The final edition is dated the last months of the same year. On the plot of the poem, S. Rachmaninov wrote in 1892 his first opera Aleko.
| Gypsies | |
|---|---|
| Genre | poem |
| Author | Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin |
| Original language | Russian |
| date of writing | 1824 |
| Date of first publication | 1825 (partial), 1827 (full) |
Plot
The poem tells about the love of the gypsy Zemfira and the young man Aleko, who left the “bondage of stuffy cities” for the sake of the steppe freedom. For two years he roams the steppe along with free gypsies and his beloved. Finally, Zemfira's song and a prophetic dream open his eyes to her infidelity. The girl's old father offers Aleko not to interfere with the girl's happiness, citing his relationship with Zemfira's mother, Mariula, as an example. The desire of a European to interfere in the natural course of events and try to control it is alien to the children of the steppes. In another story, an old man retells a legend about a poet abandoned in the steppe; Aleko, not without surprise, recognizes in him Ovid, who was once expelled from Ancient Rome to the Black Sea coast.
Finding Zemfira on a date with a young gypsy, Aleko disregards the old man's advice and stabs them both to death. Gypsies cannot understand his selfish desire to possess the beloved price of her life: "Leave us, proud man!"
Place in the work of Pushkin
The Gypsies reproduce the basic collision of The Prisoner of the Caucasus (1821), which goes back to Chateaubriand's novel Atala (1801): the disappointed Byronic hero is unable to dissolve among the "noble savages", although he longs for it. In this poem, Pushkin gradually frees himself from his former Byronism; there is an “evolution from the free, sweet-sounding and caressing style of his youth to the harsh beauty of the last things” (D. S. Mirsky).
Literary analysis
In the intertextual thematic aspect, the poem is a kind of "crown" of Pushkin's southern poetic works. "Gypsies" turn out to be the closest to Pushkin's other significant southern poem "The Prisoner of the Caucasus": the focus of the author's attention is Aleko, a self-sufficient hero, of course, endowed with pronounced romantic features, a person of a European mindset, who defiantly opposes himself to the surrounding world, which is immense in its fullness, existing on the basis of "natural", primeval laws. On the other hand, in relation to each other, a person belonging to civilization and an unordered, self-willed element of eternal existence are antagonistic to each other. According to the Pushkin literary critic E. A. Trofimov, the poem organically contrasts the bearer of fatal passions and the spirit of boundless primordial freedom. At the same time, individual and generic principles appear in relation to the inevitable opposition. The freedom-loving Aleko, the central character of the poetic text, is not only subject to rebellious passions, but is doomed to generate them himself. It is a disappointed, lonely and misunderstood symbol of time, which, on the one hand, attracts with its originality and originality, and on the other hand, is terrible and dangerous in its doom and predestination. He, the eternal, inconsolable "fugitive", is pursued by the law. The traditional type of Byronic hero, canonized in Western European and partly in Russian literature, is debunked in this work, he demonstrates his practical and vital failure. Aleko, realizing that there are no ways to retreat to a civilized, orderly world, boldly goes forward: he is instinctively attracted by the inimitable spontaneous life of the gypsies with its direct dynamics and all-round diversity.
The hero desperately dreams of finding true will in this world, getting rid of the oppressive influence of the past devastating passion, forgetting unhappy love. However, Aleko turns out to be incapable of doing this: the reason for this is his long internal conflict, generated by the unwillingness to distinguish between freedom for himself and freedom in general, in its purest form. He makes every tremendous effort to find the elusive freedom in the outside world, instead of recognizing the essential spirit of freedom within himself. That is why he opposes the “truth of life” that the wise Old Man mercilessly reveals to him, and Aleko’s main existential mistake is that he tends to perceive love in the context of personal rights, which does not allow the central character to gain a vision of true universal freedom. The deliberately demonstrated contempt that the abandoned “light” causes in him does not give him rest and expresses the true confusion reigning in the hero’s soul: the memory of the old hated light is still alive, it will never die, so the hero is doomed to constant internal existential torment . Moreover, Aleko continues to experience the evil influence of this light, which he brought with him into the spontaneous free space of the gypsies: this is both pride and selfishness, an irresistible desire to control the fate of another person, vindictiveness and wild, instinctive jealousy - these are all the fatal features of the age, worldview era , to which Aleko has the misfortune to belong.
Parallel and in correlation with the main storyline, which unfolds in the internal confrontation, the story of an old gypsy about Ovid the exile sounds. A. S. Pushkin, speaking through the mouth of the Old Man, focuses on the unshakable courage and great suffering of the outcast Roman poet-exile. Aleko, remaining in the "fetters of enlightenment", evaluates the story of the gypsy on the basis of his own values, strengthening himself in the thought of the unrighteousness of persecution. Aleko's trouble is that he never learned to forgive, being unable to throw off these "shackles"; the demonic beginning can wake up in him at any moment, he is obsessed with hidden vices, from which, no matter how hard he tries, he still cannot escape.
Zemfira's love song, a hymn to true, unshakable freedom, awakens this unbridled infernal being. Aleko, in full accordance with the canon of a romantic hero, reacts to the story of Mariul, the wife of the Old Man, believing in the impossibility of rejecting one of the fundamental laws of "civilization" - the right to property in any manifestation. As a result, he, being driven into a vicious circle and not having a chance to escape from it, kills Zemfira and a young gypsy, which is the apogee of the realization of a vicious Byronic existence. The old man confesses the Truth of God, opposed to the fatal, unbridled rampage of demonic passions, waiting for an opportunity to break out. Thus, A. S. Pushkin, one way or another, guided by intuitive or rational aspirations, appears as a “gravedigger” of the criminal Byronic principle, glorified in Western European and Russian poetry, which, in essence, opposes itself to the creative divine energy. Zemfira's father is the embodiment of true knowledge about life, a symbol of forgiveness and non-resistance to life events. He pronounces a spiritual judgment on Aleko; however, the “golden age” remains in the past, so that the unconditional Truth of the Old Man does not turn out to be so unambiguous in the conditions of the surrounding world, which turns out to be infected with “fatal passions”, despite the final defeat of the idea of vicious destructive individualism.
The romantic signs of Pushkin's text are clearly manifested in the actualized ethnographic coloring of the space of the poem, the rhythmic-intonation richness and musicality of the poetic word; the characters are not historically motivated, which also indicates the romantic attribution of the poetic work.
Execution
Publication and success
In excerpts, the poem was published in the leading almanac "Polar Star" in one of the numbers for 1825, and the first fragmentary publication was followed by the second, in the almanac
Perhaps I will begin my work based on the poem "Gypsies" and its analysis with the history of writing the poem "Gypsies" by Pushkin. The author began writing his work in 1821. The idea of the birth of this work was the Chisinau exile, during which Pushkin had to travel with the gypsies and observe their life. Their behavior and way of life so impressed the author that, under the impression, Pushkin took a pen, from under which this work appeared. The writer completed his work in 1824.
