Confused by memories,
Filled with sweet melancholy
The gardens are beautiful, under the dusk your sacred
I enter with my head hanging down.
So the boy of the Bible, crazy spendthrift,
Having exhausted the vial of repentance to the last drop,
Having finally seen my native monastery,
He hung his head and began to sob.
In the heat of fleeting delights,
In a barren whirlwind of vanity,
Oh, I have squandered many treasures of my heart
For unattainable dreams,
And for a long time I wandered, and often, tired,
With repentance of grief, anticipating troubles,
I thought about you, blessed limit,
I imagined these gardens.
I imagine a happy day
When the lyceum arose among you,
And I hear our games again, the playful noise
And I see my family of friends again.
Once again a gentle youth, now ardent, now lazy,
Vague dreams melt in my chest,
Wandering through meadows, through silent groves,
So I forget myself.
And in reality I see before me
Proud traces of days gone by.
Still completed great wife,
Her favorite gardens
They are inhabited by palaces, gates,
Pillars, towers, idols of the gods
And marble glory, and copper praises
Catherine's Eagles.
The ghosts of heroes sit down
At the pillars dedicated to them,
Look: here is a hero, a constrainer of military formations,
Perun on the Kagul shores.
Behold, here is the mighty leader of the midnight flag,
Before whom the fire of the seas swam and flew.
Here is his faithful brother, hero of the Archipelago,
Here is Hannibal of Navarino.
Among the holy memories
I grew up here since childhood,
Meanwhile, the stream of people's war is deafening
He was already raging and grumbling.
The motherland was embraced by bloody concern,
Russia has moved and they are flying past us
And the horse clouds, the bearded infantry,
And a bright row of guns.
They looked enviously at the young warriors,
We greedily caught the distant sound of scolding,
And, indignantly, we cursed childhood,
And the strict bonds of science.
And many didn't come. At the sound of new songs
The glorious ones rested in the fields of Borodin,
On the Kulma Heights, in the harsh forests of Lithuania,
Near Montmartre.
Pushkin, 1829
Written in the same stanza as the poem of the same name from 1814. Memories in the new poem are mainly devoted to Patriotic War 1812, troops and militia passing through Tsarskoe Selo ( bearded infantry).
Bible Boy - prodigal son, who, according to the biblical story, left his parents' home, but, after spending a number of years in a vicious life, returned to his native roof with repentance.
Perun Kagul shores- gr. P. A. Rumyantsov-Zadunaisky.
Mighty Chieftain of the Midnight Flag- gr. A. G. Orlov-Chesmensky.
Navarino Hannibal- I. A. Hannibal.
The poem is published from an unfinished, copiously corrected draft. In the quickly written last stanzas there are unfinished and presumably readable words; in the sixth stanza: “ since childhood», « raged», « Fatherland», « flying"; in the next half-stanza: “ And we and childhood are indignant"; in the penultimate verse: “ Lithuania».
“Memories in Tsarskoe Selo” Alexander Pushkin
Confused by memories,
Filled with sweet melancholy
The gardens are beautiful, under the dusk your sacred
I enter with my head hanging down.
So the boy of the Bible, crazy spendthrift,
Having exhausted the vial of repentance to the last drop,
Having finally seen my native monastery,
He hung his head and began to sob.In the heat of fleeting delights,
In a barren whirlwind of vanity,
Oh, I have squandered many treasures of my heart
For unattainable dreams,
And for a long time I wandered, and often, tired,
With repentance of grief, anticipating troubles,
I thought about you, blessed limit,
I imagined these gardens.I imagine a happy day
When the lyceum arose among you,
And I hear our games again, the playful noise
And I see my family of friends again.
Once again a gentle youth, now ardent, now lazy,
Vague dreams melt in my chest,
Wandering through meadows, through silent groves,
So I forget myself.And in reality I see before me
Proud traces of days gone by.
Still filled with a great wife,
Her favorite gardens
They are inhabited by palaces, gates,
Pillars, towers, idols of the gods
And marble glory, and copper praises
Catherine's Eagles.The ghosts of heroes sit down
At the pillars dedicated to them,
Look; here is a hero, a constrainer of military formations,
Perun on the Kagul shores.
Behold, here is the mighty leader of the midnight flag,
Before whom the fire of the seas swam and flew.
Here is his faithful brother, the hero of the Archipelago,
Here is Hannibal of Navarino.Among the holy memories
I grew up here since childhood,
Meanwhile, the stream of people's war is deafening
He was already raging and grumbling.
The motherland was embraced by bloody concern,
Russia has moved and they are flying past us
And the horse clouds, the bearded infantry,
And a bright row of copper cannons.
