Tyutchev's love lyrics. Beautiful poems of Fyodor Tyutchev about love The most famous collection about love Tyutchev

Love lyrics Tyutchev

Plan

1. Introduction

2.Muses of the poet

3.Features

Tyutchev's love poetry has significantly enriched Russian literature. An admirer of "pure" art in life was an ordinary person who was characterized by mistakes and hobbies. Tyutchev had serious affairs with several women.

The poet was married twice, but his family and children could not force him to give up his secret "civil" life. Someone may consider the two main misfortunes of Tyutchev a divine punishment. His first wife died a tragic death.

The poet's most serious romance with L. Denisieva also ended with the death of his beloved at an early age. These losses introduced the motives of sadness and longing into the poet's love lyrics.

The poet felt his first strong love for Amalia von Lerchenfeld during his stay in Munich. Tyutchev made an offer, but received a decisive refusal from the girl's parents. During Tyutchev's short departure from Munich, the family married Amalia. At the beginning of his courtship, the poet dedicated to Amalia the poem "Your sweet look, full of innocent passion ...", which is a declaration of love.

Much later, he recalled this in the work "I remember the golden time ...". Amalia is also dedicated to the poem “K. B. ", which became a widely popular romance" I met you ... ". Tyutchev's first wife was a young widow with three children - Eleanor Peterson. Eleanor was a fragile woman with a sensitive soul. She was very upset by the news of her husband's betrayal with Ernestina Dernberg. Nervous exhaustion had a significant impact on her health. An elementary cold dealt the last blow to the poor woman. Eleanor left the poet two more daughters and a son.

There are two known works of the poet, posthumously dedicated to Eleanor: "I am still languishing with longing for desires ..." and "In the hours when it happens ...". Soon after the death of his wife, Tyutchev married his longtime lover, Ernestina Dernberg. The happy marriage lasted a long time, until Tyutchev experienced a new hobby. Ernestina knew perfectly well about her husband's betrayal, but forgave him for the sake of the children. Love for Ernestine became a rich source of inspiration for the poet. Such wonderful poems are dedicated to her as "I love your eyes, my friend ...", "She was sitting on the floor ..." and others.

The most popular poems of Tyutchev were works dedicated to the poet's last hobby - E. A. Denisieva. She was much younger than Tyutchev, but loved him with incredible self-sacrifice. She was despised and openly laughed at at the position of a mistress. Such a life became the cause of rapidly progressing consumption. Denisieva died at the age of 40. The result of the novel was the "Denisievsky cycle" of poems, including "Oh, how destructively we love", "More than once have you heard the confession ...", "There is no day that the soul does not ache ..." and others. Shortly before his death, Tyutchev summed up his love relationship by writing a poem "Everything was taken from me by the executing God ...". He dedicated it to his most faithful friend in life - Ernestine Dernberg.

The main distinguishing feature of Tyutchev's works about love was their special soulfulness. The poet was an "incorrigible" romantic. His poems are very chaste, they do not mention gross everyday trifles. Tyutchev admires the magical feeling of love. He compares his relationship with women to worshiping a deity. The dedications of the beloved are very pure and full of solemn phrases. In the "Denisievsky" cycle, tragic motives appear.

"Illegal" love left its mark on Tyutchev's work. He described what he experienced himself. Great feeling was combined with hopelessness, romance - with misunderstanding and rejection of society, tender relationships - with the inability to be together. Tyutchev's love lyrics became an example of Russian poetic classics. It reflects the innermost movements of the human soul in both happiness and suffering.

Fedor Tyutchev and Elena Denisieva.

Denisiev's cycle is called the most lyrical and poignant in the work of Fyodor Tyutchev. The addressee of these poems is the poet's muse and last love, Elena Denisieva. For the sake of love for Tyutchev, she sacrificed everything: her social status, the location of her family, the respect of others. Their relationship lasted 14 long years. They were sweet and painful at the same time.

Portrait of Elena Aleksandrovna Denisieva.

Elena Aleksandrovna Denisieva came from an old but impoverished noble family. Her mother passed away when Elena was still a child. After some time, the father married again, but the stepmother did not like the rebellious stepdaughter too much. Therefore, the girl was urgently sent to St. Petersburg to be raised by her father's sister Anna Dmitrievna Denisyeva. She was in the position of inspector of the Smolny Institute. This position allowed her aunt to get her niece to study at the Institute for Noble Maidens.

Anna Dmitrievna, usually strict with her pupils, doted on Elena and pampered her. She bought clothes for her niece, took her out into the world. The young beauty with ideal manners was noticed by both over-aged secular lions and ardent youths.