The conflict of the poem Gypsies
The conflict of the poem "Gypsies" is built on the contradiction of the passions of the hero himself. Here we see how two different worlds intertwined: the world of urban people and people of will and freedom. The peculiarity of the conflict in the poem "Gypsies" lies in the fact that Aleko, the main character, was able to escape from the power of the city, joined the gypsies with whom he wanted to live a free life, but really could not become a man of will, and therefore he heard his verdict: "Leave us, proud man."
The motive of Aleko's flight from the city and coming to the gypsies
What was the motive for Aleko's flight from the city and why did he decide to join the gypsies? Everything is very simple. The hero of the poem is a freedom-loving person, such a rebel, who is tired of the framework, who wants to become free. Aleko became disillusioned with the blessings of civilization, for him city life began to turn into hell, and then there was the crime committed by the hero, which the author does not tell us about. Among the gypsies, he feels good, he quickly merges into the life of the gypsies, taking on a primitive way of life.
Liberty of the Gypsies. Unfreedom of a person in a civilized society
Continuing the analysis of the work, let us dwell on a civilized society and the lack of freedom of a person in it, as well as on the freedom of the gypsies, which the writer depicted in his work. So, the author criticizes the life of people among civilization, where there are all the benefits, where there is everything in order to live freely, but people here are like in a cage. Here people lose themselves, live according to written rules, are bound by laws. But life outside of civilization, where there are no established laws, is full of freedom of action, but having chosen freedom, you need to be prepared for a poor existence, where you have to earn a living by singing and dancing.
The role of digression about the moon
The theme of love is touched upon in Pushkin's poem "Gypsies", which means that romanticism is also nearby in the poem "Gypsies".
Love itself is a complex feeling, here it is impossible to order the heart to love or not, it is also impossible to predict the outcome of events. So Zemfira, the heroine of the poem "Gypsies", fell in love with another, without hesitation went to treason, causing pain to Aleko - the hero of the poem "Gypsies", and in order to convey the state of the hero's soul, the author resorts to a natural picture, using a digression about the moon. And here she "went into the mists." In addition, the author used the moon for a reason, apparently, he wanted to show how changeable a woman can be and order a woman to love one, it is impossible, like making the moon stop in place.
The artistic role of the image of Mariula, the wife of the Old Gypsy, in the conflict and composition of the poem
Mariula is the mother of Zemfira, who left her husband and child for a new love. And it is no coincidence that the author tells us about Mariul, thereby showing that her daughter went the same way, only their lovers act differently. And, if the free old gypsy let his wife go, because he knows that you can’t order love, then Aleko, who lived among the rules, lived in a world where there are limits, could not forgive and let go, that’s why he took such a step as murder .
Author's position in the poem
When you read Pushkin's work "Gypsies", we see that the author does not choose one side or another, he does not stand up for Aleko or the gypsies, but simply sympathizes with the old man and has a positive attitude towards the main character, however, his act, when the hero decides to kill , does not approve, therefore, with the words of the old man, he drove Aleko out of the camp.
Gypsies in a noisy crowd
They wander around Bessarabia.
They are over the river today
They spend the night in tattered tents.
Like a liberty, their lodging for the night is cheerful
And peaceful sleep under heaven;
Between cart wheels
Half hung with carpets
The fire is burning; family around
Is cooking dinner; in the open field
Horses graze; behind the tent
A tame bear lies free.
Everything is alive in the middle of the steppes:
The cares of peaceful families,
Ready in the morning for a short journey,
And the songs of wives, and the cry of children,
And the ringing of a camping anvil.
But here on the nomadic camp
Sleepy silence descends
And you can hear in the silence of the steppe
Only the barking of dogs and the neighing of horses.
The lights are off everywhere
Everything is calm, the moon is shining
One from heaven
And the quiet camp illuminates.
In one tent the old man does not sleep;
He sits before the coals,
Warmed by their last heat,
And looks into the far field,
Steamy at night.
His young daughter
I went for a walk in a deserted field.
She got used to the frisky will,
She will come; but now it's night
And soon the month will leave
Heaven distant clouds, -
Zemfira is not there; and getting cold
Poor old man's dinner.
But here she is; behind her
The young man hurries across the steppe;
The gypsy does not know him at all.
"My father," the maiden says,
I am leading a guest; behind the mound
I found him in the desert
And she called me to the camp for the night.
He wants to be like us gypsies;
The law pursues him
But I'll be his friend
His name is Aleko - he
Ready to follow me everywhere.
Old man
I am pleased to. Stay until the morning
Under the shade of our tent
Or stay with us and share,
As you want. I'm ready
With you to share both bread and shelter.
Be ours - get used to our share,
Wandering poverty and will -
And tomorrow with the morning dawn
In one cart we will go;
Take on any fishing:
Iron kui - il sing songs
And go around the villages with a bear.
Aleko
I'll stay.
Zemfira
He will be mine:
Who will take him away from me?
But it's too late ... a young month
Went in; the fields are covered with mist,
And the dream involuntarily tends me ...
Light. The old man wanders quietly
Around the silent tent.
“Get up, Zemfira: the sun is rising,
Wake up my guest! it's time, it's time!
Leave, children, a bed of bliss! .. "
And the people poured out with a noise;
The tents are dismantled; carts
Ready to go hiking.
Everything moved together - and now
The crowd pours into the empty plains.
Donkeys in baskets
Children playing are carried;
Husbands and brothers, wives, virgins,
And the old and the young follow;
Scream, noise, gypsy choruses,
Bear roar, his chains
impatient clatter,
Rags of bright variegation,
Nudity of children and elders,
Dogs and barking and howling,
Bagpipes talk, skryp carts,
Everything is poor, wild, everything is discordant,
But everything is so alive, restless,
So alien to our dead negs,
So alien to this idle life,
Like the monotonous song of slaves!
The young man looked sadly
To the deserted plain
And grieve for a secret reason
I did not dare to interpret.
With him black-eyed Zemfira,
Now he is a free inhabitant of the world,
And the sun is merrily above it
Shines with midday beauty;
Why does the young man's heart tremble?
What concern does he have?
The bird of God does not know
No care, no work;
Troublesomely does not twist
Durable nest;
In debt, the night slumbers on a branch;
The red sun will rise
The bird hears the voice of God,
Wakes up and sings.
For the spring, the beauty of nature,
The sultry summer will pass -
And fog and bad weather
Late autumn brings:
People are bored, people are sad;
Bird to distant lands
To a warm land, beyond the blue sea
Flies away until spring.
Like a carefree bird
And he, a migratory exile,
I did not know a reliable nest
And I didn't get used to anything.
He was always on the road
Everywhere there was a shelter for the night;
Waking up in the morning, your day
He surrendered to God
And life could not worry
To confuse his heart laziness.
His sometimes magical glory
Manila is a distant star;
Unexpected luxury and fun
Sometimes they came to him;
Over a lonely head
And thunder often rumbled;
But he carelessly under a thunderstorm
And dozed in a clear bucket.
And lived without recognizing power
Fate is insidious and blind;
But God! how the passions played
His obedient soul!
With what excitement seethed
In his tortured chest!
