Presentation on the topic "Nikolai Rubtsov". Rubtsov “Let the soul remain pure”

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Life of a poet

Born on January 3, 1936, the fourth child in the family of the head of the ORS of the timber industry enterprise, Mikhail Andriyanovich, and Alexandra Mikhailovna Rubtsov. After the death of his mother on June 29, 1942, Nikolai ended up in the Kraskovsky orphanage. Since October 1943, Nikolai Rubtsov has been brought up in the Nikolsky orphanage. One of the earliest poems by Nikolai Rubtsov, “Winter,” dates back to 1945. 1950-1952 - Nikolai Rubtsov graduated from the seven-year school and, in his words, “was eager to go to the sea.” But the attempt to enter the Riga Marine Corps ended in failure. Returning to Nikolskoye, he entered the Totemsky Forestry Technical School.

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In the summer of 1952, having completed two courses at the “forestry” technical school and, most importantly, having received a passport, he once again tries to pass the competition to become a “sailor”, but this time in Arkhangelsk. Unsuccessful again. Enters Tralflot as a fireman's assistant on the minesweeper RT-20 "Arkhangelsk". In 1953 he entered the mining technical school in the polar city of Kirovsk. In 1954 he left the technical school and moved to his brother Alexei in the village of Priyutino near Leningrad. Works as a fitter at an artillery test site. 1956-1959 - active service in the Northern Fleet in the polar city of Severomorsk, where the fleet base was located. During his years of service, Nikolai Rubtsov visited the literary association at the naval newspaper “On Guard of the Arctic” and began publishing.

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1959-1960 - after demobilization, in November he begins to work as a fireman at the Kirov plant, lives in the factory dormitory. Begins to study at the literary association “Narvskaya Zastava”. Enters evening school. 1961 - the collective collection “First Melting” with five poems by Rubtsov is published. On January 24, 1962, Nikolai Rubtsov reads poetry at an evening of young poetry in the Leningrad House of Writers. Meets Gleb Gorbovsky and other Leningrad young poets. Prepared a handwritten collection of 37 poems, “Waves and Rocks.” The first version of the poem “In the Upper Room” was dated July 1963. But the first expulsion of Nikolai Rubtsov from the Literary Institute dates back to this same period of his entry into literature. At the end of June 1965, Nikolai Rubtsov was again expelled from the Literary Institute.

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January 15, 1966 - reinstated again, but in the correspondence department. 1966-1967 spends traveling: Vologda - Barnaul - Moscow - Kharovsk - Volga-Baltic Canal - Vologda. Nikolai Rubtsov took part in the usual writing trips of that time, performances in rural clubs and libraries. By the summer of 1967, the book “Star of the Fields” was published, which became the poet’s finest hour. In 1968, several reviews of “Star of the Fields” appeared in magazines; on the basis of it, Nikolai Rubtsov defended his diploma at the Literary Institute and on April 19 was admitted to the Writers’ Union.

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In early spring, the poet’s long-standing dream came true: he visited Yesenin’s homeland - the village of Konstantinov. In August-September he stays in the village of Timonikha with Vasily Belov. The fairy tale poem “The Robber Lyalya” was written there. In 1969, Nikolai Rubtsov’s third book, “The Soul Keeps,” was published. The years of wandering and everyday disorder are over: Nikolai Rubtsov received a modest, but still separate one-room apartment. In 1970, Nikolai Rubtsov’s fourth book, “The Noise of Pines,” was published, thanks to the efforts of Yegor Isaev, in the same “Soviet Writer.” Publications appeared in “Our Contemporary”, “Young Guard”. Poems from this time include “Fate”, “Ferapontovo”, “I will die in the Epiphany frosts...”. January 19, 1971 Rubtsov, death of Nikolai Rubtsov.

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Lesson in 11th grade. Teacher: Gaidarova A.S. Municipal educational institution secondary school No. 1 st. Krylovskaya, Krylovsky district, Krasnodar region Life and creativity.

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I won’t rewrite from the book of Tyutchev and Fet, I’ll even stop listening to the same Tyutchev and Fet, And I won’t invent a special Myself, Rubtsov, For this I’ll stop believing in the same Rubtsov. But I will check the sincere word of Tyutchev and Fet, so that the book of Tyutchev and Fet can be continued with the book of Rubtsov!..

