"Fatherland to us ..."

Flying "Tsarskoye Selo Anthology"

Ivan Tolstoy: One of the recent highly cultural projects of the St. Petersburg Publishing Group "New Library of the Poet" is a 750-page collection of Russian poems about Tsarskoye Selo under the name "Tsarskoye Selo Anthology." Is it necessary to remind that the Tsarskoye village is now the city of Pushkin, more precisely, the Pushkin district of St. Petersburg is not only the historical residence of the Russian emperors and not only a memorable place associated with the life of the greatest Russian poet - but this is also one of the largest and most important cultural centers of Russia. The city of muses - what was called and called this unique place in Russian cultural history. In addition to Pushkin and his classmates who studied at the imperial lyceum, the city was the place of life and work of many, many Russian poets, writers, and artists. The old -timers of the Tsarskoye village were Innocent Annensky, Akhmatova, Gumilev, Vasily Komarovsky, Dmitry Klenovsky, Tatyana Gnedich, Alexei Tolstoy, Vyacheslav Shishkov, Nikolai Punin, Vsevolod Rozhdestvensky.

The inhabitants of the city of muses composed poems about him. The city of Pushkin, the city of Pushkin could not but inspire.

The current Tsarskoye Selo anthology included more than 500 poems of 174 poets - as recognized classics, starting with Lomonosov and Derzhavin, both poets of the Pushkin galaxy and pillars of Russian poetic modernism, and subsequent - both Soviet poets and post -Soviet times. A magnificent, over the centuries of the famous city of muses over everyone spreads its broad -legged oakpers.

"Tsarskoye Selo Anthology." Cover

As an interlocutor, I chose Boris Mikhailovich Paramonov today - and not only because talking to him is always interesting, but also because he is one of the participants in anthology.

Boris Paramonov: This is not the first experience of such an publication. For the first time, he was undertaken by the Vologda poet and collector Boris Alexandrovich Chulkov, who released in 1999 the collection "Tsarskoye Selo in Poetry (1750–2000)." The current volume is the fruit of a longevial, painstaking and highly qualified work of Andrei Yuryevich Aryev. The anthology published by him-that we are talking about now-are much wider in volume, the publication of texts has been brought up to the very last years, the publication is equipped with a substantive entrance article (under the name "The magnificent darkness of someone else's garden"), the texts are accompanied by real and cultural and historical commentary, and if possible, complete information about the authors of anthology. Moreover, a weighty, on good paper, the published volume is accompanied by a mythological dictionary, so necessary for reading the Tsarskoye Selo verses, and a list of memorable places of the Tsarskoye village - the cities of Pushkin. Without a doubt, this is a highly cultural publication - a certain rank of the anthology of Russian poetry necessary for schools - and only to the great annoyance of all lovers of Russian poetry is a negligible minor circulation, miserable 700 copies. This yells to the sky - and requires an immediate print. For such a book is able to disperse by any circulation, will find a place in any Russian school.

Ivan Tolstoy: Let's move on from this general characteristics to details. What seemed to you the most interesting and valuable in Tsarskoye Selo Anthology?

Boris Paramonov: That's it! And the point is not even in verses, no matter how paradoxical it may sound, - a certain fundamental fact is stunning full, from the cake to the end of the fate of Russian poetry tied to the royal village. This is her genius of place. This is Parnassus, Olympus of Russian poetry. This is a place that you can’t eat on any horse.

This is a genius of place. This is Parnassus, Olympus of Russian poetry. This is a place that you can’t get on any horse

Ivan Tolstoy: Not at any pegas.

Boris Paramonov: Exactly! You know, Ivan Nikitich, at the beginning of the revolution, Moscow Imazhinists, led by Yesenin, organized a poetic cafe called "Pegasus Stall". Here, the minus of this Shutovskaya shade, a suitable name for the Tsarskoye Selo.

Ivan Tolstoy: Well, this is about horses, but what about the riders?

Boris Paramonov: That is better - one another is better.

Ivan Tolstoy: Well, how to dismember them, disassemble, structure them?

Boris Paramonov: Of course, the first thing is old -timed or just permanent or long -term residents. In the beginning - whales: Lomonosov, Derzhavin, singers of the empresses and imperial palaces. And the first violent shoots are lyceum students led by Pushkin himself. To start with Alexander Sergeyevich himself: 44 poetic texts inspired the royal village in it, from the Lyceum, and after, for example, the Tsarskoye Selo reminiscences from the eighth chapter of “Onegin”:

In those days when in the gardens of the lyceum

I bloomed serenely

I read Apuley willingly,

But Cicero did not read

In those days, in mysterious valleys,

In the spring, with the clicks of the swan,

Near the waters shining in silence,

Muse began to appear to me.