How long, how long have they been pacified?
They wake up: wait!
Zemfira
Tell me my friend you don't regret
About the fact that he gave up forever?
Aleko
What did I leave?
Zemfira
Do you understand:
People of the motherland, the city.
Aleko
What to regret? When would you know
When would you imagine
Captivity stuffy cities!
There are people, in heaps behind the fence,
Don't breathe in the morning chill
Nor the spring smell of the meadows;
Love is ashamed, thoughts are driven,
Trade their will
Heads bow before idols
And they ask for money and chains.
What did I throw? change of excitement,
prejudice sentence,
Crowds insane persecution
Or a brilliant disgrace.
Zemfira
But there are huge chambers,
There are multi-colored carpets,
There are games, noisy feasts,
The dresses of the maidens there are so rich! ..
Aleko
What is the noise of city merriment?
Where there is no love, there is no fun.
And the virgins ... How are you better than them
And without expensive outfits,
No pearls, no necklaces!
Don't change, my gentle friend!
And I ... one of my desires
With you to share love, leisure
And voluntary exile!
Old man
You love us, even though you were born
Among the rich people.
But freedom is not always sweet
To those who are accustomed to bliss.
There is one legend between us:
Was once exiled by the king
Noon resident to us in exile.
(I used to know, but forgot
His clever nickname.)
He was already years old,
But young and alive with a gentle soul -
He had a marvelous gift for songs
And a voice like the sound of the waters -
And everyone loved him
And he lived on the banks of the Danube,
Not offending anyone
Captivating people with stories;
He did not understand anything
And he was weak and timid, like children;
Strangers for him
Animals and fish were caught in nets;
How the fast river froze
And the winter whirlwinds raged
Covered with fluffy skin
They are a holy old man;
But he is to the worries of a poor life
I could never get used to it;
He wandered withered, pale,
He said that the angry god
He was punished for a crime ...
He waited for deliverance to come.
And all the unfortunate yearned,
Wandering along the banks of the Danube,
Yes, bitter tears shed,
Remembering your distant city,
And he bequeathed, dying,
To move south
His longing bones
And death - alien to this land
Unsatisfied guests!
Aleko
So this is the fate of your sons
Oh Rome, oh loud power! ..
Singer of love, singer of the gods
Tell me what is glory?
Grave rumble, laudatory voice,
From generation to generation sound running?
Or under the shadow of a smoky bush
Gypsy's wild story?
Two summers have passed. They also roam
Gypsies in a peaceful crowd;
Everywhere still found
Hospitality and peace.
Despising the shackles of enlightenment,
Aleko is free, like them;
He is without worries in regret
Leads wandering days.
All the same he; the family is still the same;
He, not even remembering previous years,
I'm used to being a gypsy.
He loves their canopy for the night,
And the ecstasy of eternal laziness,
And their poor sonorous language.
A bear, a fugitive from his native lair,
Shaggy guest of his tent,
In the villages, along the steppe road,
Near the Moldavian court
In front of the crowd
And dances heavily, and roars,
And the chain gnaws at the tiresome;
Leaning on the staff of the road,
The old man lazily beats tambourines,
Aleko leads the beast with the singing,
Zemfira villager bypasses
And they take their free tribute.
The night will come; they are all three
Uncut millet is cooked;
The old man fell asleep - and everything is at rest ...
The tent is quiet and dark.
The old man warms in the spring sun
Already cooling blood;
At the cradle, the daughter sings love.
Aleko listens and turns pale.
Zemfira
Old husband, formidable husband,
Cut me, burn me:
I am firm; not afraid
No knife, no fire.
Hate you,
I despise you;
I love another
I'm dying in love.
Aleko
Be quiet. I'm tired of singing
I don't like wild songs.
Zemfira
Don't you love? what do I care!
I sing a song for myself.
Cut me, burn me;
I won't say anything;
Old husband, formidable husband,
You don't recognize him.
He is fresher than spring
Hotter than a summer day;
How young and brave he is!
How he loves me!
How caressed him
I'm in the stillness of the night!
How they laughed then
We are your gray hair!
Aleko
Shut up, Zemfira! I am satisfied...
Zemfira
So you understand my song?
Aleko
Zemfira
You are free to get angry
I sing a song about you.
Leaves and sings: Old husband and so on.
Old man
So, I remember, I remember - this song
During our complicated,
For a long time in the fun of the world
She sings among people.
Wandering on the steppes of Cahul,
It used to be on a winter night
My sang Mariula,
Before the fire shaking daughter.
In my mind last summer
Hour by hour darker, darker;
But this song was born
Deep in my memory.
Everything is quiet; night. decorated with the moon
Azure south sky,
Old man Zemfira awakened:
“Oh my father! Aleko is scary.
Listen: through a heavy dream
And he groans and weeps."
Old man
Don't touch him. Keep quiet.
I heard a Russian legend:
Now midnight sometimes
The sleeper is short of breath
home spirit; before dawn
He leaves. Sit with me.
Zemfira
My father! he whispers: Zemfira!
Old man
He is looking for you in a dream:
You are dearer to him than the world.
Zemfira
His love disgusted me.
I'm bored; the heart of the will asks -
Oh, I ... But be quiet! do you hear? he
Another name pronounces...
Old man
Zemfira
Do you hear? hoarse moan
And a fierce rattle! .. How terrible! ..
I will wake him up...
Old man
in vain
Do not drive the night spirit -
He will leave on his own...
Zemfira
He turned
He got up, calls me ... woke up -
I go to him - goodbye, sleep.
Aleko
Where have you been?
Zemfira
She sat with her father.
Some kind of spirit tormented you;
In a dream your soul endured
torment; you scared me
You, sleepy, gnashed your teeth
And called me.
Aleko
I dreamed about you.
I saw that between us...
I saw terrible dreams!
Zemfira
Don't believe in false dreams.
Aleko
Oh, I don't believe in anything
No dreams, no sweet assurances,
Not even your heart.
Old man
About what, young madman,
What are you sighing about all the time?
Here people are free, the sky is clear,
And wives are famous for their beauty.
Do not cry: longing will destroy you.
Aleko
Father, she doesn't love me.
Old man
Take comfort, friend: she is a child.
Your despondency is reckless:
You love bitterly and hard
And the heart of a woman is joking.
Look: under a distant vault
The free moon walks;
All over nature in passing
Equally radiance she pours.
Look into any cloud
It will illuminate him so magnificently -
And now - it has already passed into another;
And that will be a short visit.
Who will show her a place in the sky,
Saying: stop there!
Who will say to the heart of a young maiden:
Love one thing, don't change?
Take comfort.
Aleko
How she loved!
How gently bow to me,
She is in the wilderness
Spent the night hours!
Full of children's fun
How often sweet babble
Or with an intoxicating kiss
She is my reverie
I knew how to disperse in a minute! ..
So what? Zemfira is wrong!
My Zemfira has cooled down!…
Old man
Listen: I'll tell you
I am a story about myself.
Long, long time ago, when the Danube
The Muscovite has not yet threatened -
(See, I remember
Aleko, old sadness.)