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He was six years old when his mother died and he was sent to an orphanage. Sixteen when he joined a minesweeper as a fireman. He served in the army, worked hard at a factory, studied... In the thirty-second year of his life he received permanent registration for the first time, and in the thirty-fourth - finally! - and your own housing: a tiny one-room apartment. Here, a year later, he was gone... Such was his fate. He published his first book in 1965, and twenty years later a street in Vologda was named after him. N. Rubtsov would have turned only fifty when a monument to him was erected in Totma.

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My parents' house I often deprived me of sleep, - Where is he again, haven't you seen? Mother is already sick - In the thickets of our garden I hid as best I could. There I secretly grew my Scarlet flower... By the way, it was inopportune, I was still able to grow it... I carried my Scarlet flower behind my mother’s coffin. My parents' house Often deprived me of sleep, - Where is it again, have you seen it? Mother is already sick - In the thickets of our garden I hid as best I could. There I secretly grew my Scarlet flower... By the way, it was inopportune, I was still able to grow it... I carried my Scarlet flower behind my mother’s coffin. On June 26, 1942, Alexandra Mikhailovna Rubtsova suddenly died. These events are reflected in the poem “The Scarlet Flower”.

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Father went to the front. The aunt takes the older children - Galina and Albert - to her place, and the younger ones - Nikolai and Boris - are awaiting an orphanage. Life in the orphanage was very difficult back then. The bedroom was often cold. There was not enough bed linen. We slept in bunks two at a time. The orphanage had its own farm; everyone worked, including the elementary school children.

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Rubtsov himself later wrote about these days like this: They say that the rations were meager, That there were nights with cold, with melancholy, - I remember better the willows over the river And the belated light in the field. Favorite places to tears now! And there, in the wilderness, under the roof of an orphanage, It sounded somehow unfamiliar to us, The word “orphan” offended us.

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In 1946 N. Rubtsov graduated from 3rd grade with a certificate of merit and began writing poetry. HE at that time was a fragile boy “with black, bottomless eyes and a very attractive smile.” In 1950, N. Rubtsov received a certificate of completion of seven classes and went to Riga to enter the naval school. But Rubtsov’s documents were not accepted there: he was not yet fifteen years old. In 1946 N. Rubtsov graduated from 3rd grade with a certificate of merit and began writing poetry. At that time he was a fragile boy “with black, bottomless eyes and a very attractive smile.” In 1950, N. Rubtsov received a certificate of completion of seven classes and went to Riga to enter the naval school. But Rubtsov’s documents were not accepted there: he was not yet fifteen years old.

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In the last years of the orphanage and the years spent in technical school, Rubtsov did not know that his father was alive and that he had another family. Hiring as a fireman on a minesweeper, Nikolai will write in his autobiography: “In 1940, he and his family moved to Vologda, where the war found us. My father went to the front and died in the same year, 1941.” Despite the fact that, starting in 1953, Rubtsov regularly meets with his father, in 1963 he repeated his statement: “I lost my parents at the beginning of the war.”

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In 1959 he was demobilized from the army. This is how the first poems of the real Rubtsov appeared: Russia, Rus' - wherever I look... For all your sufferings and battles I love your, Russia, antiquity, Your forests, graveyards and prayers, I love your huts and flowers, And the skies burning from the heat, And whispering willows by the muddy water, I love you forever, until eternal peace...

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Rubtsov's first poems were published in amateur collections of young poets published in Leningrad by the literary association "Narvskaya Zastava".

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Rubtsov entered the Literary Institute when he was 26 and a half years old. Boris Shishaev very accurately conveys Nikolai’s state at the Literary Institute: “When his soul was vague, he was silent. Sometimes I lay down on the bed and looked at the ceiling for a long time... I didn’t ask him anything. It was possible to understand without questioning that life was not easy for him. I was always haunted by the impression that Rubtsov came from somewhere in the uncomfortable places of his loneliness.”

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After being expelled from the Literary Institute, Nikolai Rubtsov writes the poem “Soul” in a remote Vologda village, published only after his death: Over the year, the year is carried away forever, The morals of old age breathe peace, - On his deathbed, a man fades away In the rays of complete contentment and glory! The last day is carried away forever... He sheds tears, he demands participation, But an important person realized late that he had created a false image of happiness in life!

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One of the most beautiful poems by Nikolai Rubtsov, “Star of the Fields,” was written in this Vologda village.

