal their fragile union. If she was able to adapt to everyday life, then her husband is able to suppress his craving for distant wanderings.
Akhmatova never sent this message to Gumilyov. Time has shown that this could not have saved their marriage. Even after the birth of his son, Gumilyov rarely showed up at home and openly started romances on the side. If he had received the cherished letter, he would have acted contrary to the request of his wife: he would have crumpled it up and thrown it away like unnecessary trash.
“You are my letter, dear, do not crumple ...” Anna Akhmatova
You are my letter, dear, do not crumple.
Until the end of it, friend, read it.
I'm tired of being a stranger
To be a stranger in your way.Don't look like that, don't frown in anger.
I am loved, I am yours.
Not a shepherdess, not a princess
And I'm no longer a nun -In this gray, everyday dress,
On worn heels...
But, as before, a burning embrace,
The same fear in the huge eyes.You are my letter, dear, do not crumple,
Don't cry about cherished lies
You have him in Your poor knapsack
Put it at the very bottom.
Analysis of Akhmatova's poem "You are my letter, Darling, do not crumple ..."
The marriage union of Anna Akhmatova and Nikolai Gumilyov from the very beginning looked like a deal in which each of the parties received a certain benefit. Gumilyov was hopelessly in love with his chosen one for several years, trying in vain to woo her. As a result, he tried several times to commit suicide, and the last failed suicide forced Akhmatova to agree to marry a man whom she considered her brother. For herself, the aspiring poetess saw one indisputable advantage in this union, which was freedom of action. Moreover, Gumilyov encouraged her passion for literature in every possible way and even helped to publish poems that he considered far from perfect.
Akhmatova could not imagine that very soon her life would change dramatically. More precisely, the attitude towards the spouse will change, in which yesterday's proud student will fall in love without memory. It is difficult to say exactly why this happened. Either the reason lies in the birth of a son, or in the frequent absences of Gumilyov, who suddenly realized that he was absolutely not created for family life. One way or another, after a few years of marriage, Akhmatova dreams that her husband, by indirect signs, guessed what feelings she had for him. To speak directly about her love, the poetess dreamed of pride, because on the eve of the wedding she honestly admitted to Gumilyov that she considered him her good friend, but was not attracted to him. As a result, the poetess creates a cycle of poems that unequivocally indicate the feelings of the poetess for her own spouse. Among them is the work “You are my letter, dear, do not crumple ...”, written in 1912.
At this moment, Gumilyov was abroad, and this separation on the eve of the birth of her son brings Akhmatova great mental suffering. The poetess realizes that for her husband she still remains a stranger, but she really does not want to "be a stranger" on his life path. Unfortunately, it is no longer possible to return the past, but Akhmatova hopes that her family life can still get better. Therefore, turning to her husband, she emphasizes: "I am loved, I am yours." She asks her husband not to be angry and not to frown, although he has every reason for this, because Akhmatova's pregnancy is quite difficult. She is naughty, scandalous and arranges baseless scenes of jealousy, because of which Gumilyov, in the end, decides to go on another trip. In addition, he begins to realize that this woman, swollen at the waist with a pale face and constant toxicosis, has nothing to do with the Akhmatova with whom he was once in love.
The poetess herself, trying to determine her status, admits: “I’m not a shepherdess, I’m not a princess, and I’m no longer a nun.” Indeed, Akhmatova begins to identify herself with a married woman, for whom at this moment the family is a refuge and protection. But she does not have to count on help in this difficult period of her life, since Gumilyov has already moved away from the woman whom he once loved so madly. He does not want to believe that he nevertheless managed to achieve reciprocal feelings, as he is tired of flattering himself with empty hopes and being disappointed every time. Nevertheless, Akhmatova asks her husband: "You are my letter, dear, do not crumple, do not cry about the cherished lie." With this phrase, she wants to emphasize that her feelings are sincere and deep enough. But there is no certainty that the spouse will believe in them, and this causes Akhmatova a slight sadness, mixed with disappointment.