Then we were afraid of the Sultan;
And Pasha ruled Budjak
From the high towers of Ackermann -
I was young; my soul
At that time she was seething with joy;
And not one in my curls
The gray hair has not yet turned white, -
Between young beauties
One was ... and for a long time she,
Like the sun, I admired
And finally called mine...
Ah, quickly my youth
Flashed like a falling star!
But you, the time for love, has passed
Even faster: only a year
Mariula loved me.
Once near Cahul waters
We met a strange camp;
Those gypsies, their tents
Having broken near ours at the mountain,
We spent two nights together.
They left on the third night, -
And, leaving the little daughter,
Mariula followed them.
I slept peacefully; dawn flashed;
I woke up, no girlfriend!
I'm looking for, I'm calling - and the trace is gone.
Longing, cried Zemfira,
And I cried - from now on
All the virgins of the world have disgusted me;
Between them never my gaze
I didn't choose my girlfriend
And lonely leisure
I have not shared with anyone.
Aleko
How are you not in a hurry
Immediately after the ungrateful
And predators and her insidious
Didn't you plunge a dagger into the heart?
Old man
For what? freer bird youth;
Who can keep love?
By succession joy is given to all;
What was, will not be again.
Aleko
I am not like that. No, I'm not arguing
I won't give up my rights!
Or at least enjoy revenge.
Oh no! when over the abyss of the sea
I found a sleeping enemy
I swear, and here is my leg
Would not spare the villain;
I'm in the waves of the sea, without turning pale,
And I would push the defenseless;
Sudden terror of awakening
With a ferocious laugh reproached,
And long for me to fall
Ridiculous and sweet would be the rumble.
young gypsy
One more...one kiss...
Zemfira
It's time: my husband is jealous and angry.
Gypsy
One thing ... but not share! .. goodbye.
Zemfira
Farewell, until you come.
Gypsy
Tell me, when will we meet again?
Zemfira
Today, as the moon sets,
There, behind the mound over the grave ...
Gypsy
Deceive! she won't come!
Zemfira
Here he is! run!.. I'll come, my dear.
Aleko is sleeping. In his mind
A vague vision plays;
He, waking up in the darkness with a cry,
Jealously stretches out his hand;
But a broken hand
There are enough cold covers -
His girlfriend is away...
He stood up with trepidation and heeded ...
Everything is quiet - fear embraces him,
Both heat and cold flow through it;
He gets up, leaves the tent,
Around the carts, terrible, wandering;
Everything is calm; the fields are silent;
Dark; the moon has gone into mist,
Slightly glimmering stars the wrong light,
A little dew is a noticeable trace
Leads to distant mounds:
He goes impatiently
Where the ominous trail leads.
Grave on the side of the road
In the distance it turns white before him ...
There weakening legs
Dragging, we torment with foreboding,
Mouths tremble, knees tremble,
It goes ... and suddenly ... or is it a dream?
Suddenly sees close two shadows
And he hears a close whisper -
Above the desecrated grave.
No, no, wait, wait for the day.
How timidly you love.
Just a minute!
If without me
Will your husband wake up?
Aleko
I woke up.
Where are you going! don't rush both;
You feel good here at the coffin.
Zemfira
My friend, run, run...
Aleko
Wait!
Where, handsome young man?
Lie down!
She plunges a knife into him.
Zemfira
Gypsy
Zemfira
Aleko, you will kill him!
Look, you're covered in blood!
Oh what have you done?
Aleko
Nothing.
Now breathe his love.
Zemfira
No, no, I'm not afraid of you! -
I despise your threats
I curse your murder...
Aleko
Die you too!
Strikes her.
Zemfira
I'll die loving...
East, illuminated by daylight,
Beamed. Aleko over the hill
Knife in hand, bloody
Sat on a grave stone.
Two corpses lay before him;
The killer had a terrible face.
The gypsies timidly surrounded
His anxious crowd.
The grave was dug to the side.
The wives walked in a mournful succession
And they kissed the eyes of the dead.
The old father sat alone
And looked at the dead
In mute inaction of sadness;
They picked up the corpses, they carried
And in the bosom of the cold earth
They put the youngest couple.
Aleko watched from a distance
For everything ... when did they close
The last handful of the earth,
He silently, slowly bowed
And fell off the stone onto the grass.
Then the old man, approaching, rivers:
“Leave us, proud man!
We are wild we have no laws
We do not torment, we do not execute -
We do not need blood and groans -
But we don't want to live with a killer...
You weren't born for the wild
You only want a will for yourself;
Your voice will be terrible to us:
We are timid and kind in soul,
You are angry and brave - leave us,
Forgive me, peace be with you."
He said - and a noisy crowd
The nomadic camp has risen
From the valley of a terrible night.
And soon everything is in the distance of the steppe
Hidden; only one cart
Poorly carpeted
She stood in the fatal field.
So sometimes before winter,
Foggy, morning time,
When it rises from the fields
The village of late cranes
And with a cry into the distance to the south rushes,
Pierced by deadly lead
One sad remains
Hanging on a wounded wing.
The night has come: in a dark cart
No one put out the fire
Nobody under the roof lift
Didn't sleep until morning.
Epilogue
The magical power of song
In my hazy memory
That's how visions come alive
Either bright or sad days.
In a country where long, long battles
The terrible roar did not stop,
Where are the imperative lines
Russian pointed out to Istanbul,
Where is our old double-headed eagle
Still noisy past glory,
I met in the middle of the steppes
Over the borders of the ancient camps
Carts of peaceful gypsies,
Humble liberty of children.
Behind their lazy crowds
In the deserts I often wandered,
Shared their simple food
And fell asleep before their fires.
I liked the slow ones on campaigns
Their songs are joyful hums -
And long dear Mariula
I repeated the gentle name.
But there is no happiness between you,
Nature's poor sons!
And under tattered tents
There are painful dreams.
And your canopy is nomadic
In the deserts they did not escape from troubles,
And everywhere fatal passions
And there is no protection from fate.
Analysis of the poem "Gypsies" by Pushkin
Wherever A. S. Pushkin was, he always saw themes and plots for new works in the environment. According to contemporaries, he even spent several days in a real gypsy camp during his southern exile. Under these impressions, he began to write the poem "Gypsies", which he completed already in 1824 in Mikhailovsky. The work was not very popular during the life of the poet, but it was highly appreciated by the figures of the Decembrist movement. In the image of Aleko, Pushkin expresses the collapse of romantic ideals.
At the beginning of the work, the gypsy camp symbolizes the realm of freedom and liberty. Gypsies live cheerfully and carefree, there is no power over them. Without a home, they are in constant motion. The absence of laws and strict instructions makes their life easy and not burdensome. Therefore, Zemfira freely brings Aleko to the camp. The traditional society was extremely closed, a stranger could not just enter it and become an equal member. But among the people, who for centuries led a nomadic life, there were peculiar stereotypes of behavior. Gypsies are distinguished by almost unlimited freedom. A girl finds herself a husband in one night, but this does not cause condemnation in anyone.
