Not renounce loving.
After all, life does not end tomorrow.
I'll stop waiting for you
and you will come quite suddenly.
And you will come when it is dark,
when a blizzard hits the glass,
when you remember how long ago
We didn’t warm each other.
And so you want warmth,
never loved,
that you can't wait
three people at the machine.
And, as luck would have it, it will crawl
tram, metro, I don’t know what’s there.
And the blizzard will cover the paths
on the far approaches to the gate...
And the house will be sad and quiet,
the wheeze of a meter and the rustle of a book,
when you knock on the door,
running up without a break.
You can give everything for this,
and before that I believe in it,
that it’s hard for me not to wait for you,
all day without leaving the door.
Analysis of the poem “Loving Do Not Renounce” by Tushnova
V. Tushnova still remains a “little known” Russian poetess, although several popular Soviet pop songs have been written based on her poems. Among them is “They do not renounce, loving...”. At one time, this work was copied into notebooks by millions of Soviet girls. The poetess gained all-Union fame just after the poem was set to music by M. Minkov.
The work has its own real origin story. For a long time, Tushnova had a passionate affair with A. Yashin. The lovers were forced to hide their relationship because Yashin was married. He could not leave his family, and the poetess herself did not want such a sacrifice from her beloved. Nevertheless, there were secret meetings, walks, and overnight stays in hotels. Tushnova expressed the unbearability of such a life in one of her most famous poems.
All the poetess’s work is in one way or another imbued with love. Tushnova literally lived this feeling and knew how to express it with heartfelt and warm words. Even in modern times, when “free love” reigns, a poem can touch the most subtle strings of the human soul.
Love for Tushnova is the most important and highest feeling. It is high, because there is not a drop of selfishness in her. There is a willingness to sacrifice oneself to a loved one, leaving oneself only with the hope of one’s own true happiness.
The main theme and meaning of the poem lies in the refrain “They do not renounce, loving...”. The lyrical heroine is sure that true love cannot die. Therefore, she never loses hope for the return of her beloved. In simple but surprisingly touching words, she convinces herself that happiness can come at any moment. This can happen completely suddenly: “when it’s dark”, “when... a blizzard hits.” It’s just that love will flood the lovers so much that any barriers will fall and become useless. It is incomprehensible to today’s generation, but for a Soviet person it meant a lot what it meant: “you can’t wait out... three people at a machine gun.” The lyrical heroine is ready to “give everything” for her love. Tushnova uses a very beautiful poetic exaggeration: “all day without leaving the door.”
The ring composition of the poem emphasizes the nervous state of the lyrical heroine. The work even in some way resembles a prayer addressed to that power that will never allow love to perish.
Many poets have written about love: good or bad, monotonously or conveying hundreds of shades of this feeling. Tushnova’s poem “They do not renounce, loving ...” is one of the highest achievements of love lyrics. Behind the most ordinary words, the reader literally “sees” the naked soul of the poetess, for whom love was the meaning of her whole life.
Veronica Tushnova. "Not renounce loving.."
“Long winters and summers will never merge:
They have different habits and a completely different appearance...”
(B. Okudzhava)
Veronika Mikhailovna Tushnova was born on March 27, 1915 in Kazan in the family of Mikhail Tushnov, a professor of medicine at Kazan University, and his wife, Alexandra, née Postnikova, a graduate of the Higher Women's Bestuzhev Courses in Moscow. The house on Bolshaya Kazanskaya Street, now Bolshaya Krasnaya, in which the Tushnovs then lived, was located on a hill. Above, the Kremlin dominated the entire landscape. Here the Syuyumbeki tower was adjacent to the domes of churches. Below, under the mountain, the Kazanka River flowed, and near the mouth of the Kazanka and beyond it there were suburban settlements. Veronica loved to visit the Admiralteyskaya Sloboda, the house of her grandfather Pavel Khrisanfovich, a hereditary Volzhanite. Veronica did not find him alive, but the fate of her grandfather-captain occupied the girl’s imagination.
