I do not regret, do not call, do not cry,
Everything will pass like smoke from white apple trees.
Withered in gold,
I won't be young anymore.
Now you won't fight so much,
A heart touched by a chill,
And the country of birch chintz
It won't tempt you to wander around barefoot.
The wandering spirit! you are less and less often
You stir up the flame of your lips
Oh my lost freshness
A riot of eyes and a flood of feelings!
I have now become more stingy in my desires,
My life, did I dream about you?
As if I were a booming early spring
He rode on a pink horse.
All of us, all of us in this world are perishable,
Copper quietly pours from the maple leaves...
May you be blessed forever,
What has come to flourish and die.
Analysis of the poem “I don’t regret, I don’t call, I don’t cry” by Yesenin
By the beginning of the 20s. In Yesenin’s work, philosophical reflections about the meaning of one’s own life begin to appear, longing for an irrevocably past youth, wasted. The poet had already experienced serious suffering and failure; he was a direct witness to the turbulent events of Russian history. An unsuccessful marriage with Z. Reich remained in the past. Yesenin's relations with the Soviet authorities are not going well. The young poet thinks seriously about inevitable death.
Few people know that the poem “I don’t regret, I don’t call, I don’t cry” (1921) was written by Yesenin under the impression of the lyrical introduction to the sixth chapter of “Dead Souls”. The poet admitted that positive responses to the work should be equally attributed to both.
The poem is imbued with a sad mood. At only 26 years old, Yesenin feels that his youth is gone forever. Youthful dreams and hopes will never be repeated. Life becomes a slow “withering away”. The author understands that his feelings and desires have lost their strength and sharpness. He feels that less and less often the “vagrant spirit” forces him to commit rash acts, which, although they cause trouble, allow him to live a full, rich life.
The past years have flashed by very quickly, they are like a fleeting dream. Now nothing can be changed or corrected.
At the end of the poem, Yesenin moves on to a specific reflection on death. If earlier she seemed to him like something distant, having nothing to do with him, now her silhouette emerges more and more clearly every year. The poet understands that fame and fame will not save him from the inevitable end, before which everyone is equal. The last lines are still more optimistic: Yesenin blesses the higher powers that allowed him to come into this world “to flourish and die.”
The deeply philosophical work contains a large number of expressive means. The poet emphasizes his sad mood with epithets: “lost”, “perishable”. The metaphors used are very touching and original: “white apple trees smoke”, “land of birch chintz”, etc. The author compares his carefree youth with a race “on a pink horse”. In the finale, Yesenin gives a lexical construction of stunning beauty: the slow fading of human life is copper pouring “from the maple leaves.”
The verse “I don’t regret, I don’t call, I don’t cry” is an example of Yesenin’s philosophical lyrics. This is one of the first poems in which the poet is seen to hint at the possibility of suicide.
Read by R. Kleiner
S. Yesenin.
Sergei Klychkov.
I do not regret, do not call, do not cry.
Everything will pass like smoke from white apple trees.
Withered by gold covered,
I won't be young anymore.
Now you won't fight so much,
A heart touched by a chill,
And to the land of birch chintz
You won't be tempted to wander around barefoot.
Wandering spirit, you are less and less often
You stir up the flame of your lips -
Oh my lost freshness
A riot of eyes and a flood of feelings!
I have now become more stingy in my desires.
My life, or did I dream about you,
As if I were in the spring, echoing early
He rode on a pink horse.
All of us, all of us in this world are perishable,
Copper quietly pours from the maple leaves -
May you be blessed forever,
What has come to flourish and die!
Read by R. Kleiner
Sergei Antonovich Klychkov (village nickname of the family, sometimes used as a pseudonym - Leshenkov; July 1 (13), 1889, Dubrovki, Tver province - October 8, 1937) - Russian and Soviet poet, prose writer and translator.
