wandered tonight at the House of Books in Kalinin. And it is accidentally hit by a book presentation of Yevgeny Yevtushenko. Poet who in my youth had the surgery on me, perhaps the most powerful spiritual influence. And his poems and published them in the then Ogonyok anthology still a taboo Poetry Silver Age began for me at the time the main clue, and the memory of that my ninth-tenth grade in the mid-eighties, still remains very deep experience. And now I am already an adult and poprivykshy to celebrities, he suddenly realized that for the sake of his own youth, I should approach him and ask autograph. Here it is:
A is a collection of Yevtushenko's early history, love and death:
***
history - not just war,
inventions and works,
it - and smells, and ringing,
and awe of twigs and grass.
Her misunderstand
as soon as wisdom book piles.
it and how to embrace,
as a drink, laugh and sing.
In flight years in prophetic events,
in all that roar and boil, -
and the roar of the seas, and the women's shoulders,
and crying children, and the sound of horses' hoofs.
Through all the great ideas
swim and moaning voices,
fly obscure vision,
twinkling stars and eyes ...
1956
***
you loved so much to hide.
Zalezesh in the corner
and there you sit, upryamitsa,
wrapped in a handkerchief.
deceitful climb
under the table, and even in the cupboard.
behind curtains clogged
and breathe it into your sleeve.
's white sugar, crushed
even your hand.
gone from this room.
You live in a completely different.
Not once have read
your little note.
But the room painfully
look around me.
Then you sew, then cooked ...
Chagall and sad.
all think - are you hiding,
all looking, looking ...
1955.
cashier.
At nag, reluctantly coward
through the fine rain on the highway,
sat a girl cashier
with a black revolver at his side.
In a large bag potrfel hid,
that nobody guessed,
it Smuggled into the taiga salary,
and I accompanied her.
We talked about gangsters,
on different occasions funny,
and about famous artists,
and their big salary.
And it was quiet and subdued
her face, surprised,
and bangs out from under the hood
sticking wet and funny.
About neuvidennom yearning,
gently touching horse,
«And how you dance in Moscow?» -
she asked me.
in the hut, the rain beating out with a bang,
severe rigor is complete,
taking out scores of flaky,
statement she disclosed.
Her work has long lasted -
the money hands numb,
and that she was merry,
we brought her gramophone.
Guys card shuffling,
looked at us without any jokes,
and we danced with the cashier
then waltz languishing, the foxtrot.
And she walked across the floor,
as the girls go on the ice,
and something quiet repeated,
and stumbled on the go.
At each step varied:
suddenly sank into oblivion,
it all himself apologizing
for failing to his own.
And after - festive and clean
a rickety table,
in the hut, under the sheepskin somebody
it, tired, sleep.
A chest heaved ranged
and quietly dropped again.
She was asleep and smiling
and continued to dance.
1956
Patriarch's Ponds.
vague Patriarch's Ponds.
World their shadows is mysterious and fragile,
and blue reflections boats
visible on the dark green water.
turn white person in the square at the corners.
sniffing, crawling machine glazed,
washing away the dust from the asphalt giving
opportunity to reflect lights.
Glides bike in my gloom.
very soon two, and I still can not sleep,
and stick to wet leaves spokes,
are cold and your hands on the handlebars.
this house, which is so familiar!
I looked into the soul of a close and long
on a white semicircular house number
and light under a blue canopy.
I jump quietly at the gate.
woman lives here - now I with my husband
and daughter, but something about her worries
and something to sleep at night she does not.
And she sees the same thing to me:
evening forest, large shadows shift,
and lilies of the valley false glow,
sprouted from crevices on the stump,
and the further suffering of accordions,
and laughter, and dress in a little white polka dots,
again laughter and everything else, from what
we did not get anything ...
it to me sometimes prihodt:
«I walked past. I just for a moment », -
but my eyes are not looking for some reason
from a strange some shame.
and disappear again its tracks ...
Now this story is not very clear.
It is foggy, as the autumn night
vague Patriarch's Ponds.
1957
Masha.
Memory Masha Aliger .
Along the sea rapidly girl goes,
pale, and rozoveya dichas.
It everything goes ... What is happening to her?