Elena Denisieva is the last love of Fedor Tyutchev.

Years of study at Smolny allowed Elena Aleksandrovna to master the art of court etiquette, to speak without an accent in German and French and acquire other skills necessary for the pupils. The girl was in for a completely successful arrangement of her fate: after graduating from the Smolny Institute, she was supposed to become a maid of honor at the imperial court, if not for a big scandal that erupted right before Denisieva's release.

Ernestina Tyutcheva, wife of Fyodor Tyutchev. F. Durk, 1840

The daughters of Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev studied in the same class with Elena Alexandrovna, so Denisieva was a frequent guest in his house. The poet's daughters came with a girlfriend to home tea parties. Gradually, Tyutchev began to pay more attention to the girl than etiquette demanded. The poet's wife saw him caring for the young beauty, but did not give it of great importance... Ernestina Fyodorovna, mindful of her husband's past intrigues with aristocrats, considered that his affection for an orphan girl did not pose any threat.

Elena Denisieva with her daughter.

In March 1851, just before graduation from Smolny and subsequent distribution to future posts, an incredible scandal erupted. It turned out that Denisiev's pupil was pregnant and would soon give birth. The director arranged surveillance for Elena Alexandrovna and found out that she had secretly met with Fyodor Tyutchev in a rented apartment not far from the Smolny Institute. Denisieva gave birth in May of the same year.

Auntie was immediately expelled from her place of work, however, having appointed a generous pension, and almost everyone turned their backs on Elena. The father cursed her and forbade her relatives to communicate with her daughter. Only the aunt supported her niece and took her to live with her.

Fedor Ivanovich Tyutchev is a Russian poet.

Then Denisieva was 25 years old, and Tyutchev - 47. For him, the young and stately Elena Alexandrovna was a muse, an all-consuming passion. Their painful relationship lasted fourteen years.

Tyutchev was not going to dissolve the official marriage, but he was not able to part with his beloved either. They had three children. Elena Alexandrovna forgave Tyutchev both infrequent parishes and life for two families. When the children asked why dad was practically not at home, the woman lied that he had too much work.

Only a few weeks a year abroad, Elena Aleksandrovna was truly happy. After all, no one there knew her history, and when she checked into the hotel, she decisively called herself Madame Tyutcheva.

Elena Denisieva is the muse and mistress of the poet Fyodor Tyutchev.

In Russia, Denisyeva again had to put up with the position of a half-married, half-lover. She perfectly understood that she was engaged in self-flagellation, but she could not help herself, because she loved the poet too much.

And yet, sometimes this submissive woman could not stand it and showed her temper. When she announced that she was pregnant for the third time, Fyodor Ivanovich tried to dissuade her from giving birth. Then Denisyeva flew into a rage, grabbed the statuette from the table and threw it with all her might at Tyutchev. She did not hit him, but only beat off the corner of the fireplace.

Their painful relationship would have continued, but in 1864 Elena Denisyeva suddenly died of tuberculosis. Tyutchev was inconsolable.

All day she lay in oblivion -
And all of her already covered with shadows -
Warm summer rain poured - its streams
The leaves sounded merrily.
And slowly she came to her senses -
And I began to listen to the noise
And listened for a long time - carried away,
Immersed in conscious thought ...
And now, as if talking to myself,
Deliberately, she said:
(I was with her, killed, but alive)
"Oh, how I loved it all!"
You loved, and like you, love -
t, no one has yet succeeded -
Oh Lord! .. and survive this ...
And my heart did not break to shreds ...


Still from the movie "Tyutchev's Last Love" (2003)

After the death of his beloved Tyutchev wrote to his friend: "... The memory of her is that the feeling of hunger in the hungry, insatiably hungry. Can't live, my friend Alexander Ivanovich, can't live ... The wound festers, does not heal. Be it cowardice. Only with her and for her I was a person, only in her love, her boundless love for me, I was conscious of myself ... Now I am something senseless living, some kind of living, painful insignificance It may also be that in some years nature in a person loses its healing power, that life loses its ability to revive, resume. All this can be; but believe me, my friend Alexander Ivanovich, he is only able to assess my position, which of one thousand and one had a terrible lot - to live fourteen years in a row, hourly, every minute, with such love as her love, and experience it.