Yesenin Sergei Alexandrovich (1895-1925)
Yesenin was born into a peasant family. From 1904 to 1912 he studied at the Konstantinovsky Zemstvo School and at the Spas-Klepikovsky School. During this time, he wrote more than 30 poems and compiled a handwritten collection “Sick Thoughts” (1912), which he tried to publish in Ryazan. The Russian village, the nature of central Russia, oral folk art, and most importantly, Russian classical literature had a strong influence on the formation of the young poet and guided his natural talent. Yesenin himself at different times named different sources that fed his work: songs, ditties, fairy tales, spiritual poems, “The Tale of Igor’s Campaign,” the poetry of Lermontov, Koltsov, Nikitin and Nadson. Later he was influenced by Blok, Klyuev, Bely, Gogol, Pushkin.
From Yesenin's letters from 1911 to 1913, the complex life of the poet emerges. All this was reflected in the poetic world of his lyrics from 1910 to 1913, when he wrote more than 60 poems and poems. Yesenin's most significant works, which brought him fame as one of the best poets, were created in the 1920s.
Like any great poet, Yesenin is not a thoughtless singer of his feelings and experiences, but a poet and philosopher. Like all poetry, his lyrics are philosophical. Philosophical lyrics are poems in which the poet talks about the eternal problems of human existence, conducts a poetic dialogue with man, nature, earth, and the Universe. An example of the complete interpenetration of nature and man is the poem “Green Hairstyle” (1918). One develops in two planes: the birch tree - the girl. The reader will never know who this poem is about - a birch tree or a girl. Because the person here is likened to a tree - the beauty of the Russian forest, and she is like a person. The birch tree in Russian poetry is a symbol of beauty, harmony, and youth; she is bright and chaste.
The poetry of nature and the mythology of the ancient Slavs permeate such poems of 1918 as “Silver Road...”, “Songs, songs, what are you shouting about?”, “I left my home...”, “Golden leaves swirled...” etc.
Yesenin's poetry of the last, most tragic years (1922 - 1925) is marked by a desire for a harmonious worldview. Most often in the lyrics one feels a deep understanding of oneself and the Universe (“I don’t regret, I don’t call, I don’t cry...”, “The golden grove dissuaded...”, “Now we are leaving little by little...”, etc.)
The poem of values in Yesenin’s poetry is one and indivisible; everything in it is interconnected, everything forms a single picture of the “beloved homeland” in all the variety of its shades. This is the highest ideal of the poet.
Having passed away at the age of 30, Yesenin left us a wonderful poetic legacy, and as long as the earth lives, Yesenin the poet is destined to live with us and “sing with all his being in the poet the sixth part of the earth with the short name “Rus”.
Sergei Yesenin lived a very short, but extremely bright, eventful life. A rebel in essence, a woman-lover and a dashing tavern regular, full of drunken fun, a bully and rowdy, disliked by the authorities. It would seem that his whole life for ordinary people was clear and simple, at a glance. But which of them knew the soul of the poet? Who knew what thoughts, what depth of emotions, what despair and what love tormented the poet.
The elegy “I don’t regret, I don’t call, I don’t cry” is a poem about the transience of life, about the longing for a life lived, filled with universal loneliness among multi-billion-dollar humanity.
“I don’t regret, I don’t call, I don’t cry” Sergei Yesenin wrote in 1921, at a time when he was traveling abroad with his second wife, Isadora Duncan. And in him a piercing note sounds the longing for the lost love that he once felt for this incredible woman, and the disappointment that he has nothing more to dream about. It often happens that a dream inspires only as long as it remains a dream. Once a dream becomes reality, it dies. This happened with Yesenin. Dreams of fame, dreams of recognition of his talent, dreams of this woman whom he idolized in Moscow came true. And she died. The poet does not regret anything. But aspirations and aspirations are no longer in his heart. Only the past lives in it - illusory, like the fog of a summer morning, as a reminder of the fleetingness and frailty of human life. Their worlds with the woman they once adored no longer coincide. The text of the poem is presented in full on our website.
I do not regret, do not call, do not cry,
Everything will pass like smoke from white apple trees.
Withered in gold,
I won't be young anymore.
Now you won't fight so much,
A heart touched by a chill,
And the country of birch chintz
It won't tempt you to wander around barefoot.
The wandering spirit! you are less and less often
You stir up the flame of your lips
Oh my lost freshness
A riot of eyes and a flood of feelings!
