Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "CROSS"

1. Жолковский А.: Структура и цитация. К интертекстуальной технике Ахматовой

Входимость: 2. Размер: 23кб.

2. * * * (Black road wove ahead of me)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

3. * * * (Ancient city is as if dead)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

4. * * * (When with a strong but tired hand)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 3кб.

5. * * * (Where is your gypsy boy, tall one)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

6. Escape

Входимость: 1. Размер: 3кб.

7. * * * (To say goodbye we don't know)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

8. * * * (I will quietly in the churchyard)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

1. Жолковский А.: Структура и цитация. К интертекстуальной технике Ахматовой

Входимость: 2. Размер: 23кб.

Часть текста: к текстам, сколько к биографии предшественника, другая — не столько к содержанию текстов, сколько к их структурной организации. Разумеется, чистые случаи редки, крайности часто выступают в комбинации с "нормальной" цитацией и друг с другом. 1. Биографическая интертекстуальность: "Пушкин" Пушкин, "Отрок". Примером биографического интертекста может служить пушкинский "Отрок": Невод рыбак расстилал по брегу студеного моря; Мальчик отцу помогал. Отрок, оставь рыбака! Мрежи иные тебя ожидают, иные заботы: Будешь умы уловлять, будешь помощник царям. 1830 Без знакомства с биографическим мифом Ломоносова стихотворение теряет добрую половину своего эффекта, состоящего во взаимном наложении двух текстов: евангельского (обещания Христа сделать рыбаков Симеона и Андрея ловцами человеков, Марк, 1:16) и историко-биографического (превращения сына помора в гения российской культуры). Дополнительный эффект в том же биографическом ключе — сама дата под стихотворением. Оно написано в столетнюю годовщину изображаемого события: Ломоносов оставил отца-рыбака и прибыл в Москву в 1730 г. Но Пушкин не ограничился ‘жизнью’ Ломоносова и распространил интертекстуальную игру на его...

2. * * * (Black road wove ahead of me)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: Black road wove ahead of me, Drizzling rain fell, To accompany me Someone asked for a spell. I agreed, but I forgot To see him in light of day, And then it was strange To remember the way. Like incense of thousand censers Flowed the fog And the companion bothered The heart with a song. Ancient gates I remember And the end of the way - There the man who went with me "Forgive," did say. He gave me a copper cross Like my brother very own And everywhere I hear the sound Of the steppe song. Here I am at home like home - I cry and I am in rue Answer to me, my stranger, I am looking for you!

3. * * * (Ancient city is as if dead)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: Ancient city is as if dead, Strange's my coming here. Vladimir has raised a black cross Over the river. Noisy elm trees, noisy lindens In the gardens dark, Raised to God, the needle-bearing Stars' bright diamond sparks. Sacrificial and glorious Way, I am ending here, With me is but you, my equal, And my love so dear.

4. * * * (When with a strong but tired hand)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 3кб.

Часть текста: When with a strong but tired hand In dreary capital of nation Upon the whiteness of the page I did record my recantations, And wind into the window round Poured in a wet and silent stream The sky was burning, burning bright With smoky dawn, it so did seem. I did not look at the Nieva, The dawn-drenched granite did not view, And it appeared that that I, awake, my Unforgettable, saw you.. But then the unexpected night Covered the before-autumn town, That, so as to assist my flight, The ashen shadows melted down. I only took with me the cross, That you had given on day of treason That wormwood steppe should be in bloom And winds, like sirens, sing in season. And here upon an empty wall He keeps me from the broodings dour And I don't fear to recall Anything - even the final hour.

5. * * * (Where is your gypsy boy, tall one)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: "Where is your gypsy boy, tall one, That over black kerchief did weep, Where is your small first child What memory of him do you keep?" "Mother's role is a sweet torture, I was not worthy of it. The gate dissolved into white heaven, Magdalene took the kid. "Each day for me is happy and jolly, I got lost in a too-long spring, Only arms pine away for a burden Only his cries in my sleep ring. "The heart will be restless and weary And no memory cross my mind, I still wander in rooms dark and bleary And his crib still attempt to find."

6. Escape

Входимость: 1. Размер: 3кб.

Часть текста: "My dear, if we could only Reach all the way to the seas" "Be quiet" and descended the stairs Losing breath and looking for keys. Past the buildings, where sometime We danced and had fun and drank wine Past the white columns of Senate Where it's dark, dark again. "What are you doing, you madman!" "No, I am only in love with thee! This evening is wide and noisy, Ship will have lots of fun at the sea!" Horror tightly clutches the throat, Shuttle took us at dusk on our turn.. The tough smell of ocean tightrope Inside trembling nostrils did burn. "Say, you most probably know: I don't sleep? Thus in sleep it can be" Only oars splashed in measured manner Over Nieva's waves heavy. And the black sky began to get lighter, Someone called from the bridge to us, As with both hands I was clutching On my chest the rim of the cross. On your arms, as I lost all my power, Like a little girl you carried me, That on deck of a yacht alabaster Incorruptible day's light we'd meet.

7. * * * (To say goodbye we don't know)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: To say goodbye we don't know - It's already nearing night, We are walking shoulder to shoulder, You are pensive and I am quiet We'll walk into church, we'll witness The singing, the wedding, the cross, Not seeing each other, we'll exit.. Why are things not working for us? Or we'll sit on the pressed-down snow In a cemetery, lightly sigh, And you with your stick paint the palace Where together we'll be for all time.

8. * * * (I will quietly in the churchyard)

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: I will quietly in the churchyard Sleep on wooden boards in the sun, On the Sunday as guest to mother You will come, my dear one - Through the river over the mountain Can't catch up to grown ones From afar, the sharp-eyed fellow, This my cross you'll recognize. I know, dear one, very little Can you now recall of me: Did not scold you, did not fawn you, Did not hold the cup to thee.