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The history of the Motherland, the traditions of the people, culture, landscapes, rural life - everything is dear to the poet, everything merged into one image of Russia. Here the poetic intonation is solemn and sublime. At night I saw: birches were breaking! I saw flowers rushing about! Thunder, sending out Death and tears, overtook everyone from above! How strange it is and yet wise: To endure the fatal thunder, To greet the amazingly Bright morning. What good news!..

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I will gallop through the hills of the slumbering Fatherland, Unknown son of amazing free tribes! As before they rode to the voice of capricious luck, I will ride in the footsteps of bygone times... Oh, rural views! Oh, wonderful happiness to be born in the meadows, like an angel, under the dome of blue skies! I am afraid, I am afraid, like a free strong bird, to break my wings and no longer see miracles! I'm afraid that there will be no mysterious power over us, That, having sailed out on a boat, I will reach everywhere with a pole, That, understanding everything, I will go to the grave without sadness... The Fatherland and the will - remain, my deity! The fate of the lyrical hero and the fate of the Motherland are connected in Rubtsov’s work by “the most burning and most mortal connection.”

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Nikolay Rubtsov

Russia, Rus! Protect yourself, protect yourself

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From October 1955 to 1959 he served in the army in the Northern Fleet (with the rank of sailor and senior sailor). After demobilization, he lived in Leningrad, working alternately as a mechanic, fireman and charger at the Kirov plant. However, in his soul he lives with poetry, and therefore decides to change his destiny. Rubtsov begins to study at the literary association “Narvskaya Zastava”, meets young Leningrad poets Gleb Gorbovsky, Konstantin Kuzminsky, Eduard Shneiderman. In July 1962, with the help of Boris Taigin, he published his first typewritten collection, “Waves and Rocks.” In August 1962 Rubtsov entered the Literary Institute. M. Gorky in Moscow and met Vladimir Sokolov, Stanislav Kunyaev, Vadim Kozhinov and other writers, whose friendly participation more than once helped him both in his creativity and in the matter of publishing poetry.

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Nikolai Rubtsov was born on January 3, 1936 in the village of Yemetsk, Arkhangelsk region. In 1940, he moved with his family to Vologda, where the Rubtsovs were caught in the war. The boy was left an orphan early on - his father, Mikhail Adrianovich Rubtsov (1900-1963), went to the front and died [source?] in 1941 (in fact [source?] the father abandoned the family and lived separately in Vologda after the war). In 1942, his mother died, and Nikolai was sent to the Nikolsky orphanage in the Totemsky district of the Vologda region, where he graduated from seven classes of school. Here his daughter Elena was born in a civil marriage with Menshikova Henrietta Mikhailovna. In the village of Nikolskoye, on N. Rubtsov Street, a house-museum of the poet was opened (in the building of a former orphanage).

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The first book of poems, “Lyrics,” was published in 1965 in Arkhangelsk. Then the poetry collections “Star of the Fields” (1967), “The Soul Keeps” (1969), and “The Noise of Pines” (1970) were published. “Green Flowers”, which were being prepared for publication, appeared after the poet’s death. After his death, the following collections were published: “The Last Steamship” (Moscow, 1973), “Selected Lyrics” (Vologda, 1974), “Plantains” (Moscow, 1975), “Poems” (1977). Rubtsov's poetry, extremely simple in its style and themes, associated primarily with his native Vologda region, has creative authenticity, internal scale, and a finely developed figurative structure. Particularly famous are the songs based on his poems “It’s light in my upper room”, “I will ride my bike for a long time”, “In moments of sad music”, “The leaves have flown away”

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IN THE UPPER ROOM It is light in my upper room. This is from the night star. Mother will take a bucket, Silently bring water... My red flowers in the garden have all withered. The boat on the river bank will soon rot completely. A lacy shadow sleeps on the wall of my Willow, Tomorrow I will have a busy day under it! They will water the flowers, think about their fate, I will make a boat for myself until the night star...

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BIRCHES I love when the birches rustle, When the leaves fall from the birches. I listen - and tears come to my eyes, weaned from tears. Everything will come to memory involuntarily, It will respond in the heart and in the blood. It will become somehow joyful and painful, as if someone is whispering about love. Only prose wins more often, As if the wind of gloomy days is blowing. After all, the same birch tree rustles over my mother’s grave. During the war, a bullet killed my father, And in our village, near the fences, With the wind and with the rain, it rustled like a beehive, Here is the same yellow leaf fall... My Rus', I love your birches! From the first years I lived and grew up with them. That's why tears come to eyes weaned from tears...

