My name is your bird. Analysis of the poem "Your name is a bird in the hand" by Marina Tsvetaeva

Marina Tsvetaeva's poem “Your name is a bird in your hand” was written in 1916 and is dedicated to Alexander Blok. This poem opens a whole cycle of Tsvetaeva's poetry, written from 1916 to 1921.

The verse “Your name is a bird in your hand” is dedicated to Blok, however, Tsvetaeva never mentioned his name in the work itself, but everyone understands who it is about. Blok and Tsvetaeva were kindred spirits, rebellious spirit, inexhaustible energy, rebelliousness and eccentricity - all this made them similar.

In the poem, the poetess tries to beat every sound of Blok's name. His name is something warm like a bird in your hand, but elusive, you open your palm and it will fly away. The sound “l” in the name of the poet prompted Tsvetaeva to associate with an ice floe on the tongue. His image for her is at the same time disturbingly cold - one sound, one movement of the lips pronounced: “Block” tickle the tongue with a chill and touch the innermost corners of the soul.

For Tsvetaeva Blok is the embodiment of her spiritual love, he is like an angel, like a man, but sublime, elusive and immaterial.

The name of Blok is only “five letters”, the poet always signed “A. Block ”, but the musicality of the poem is amazing, here is the ringing of a bell, and the clatter of hooves, and the clicking of a trigger. The word "Block" for Tsvetaeva is such a palette of sounds - and a ball caught in the wind, and a stone thrown into a quiet pond, and the sound of a kiss.

In general, the whole poem is a monologue of the poetess. There is no plot in the verse, it is just a set of emotions. When you read Tsvetaeva's lines, diametrically opposed feelings replace each other. Warmth from the bird in the palm of your hand, then suddenly a chill, then some suddenness from the lines about the caught ball, then as if a quiet sound is heard from a stone thrown into the water and then a loud clatter of hooves, and in the finale, first a warm loving and unforgettable kiss in the eyes and cold and sobering - in the snow.

Such an expression of feelings arises from the poem, probably Blok himself evoked such feelings in Tsvetaeva. Symbolically, the verse ends with the word "deep", a word that contains all the sounds of Blok's name and reflects his essence, the depth and immensity of his poetry.

Your name is a bird in your hand
Your name is ice on the tongue
One single movement of the lips
Your name is five letters.
Ball caught on the fly
Silver bell in the mouth

A stone thrown into a quiet pond
Sigh like your name is.
In the light clicking of night hooves
Your loud name thunders.
And call him to our temple
A loud clicking trigger.

Your name - oh, you can't! —
Your name is a kiss in the eyes
In the gentle cold of motionless eyelids,
Your name is a kiss in the snow.
Key, icy, blue sip…
With your name - sleep is deep.

gentle ghost,
Knight without reproach
By whom are you called
Into my young life?

In the gray haze
You stand, riza
Snow dressed.

That is not the wind
Drives me through the city
Oh, it's the third
Evening I smell the enemy.

blue-eyed
jinxed me
Snow singer.

snow swan
Feathers spread under my feet.
Feathers fly
And slowly sink into the snow.

So for feathers
I go to the door
Which is followed by death.

He sings to me
Behind the blue windows
He sings to me
distant bells,

long cry,
Swan click -
Calling.

Sweet ghost!
I know that everything is a dream.
Do me a favor:
Amen, amen, loosen up!
Amen.

You pass to the West of the Sun,
You will see the evening light
You pass to the West of the Sun,
And the blizzard covers the trail.

Past my windows - impassive -
You will pass in the snow silence,
God's righteous man is my beautiful,
Quiet light of my soul.

I'm on your soul - I will not bury!
Your path is unbreakable.
In the hand, pale from kisses,
I won't drive my own nail.

And I won't call by name
And I won't stretch my arms.
Wax holy face
I just bow down.

And, standing under the slow snow,
I'll kneel in the snow
And in your holy name
Kiss the evening snow. —

Where majestic steps
You passed in deathly silence
Quiet light - saints of glory -
Ruler of my soul.

Beast - lair,
Wanderer - the road
Dead - drogi.
To each his own.

Woman - to dissemble,
King to rule
I am to praise
Your name.

In Moscow, the domes are on fire!
In Moscow, the bells are ringing!
And I have the tombs in a row, -
In them queens sleep, and kings.

It's easier to breathe - than on the whole earth!
And you don't know that the dawn is in the Kremlin
I pray to you - until dawn!

And you pass over your Neva
About that time, as over the Moscow River
I stand with my head down
And the lights flicker.

With all my insomnia I love you
With all my insomnia I will listen to you -
About that time, as throughout the Kremlin
Ringers are waking up...

But my river - yes with your river,
But my hand is yes with your hand
They will not converge, my joy, until
Dawn will not catch up - dawn.