______________They looked at the young warriors,
We caught the distant sound of swearing
And childhood summers and... . . . . cursed
And the strict bonds of science.
And many didn't come. At the sound of new songs
The glorious ones rested in the fields of Borodin,
On the Kulma heights, in the harsh forests of Lithuania,
Near Montmartre. . . . . .
Analysis of Pushkin’s poem “Memories in Tsarskoe Selo”
"Memories in Tsarskoe Selo" - the most famous poem Pushkin from those written during his studies at the Lyceum. It was created between October and November 1814 and was intended to be read at a public examination held in early January 1815. It was attended by Gabriel Romanovich Derzhavin, who at that time was more than seventy years old. One of the greatest Russian poets of the eighteenth century was delighted with “Memoirs in Tsarskoe Selo”. After the exam, he said that Pushkin was the poet who would replace him. Positive reaction Gabriel Romanovich made a strong impression on Alexander Sergeevich. The now textbook story is described in “Eugene Onegin”:
Old man Derzhavin noticed us,
And, going into the grave, he blessed.
The poem combines the features of ode and elegy. The lyrical hero tells readers about famous monuments Tsarskoe Selo, which he was lucky enough to admire for several years. Among them is the Chesma Column, symbolizing the power of the Russian fleet and erected in honor of the victory in the battle in Chesma Bay. It happened in 1770 and determined the outcome Russian-Turkish war. From glorious years Catherine's reign Great hero moves to the recent past. It tells about the main stages of the Patriotic War, including the burning of Moscow and the Battle of Borodino, and the victorious march of the Russian army across the expanses of Europe to Paris. The liberation of the Old World from Napoleon is presented as deliverance from the “scourge of the universe.” The poem ends with an appeal to Zhukovsky, called the “skald of Russia.” His lyrical hero calls to glorify new victories of his native country.
The work “Memories in Tsarskoe Selo” bears the hallmarks of classicism. It is written in a solemn style. At the same time, Pushkin often uses archaisms. Talking about the Patriotic War, the poet mentions the ringing of swords and chain mail. Neither one nor the other was used in the nineteenth century. The music of the battles of that time was the roar of artillery. Alexander Sergeevich is guided not only by classic examples. Sentimental and romantic features are also visible in the poem. Most shining example- landscape at the beginning of “Memoirs in Tsarskoe Selo”. Of course, the text in question is largely imitative in nature. Pushkin tried to take the best from the poets of the older generation and, based on their works, develop an individual style.
Confused by memories,
Filled with sweet melancholy
The gardens are beautiful, under the dusk your sacred
I enter with my head hanging down.
So the boy of the Bible, crazy spendthrift,
Having exhausted the vial of repentance to the last drop,
Having finally seen my native monastery,
He hung his head and began to sob.
In the heat of fleeting delights,
In a barren whirlwind of vanity,
Oh, I have squandered many treasures of my heart
For unattainable dreams,
And for a long time I wandered, and often, tired,
With repentance of grief, anticipating troubles,
I thought about you, blessed limit,
I imagined these gardens.
I imagine a happy day
When the lyceum arose among you,
And I hear our games again, the playful noise
And I see my family of friends again.
Once again a gentle youth, now ardent, now lazy,
Vague dreams melt in my chest,
Wandering through meadows, through silent groves,
So I forget myself.
And in reality I see before me
Proud traces of days gone by.
Still filled with a great wife,
Her favorite gardens
They are inhabited by palaces, gates,
Pillars, towers, idols of the gods
And marble glory, and copper praises
Catherine's Eagles.
The ghosts of heroes sit down
At the pillars dedicated to them,
Look: here is a hero, a constrainer of military formations,
Perun on the Kagul shores.
Behold, here is the mighty leader of the midnight flag,
Before whom the fire of the seas swam and flew.
Here is his faithful brother, the hero of the Archipelago,
Here is Hannibal of Navarino.
Among the holy memories
I grew up here since childhood,
Meanwhile, the stream of people's war is deafening
He was already raging and grumbling.
The motherland was embraced by bloody concern,
Russia has moved and they are flying past us
And the horse clouds, the bearded infantry,
And a bright row of guns.
_ _ _ _ _
They looked enviously at the young warriors,
We greedily caught the distant sound of scolding,
And, indignantly, we cursed childhood,
And the strict bonds of science.
_ _ _ _ _
And many didn't come. At the sound of new songs
The glorious ones rested in the fields of Borodin,
On the Kulma Heights, in the harsh forests of Lithuania,
Near Montmartre.
(A.S. Pushkin. Poem. 1829)
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