[…] I am ready to accuse myself of ingratitude, of insensitivity, but I cannot lie: it was not for a minute easier as soon as consciousness returned. All these methods of opium drown out the pain in a minute, but that's all. The effect of the opium will pass, and the pain is still the same ... "

The trees bared their shoulders, the yellow ball hides the masks, Whoever says that time heals, he never knew love ...
Tyutchev Fedor

Whatever life teaches us,
But the heart believes in miracles ...

Tyutchev Fedor

This day, I remember, for me
Was the morning of a day of life:
She stood silently before me.
Her chest heaved like a wave,
Red cheeks like dawn
Hotter and hotter than grief and grief!
And suddenly, like a young sun,
Golden recognition of love
Burst out of her chest ...
AND new world I saw! ..

Tyutchev Fedor

But all the charms are short, they are not given to visit us.

Tyutchev Fedor

I love your eyes, my friend,
With their fiery-wonderful game,
When you lift them up suddenly
And, like a lightning from heaven,
Skip the whole circle ...

But there is a stronger charm:
Downcast eyes
In moments of passionate kissing
And through lowered eyelashes
Gloomy, dim fire of desire.

Tyutchev Fedor

There is more than one memory
Then life spoke again, -
And the same charm in you,
And the same love in my soul! ..

Tyutchev Fedor

Your shrine will not break
The poet's hand is clean,
But inadvertently life will suffocate
Or take you away behind the clouds.

Tyutchev Fedor

Oh how destructively we love
As in the violent blindness of passions
We are most likely to destroy
What is dear to our heart!

Tyutchev Fedor

I still yearn for longing for desires
I also strive for you with my soul -
And in the dim memories
I also catch your image ...
Your sweet image, unforgettable
He is in front of me everywhere, always,
Unattainable, unchanging
Like a star in the sky at night ...

Tyutchev Fedor

Love, love - legend says -
Union of the soul with the soul dear -
Their union, combination,
And their fatal fusion,
And ... the fatal duel ...

Tyutchev Fedor

Let the blood run thin in my veins
But tenderness does not grow thin in the heart ...
Oh you, the last love!
You are both bliss and hopelessness.

Tyutchev Fedor

You loved and as you love,
No, no one has ever succeeded
Oh my God! And survive it
And my heart did not break to shreds!

Tyutchev Fedor

So sweetly blessed
Airy and light
To my soul a hundredfold
Your love was.

Tyutchev Fedor

There is a high meaning in separation:
No matter how you love, at least one day, at least one century,
Love is a dream, and a dream is one moment
And sooner or later, awakening,
And a man should finally wake up ...

Tyutchev Fedor

For a long time, proud of their victory,
You said: she is mine ...
A year has not passed - ask and bring it down
What has survived from her?

Where do the roses go
The smile of the lips and the sparkle of the eyes?
They scorched everyone, burned out the tears
Its flammable moisture.

Tyutchev Fedor

Not what you think, nature:
Not a cast, not a soulless face -
She has a soul, she has freedom,
It has Love, it has a language.

Tyutchev Fedor

Shut up, hide and thai
And your feelings and dreams -
Let in the depths of the soul
One gets up and walks in.

Tyutchev Fedor

She sat on the floor
And I sorted out heaps of letters,
And, like a cooled ash,
I took them in my hands and threw them.

I took familiar sheets
And she looked at them wonderfully,
How souls look from above
The body thrown by them ...

Oh, how much life was there
Irretrievably experienced!
Oh, how many sorrowful minutes
Love and joy killed! ..

I stood silently to the side
And I was ready to fall on my knees, -
And I was terribly sad
As from the inherent sweet shadow.

Tyutchev Fedor

More than once you have heard the confession:
"I am not worth your love."
Let her be my creation -
But how poor I am before her ...

Before your love
It hurts me to remember myself -
I stand, silent, in awe
And I worship you ...

When, at times, so tenderly,
With such faith and supplication
You involuntarily bend your knee
Before the cradle dear

Where she sleeps - your birth -
Your nameless cherub, -
Understand, and you are my humility
Before your loving heart.

Tyutchev Fedor

I met you - and everything is old
In an obsolete heart revived;
I remembered the golden time -
And my heart felt so warm ...

Like late autumn sometimes
There are days, there are hours
When suddenly the spring blows
And something will stir in us, -

So, all wrapped in spirits
Those years of spiritual fullness
With a long forgotten rapture
I look at cute features ...

As after a century of separation,
I look at you, as if in a dream, -
And now - the sounds became louder,
Those who did not stop in me ...

There is more than one memory
Then life spoke again, -
And the same fascination is in us,
And the same love in my soul! ...

Tyutchev Fedor