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MY SILENT HOMELAND My quiet homeland! Willows, river, nightingales... My mother is buried here During my childhood. - Where is the churchyard? You did not see? I can't find it myself. - The residents answered quietly: - It’s on the other side. The residents answered quietly, The convoy passed quietly. The dome of the church monastery is overgrown with bright grass. Where I swam for fish, Hay is rowed into the hayloft: Between the bends of the river, people dug a canal. Tina is now a swamp Where I loved to swim... My quiet homeland, I haven’t forgotten anything. New fence in front of the school, The same green space. Like a cheerful crow, I’ll sit on the fence again! My school is wooden!.. The time will come to leave - The foggy river behind me will run and run. With every bump and cloud, With thunder ready to fall, I feel the most burning, most mortal connection.

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When peace comes to my soul From the high, unfading skies after thunderstorms, When my soul, Inspiring worship, Herds go to sleep Under the willow canopy, When my earthly soul breathes holiness, And the full river Brings heavenly light, - I am sad because I know this joy Only I am alone: ​​I have no friends with me...

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KUPAVY How far the roads go! How widely spread out the lands are! How high above the unstable flood the cranes rush without stopping! In the rays of spring - call or don’t call! - They scream more and more joyfully, ever closer... Here are the games of youth and love again. I see them here... but I won’t see the old ones. And they surround the stormy river All the same flowers... but the girls are different, And there is no need to tell them what kind of days We knew on this bank. They run around, playing and teasing, I shout to them: - Where are you going? Where are you going? Look, what kind of baths there are here! - But who will listen to me...

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WINTER SONG In this village the lights are not extinguished. Don't predict melancholy! A quiet winter night is gently decorated with bright stars. They glow, quiet, glow, wonderful, You can hear the sound of the wormwood... My paths were difficult, difficult. Where are you, my sorrows? A modest girl smiles at me, I myself am smiling and happy! Difficult, difficult - everything is forgotten, Bright stars are burning! Who told me that in the swept darkness an abandoned meadow will fade away? Who told me that hope is lost? Who came up with this, friend?

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STAR OF THE FIELDS The star of the fields in the icy darkness, Stopping, looks into the wormwood. The clock already rang twelve, and sleep enveloped my homeland. Star of the fields! In moments of shock, I remembered how quietly behind the hill She burns over the autumn gold, She burns over the winter silver... The star of the fields burns without fading, For all the anxious inhabitants of the earth, Touching with its welcoming ray All the cities that have risen in the distance. But only here, in the icy darkness, She rises brighter and more fully, And I am happy while the star of my fields burns, burns in the white world...

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CRANES Between the swamp trunks the fire-faced east flaunted... When October comes, cranes will suddenly appear! And the crane cries will wake me up, call me Above my attic, above the swamp, forgotten in the distance... Widely across Rus', the destined period of withering They proclaim, like a legend from ancient pages. Everything that is in the soul fully expresses the sobbing And the high flight of these proud, illustrious birds. In Rus', harmonious hands are widely waved to the birds. And the forgetfulness of the fields, and the loss of the chilling fields - This will all be expressed, like a legend, by the heavenly sounds, The flying cry of the cranes will be heard far away... Now they are flying, now they are flying... Open the gates quickly! Come out quickly to look at your tall ones! Now they are silent - and again the soul and nature are orphaned Because - be silent! - no one can express them that way...

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From which poem by N.M. Rubtsov's following lines: Because, with good faith as friends, Among great anxieties and robbery You burn, you burn like a good soul, You burn in the darkness, and there is no peace for you... - "Dedication to a friend" - "Russian Light" - "Cranes"