Veronica's father, Mikhail Pavlovich, lost his parents early and set out on an independent path early. He graduated from the Kazan Veterinary Institute, one of the oldest institutes in Russia. He went through the difficult service of a military doctor in the Far East... Returning to Kazan, Mikhail Pavlovich began working at the Veterinary Institute, a few years later he defended his doctoral dissertation, became a professor, and subsequently received the title of academician of the VASKhNIL. Veronica's mother, Alexandra Georgievna, originally from Samara, was an amateur artist. Professor Tushnov was several years older than his chosen one, and in the family everything was subject to his wishes and will, right down to serving lunch or dinner.
Veronica, a dark-eyed, thoughtful girl who wrote poetry since childhood, but hid them from her father, according to his unquestioned “desire”, immediately after graduating from school she entered the Leningrad Medical Institute (the professor’s family had settled there by that time). After graduating from the institute, she undergoes graduate school in Moscow at the Department of Histology of the VIEM under the guidance of Professor B.I. Lavrentiev, a graduate of Kazan University. Preparing a dissertation. Her articles appear in a scientific collection.
Veronica is 14 years old.
She was seriously interested in painting, and her poetic inspiration never left her. In 1939, her poems appeared in print. She married the famous doctor Yuri Rozinsky and gave birth to a daughter, Natalya, in 1939. Tushnova's second husband is physicist Yuri Timofeev. The details of Veronica Tushnova’s family life are unknown - much has not been preserved, has been lost, and relatives also remain silent.
At the beginning of the summer of 1941, Tushnova entered the Moscow Literary Institute named after M. Gorky: Her desire to professionally and seriously engage in poetry and philology seemed to be beginning to come true. But I didn’t have to study. The war began. Veronica Mikhailovna's father had died by that time. All that was left was a sick mother and little daughter Natasha. In November 1941, military fate returned Veronika Mikhailovna to her hometown. Here she works as a ward doctor at a neurosurgical hospital, created on the basis of the neurological clinic of GIDUV. The fates of many people pass before her eyes.
In February 1943, Veronika Mikhailovna returned to Moscow. Hospital again; She works as a resident doctor. The year 1944 had exceptional significance in the poet’s creative biography. Her poem “Surgeon,” dedicated to N. L. Chistyakov, a surgeon at the Moscow hospital where Veronika Tushnova worked, appears in “New World.” In the same year, Komsomolskaya Pravda published the series “Poems about a Daughter,” which received a wide readership.
In 1945, her poetic experiments, which she called “The First Book,” were published. The entire subsequent life of Veronica Tushnova was connected with poetry - it is in her poems, in her books, because her poems, extremely sincere, confessional, sometimes resemble diary entries. From them we learn that her husband left her, but a green-eyed daughter, similar to her father, was growing up, and Veronica hoped that he would return: “You will come, of course, you will come, to this house where our child grew up.”
The main theme of Veronica Tushnova's poems is love, with all its sorrows and joys, losses and hopes, divided and unrequited... no matter what it is, life has no meaning without it.
Not renounce loving.
After all, life does not end tomorrow.
I'll stop waiting for you
and you will come quite suddenly.
And you will come when it is dark,
when a blizzard hits the glass,
when you remember how long ago
We didn’t warm each other.
And so you want warmth,
never loved,
that you can't wait
three people at the machine.
...And the house will be sad and quiet,
the wheeze of a meter and the rustle of a book,
when you knock on the door,
running up without a break.
You can give everything for this,
and before that I believe in it,
that it’s hard for me not to wait for you,
all day without leaving the door.
And he really came. But everything happened completely differently than she had imagined for many years, dreaming of his return. He came when he got sick, when he felt really bad. And she did not renounce... She nursed him and his sick mother. “Everyone here condemns me, but I can’t do otherwise... Still, he is the father of my daughter,” she once told E. Olshanskaya.
There is another very important side of V. Tushnova’s work - her tireless translation activity. She translated poets from the Baltic states, the Caucasus, and Central Asia, poets from Poland and Romania, Yugoslavia and India... The translation work was important and necessary: it made the poems of many, many foreign poets accessible to the Russian reader.
It is not known under what circumstances and when exactly Veronika Tushnova met the poet and writer Alexander Yashin (1913-1968), whom she fell in love with so bitterly and hopelessly and to whom she dedicated her most beautiful poems, included in her last collection “One Hundred Hours of Happiness.” Hopeless - because Yashin, the father of seven children, was already married for the third time. Close friends jokingly called Alexander Yakovlevich’s family the “Yashinsky collective farm.”