It appears the woman now.
It removes the sea slippers,
enters, like the music in him,
and all the world knows it,
although did not understand anything.
Reason sober follies weight,
glance from under the strict bang through all,
and - down again ... All of this together - Masha,
serious-eyed people.
And I have a dry sky,
when, forgetting someone's an adult court,
boyish slender legs
her to me helplessly bear ...
I wear a mask tube.
floats and Masha somewhere above me.
I through glass looking through the eyes of Masha,
among flowers and crabs, as intoxicating.
And I see a green light thicker
over buroyu submarine ridge -
sway as little white stalks,
boyish feet under water.
And I'm floating, floating in underwater thickets,
I swim, fins cut the water,
and I'm not happy because happy,
and again happy to be unhappy I.
What can I say? Let not afraid of my mother -
you do not why I, Mary, of evil.
I need from you a bit, Masha
very much - you were.
In thinking about eternity and death,
gripped by the hope and longing,
look through your heart with a thin,
as through a transparent stone of the sea.
1958
***
When rose thy face
over the life of my crumpled,
first I understood only that,
how poorly everything that I have.
But roshti, rivers and plaguing
JSB person consecrated
colors and peace posvyatilo
neposvyashtennogo vary.
I'm so afraid, I'm so afraid
unexpected end of the sunrise,
late discoveries, tears, ecstasy,
but this fear not fighting.
I remember - this fear
is love. His cherish,
although do not know how to cherish,
his love sloppy guard.
I have this fear in the ring.
Moments of these - I know - short,
and disappear for me Paint,
go down when your face ...
1960
Secrets.
Melt teenage secrets,
like fog on the shores of ...
were mysteries - Tony, Tanya,
even with pimples on their feet.
were secret stars, animals,
under osinami Stajka opyat,
and script tainstvenno gates -
tolyko in childhood Tac gates script.
There were mysteries of the world,
like balls from his mouth
seductive fakir,
deceives the purpose.
We mysteriously whispered something
on the mysterious ice rink,
and fearfully, as the secret to the mystery,
touched hand to hand ...
But was unexpected maturity.
worn his coat to the holes,
someone's childhood, as hereinafter area,
tour departed fakir.
We, as adults, they are forgotten.
Ah, the fakir, you're a bad person.
Netainstvenno to hurt
us on the shoulders of the snow falls.
Where are you, magical balls?
Netainstvenno we are sad.
Netainstvenny us to others,
yes and we netainstvenny them.
Well, if your hand accidentally
touching, stroking lightly,
is just a hand, but not a mystery,
understand - just a hand!
Give secret simple-simple,
secret - shy and quiet,
secret thin, barefoot ...
Give a mystery - at least one!
1960
Shadows of our favorites.
From the poem "Brotherly HPP»
There are custom builders, ancient Greece bequeathed:
if you're building a house, especially in sunny day
should put you against the sun girlfriend
and then begin the first stone laying in its shadow.
And then this house is not rassohnetsya and will not collapse:
will crumble mountains, wheezing, and he did,
and will not be in it of malice , dishonesty, greed, envy -
shadow of your favorite safeguard the house from everything! [ ... ]
1964
***
woman combing her hair,
morning smelling river,
stroking, stretching the skin,
and creaking under the skin hand.
fresh and firm to the envy
released from the hand of the breast,
so that the sky is pierced sizoe
cusps dark nipples.
touched fingers alone,
sweetly conscious nudity,
to inactive, with a pale scar at the side of
and fuzz maiden - the stomach.
But suddenly, because of coniferous needles,
so hard standing on his,
girlish voice whined:
«Grandma, when shall we go?»
And the person made the way all of a sudden shadow
young flowing hair,
and wrinkles pathetic confusion,
giving age, broke ...
Well, the body supposedly flew,
forgetting damn summer,
body rebelling, he would not
notice betrayal person.
Woman hid behind hazel.
Standing at the edge of the cliff,
hid in decent clothes
youth indecent own.
And meet me, with her dull,
hiding her body under lock and key,
out - well not that old woman,
but not a woman almost.
And I looked away instantly,
like thinking about her,
and not betray me, I know the secret,
may be her last ...
1966