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In Vologda, a street was named after Nikolai Rubtsov and a monument was erected (1998, sculptor A. M. Shebunin). A monument by sculptor Vyacheslav Klykov was erected in Totma. Memorial plaque on the building of the Kirov plant In 2001, in St. Petersburg, a marble memorial plaque was installed on the building of the Kirov plant administration, with the famous cry of the poet: “Russia! Rus! Protect yourself, protect yourself! A monument to Rubtsov was also erected in his homeland, in Yemetsk (2004, sculptor Nikolai Ovchinnikov). In Vologda there is a museum “Literature. Art. Century XX" (branch of the Vologda State Historical, Architectural and Art Museum of the Reserve), dedicated to the work of Valery Gavrilin and Nikolai Rubtsov In Yemetsk Secondary School named after. Rubtsov Yemetsky Museum of Local Lore named after. N.V. Rubtsova Also in Yemetsk, a monument to Rubtsov was erected in the village of Nikolskoye, a street and a secondary school were named after the poet, a house-museum was opened (on the facade there is a memorial plaque) in Cherepovets, a bust of N. Rubtsov was installed in the city of Vsevolozhsk named after the poet Street. in Dubrovka a street is named after the poet.

Nikolay Rubtsov (1936 – 1971)

“Nikolai Rubtsov is a long-awaited poet. Blok and Yesenin were the last to captivate the reading world with poetry - uncontrived, organic. Half a century passed in search, in refinement, in the affirmation of many forms, as well as truths... From time to time, bright, unique voices sounded in the huge choir of Soviet poetry. And yet, I wanted Rubtsov. It was required. Oxygen starvation without his poems was approaching...”

(Gleb Gorbovsky)

I won't rewrite From the book of Tyutchev and Fet, I'll even stop listening The same Tyutchev and Fet, And I won't make it up Myself special, Rubtsova, I'll stop believing for this The same Rubtsov. But I'm at Tyutchev and Fet's I'll check your sincere word, So that the book of Tyutchev and Fet Continue with Rubtsov's book

He was six years old when his mother died and he was sent to an orphanage. Sixteen when he joined a minesweeper as a fireman. He served in the army, worked hard at a factory, studied... In the thirty-second year of his life he received permanent registration for the first time, and in the thirty-fourth - finally! - and your own housing: a tiny one-room apartment. Here, a year later, he was killed... Such was his fate. He published his first book in 1965, and twenty years later a street in Vologda was named after him.

N. Rubtsov would have turned only fifty when a monument to him was erected in Totma.

On June 26, 1942, Alexandra Mikhailovna Rubtsova suddenly died. These events are reflected in the poem “The Scarlet Flower”.

My parents' house I was often deprived of sleep, - Where is he again? Have you seen him? The mother is already sick - In the thickets of our garden I hid as best I could. There I secretly grew Your own scarlet flower... By the way, is it inappropriate, I was still able to grow... I was carrying my mother's coffin Its own scarlet flower.

Father went to the front.

The aunt takes the older children - Galina and Albert - to her place, and the younger ones - Nikolai and Boris - are awaiting an orphanage.

Life in the orphanage was very difficult back then. The bedroom was often cold. There was not enough bed linen. We slept in bunks two at a time. The orphanage had its own farm; everyone worked, including the elementary school children.

Nikolay Rubtsov

with the orphanage teachers

Rubtsov himself later wrote about these days as follows:

They say that the rations were meager That there were nights with cold, with melancholy, - I remember the willows above the river better And a belated light in the field. Favorite places to tears now! And there, in the wilderness, under the roof of an orphanage, It sounded somehow unfamiliar to us, The word “orphan” offended us.

And yet, many believed, including Kolya Rubtsov, that after the war their parents would return and would definitely take them from the orphanage - they only lived by this faith. At the end of the war, Nikolai Rubtsov did not yet know that his father had long been demobilized and, having returned to Vologda, got a job in the supply department of the Northern Railway - a very profitable place for those times... Mikhail Andriyanovich spoke about his son, who was sent to an orphanage. I didn't remember. And why remember if he got married again, if he already had children...

• IN 1946 G.N. Rubtsov graduated from 3rd grade with a certificate of merit and began writing poetry. At that time he was a fragile boy “with black, bottomless eyes and a very attractive smile.”
• IN 1950 Mr. N. Rubtsov received a certificate of completion of seven classes and went to Riga to enter the nautical school. But Rubtsov’s documents were not accepted there: he was not yet fifteen years old.

In the last years of the orphanage and the years spent in technical school, Rubtsov seemed to have forgotten that he had a father. None of his acquaintances from those years remembered him trying to restore contact with his father, brother, sister, aunt... Perhaps only once did Nikolai try to tell “everything that had accumulated in his soul over these long years of endless silence.” This happened already in 1951, when Rubtsov wrote an essay on the topic assigned at the technical school: “My native corner.” Hiring as a fireman on a minesweeper, Nikolai will write in his autobiography: “In 1940, he and his family moved to Vologda, where the war found us. My father went to the front and died in the same year, 1941.” Despite the fact that, starting in 1953, Rubtsov regularly meets with his father, in 1963 he repeated his statement: “I lost my parents at the beginning of the war.”