The poetess, whose poems about Love fell asleep under the pillow of a whole generation of girls, herself experienced a tragedy - the happiness of Feelings that illuminated her last years on Earth with its Light and gave a powerful flow of energy to her Creativity: This Love was divided, but secret, because, as Tushnova herself wrote: “What stands between us is not a great sea - a bitter grief, a strange heart.” Alexander Yashin could not leave his family, and who knows, Veronica Mikhailovna, a person who understands everything and perceives everything acutely and subtly - after all, poets from God have “nerves at their fingertips” - would have been able to decide on such a sharp turn of Fate, more tragic , than happy? Probably not.
They were born on the same day - March 27, met secretly, in other cities, in hotels, went to the forest, wandered all day, spent the night in hunting lodges. And when they returned to Moscow by train, Yashin asked Veronica to get off two or three stops so that they would not be seen together. It was not possible to keep the relationship a secret. His friends condemn him, there is a real tragedy in his family. The break with Veronica Tushnova was predetermined and inevitable.
“The insoluble cannot be resolved, the incurable cannot be healed...” And judging by her poems, Veronica Tushnova could only be healed of her love by her own death. When Veronica was in the hospital in the oncology department, Alexander Yashin visited her. Mark Sobol, who had been friends with Veronica for many years, became an involuntary witness to one of these visits: “When I came to her room, I tried to cheer her up. She was indignant: no need! She was given evil antibiotics that tightened her lips and made it painful for her to smile. She looked extremely thin. Unrecognizable. And then he came! Veronica ordered us to turn to the wall while she got dressed. Soon she quietly called out: “Boys...”. I turned around and was stunned. A beauty stood before us! I will not be afraid of this word, because it is said exactly. Smiling, with glowing cheeks, a young beauty who has never known any illness. And then I felt with particular strength that everything she wrote was true. Absolute and irrefutable truth. Perhaps this is what is called poetry..."
In the last days before her death, she forbade Alexander Yashin from entering her room - she wanted him to remember her as beautiful, cheerful, and lively.
Veronika Mikhailovna was dying in severe agony. Not only from a terrible illness, but also from longing for a loved one, who finally decided to let go of bitterly sinful happiness from his hands: The poetess passed away on July 7, 1965. She was barely 50 years old. There were manuscripts left on the table: unfinished pages of a poem and a new cycle of poems...
Yashin, shocked by Tushnova’s death, published an obituary in Literaturnaya Gazeta and dedicated poetry to her - his belated insight, filled with the pain of loss. In the early 60s, on Bobrishny Ugor, near his native village of Bludnovo (Vologda region), Alexander Yashin built himself a house, where he came to work and experienced difficult moments. Three years after Veronica's death, on June 11, 1968, he also died. And also from cancer. In Ugor, according to the will, he was buried. Yashin was only fifty-five years old.
She called her feeling “a storm that I can’t cope with” and trusted its slightest shades and overflows to her poems, like diary lines. Those who read (published after the death of the poetess, in 1969!) poems inspired by this deep and surprisingly tender feeling, could not get rid of the feeling that in their palm lay “a pulsating and bloody heart, tender, trembling in the hand and tries to warm his palms with his warmth": A better comparison cannot be imagined. Maybe that’s why Tushnova’s poetry is still alive, books are republished, placed on Internet sites and Tushnova’s lines, as light as the wings of a butterfly, by the way, created “in extreme suffering and extreme happiness,” (I. Snegova) are known more than the details her complex, almost tragic biography: However, such are the Fates of almost all true Poets, it’s a sin to complain about it.
What did I refuse you, tell me?
You asked to kiss - I kissed.
You asked to lie, as you remember, and in lies
I have never refused you.
Always was the way I wanted:
I wanted to - I laughed, but I wanted to - I was silent...
But there is a limit to mental flexibility,
and there is an end to every beginning.
Blaming me alone for all my sins,
having discussed everything and thought it all over soberly,
Do you wish that I didn’t exist...
Don't worry - I've already disappeared.