My student cell

Suddenly illuminated. Muse in it

Opened a feast of young nonsense,

I sang children's fun,

And the glory of our antiquity,

And hearts of trembling dreams.

Interestingly, the compiler to these textbook lines gives their own option. The work is thorough, what to say.

Ivan Tolstoy: Well, what about other Tsarskoye Selo old -timers?

Boris Paramonov: represented adequately, that is, completely. Well, this is at least arithmetic: Akhmatova - 44 texts, Annensky - 10, Komarovsky - 8, Dmitry Klenovsky - 17 poems, Vsevolod Rozhdestvensky - 28, Tatyana Gnedich - 11 texts, including fragments of a wreath of sonnets.

Ivan Tolstoy: This is the same Tatyana Grigoryevna Gnedich, a descendant of the Pushkin contemporary, the translator of the Iliad, which, siduchechi in the Stalin camp, completely translated the “Don Juan” byuron from memory.

Boris Paramonov: The compiler Aryev rightfully calls it a poetic feat.

Ivan Tolstoy: Boris Mikhailovich, and after all, some names of these Tsarskoye Selo old-timers are already talking little to the current reader.

Boris Paramonov: Well, so let's read something. Well, at least from Vasily Komarovsky (years of his life 1881–1914). Here is such a sonnet:

Either the summer heat, then the sun is purple,

A longing of winds and wet captivity of alleys, -

And the girl in longing for her sculptural

On the autumn gray day, still miles.

From black URN of Smaragda fields

The water runs rapidly and violently, -

And the fervor of the Mishown was heavy to her,

And she is cheerful and more fun.

Over moaning majestic copper

The fog runs with an excited firmament,

The tops of LIP calls the last decay.

September is coming, and peppy steps

In antennae of autumn changes,

He tramples the bitch under his feet.

From the Tsarskoye Selo residents, Nikolai Gumilev wrote little about the city-only 5 texts, and one is a poetic dedication to the birthday of the Grand Duchess Anastasia, some other Madrigal-but also a joke that is not without a deep meaning: to rename the Tsarskoye village in a children's village:

Not Tsarskoye Selo - unfortunately,

And the children's village-her!

What is better: to live kings under power

Or to be funny evil children?

Well, here is the Tsarskoye Selo joke, the famous quatrasth of Pushkin on the statue of a girl with a jug, which she broke: "A miracle! Water will not sit, pouring out of the urn of a broken one; Virgin, over the eternal stream, is always sad."

Ivan Tolstoy: And the poet Alexei Konstantinovich Tolstoy later attributed:

"I do not see a miracle here. Lieutenant General Zakharzhevsky

In the urn, that bottom was drilled, spent water through it. "

Boris Paramonov: Here is what topic it is appropriate to start when speaking about Tsarskoye Selo anthology and generally about the city of muses.

Ivan Tolstoy: Boris Mikhailovich, I'm sorry, I will kill you: you need to recall that the city of muses is the name of the book, published in 1927 by the Tsarskoye Selo resident Erich Hollerbach: this non -standard book, at the end of the NPA, could not be published in every sense, in five years, it would not be possible to publish such things later.

Some of the Tsarskoye Selo residents-poets left the Germans during the war

Boris Paramonov: Erich Hollerbach is also known that for many years he was in correspondence with V.V. Rozanov and wrote a book about him. By the way, we learn from the comments of the compiler that some of the Tsarskoye Selo residents-poets left the Germans during the war, for example, Dmitry Klenovsky, one of the brightest guards-cosel poets. Look into the biographical index to that compiled by A. Yu. Aryev. Who just did not abandon where fate!

Ivan Tolstoy: In particular, Boris Mikhailovich: You have moved from Tsarskoye Selo to Forest Hills, New York. However, you are a native Petersburg.

Boris Paramonov: But no! The last three Soviet years, I lived just in the city of Pushkin, one stop from the Oryol Gate, on the very edge of the Babolovsky park, where I made many hours of bicycle walks. From there he left.

Ivan Tolstoy: Boris Mikhailovich, all that we have now discussed is still a historical or real comment. We will talk, however, about verses. There is such a topic in Russian literature - Tsarskoye Selo verses are not in terms of topic or chronotope, but as a kind of aesthetic reality. Can we talk about the Tsarskoye School of Russian Poems, Russian poetry?