The poem "You are my letter, dear, do not crumple" was written by A. Akhmatova in 1912 and placed by the poet in the collection "Rosary" (1914). Critics note that this - the second - Akhmatova collection is distinguished by the special position of the lyrical heroine, her changed attitude towards herself and towards reality. So, in the "Rosary" there are two time layers - the past and the present. The heroine remembers and describes what happened a long time ago - love, happiness and suffering, and evaluates all this from the standpoint of the present time - objectively, rationally, not with her heart, but with her head.
To understand the poems included in this collection, the epigraph taken from the poetry of E. Baratynsky is important - “Forgive me forever! but know that two guilty, Not one, there are names In my verses, in the legends of love. Remembering and evaluating the "former" love dramas, the heroine Akhmatova "closely examines" not only herself, but also another participant in the relationship - her former beloved.
In the poem “You are my letter, dear, do not crumple”, two heroes are clearly “visible”. The work is a dialogue between the lyrical heroine and her "cute". It is not clear whether this conversation is taking place in reality, or whether all the words are just the thoughts of the heroine, comments on the actions of her beloved. It is only clear that there was some serious disagreement between the two people and the lyrical heroine is most likely to blame for it. Probably, in her own defense, in recognition of her guilt, she wrote a letter to her beloved, in which she "dotted all the i". But the man does not want to forgive the heroine:
You are my letter, dear, do not crumple.
Until the end of it, friend, read it.
I'm tired of being a stranger
Be a stranger in your way.
It seems that the lyrical heroine is looking for reconciliation, she wants to return her former close relationship - from a stranger to turn into a loved one again. She tries to convince her friend of this - "I am loved, I am yours."
Of course, much has changed, and now the heroine is not the same as she was before, - “Not a shepherdess, not a princess And I’m no longer a nun ...” She is well aware that the pastoral charm and innocence of the shepherdess has disappeared in her, there is no pride and cold dignity of the queen, nor is the holy purity of a nun. Time has turned the heroine into a woman - earthly, with all the advantages and disadvantages. That's what I think the following lines are talking about:
In this gray everyday dress
On worn heels...
But, as before, a burning embrace,
The same fear in the huge eyes.
Despite all the changes that have taken place with the heroine, she still loves her friend - she also cherishes him, he is just as significant and dear to her.
The everyday image of the lyrical heroine - a gray dress, worn-out heels - salient feature Akhmatova's lyrics, as close as possible to the "real", everyday life, in which, according to the poet, the most "fantastic" feelings, "fabulous" passions live.
The poem has a ring composition: the fourth stanza begins in the same way as the first - "You are my letter, dear, do not crumple." I think that this action of the beloved - the nervous crumpling of the letter - greatly offended the heroine, provoked a protest in her: the friend does not want to forgive her, does not believe her, rejects her.
In addition, at the end of the poem, these lines take us to a completely different level of the heroine's attitude to the whole situation:
You are my letter, dear, do not crumple
Don't cry about cherished lies.
You have him in your poor knapsack
Put it at the very bottom.
It seems that the heroine resigns herself to the fact that she is not forgiven, she evaluates all this as if “from above”, more objectively, thinking rather not about herself, but about her beloved. It is to him that she gives advice on how to alleviate his mental pain. Here, it seems to me, the lyrical heroine transforms from an earthly woman into a poet who is able to see much more than an ordinary person.
The heroine-poet feels that her letter will become moral support, a kind of spiritual guideline, something that will feed in difficult times: "You put it in your poor knapsack at the very bottom."
The last lines of the poem can be interpreted in another way - the heroine calls the soul, the heart of her lover, a "knapsack". He did not find the strength to forgive, which means that he deprived himself of a miracle - the love that the heroine is able to give him. She pities this man, who deprives himself of happiness, and asks for only one thing - for memory "at the very bottom of the soul."
In any case, the poem sings of earthly love, with all its advantages and disadvantages, as a true, significant value in human life.
The poem uses traditional cross-rhyming, traditional division into quatrains. Here there are mostly inaccurate male and female rhymes (“crumpled - by a stranger”, “read - ways”, etc.)