House in the village Yemetsk, Arkhangelsk region,

where Nikolai Rubtsov was born in 1936

1959 demobilized from the army.

1960 entered the 9th grade of the school for working youth.

1961 got a job at the Kirov plant and settled in a hostel (Rubtsov did not have a permanent address almost until his death - he rented “corners”, spent the night with comrades and acquaintances), where the poems included in the treasury were written.

The first poems of the real Rubtsov:

Russia, Rus' - wherever I look... For all your suffering and battles I love your old Russia, Your forests, graveyards and prayers, I love your huts and flowers, And the skies burning with heat, And the whisper of willows by the muddy water, I love you forever, until eternal peace...

Rubtsov entered the Literary Institute when he was 26 and a half years old. Of course, in the dormitory of the Literary Institute, poverty was easier to bear, but twenty-seven years old is enough age not to notice it. Rubtsov was annoyed that his friends specially brought their acquaintances to look at him - as if in a menagerie... Boris Shishaev very accurately conveys Nikolai’s condition at the Literary Institute

“When his soul was confused, he was silent. Sometimes I lay down on the bed and looked at the ceiling for a long time... I didn’t ask him anything. It was possible to understand without questioning that life was not easy for him. I was always haunted by the impression that Rubtsov came from somewhere in the uncomfortable places of his loneliness.”

After being expelled from the Literary Institute, Nikolai Rubtsov writes the poem “Soul” in a remote Vologda village, published only after his death:

Year by year the year is carried away forever, The morals of old age breathe peace, - A man goes out on his deathbed In the rays of complete contentment and glory!

This is how Rubtsov paints the image of a “happy person” who has achieved complete well-being, but here he disputes this well-being:

The last day is gone forever... He sheds tears, he demands participation, But an important man realized too late, What a false image of happiness has created in life!

One of the most beautiful poems by Nikolai Rubtsov, “Star of the Fields”, was written in this Vologda village:

Star of the fields in the icy darkness, Stopping, he looks into the wormwood. The clock has already rung twelve, And sleep enveloped my homeland... Star of the fields! In moments of turmoil I remembered how quiet it was behind the hill She burns over the autumn gold, It burns over the winter silver... The star of the fields burns without fading, For all the anxious inhabitants of the earth, Touching with your welcoming ray All the cities that rose in the distance. But only here, in the icy darkness, She rises brighter and fuller, And I'm happy as long as I'm in this world The star of my fields is burning, burning...

• Rubtsov did not choose his fate, he only foresaw it.
• The relationship between Rubtsov’s poetry and his life looks mysterious. From his poems, more accurately than from documents and autobiographies, one can trace his life path. Many real poets guessed their fate and easily looked into the future, but in Rubtsov his visionary abilities were with extraordinary power.

When you now read the poems he wrote shortly before his death, you are overcome by an eerie feeling of unreality:

I will die in the Epiphany frosts. I will die when the birch trees crack, And in the spring there will be complete horror: River waves will rush into the churchyard! From my flooded grave The coffin will float up, forgotten and sad, It will crash with a crash, and into the darkness Terrible debris will float away. I don’t know what it is... I don't believe in eternity of peace!

It is impossible to see ahead as clearly as Nikolai Rubtsov saw. The poet was killed on January 19, 1971 .

Having perked up, I’ll run up the hill And I will see everything in the best light. Trees, huts, a horse on the bridge, Flowering meadow - I miss them everywhere. And, having fallen out of love with this beauty, I probably won’t create another one...

When dawn, shining through the pine forest, It burns, it burns, and the forest no longer sleeps, And the shadows of the pine trees fall into the river, And the light runs onto the streets of the village, When, laughing, in the quiet courtyard Adults and children greet the sun,

I hit my pocket and it doesn't ring. I knocked on another one - I couldn’t hear it.

Thoughts of rest flew to their quiet, mysterious zenith.