Alexander Yakovlevich Popov (Yashin)
Alexander Yashin is a poet with a special gift of words. I am almost sure that the modern reader is not familiar with the work of this wonderful Russian poet. I assume that readers from the former USSR will disagree with me, and they will be right. After all, Alexander Yakovlevich created his most famous works in the period from 1928 to 1968.
The poet's life was short. A. Ya. Yashin died of cancer on July 11, 1968 in Moscow. He was only 55 years old. But the memory of him is still alive and will live on. This was partly facilitated by a poem by a “little-known” poetess, Veronika Tushnova. Little known only at first glance. The fact is that her poems were used to write such popular songs as: “You know, everything will still be!..”, “One Hundred Hours of Happiness”...
But Tushnova’s most famous poem, which immortalized her name, is "Not renounce loving" . This poem was dedicated to the poet Alexander Yashin, with whom she was in love. It is believed that the poem was written in 1944, and was originally addressed to another person. Nevertheless, it is believed that it was dedicated to Yashin at the time of separation - in 1965. It was included in a cycle of poems dedicated to their love story. Sad, happy, tragic love...
The poems became popular after the death of the poetess. It all started with a romance by Mark Minkov in 1976 in a performance at the Moscow Theater. Pushkin. And already in 1977, the poems were sung in our usual version - performed by Alla Pugacheva. The song became a hit, and the poetess Veronika Mikhailovna Tushnova gained her cherished immortality.
For decades it has enjoyed constant success among listeners. Pugacheva herself later called the song the main one in her repertoire, admitted that while performing it she burst into tears, and that a Nobel Prize could be given for this miracle.
“They do not renounce, loving” - the story of creation
Veronica's personal life did not work out. She was married twice, both marriages broke up. In the last years of her life, Veronica was in love with the poet Alexander Yashin, which had a strong influence on her lyrics.
According to testimonies, the first readers of these poems could not get rid of the feeling that in their palm lay “a pulsating and bloody heart, tender, trembling in the hand and trying to warm the palms with its warmth.”
However, Yashin did not want to leave his family (he had four children). Veronica was dying not only from illness, but also from longing for her loved one, who, after painful hesitation, decided to let go of sinful happiness. Their last meeting took place in the hospital, when Tushnova was already on her deathbed. Yashin died three years later, also from cancer.
Veronica Mikhailovna Tushnova In the spring of 1965, Veronika Mikhailovna became seriously ill and ended up in the hospital. It went away very quickly, burned out in a few months. On July 7, 1965, she died in Moscow from cancer. She was only 54 years old.
The love story of these two wonderful creative people touches and delights to this day. He is handsome and strong, already an accomplished poet and prose writer. She is an “oriental beauty” and a clever woman with an expressive face and eyes of extraordinary depth, a sensitive, wonderful poetess in the genre of love lyrics. They have a lot in common, they even had a birthday on the same day - March 27th. And they left in the same month with a difference of 3 years: she on July 7, he on the 11th.
Their story, told in verse, was read by the whole country. Soviet women in love copied them by hand in notebooks, because it was impossible to get collections of Tushnova’s poems. They were memorized, they were kept in memory and heart. They were sung. They became a lyrical diary of love and separation not only of Veronica Tushnova, but also of millions of women in love.
It is unknown where and when the two poets met. But the feelings that flared up were bright, strong, deep and, most importantly, mutual. He was torn between his suddenly revealed strong feelings for another woman, and his duty and obligations to his family. She loved and waited, like a woman, she hoped that together they could come up with something to be together forever. But at the same time, she knew that he would never leave his family.
Kislovodsk, 1965 in the editorial office of the newspaper “Caucasian Health Resort” At first, like all such stories, their relationship was secret. Rare meetings, agonizing waits, hotels, other cities, general business trips. But it was not possible to keep the relationship a secret. His friends condemn him, there is a real tragedy in his family. The break with Veronica Tushnova was predetermined and inevitable.
What to do if love came at the end of youth? What to do if life has already turned out the way it has? What to do if your loved one is not free? Forbid yourself to love? Impossible. Parting is tantamount to death. But they broke up. That's what he decided. And she had no choice but to obey.