Thus, the poem "You are my letter, dear, do not crumple" is typical for the collection of Akhmatova's "Rosary". It has the main distinctive features this period of the poet's lyrics, reflects her individual style, the evolution of the lyrical image, the development of the poetic language. Undoubtedly, this work is a worthy example of the lyrics of A. Akhmatova.
Anna Andreevna AKHMATOVA
(1889-1966)
Poems about love
Akhmatova Anna (in Tsarskoye Selo)
Illustration Source: Our Heritage: Magazine (compiled from 6 issues in 1989)
M., publishing house of the magazine "Our Heritage", 1990
Time of creation of the original: 1925
- * * *
You are my letter, dear, do not crumple.
Until the end of it, friend, read it.
I'm tired of being a stranger
Be a stranger in your way.
Don't look like that, don't frown with anger
I am loved, I am yours.
Not a shepherdess, not a princess
And I'm no longer a nun -
In this gray everyday dress
On worn heels...
But, as before, a burning embrace,
The same fear in the huge eyes.
You are my letter, dear, do not crumple,
Don't cry about cherished lies.
You have him in your poor knapsack
Put it at the very bottom.
1912, Tsarskoye Selo
* * *
Evening hours in front of the table,
Irreparably white page
Mimosa smells of Nice and warmth,
A large bird flies in the beam of the moon.
And, braiding tight braids for the night,
As if braids will be needed tomorrow
I look out the window, no longer sad,
On the sea, on sandy slopes.
What power does a person have
Which does not even ask for tenderness!
I can't lift tired eyelids
When he says my name.
* * *
Walked a friend to the front
Stood in golden dust.
From the bell tower nearby
Important sounds flowed.
Thrown! Invented word -
Am I a flower or a letter?
And the eyes are already looking sternly
In a darkened dressing table.
1913, Tsarskoye Selo
* * *
I'm not asking for your love.
She is now in a safe place.
Believe that I am your bride
I don't write jealous letters.
But wise take advice:
Let her read my poems
Let her keep my portraits, -
After all, grooms are so kind!
And these fools need
Consciousness full of victory,
Than friendship bright conversations
And the memory of the first tender days ...
When happiness is pennies
You will live with a dear friend
And for the weary soul
Everything will immediately become so shameful -
On my solemn night
Do not come. I don't know you.
And how could I help you?
I don't heal from happiness.
Perhaps the most important thing in this poem is an amazing sense of dignity: not only in the rejection of a former beloved, but in the very solemnity of intonation, in its majesty.
The notion of happiness as a shameful disease, of the spirituality of love-friendship is also indicative. If the so-called "female" poetry is all imbued primarily with the expectation of personal happiness, then for Akhmatova happiness is a bad disease associated with superiority, a vain desire to defeat a rival, deafness to the rest of the world. Love is not only a passion, but “light conversations of friendship”, spiritual consonance with the world.
Poetry turned out to be a way out of love, its bitter cost. The book of poems The White Flock (1917) is defined in many ways by this theme:
* * *
I will leave your white house and quiet garden,
May life be empty and bright.
I will glorify you, you in my poems,
As a woman could not glorify.
And you remember your girlfriend dear
In the paradise you created for her eyes,
And I trade in rare goods -
I sell your love and tenderness.
1913, Tsarskoye Selo
The insomnia-nurse went to others,
I do not languish over gray ash,
And the clock tower crooked arrow
It doesn't seem like a deadly arrow to me.
How the past loses power over the heart!
Liberation is near. I'll forgive everything
Watching the beam run up and down
On damp spring ivy.
Spring 1912
* * *
You are heavy, love memory!
I sing and burn in your smoke,
And to others it's just a flame,
To warm the cold soul.
To warm a satiated body,
They need my tears...
For that, Lord, did I sing,
For this, I partake of love!
Let me drink this poison
To make me dumb
And my inglorious glory
Wash away with radiant oblivion.
* * *
I stopped smiling
Frosty wind chills lips
One less hope
There will be one more song.
And this song I involuntarily
I will give to laughter and scolding,
Then, what is unbearably painful
Soul of love silence.
April 1915, Tsarskoye Selo