Pushkin does not indicate the reason why Aleko became an exile. A difficult fate brought him to the gypsy camp. For a long time he was alone, but he found a special charm in this. Leaving the noisy city life, Aleko got rid of power and laws. The simple existence surrounded by nature gave him real happiness. But the author notes that strong passions raged in the young man's chest, which could not find a way out.
Having met Zemfira, Aleko truly fell in love, perhaps for the first time in his life. He gladly joined the camp, as he believed that he had finally found what he was striving for. Aleko tells her beloved about how false and unpleasant life is in an educated society. He is happy with the gypsies and only wants Zemfira to be faithful to him. An ominous warning sounds the story of the girl's father, who predicts that someday Aleko will be drawn to his homeland, and he will show his proud spirit.
The old man's prophecy came true. Zemfira was free from birth. Even the daughter could not keep her near her husband. Gypsies did not recognize marriage chains, so the girl cheated on Aleko. She didn't consider it a serious crime. But Aleko was raised in a different world. He considered revenge necessary and useful, and only death was a worthy punishment. The young man kills his lovers, and the gypsies drive him out of the camp.
Aleko is a vivid example of a romantic hero. His main tragedy is that a proud and independent character cannot find rest anywhere. Even in an absolutely free society, he becomes an outcast. With all his heart striving for liberty, Aleko does not notice that he is denying this right to the woman he loves. His love is based on unconditional submission. By killing Zemfira, Aleko also destroyed his central belief in the inherent freedom of man from birth.
Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin
Gypsies in a noisy crowd
They wander around Bessarabia.
They are over the river today
They spend the night in tattered tents.
Like a liberty, their lodging for the night is cheerful
And peaceful sleep under heaven;
Between cart wheels
Half hung with carpets
The fire is burning; family around
Is cooking dinner; in the open field
Horses graze; behind the tent
A tame bear lies free.
Everything is alive in the middle of the steppes:
The cares of peaceful families,
Ready in the morning for a short journey,
And the songs of wives, and the cry of children,
And the ringing of a camping anvil.
But here on the nomadic camp
Sleepy silence descends
And you can hear in the silence of the steppe
Only the barking of dogs and the neighing of horses.
The lights are off everywhere
Everything is calm, the moon is shining
One from heaven
And the quiet camp illuminates.
In one tent the old man does not sleep;
He sits before the coals,
Warmed by their last heat,
And looks into the far field,
Steamy at night.
His young daughter
I went for a walk in a deserted field.
She got used to the frisky will,
She will come; but now it's night
And soon the month will leave
Heaven distant clouds, -
Zemfira is not there; and getting cold
Poor old man's dinner.
But here she is; behind her
The young man hurries across the steppe;
The gypsy does not know him at all.
"My father," the maiden says,
I am leading a guest; behind the mound
I found him in the desert
And in the camp a the night called.
He wants to be like us gypsies;
The law pursues him
But I'll be his friend
His name is Aleko - he
Ready to follow me everywhere.
S t a r i k
I am pleased to. Stay until the morning
Under the shade of our tent
Or stay with us and share,
As you want. I'm ready
With you to share both bread and shelter.
Be ours - get used to our share,
Wandering poverty and will -
And tomorrow with the morning dawn
In one cart we will go;
Take on any fishing:
Iron kui - il sing songs
And go around the villages with a bear.
I'll stay.
Z e m f i r a
He will be mine:
Who will take him away from me?
But it's too late ... a young month
Went in; the fields are covered with mist,
And sleep involuntarily drives me ...
Light. The old man wanders quietly
Around the silent tent.
“Get up, Zemfira: the sun is rising,
Wake up my guest! it's time, it's time!
Leave, children, a bed of bliss! .. "
And the people poured out with a noise;
The tents are dismantled; carts
Ready to go hiking.
Everything moved together - and now
The crowd pours into the empty plains.
Donkeys in baskets
Children playing are carried;
Husbands and brothers, wives, virgins,
And the old and the young follow;
Scream, noise, gypsy choruses,
Bear roar, his chains
impatient clatter,
Rags of bright variegation,
Nudity of children and elders,
Dogs and barking and howling,
Bagpipes talk, skryp carts,
Everything is poor, wild, everything is discordant,
But everything is so alive, restless,
So alien to our dead negs,
So alien to this idle life,
Like the monotonous song of slaves!
The young man looked sadly
To the deserted plain
And grieve for a secret reason
I did not dare to interpret.
With him black-eyed Zemfira,
Now he is a free inhabitant of the world,
And the sun is merrily above it
Shines with midday beauty;
Why does the young man's heart tremble?
What concern does he have?
The bird of God does not know
No care, no work;
Troublesomely does not twist
Durable nest;
In debt, the night slumbers on a branch;
The red sun will rise
The bird hears the voice of God,
Wakes up and sings.
For the spring, the beauty of nature,
The sultry summer will pass -
And fog and bad weather
Late autumn brings:
People are bored, people are sad;
Bird to distant lands
To a warm land, beyond the blue sea
Flies away until spring.
Like a carefree bird
And he, a migratory exile,
I did not know a reliable nest
And I didn't get used to anything.
He was always on the road
Everywhere there was a shelter for the night;
Waking up in the morning, your day
He surrendered to God
And life could not worry
To confuse his heart laziness.
His sometimes magical glory
Manila is a distant star;
Unexpected luxury and fun
Sometimes they came to him;
Over a lonely head
And thunder often rumbled;
But he carelessly under a thunderstorm
And dozed in a clear bucket.
And lived without recognizing power
Fate is insidious and blind;
But God! how the passions played
His obedient soul!
With what excitement seethed
In his tortured chest!
How long, how long have they been pacified?
They wake up: wait!
Z e m f i r a
Tell me my friend you don't regret
About the fact that he gave up forever?
What did I leave?
Z e m f i r a
Do you understand:
People of the motherland, the city.
What to regret? When would you know
When would you imagine
Captivity stuffy cities!
There are people, in heaps behind the fence,
Don't breathe in the morning chill
Nor the spring smell of the meadows;
Love is ashamed, thoughts are driven,
Trade their will
Heads bow before idols
And they ask for money and chains.
What did I throw? change of excitement,
prejudice sentence,
Crowds insane persecution
Or a brilliant disgrace.
Z e m f i r a
But there are huge chambers,
There are multi-colored carpets,
There are games, noisy feasts,
The dresses of the maidens there are so rich! ..
What is the noise of city merriment?
Where there is no love, there is no fun.
And the virgins ... How are you better than them
And without expensive outfits,
No pearls, no necklaces!
Don't change, my gentle friend!
And I ... one of my desires
With you to share love, leisure
And voluntary exile!
S t a r i k
You love us, even though you were born
Among the rich people.
But freedom is not always sweet
To those who are accustomed to bliss.
There is one legend between us:
Was once exiled by the king
Noon resident to us in exile.
(I used to know, but forgot
His clever nickname.)