But I’ll wake up and go out the door

And I'll go into the wind, onto the slope

About the sadness of the roads traveled, rustle with the remains of hair. Memory is getting out of hand, Youth is disappearing from under your feet, The sun is describing a circle - Life is counting down its time. I hit my pocket and it doesn’t ring. If I knock on another one, you won’t hear it. If only I'd be famous

Then I’ll go to Yalta to rest...

Portrait of N. M. Rubtsov

(Vladislav Sergeev)

I love when the birches rustle, When the leaves fall from the birches. I listen and tears come

On eyes weaned from tears.

Everything will come to memory involuntarily, It will respond in the heart and in the blood. It will become somehow joyful and painful, as if someone is whispering about love. Only prose wins more often, As if the wind of gloomy days is blowing. After all, the same birch tree makes noise

Over my mother's grave.

During the war, my father was killed by a bullet,

And in our village near the fences

With the wind and rain it was noisy like a beehive, Here is the same yellow leaf fall... My Rus', I love your birches!

From the first years I lived and grew up with them. That's why tears come

To eyes weaned from tears...

When my soul

Calm will come

From high, after thunderstorms, unfading skies,

When in my soul

Inspiring worship

The herds go to sleep

Under the willow canopy

When my soul

Earthly holiness emanates,

And the river is full

Brings heavenly light -

I'm sad because

That I know this joy

It's just me alone:

I have no friends with me...

Nikolay Rubtsov

(Valentin Malygin)

I love the autumn forest so much

Above him is the radiance of heaven,

What I would like to turn into

Or into a crimson quiet leaf,

Or into a cheerful whistle of rain, But, having transformed, to be reborn And return to his father’s house, So that one day in that house

Before the big road Say: - I was a leaf in the forest! Say: - I was in the forest in the rain! Believe me: I am pure in soul...

Hello, Russia is my homeland!

Stronger than storms, stronger than any will

Love for your barns by the stubble,

Love for you, hut in the azure field.

I won’t give up all the mansions

Your own low house with nettles under the window.

How peaceful it is in my upper room

The sun was setting in the evenings!

How the whole expanse, heavenly and earthly, breathed happiness and peace through the window,

And the glorious air of antiquity emanated,

And he rejoiced under the showers and heat!..

Portrait of Nikolai Rubtsov

(A. Ovchinnikov)

Snow fell - and everything was forgotten, What the soul was full of!

My heart suddenly began to beat faster, as if I had drunk wine.

Along the narrow street

A clean breeze rushes with the beauty of ancient Russian The town has been renewed.

Snow flies on the Church of Sophia,

On children, and there are countless of them

Snow is flying all over Russia, Like good news.

Snow is flying - look and listen! So, simple and clever,

Life sometimes heals the soul...

Well, okay! And good.

The leaves flew away from poplars –

Repeated in the world inevitability.

Don't feel sorry for the leaves do not be sorry,

And pity my love

and tenderness!

Let the trees be bare are standing

Don't blame you for being noisy snowstorms!

Is there anyone in this guilty

What are the leaves from the trees? flew away?

In moments of music. Poet (Evgeny Sokolov)

SOSEN SHU M Once again he greeted me Cozy ancient Lipin Bor, Where is the wind, the snowy wind Starts an eternal argument with the pine needles. What a Russian village! I listened to the noise of the pine trees for a long time, And then enlightenment came My simple evening thoughts. I'm sitting in a regional hotel, I smoke, read, light the stove. It will probably be a sleepless night, Sometimes I love not sleeping! How can you sleep when out of darkness It’s like I can hear the voice of centuries, And the light of the neighboring barracks Still burning in the darkness of the snow. May the path be frosty tomorrow, Let me be, perhaps, gloomy, I will not sleep through the legend of the pine trees, The ancient pine trees make a long noise...

Blue twilight. Nikolay Rubtsov

(Vladimir Korbakov)

Quiet my homeland!

Willows, river, nightingales...

My mother is buried here

In my childhood years.

• Where is the churchyard? You did not see?

I can't find it myself.

The residents answered quietly:

• It's on the other side.

The residents answered quietly,

The convoy passed quietly.

Church monastery dome

Overgrown with bright grass.

Where I swam for fish, Hay is rowed into the hayloft:

Between the river bends, people dug a canal.

Tina is now a swamp

Where I loved to swim...

My quiet homeland

I haven't forgotten anything.

My quiet homeland (Vladislav Sergeev)

For all the good

let's pay in kind

Let's pay for all the love with love...