Poems are fresh flowers, not a trace of them to make porcelain bouquets, suitable only in the cemetery

Boris Paramonov: The compiler and soul of the current anthology Andrei Yuryevich Aryev, carefully, thoughtfully and highly qualifiedly, answered this question. The introductory article, written by him to the collection, is called, as I already said, “the magnificent darkness of the alien garden” is an extensive, two printed sheets with volume. And we must immediately say that a serious author is not inclined to distinguish and canonize such a rather conditional genre - Tsarskoye Selo verses. As Russian poetry is not exhausted by the period of Catherine or Elizabeth classicism, so the genre of Tsarskoye Selo poems or poems about the Tsarskoye village is historically transient and is by no means an independent partition, which was canonized in Russian poetry. Poems are fresh flowers, it is not a trace of making porcelain bouquets from them, suitable only in the cemetery. The compiler and author of the preface by Aryev, not at all disinfecting this himself, as we would say now, the podcast - the Tsarskoye Selo poem topics - with the full basis claims the tangible dynamics of the Tsarskoye Selo poetic discourse. And the discovery here lies, one might say, in the palm of your hand, you don’t have to go far. The Tsarskoye Selo discourse is death: the death of the king, the death of the royal palaces, the death of the inhabitants of the toy town. Aryev recalls the old, still pre -revolutionary line of Akhmatova: "As an exhausted topic in death, the palace rests." Akhmatova in the parks grew nets of nettles. And she writes - she tries to write the Tsarskoye Selo ode: "Here is not a dungeon, nor Shuya, a city of parks and the hall, but I will write you like my Vitebsk walked." Tsarskoye Selo, the residence of the kings, and the provincial Vitebsk - this is what comparison is now working.

And here is the main, or something, the tuning fork that Aryev gives the toy town from the history of the Aryev from history: the majestic cultural past is unnoticed by a thin patina of non -being here. And this new bunch is still alive palaces.

Well, to add to this that, so to speak, the deconstruction of the Tsarskoye village began Innocent Annensky.

Ivan Tolstoy: And you can, Boris Mikhailovich, say that among the authors of the current anthology you discovered someone?

Boris Paramonov: A very strange and pleasant discovery: the poems of Olga Waxel, the very failed friend of Mandelstam, he did not know what she was writing poetry. Poems, of course, are weak, but in this weakness there are some touching. Well, for example:

Little White House,

Blue spruce at the entrance

The same, but from last year,

I will find them out with difficulty ...

How to get to the end?

And when is he, this end?

If everything is hidden at the bottom

Or invisibly flies at the top?

And neither ate nor the White House,

Not my earthly sadness

Do not touch the shadow of the beam

Do not whine the last ice ...

Or maybe guess

Only when you wake up, tell me

From the lies invented by the world.

From the end of the ice ...

Little White House,

Blue -handed ate at the entrance ...

Maybe nature will say

What to do with non -free ice?

Boris Paramonov: But this is all particular, at least beautiful; But here's what you need to say again and again: the most valuable book is published with a meager circulation of 700 copies. A multiple and immediate print is required.

Ivan Tolstoy: And I would like to read two more poems - of those that will not easily meet in other anthologies. Firstly, this is Pushkin translated from French. The most early Pushkin, 1814, lyceum. Translation by V. Vasiliev.

You want to see my portrait

But without embellishment? Let

I will accept some of my

I mean, only in short.

Still on the school, I am a bench

But I am clear.

Nehlupp. I say this

Without a vanity boast.

I am so talkative that know:

Among the doctors of the Sorbonne

Krasnobai will not be won

So restless.

At least I did not get it to the top,

But I do not grieve, right.

Pinkish, lighthouse,

And the head of Kudryava.

I'm always cheerful with friends

I am chasing solitude

Quarrels and enmity will tear me

And sometimes - teaching.

I love balls, theater is glad.

But I'm only nicer for me ...

I do not dare to tell, my brother,

After all, I am studying in the lyceum.

Add, since I'm before you

I am free to admit everything:

I am created by God

And I am satisfied with fate.

I am a real poor.

I face a monkey.

I'm windy, even too much.

Here is Pushkin without deception.

And another author, out of modesty, who did not call himself, is Boris Paramonov. His two poems are also included in the anthology. I will read one of them.

Like Pushkin-Odessa, reveling in Rossini
In the absence of Frascati and Wuvre,
my home lunch I warmed on kerosene
In that Tsarskoye Selo royal hole,

in the edge of the official linden. But being a Jew
when not for the fathers, it is undoubtedly in the son,
Like Osip Mandelstam, the singer of the World Sini,
Insomnia fell off with anchors.

And confusing in the darkness of soprano with Orvyuto,
I went through the sea and the countries of the world in the mind
Baudelaire and Rimbo read to the holes,

The road to hell is Cornel and Racine,
And waiting for a call to OVIR,
Like Slutsky, revel in kerosene.