He was already years old,
But young and alive with a gentle soul -
And everyone loved him
And he lived on the banks of the Danube,
Not offending anyone
Captivating people with stories;
He did not understand anything
And he was weak and timid, like children;
Strangers for him
Animals and fish were caught in nets;
How the fast river froze
And the winter whirlwinds raged
Covered with fluffy skin
They are a holy old man;
But he is to the worries of a poor life
I could never get used to it;
He wandered withered, pale,
He said that the angry god
He was punished for a crime ...
He waited for deliverance to come.
And all the unfortunate yearned,
Wandering along the banks of the Danube,
Yes, bitter tears shed,
Remembering your distant city,
And he bequeathed, dying,
To move south
His longing bones
And death - alien to this land
Unsatisfied guests!
So this is the fate of your sons
Oh Rome, oh loud power! ..
Singer of love, singer of the gods
Tell me what is glory?
Grave rumble, laudatory voice,
From generation to generation sound running?
Or under the shadow of a smoky bush
Gypsy's wild story?
Two summers have passed. They also roam
Gypsies in a peaceful crowd;
Everywhere still found
Hospitality and peace.
Despising the shackles of enlightenment,
Aleko is free, like them;
He is without worries in regret
Leads wandering days.
All the same he; the family is still the same;
He, not even remembering previous years,
I'm used to being a gypsy.
He loves their canopy for the night,
And the ecstasy of eternal laziness,
And their poor sonorous language.
A bear, a fugitive from his native lair,
Shaggy guest of his tent,
In the villages, along the steppe road,
Near the Moldavian court
In front of the crowd
And dances heavily, and roars,
And the chain gnaws at the tiresome;
Leaning on the staff of the road,
The old man lazily beats tambourines,
Aleko leads the beast with the singing,
Zemfira villager bypasses
And they take their free tribute.
The night will come; they are all three
Uncut millet is cooked;
The old man fell asleep - and everything is at rest ...
The tent is quiet and dark.
The old man warms in the spring sun
Already cooling blood;
At the cradle, the daughter sings love.
Aleko listens and turns pale.
Z e m f i r a
Old husband, formidable husband,
Cut me, burn me:
I am firm; not afraid
No knife, no fire.
Hate you,
I despise you;
I love another
I'm dying in love.
Be quiet. I'm tired of singing
I don't like wild songs.
Z e m f i r a
Don't you love? what do I care!
I sing a song for myself.
Cut me, burn me;
I won't say anything;
Old husband, formidable husband,
You don't recognize him.
He is fresher than spring
Hotter than a summer day;
How young and brave he is!
How he loves me!
How caressed him
I'm in the stillness of the night!
How they laughed then
We are your gray hair!
Shut up, Zemfira! I am satisfied...
Z e m f i r a
So you understand my song?
Z e m f i r a
You are free to get angry
I sing a song about you.
Leaves and sings: Old husband and so on.
S t a r i k
So, I remember, I remember - this song
During our complicated,
For a long time in the fun of the world
She sings among people.
Wandering on the steppes of Cahul,
It used to be on a winter night
My sang Mariula,
Before the fire shaking daughter.
In my mind last summer
Hour by hour darker, darker;
But this song was born
Deep in my memory.
Everything is quiet; night. decorated with the moon
Azure south sky,
Old man Zemfira awakened:
“Oh my father! Aleko is scary.
Listen: through a heavy dream
And he groans and weeps."
S t a r i k
Don't touch him. Keep quiet.
I heard a Russian legend:
Now midnight sometimes
The sleeper is short of breath
home spirit; before dawn
He leaves. Sit with me.
Z e m f i r a
My father! he whispers: Zemfira!
S t a r i k
He is looking for you in a dream:
You are dearer to him than the world.
Z e m f i r a
His love disgusted me.
I'm bored; the heart of the will asks -
Oh, I ... But be quiet! do you hear? he
Another name pronounces...
S t a r i k
Z e m f i r a
Do you hear? hoarse moan
And a fierce rattle! .. How terrible! ..
I will wake him up...
S t a r i k
in vain
Do not drive the night spirit -
He will leave on his own...
Z e m f i r a
He turned
He got up, calls me ... woke up -
I go to him - goodbye, sleep.
Where have you been?
Z e m f i r a
She sat with her father.
Some kind of spirit tormented you;
In a dream your soul endured
torment; you scared me
You, sleepy, gnashed your teeth
And called me.
I dreamed about you.
I saw that between us...
I saw terrible dreams!
Z e m f i r a
Don't believe in false dreams.
Oh, I don't believe in anything
No dreams, no sweet assurances,
Not even your heart.
S t a r i k
Father, she doesn't love me.
S t a r i k
Take comfort, friend: she is a child.
Your despondency is reckless:
You love bitterly and hard
And the heart of a woman is joking.
Look: under a distant vault
The free moon walks;
All over nature in passing
Equally radiance she pours.
Look into any cloud
It will illuminate him so magnificently -
And now - it has already passed into another;
And that will be a short visit.
Who will show her a place in the sky,
Saying: stop there!
Who will say to the heart of a young maiden:
Love one thing, don't change?
How she loved!
How gently bow to me,
She is in the wilderness
Spent the night hours!
Full of children's fun
How often sweet babble
Or with an intoxicating kiss
She is my reverie
I knew how to disperse in a minute! ..
So what? Zemfira is wrong!
My Zemfira has cooled down!…
S t a r i k
Listen: I'll tell you
I am a story about myself.
Long, long time ago, when the Danube
The Muscovite has not yet threatened -
(See, I remember
Aleko, old sadness.)
Then we were afraid of the Sultan;
And Pasha ruled Budjak
From the high towers of Ackermann -
I was young; my soul
At that time she was seething with joy;
And not one in my curls
The gray hair has not yet turned white, -
Between young beauties
One was ... and for a long time she,
Like the sun, I admired
And finally called mine...
Ah, quickly my youth
Flashed like a falling star!
But you, the time for love, has passed
Even faster: only a year
Mariula loved me.
Once near Cahul waters
We met a strange camp;
Those gypsies, their tents
Having broken near ours at the mountain,
We spent two nights together.
They left on the third night, -
And, leaving the little daughter,
Mariula followed them.
I slept peacefully; dawn flashed;
I woke up, no girlfriend!
I'm looking for, I'm calling - and the trace is gone.
Longing, cried Zemfira,
And I cried - from now on
All the virgins of the world have disgusted me;
Between them never my gaze
I didn't choose my girlfriend
And lonely leisure
I have not shared with anyone.
How are you not in a hurry
Immediately after the ungrateful
And predators and her insidious
Didn't you plunge a dagger into the heart?
S t a r i k
For what? freer bird youth;
Who can keep love?
By succession joy is given to all;
What was, will not be again.
I am not like that. No, I'm not arguing
I won't give up my rights!
Or at least enjoy revenge.
Oh no! when over the abyss of the sea
I found a sleeping enemy
I swear, and here is my leg
Would not spare the villain;
I'm in the waves of the sea, without turning pale,
And I would push the defenseless;
Sudden terror of awakening
With a ferocious laugh reproached,
And long for me to fall
Ridiculous and sweet would be the rumble.