Portrait of Nikolai Rubtsov

(O. Ignatiev)

Nikolay Rubtsov
Presentation by Timofey Dyadenko 2008

Rubtsov Nikolai Mikhailovich (1936-1971)

The poet's father.
1936 - born on January 3 as the fourth child in the family of the head of the ORS of the timber industry enterprise, Mikhail Andrianovich and Alexandra Mikhailovna Rubtsov. In his autobiography he will say: “I, Rubtsov N.M. born in 1936 in the Arkhangelsk region in the village. Emetsk In 1940 he moved with his family to Vologda, where the war found us. My father went to the front and died in the same year, 1941. Soon my mother died, and I was sent to the Nikolsky preschool in the Totemsky district of the Vologda region, where I graduated from 7 classes of the Nikolskaya National School in 1950. In the same 1950, I entered the Totemsky Forestry College, where I completed 2 courses, but did not study again and left. I applied to the Arkhangelsk Nautical School, but did not pass the competition. I am currently submitting an application to Tralflot. N. Rubtsov 09.12.52.”

After the death of their mother on June 29, 1942, the older children were taken in by relatives, and the younger ones - Nikolai and Boris - ended up in the Krasnovsky orphanage. Since October 1943, Nikolai Rubtsov has been brought up in the Nikolsky orphanage. The poems “The Scarlet Flower” and “Childhood” are dedicated to the memory of the mother, and the village of Nikolskoye with the temple of St. Nicholas the Pleasant is immortalized in the famous lines “I love the village of Nikola, where I graduated from primary school...”.
Orphanage in the village. Nikolskoye, Totemsky district, Vologda region, where in 1943-1950. lived N. Rubtsov (house after restoration)

1950-1952 - Nikolai Rubtsov graduated from the seven-year school and, in his words, “was eager to go to the sea.” But the attempt to enter the Riga Marine Corps ended in failure
Childhood

1953 – goes to study at a mining technical school in the polar city of Kirovsk. 1954-1955 - leaves technical school and moves to his brother Alexei in the village of Priyutino near Leningrad. Works as a fitter at an artillery test site.
Priyutino 1955

1956-1959 - active service in the Northern Fleet in the polar city of Severomorsk, where the fleet base was located. During his years of service, Nikolai Rubtsov visited the literary association at the naval newspaper “On Guard of the Arctic” and began publishing. 1961 – the collective collection “The First Shop” with five poems by Rubtsov is published.
Northern Fleet

Taking secondary school exams as an external student. Presents a handwritten collection “Waves and Rocks” for a creative competition at the Literary Institute.
Cover of Rubtsov's first poetry collection

In the August issue of the magazine “October”, Nikolai Rubtsov’s first major publication appears in the “thick” metropolitan magazine. Among the published poems are “Star of the Fields”, “I’ll Run Up a Hill and Fall into the Grass!..”, “Russian Light”. In the October issue of “October” another selection by Nikolai Rubtsov appears - “In Memory of Mother”, “At the Station”, “Good Filya”, “My Quiet Homeland!..”. He submits the first book “Lyrics” to the Arkhangelsk book publishing house, signs an agreement with the publishing house “Soviet Writer” for the book “Star of the Fields”.
“A lot of gray water, a lot of gray smoke...” Sukhona River near Totma

1966-1967 - spent traveling: Vologda - Barnaul - Moscow - Khabarovsk - Volga-Baltic Canal - Vologda. Nikolai Rubtsov takes part in the usual writing trips of that time, performances in rural clubs, houses of culture, and libraries.
At a literary seminar

1969 – Nikolai Rubtsov’s third book, “The Soul Keeps,” was published. 1970 – Nikolai Rubtsov’s fourth book, “The Noise of Pines,” was published. 1971 – the death of the poet Nikolai Rubtsov on January 19, in the Epiphany frosts... After the death of N. Rubtsov, his collections were published: “The Last Steamship” (1973), “Selected Lyrics” (1974), “Poems” (1977). Nikolai Rubtsov himself wrote about his poetry: I will not rewrite From the book of Tyutchev and Fet, I will even stop listening to the same Tyutchev and Fet. And I won’t invent a special Myself, Rubtsov, For this I will stop believing in the same Rubtsov, But I will check the sincere word of Tyutchev and Fet, So that the book of Tyutchev and Fet Continue with Rubtsov’s book!..