A dark streak began in her life, a streak of despair and pain. It was then that these piercing lines were born in her suffering soul: not renounce loving… And he, handsome, strong, passionately loved, renounced. He tossed between a sense of duty and love. Sense of duty won...
Not renounce loving.
After all, life does not end tomorrow.
I'll stop waiting for you
and you will come quite suddenly.
And you will come when it is dark,
when a blizzard hits the glass,
when you remember how long ago
We didn’t warm each other.
And so you want warmth,
never loved,
that you can't wait
three people at the machine.
And, as luck would have it, it will crawl
tram, metro, I don’t know what’s there.
And the blizzard will cover the paths
on the far approaches to the gate...
And the house will be sad and quiet,
the wheeze of a meter and the rustle of a book,
when you knock on the door,
running up without a break.
You can give everything for this,
and before that I believe in it,
that it’s hard for me not to wait for you,
all day without leaving the door.
They do not renounce loving, Veronica Tushnova In the last days of the poetess’s life, Alexander Yashin, of course, visited her. Mark Sobol, who had been friends with Tushnova for many years, became an involuntary witness to one of these visits.
“When I came to her room, I tried to cheer her up. She was indignant: no need! She was given antibiotics, which made her lips tighten and made it painful for her to smile. She looked extremely thin. Unrecognizable. And then he came! Veronica ordered us to turn to the wall while she got dressed. Soon she quietly called out: “Boys...” I turned around and was stunned. A beauty stood before us! I will not be afraid of this word, because it is said exactly. Smiling, with glowing cheeks, a young beauty who has never known any illness. And then I felt with particular strength that everything she wrote was true. Absolute and irrefutable truth. Perhaps this is what is called poetry..."
After he left, she screamed in pain, tore the pillow with her teeth, and ate her lips. And she moaned: “What a misfortune happened to me - I lived my life without you.”
The book “One Hundred Hours of Happiness” was brought to her room. She stroked the pages. Fine. Part of the circulation was stolen from the printing house - this is how her poems sank into the souls of the printers.
One hundred hours of happiness... Isn't that enough?
I washed it like golden sand,
collected lovingly, tirelessly,
bit by bit, by drop, by spark, by sparkle,
created it from fog and smoke,
received gifts from every star and birch tree...
How many days did you spend chasing happiness?
on the chilled platform,
in a thundering carriage,
at the hour of departure it overtook him
at the airport,
hugged him, warmed him
in an unheated house.
She cast a spell over him, cast a spell...
It happened, it happened
that from bitter grief I gained my happiness.
This is said in vain
that you need to be born happy.
It is only necessary that the heart
I was not ashamed to work for happiness,
so that the heart is not lazy, arrogant,
so that for a little something it says “thank you.”
One hundred hours of happiness
pure, without deception...
One hundred hours of happiness!
Is this not enough?
Yashin’s wife, Zlata Konstantinovna, responded bitterly with her poems:
One hundred hours of happiness -
Neither more nor less,
Only a hundred hours - she took it and stole it,
And for show to the whole world,
To all people -
One hundred hours only, no one will judge.
Oh, this is happiness, stupid happiness -
Doors and windows and souls are wide open,
Children's tears, smiles -
All in a row:
If you want, admire it,
If you want, rob.
What stupid, stupid happiness!
To be distrustful - what did it cost him,
That he should have been careful -
It is sacred to protect the family,
As it should.
The thief turned out to be persistent and skillful:
One hundred hours just from the whole block...
It's like I hit the top of a plane
Or the water washed away the dam -
And it split, broke into pieces,
Stupid happiness collapsed to the ground.
1964
In the last days before her death, Veronika Mikhailovna forbade Alexander Yakovlevich from entering her room. She wanted her lover to remember her as beautiful and cheerful. And in parting she wrote:
I'm standing at the open door
I say goodbye, I'm leaving.
I won’t believe in anything anymore,
doesn't matter
write,
I beg!
So as not to suffer from late pity,
from which there is no escape,
write me a letter please
forward a thousand years.
Not for the future
so for the past,
for the peace of the soul,
write good things about me.
I'm already dead. Write!