Youthful tsygan
One more...one kiss...
Z e m f i r a
It's time: my husband is jealous and angry.
One thing ... but not share! .. goodbye.
Z e m f i r a
Farewell, until you come.
Tell me, when will we meet again?
Z e m f i r a
Today, as the moon sets,
There, behind the mound over the grave ...
Deceive! she won't come!
Z e m f i r a
Here he is! run!.. I'll come, my dear.
Aleko is sleeping. In his mind
A vague vision plays;
He, waking up in the darkness with a cry,
Jealously stretches out his hand;
But a broken hand
There are enough cold covers -
His girlfriend is away...
He stood up with trepidation and heeded ...
Everything is quiet - fear embraces him,
Both heat and cold flow through it;
He gets up, leaves the tent,
Around the carts, terrible, wandering;
Everything is calm; the fields are silent;
Dark; the moon has gone into mist,
Slightly glimmering stars the wrong light,
A little dew is a noticeable trace
Leads to distant mounds:
He goes impatiently
Where the ominous trail leads.
Grave on the side of the road
In the distance it turns white before him ...
There weakening legs
Dragging, we torment with foreboding,
Mouths tremble, knees tremble,
It goes ... and suddenly ... or is it a dream?
Suddenly sees close two shadows
And he hears a close whisper -
Above the desecrated grave.
1st year
2nd g o l o s
1st year
It's time, my dear.
2nd g o l o s
No, no, wait, wait for the day.
1st year
It's too late.
2nd g o l o s
How timidly you love.
1st year
You will ruin me.
2nd g o l o s
1st year
If without me
Will your husband wake up?
Z e m f i r a
My friend, run, run...
Where, handsome young man?
She plunges a knife into him.
Z e m f i r a
Z e m f i r a
Aleko, you will kill him!
Look, you're covered in blood!
Oh what have you done?
Now breathe his love.
Z e m f i r a
No, no, I'm not afraid of you! -
I despise your threats
I curse your murder...
Die you too!
Strikes her.
Z e m f i r a
I'll die loving...
East, illuminated by daylight,
Beamed. Aleko over the hill
Knife in hand, bloody
Sat on a grave stone.
Two corpses lay before him;
The killer had a terrible face.
The gypsies timidly surrounded
His anxious crowd.
The grave was dug to the side.
The wives walked in a mournful succession
And they kissed the eyes of the dead.
The old father sat alone
And looked at the dead
In mute inaction of sadness;
They picked up the corpses, they carried
And in the bosom of the cold earth
They put the youngest couple.
Aleko watched from a distance
For everything ... when did they close
The last handful of the earth,
He silently, slowly bowed
And fell off the stone onto the grass.
Then the old man, approaching, rivers:
“Leave us, proud man!
We are wild we have no laws
We do not torment, we do not execute -
We do not need blood and groans -
But we don't want to live with a killer...
You weren't born for the wild
You only want a will for yourself;
Your voice will be terrible to us:
We are timid and kind in soul,
You are angry and brave - leave us,
Forgive me, peace be with you."
He said - and a noisy crowd
The nomadic camp has risen
From the valley of a terrible night.
And soon everything is in the distance of the steppe
Hidden; only one cart
Poorly carpeted
She stood in the fatal field.
So sometimes before winter,
Foggy, morning time,
When it rises from the fields
The village of late cranes
And with a cry into the distance to the south rushes,
Pierced by deadly lead
One sad remains
Hanging on a wounded wing.
The night has come: in a dark cart
No one put out the fire
Nobody under the roof lift
Didn't sleep until morning.
The magical power of song
In my hazy memory
That's how visions come alive
Either bright or sad days.
In a country where long, long battles
The terrible roar did not stop,
Where are the imperative lines
Where is our old double-headed eagle
Still noisy past glory,
I met in the middle of the steppes
Over the borders of the ancient camps
Carts of peaceful gypsies,
Humble liberty of children.
Behind their lazy crowds
In the deserts I often wandered,
Shared their simple food
And fell asleep before their fires.
I liked the slow ones on campaigns
Their songs are joyful hums -
And long dear Mariula
I repeated the gentle name.
But there is no happiness between you,
Nature's poor sons!
And under tattered tents
There are painful dreams.
And your canopy is nomadic
In the deserts they did not escape from troubles,
And everywhere fatal passions
And there is no protection from fate.
Notes
Written in 1824 and is a poetic expression of the worldview crisis that Pushkin experienced in 1823-1824. The poet, with extraordinary depth and insight, poses in The Gypsies a number of important questions, the answers to which he is not yet able to give. The image of Aleko expresses the feelings and thoughts of the author himself. No wonder Pushkin gave him his own name (Alexander), and in the epilogue he emphasized that he himself, like his hero, lived in a gypsy camp.
Pushkin places his hero, a romantic exile who fled, like the prisoner of the Caucasus, in search of freedom from a cultural society where slavery, physical and moral, reigns in an environment where there are no laws, no coercion, no mutual obligations. Pushkin's "free" gypsies, despite the many features of their life and life accurately and faithfully reproduced in the poem, of course, are extremely far from the genuine Bessarabian gypsies who then lived in a "serfdom" (see the section "From early editions", a draft preface Pushkin to his poem). But Pushkin had to create for his hero such an environment in which he could fully satisfy his passionate desire for absolute, unrestricted freedom. And then it turns out that Aleko, who demands freedom for himself, does not want to recognize it for others if this freedom affects his interests, his rights (“I am not like that,” he says to the old gypsy, “no, I, without arguing, from the rights mine, but I will refuse”). The poet debunks the romantic hero, showing that "hopeless selfishness" is behind his desire for freedom. Absolute freedom to love, as it is realized in the poem in the actions of Zemfira and Mariula, turns out to be a passion that does not create any spiritual ties between lovers, does not impose any moral obligations on them. Zemfira is bored, "the heart asks for will" - and she easily, without remorse, changes Aleko; a handsome gypsy turned out to be in a neighboring camp, and after a two-day acquaintance, “leaving her little daughter” (and her husband), “Mariula went after them” ... Free gypsies, as it turns out, are free only because they are “lazy” and “timid at heart”, primitive, devoid of high spiritual demands. In addition, freedom does not at all give these free gypsies happiness. The old gypsy is just as unhappy as Aleko, but only he resigns himself to his misfortune, believing that this is a normal order, that “by succession everyone is given joy, what was, will not be again.”
So Pushkin in his poem debunked both the traditional romantic freedom-loving hero and the romantic ideal of absolute freedom. Pushkin still does not know how to replace these abstract, vague romantic ideals with any more real, connected with public life, and therefore the conclusion of the poem sounds tragically hopeless:
But there is no happiness between you,
Nature's poor sons!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And everywhere fatal passions
And there is no protection from fate.
