Анна Ахматова: Поиск по текстам произведений автора и критике. Cлово "MORE". Классическая русская литература.

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Входимость: 2. Размер: 86кб.

Часть текста: объяснить себе и воображаемому читателю литературный статус "Поэмы без героя" Ахматова обозначила свое новаторство как предельную смысловую интенсификацию стиха1. Уточним: в "Поэме без героя" информационная емкость тождественна предельной цитатности поэтической строки. Пути, на которых Ахматова в "триптихе" реализует тайную знаковость2 своего письма, способы "перечитывания" ею источников, ставших предтекстами ее стихов, - предмет дальнейших рассуждений, в результате которых обнаруженные неявные смыслы исследуемого сегмента текста организуются в единое целое и проясняют более глубокую во временном и в онтологическом плане сущность. Объектом анализа станут следующие строфы поэмы: Ты... Ровесник Мамврийского дуба, Вековой собеседник луны. Не обманут притворные стоны, Ты железные пишешь законы, Хаммураби, ликурги, солоны У тебя поучиться должны. Существо это странного нрава. Он не ждет, чтоб подагра и слава Впопыхах усадили его В юбилейные пышные кресла, А несет по цветущему вереску, По пустыням свое торжество. И ни в чем не повинен: ни в этом, Ни в другом и ни в третьем... Поэтам Вообще не пристали грехи. Проплясать пред Ковчегом Завета Или сгинуть!.. Да что там! Про это Лучше их рассказали стихи3 Текст семантически многомерен, не раз подвергался интерпретациям, и дальнейшие суждения не претендуют на исчерпывающее (если таковое вообще возможно) его истолкование. Я предлагаю...

Входимость: 2. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: He walked over fields and over village, And asked people from afar: "Where is she, where is the happy glimmer Of her eyes that are gray stars? Here the final days of spring Come along, in turbid fire. Still more frequent, still more tender Are the dreams I have of her." And he came in the dark city In the quiet evening time He was thinking then of Venice And of London all the same. At the church both tall and dark Stepped on shining stairs' granite And he prayed then of the coming Meeting with his first delight. And above the altar made of gold Flamed away the garden of God's rays: "Here she is, here is the happy glimmer Of gray joyous stars that are her eyes."

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Часть текста: We noiselessly walked through the house, Not waiting for anything. They showed me way to the sick man, And I did not recognize him. He said, "Now let God have the glory" And became more thoughtful and blue. "It's long time that I hit the road, I've only been waiting for you. So you bother me in my fever, I keep those words from you. Tell me: can you not forgive me?" And I said, "I can do." It seemed, that the walls were shining From floor to the ceiling that day. Upon the silken blanket A withered arm lay. And the thrown-over predatory profile Became horribly heavy and stark, And one could not hear the breathing Through the bitten-up lips turned dark. But suddenly the last bit of strength Came alive in the eyes of blue: "It is good that you released me, Not always kind were you." And then the face became younger, And I recognized him once more. And then I said, "Holy Father, Accept a slave of yours."

Входимость: 1. Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: Like a white stone at the bottom of the well, One memory lies in me. I cannot and I do not want to struggle, It is both joy and suffering. I think that anyone who looks into my Eyes will all at once see him. More sad and pensive he'll become That heard the story of this suffering. I know that the gods had turned People to objects, without killing mind, That divine sadness lived eternally. You're turned into my memory, I find.

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Часть текста: Just like a cold noreaster At first she'll sting, And then a single salty tear The heart will wring. The evil heart will pity Something and then regret. But this light-headed sadness It will not forget. I only sow. To harvest. Others will come. And yes! The lovely group of harvesters May true God bless. And that more perfectly I could Give to you gratitude, Allow me to give the world Love incorruptible.

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Часть текста: I have ceased and desisted from smiling The frosty wind chills lips - say so long To one hope of which will be lesser, Instead there will be one more song. And this song, without my volition, I will give out for laughter and parable, For this that the silence of love Is to me simply unbearable.

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Часть текста: I dream less of him, dear God be gloried, Does not shimmer everywhere any more. Fog has fallen on the whitened road, Shadows run over water to the shore. And all day the ringing did not quiet Over the expanse of ploughed up soil, Here most powerfully from Jonah Distant Laurel belltowers do recoil. I am trimming on the lilac bushes Branches, that are now in full flower; Ramparts of the ancient fortifying Two old monks are slowly walking over. Dear world, understood and corporeal, For me, one unseeing, set alive. Heal this soul of mine, the King of Heaven, With the icy comfort of not love.

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Часть текста: Instead of wisdom - experience, bare, That does not slake thirst, is not wet. Youth's gone - like a Sunday prayer.. Is it mine to forget? On how many desert roads have searched I With him who wasn't dear for me, How many bows gave in church I For him, who had well loved me. I've become more oblivious than inviting, Quietly years swim. Lips unkissed, eyes unsmiling - Nothing will give me back him.

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Часть текста: I will lead a man to dear one - I don't want the little joy - And I'll quietly lay to sleep The glad, tired little boy. In a chilly room once more I will pray to Mother of God, It is hard to be a hermit, To be happy is also hard. Only fiery sleep will come to me, I'll enter a temple on the hill, Five-domed, white, and stone-hewn, On the paths remembered well.

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Часть текста: The spring was still mysteriously swooning, Across the hills wandered transparent wind And the deep lake was growing blue among us - A temple forged and kept not by mankind. You were affrighted of our first encounter, And prayed already for the second one, And now today once more is the hot evening - How low over the mountain dropped the sun.. You aren't with me, but this is not a parting: For me triumphant news is in each moment. I know that you can't even pronounce a word For so complete within you is the torment.

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "MORE"

Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "MORE"