Veronika Tushnova at work The famous poetess was dying in severe agony. Not only from a terrible illness, but also from longing for a loved one. At the age of 51, on July 7, 1965, Veronika Mikhailovna Tushnova passed away. After her, there were manuscripts left on the table: unfinished pages of a poem and a new cycle of poems.
Alexander Yashin was shocked by the death of his beloved woman. He published an obituary in Literaturnaya Gazeta - he wasn’t afraid - and wrote poetry:
“Now I can love”
You are nowhere from me now,
And no one has power over the soul,
Happiness is so stable
That any trouble is not a problem.
I don't expect any changes
No matter what happens to me from now on:
Everything will be like in the first year,
How it was last year, -
Our time has stopped.
And there will be no more disagreements:
Today our meetings are calm,
Only the linden trees and maples make noise...
Now I can love!
“You and I are no longer subject to jurisdiction”
You and I are no longer subject to jurisdiction,
Our case is closed
Crossed
Forgiven.
It’s not difficult for anyone because of us,
And we don’t care anymore.
Late in the evening,
Early in the morning
I don’t bother to confuse the trail,
I'm not holding my breath -
I'm coming to you on a date
In the darkness of the leaves,
Whenever I want.
Yashin realized that love had not gone away, had not escaped from the heart as ordered. Love only lay low, and after Veronica’s death it flared up with renewed vigor, but in a different capacity. It turned into melancholy, painful, bitter, ineradicable. There is no dear soul, truly dear, devoted... I remember the prophetic lines of Tushnova:
Only my life is short,
I only firmly and bitterly believe:
you didn’t like your find -
you will love the loss.
You'll fill it with red clay,
I'll drink to your peace...
You return home - it’s empty,
you leave the house - it’s empty,
you look into the heart - it’s empty,
forever and ever - empty!
Probably, these days he fully, with frightening clarity, understood the sad meaning of age-old folk wisdom: what we have, we do not value, and having lost, we cry bitterly.
1935 Tushnova on sketches After her death, Alexander Yakovlevich, during his remaining three years on earth, seemed to understand what kind of love fate had given him. (“I repent that I loved and lived timidly...”) He composed his main poems, which contain the poet’s deep repentance and a testament to readers who sometimes think that courage and recklessness in love, openness in relationships with people and the world bring only misfortunes.
Books of lyrical prose by A. Ya. Yashin from the 1960s, “I Treat You to Rowan,” or high lyricism, “The Day of Creation,” return readers to an understanding of undiminished values and eternal truths. As a testament to everyone, the lively, anxious and passionate voice of the recognized classic of Soviet poetry can be heard: “Love and hasten to do good deeds!” Mourning at the grave of a woman who became his bitter, predicted loss (Tushnova died in 1965), in 1966 he writes:
But you must be somewhere?
And not a stranger -
Mine... But which one?
Beautiful? Good? Maybe evil?..
We wouldn't miss you.
Yashin's friends recalled that after Veronica's death he walked around as if lost. A big, strong, handsome man, he somehow immediately gave up, as if the light inside that had illuminated his path had gone out. He died three years later from the same incurable disease as Veronica. Shortly before his death, Yashin wrote his “Otkhodnaya”:
Oh, how difficult it will be for me to die,
When you take a full breath, stop breathing!
I regret not leaving -
Leave,
I'm afraid of no possible meetings -
Partings.
Life lies like an uncompressed wedge at your feet.
I will never rest in peace:
I didn’t save anyone’s love before the deadline
And he responded deafly to suffering.
Did anything come true?
What to do with yourself
From the bile of regrets and reproaches?
Oh, how difficult it will be for me to die!
And no
it is forbidden
learn lessons.
They say you don't die of love. Well, maybe at the age of 14, like Romeo and Juliet. It is not true. They die. And at fifty they die. If the love is real. Millions of people mindlessly repeat the formula of love, not realizing its great tragic power: I love you, I can’t live without you... And they continue to live peacefully. But Veronica Tushnova couldn’t. I couldn't live. And she died. From cancer? Or maybe out of love?
Alla Pugacheva’s main hit “They Don’t Renounce, Loving”, in addition to the singer herself, was also performed by Alexander Gradsky, Lyudmila Artemenko, Tatyana Bulanova and Dmitry Bilan...