These deep thoughts and feelings endured by Pushkin are clothed in "Gypsies" in a perfect poetic form. The free and at the same time clear and precise composition of the poem, vivid pictures of the life and life of the gypsies, descriptions of the feelings and experiences of the hero saturated with lyricism, dramatic dialogues that reveal conflicts and contradictions that make up the content of the poem, extraneous episodes included in the poem - poems about a carefree bird, the story of Ovid - all this makes the poem "Gypsies" one of the best works of the young Pushkin.
Having finished the poem in October 1824, Pushkin was in no hurry to publish it. Firstly, he thought to further enrich the critical content of the poem by introducing into it Aleko’s speech to his newborn son, in which the poet’s bitter disappointment in the value of science and education sounds, the education that Pushkin so sincerely and devotedly served both before his crisis and after it. , until death. This monologue by Aleko remained unfinished in the manuscript (see "From early editions"). Another reason for the delay in the publication of The Gypsies was, one might think, that at that time (the end of 1824 and 1825) Pushkin was already overcoming his crisis of romanticism, and he did not want to bring to the public such a strong work that did not express already his real views. "Gypsies" was published only in 1827, with a note on the cover: "Written in 1824."
From earlier editions
I. Draft passage not included in the final edition
After the verse "In the tent and quiet and dark":
Pale, weak, Zemfira is dozing -
Aleko with joy in his eyes
Holding a baby in her arms
And eagerly heeds the cry of life:
"Receive my heartfelt greetings,
Child of love, child of nature
And with the gift of life dear
An invaluable gift of freedom!..
Stay in the middle of the steppes;
Prejudices are silent here,
And there is no early persecution
Above your wild cradle;
Grow in the wild without lessons;
Do not know shy chambers
And don't change simple vices
On educated depravity;
Under the shadow of peaceful oblivion
Let the gypsy poor grandson
Deprived and bliss of enlightenment
And the magnificent vanity of sciences -
But careless, healthy and free,
Vain remorse is alien,
He will be happy with life
Not knowing forever new needs.
No, he won't kneel
Before an idol of some honor,
Will not invent changes
Trembling secretly with a thirst for revenge, -
My boy will not test
How cruel are the pennies
How stale and bitter is someone else's bread -
How hard is the slow foot
Climb onto strange steps;
From society, maybe I
I will now take away a citizen, -
What needs - I save my son,
And I wish my mother
She gave birth to me in the thicket of the forest,
Or under the yurt of an Ostyak,
Or in a crevice of a cliff.
Oh, how many caustic remorse,
Heavy dreams, reassurances
Then I wouldn't know...
II. Projects of Pushkin's preface to the poem
For a long time they did not know the origin of the gypsies in Europe; considered them to come from Egypt - until now in some lands and call them Egyptians. English travelers finally resolved all perplexities - it is proved that the gypsies belong to an outcast caste of Indians called bet. Language and what can be called their faith - even facial features and way of life - are true evidence of this. Their attachment to the wild liberty provided for the poor, everywhere tired of the measures taken by the government to transform the idle life of these vagabonds - they roam in Russia, as in England; men are engaged in crafts necessary for the first needs, trade in horses, drive bears, deceive and steal, women hunt divination, singing and dancing.
In Moldova, the Roma make up the majority of the population; but the most remarkable thing is that in Bessarabia and Moldavia serfdom exists only among these humble adherents of primitive freedom. This does not prevent them, however, from leading a wild nomadic life, quite accurately described in this story. They are distinguished from others by greater moral purity. They do not trade either theft or deceit. However, they are just as wild, just as fond of music and engaged in the same rude crafts. Their tribute is the unlimited income of the sovereign's wife.
Note. Bessarabia, known in the deepest antiquity, should be especially curious for us:
She is sung by Derzhavin
And full of Russian glory.
But until now this region is known to us from the erroneous descriptions of two or three travelers. I don’t know if there will ever be a “Historical and Statistical Description of It,” compiled by I.P. Liprandi, which combines true learning with the excellent virtues of a military man.
There is one tradition between us.- The Roman poet of the 1st century Ovid was exiled by Emperor Augustus to the shores of the Black Sea. Traditions about his life there are preserved in Bessarabia.
Where are the imperative lines // Russian pointed to Istanbul.- Bessarabia has long been the theater of Russian-Turkish wars. In 1812, the border between Russia and Turkey was established there.
The simplicity and clarity of Pushkin's works do not at all reduce their significance and
values. What, for example, is the poem that Pushkin wrote in his youth - "Gypsies"? The summary is that a young man from the capital's high society is disappointed in life, he is bored with the emptiness, pretense and hypocrisy of his environment. Alexei wanted to be among nature, natural, sincere people. He goes to the gypsy camp and lives in it, wandering and sharing the hard fate of the free people. For two years Aleko has been among the gypsies, he enjoys the will and love of the beautiful Zemfira. But heavy forebodings torment him. In dreams, he sees his wife's betrayal.
Summary. Pushkin. Poem "Gypsies"
The poem is decorated with descriptions of gypsy life and the surrounding nature. This is not conveyed by the summary. Here, as in any other work of Pushkin, philosophical depth is hidden behind the seeming simplicity. One day, Zemfira's father, an old gypsy, told Aleko the story of his love. His beautiful wife Mariula left him a little daughter and left the camp with another. Aleko is amazed: why didn’t the deceived husband take revenge on his unfaithful wife and her lover? The old gypsy wisely believes that love cannot be kept by force.
Pushkin. "Gypsies" - an essay on the problems of society
The poem leads the reader to compare a society that lives according to the rules it has adopted with a free people that recognizes only the laws of nature. Which of them are stronger and more correct? Can a person from a civilized society disobey the generally accepted norms? Waking up one night, Aleko sees that Zemfira is not around. He goes to look for her and overhears her conversation with a young gypsy. Zemfira said that she did not love her husband, that he bored her. Aleko, in a fit of jealousy, kills a young rival and a traitor wife with a dagger.
A.S. Pushkin. "Gypsies". Summary. The ending
With this tragic denouement, Pushkin completes his story, summing up in the form of the end of the free existence of Aleko. Tabor, seeing the murderer and his two victims in the morning, made his decision. After burying Zemfira and her young lover, the gypsies drove Aleko out of the camp and left. He could not live in harmony with nature. Alexey wanted freedom for himself, but when faced with the choice of Zemfira, he regarded it as a crime. He, even being in a gypsy camp, continued to live according to the unjust laws and rules adopted in his society. After all, there some enjoy freedom at the expense of the unfreedom of others.
The conflict of a secular person with the laws of nature. Pushkin. "Gypsies". Summary of the poem and its essence
Such a verdict to his time passed the young poet. The poem with its lyrical digressions plunges the reader into the romantic world of free people - nomadic gypsies. They are simple and wise, they are free and recognize the right of others to freedom. That is why they adopted Aleko as a brother. But he could not understand the way of their thoughts, their rules of life. The old man's story about Mariul and Aleko's reaction to it were harbingers of subsequent tragic events.
Afterword
An uncomplicated plot and an amazing depth of generalizations are available only to such a master as Pushkin was. "Gypsies" (a brief summary, of course, does not give a complete impression of the poem) is a work that has become a powerful contribution of the young poet to world romantic literature.