I have now become more stingy in my desires,
My life, did I dream about you?
As if I were a booming early spring
He rode on a pink horse.
All of us, all of us in this world are perishable,
Copper quietly pours from the maple leaves...
May you be blessed forever,
What has come to flourish and die.
“I don’t regret, I don’t call, I don’t cry...” Sergei Yesenin
I do not regret, do not call, do not cry,
Everything will pass like smoke from white apple trees.
Withered in gold,
I won't be young anymore.Now you won't fight so much,
A heart touched by a chill,
And the country of birch chintz
It won't tempt you to wander around barefoot.The wandering spirit! you are less and less often
You stir up the flame of your lips
Oh my lost freshness,
A riot of eyes and a flood of feelings.I have now become more stingy in my desires,
My life? or did I dream about you?
As if I were a booming early spring
He rode on a pink horse.All of us, all of us in this world are perishable,
Copper quietly pours from the maple leaves...
May you be blessed forever,
What has come to flourish and die.
Analysis of Yesenin’s poem “I don’t regret, I don’t call, I don’t cry...”
The poet Sergei Yesenin rarely addressed philosophical themes in his lyrical works, believing that discussions about life and death are not an important aspect of literary creativity. However, in 1921, he wrote a surprisingly subtle and sublime poem “I do not regret, I do not call, I do not cry ...”, in which he analyzes his creative and life path, admitting that it is close to completion.
This work, which many literary scholars consider a worthy epigraph to the poet’s work, was written by Sergei Yesenin at the age of 26. It would seem that there is no reason to think about life at an age when most people are just beginning to feel its taste and charm. However, it should be borne in mind that Yesenin never belonged to the majority, and his spiritual development was far ahead of his years. In fact, he lived several lives in parallel - a poet, a citizen, a drunkard and a rowdy. Therefore, by the time of writing the poem “I don’t regret, I don’t call, I don’t cry...” in spiritual terms, I could pretend not to be the role of a young man who is just beginning to reap the first fruits of success, but to a gray-haired old man, for whom the time has come to take stock of his life.
The poem begins with a line in which the poet declares that he has no regrets. However, it also refutes itself, since this work is permeated with sadness and the awareness that the author does not have the opportunity to correct his own mistakes and change anything. He does not blame himself or others for this, but only states the fact that “withered by gold, I will no longer be young.” This phrase can be interpreted in different ways. However, most likely, the poet meant that the time to change something in his life has already passed. Despite his obvious youth, by this moment Sergei Yesenin is already quite famous, and therefore accomplished. He knew the taste of fame and the pain of disappointment. And, having gone through difficult life trials, by his own admission, “he became more stingy in his desires.”
In his perception of life, the poet came very close to Lermontov’s hero Pechorin, in whose soul indifference and cynicism are intertwined with meaningless nobility. “Now you won’t beat so much, heart touched by a chill,” this phrase by Sergei Yesenin eloquently indicates that the poet was disappointed in many aspects of life, including creativity, the ability to enthusiastically perceive the world around him and adore women. The author notes that even the spirit of a tramp, inherent in him from birth, less and less often forces its owner to perform actions worthy of a true poet. Looking back at his short life, Yesenin is in some bewilderment and confusion, believing that it is more reminiscent of a dream or a mirage through which he “galloped on a pink horse.” And it is precisely this half-forgotten feeling, which the poet is no longer able to return, that forces him to look at his own life in a new way, claiming that his youth is over, and with it gone that amazing feeling of happiness and carefreeness, when Yesenin belonged to himself and was free do as he sees fit.
No, the poet is not oppressed by the obligations and conventions of society. Moreover, he is well aware that “we are all perishable in this world.” And the understanding of this simple truth forces the author to thank the Creator for the fact that he was granted to “thrive and die.” The last phrase of the poem not only indicates that Yesenin is grateful to fate for everything, and, if there was such an opportunity, he would have lived his life in exactly the same way. The final line of the poem sounds like a premonition of imminent death, which turned out to be prophetic. 4 years later he would be found hanged in a room at the Leningrad Angleterre Hotel, and his death is still shrouded in mystery.