Thought it was a man!
And forced to die.
Died now, forever.
"Weep for the dead angel!"

He is at sunset
He sang evening beauty.
Three wax fires
Trembling, hypocritical.

Rays came from him -
Hot strings in the snow!
Three wax candles
Sun something! Luminous!

Oh look how
The eyelids are dark!
Oh look how
His wings are broken!

Black reader reads
Idle hands are baptized...
— The singer lies dead
And Sunday is celebrated.

Must be behind that grove
The village where I lived
It must be love is easier
And easier than I expected.

“Hey, idols, may you die!” —
I got up and raised the whip,
And shout after - ohlest,
And again the bells sing.

Over the roll and miserable bread
Behind the pole rises - the pole.
And wire under the sky
Sings and sings death.

And clouds of gadflies around indifferent nags,
And the wind swollen native Kaluga kumach,
And the whistle of quails, and the big sky,
And waves of bells over waves of bread,
And talk about the German, until you get bored,
And yellow-yellow - behind the blue grove - a cross,
And sweet heat, and such a radiance all over,
And your name, which sounds like an angel.

Like a weak beam through the black haze of hells -
So your voice under the roar of exploding shells.

And in the thunders, like a certain seraph,
Notifies in a deaf voice, -

From somewhere in the ancient foggy mornings -
How he loved us, blind and nameless,

For a blue cloak, for treachery - a sin ...
And how tenderest of all - that one, deeper than all

Sunk into the night - dashing deeds!
And how I did not stop loving you, Russia.

And along the temple - with a lost finger
Everything drives, drives ... And more about

What days await us, how God will deceive,
How will you call the sun - and how will it not rise ...

So, a prisoner with myself alone
(Or is the child talking in his sleep?)

It appeared to us - the whole area wide! —
Sacred heart of Alexander Blok.

Here he is - look - tired of foreign lands,
Leader without squads.

Here - he drinks with a handful from a mountain rapid -
Prince without a country.

Everything is there for him: both the principality and the army,
Both bread and mother.

Red is your heritage - own it,
A friend without friends!

Remain us a stranger:
Pretty, beloved,
handwritten trebnik,
Cypress casket.

To all - to one - women,
To them, swallows, to us, married,
We, gold, those gray hairs,
To all - to one - son

You will remain, everyone - the firstborn,
Forsaken, abandoned
With our strange staff,
Our early wanderer.

To all of us with a short inscription
Cross at the Smolensk cemetery
Look for everyone to join the queue,
Everyone, ………, do not believe.

All - son, all - heir,
Everyone, first and last.

His friends - do not disturb him!
His servants - do not disturb him!
It was so clear on his face:
My kingdom is not of this world.

Prophetic blizzards circled along the veins,
Shoulders stooped bent from the wings,
In the singing slot, in the caked ardor -
Swan lost his soul!

Fall, fall, heavy copper!
Wings have tasted the right to fly!
Lips that screamed the word: answer! —
They know that this is not - to die!

Dawns are drinking, the sea is drinking - in full satiety
Gossips. - Do not serve a memorial service!
For the one who commanded forever: to be! —
Bread will get him to feed!

And above the plain
Swan cry.
Mother, don't you recognize your son?
This is sky-high - he is miles away,
This is the last - he - I'm sorry.

And above the plain
Prophetic blizzard.
Virgo, don't you recognize your friend?
Torn robes, a wing in the blood ...
This is the last he: - Live!

Over the damned -
The takeoff is radiant.
The righteous soul snatched - hosanna!
The convict found a bed - warm.
Stepson to mother in the house. — Amen.

An unbroken rib
Broken wing.

Not shooters right through
Chest shot through. Do not take out

This bullet. They don't make wings.
Mutilated walked.

Chain, chain of thorns!
What is the trembling of the mob to the deceased,

Feminine flattery swan fluff ...
Passed alone and deaf,

Freezing sunsets
The void of eyeless statues.

Only one else lived in it:
Broken wing.

Without a call, without a word -
Like a roofer falling from rooftops.
And maybe again
He came, are you lying in the cradle?

You burn and do not fade
Lamp of few weeks...
Which of the mortals
Rocking your cradle?

Blissful heaviness!
Prophetic singing reed!
Oh who will tell me
What cradle are you in?

"Not sold yet!"
Only with this jealousy in mind
by the great detour
I will go on Russian soil.

midnight countries
I'll go from end to end.
Where is the mouth-his-wound,
Eyes bluish lead?

Grab it! Stronger!
Love and love him only!
Oh who will whisper to me
What cradle are you in?

pearl grains,
Muslin sleepy canopy.
Not a laurel, but a thorn -
The cap is a sharp-toothed shadow.

Not a canopy, but a bird
Opened two white wings!
And be born again
So that the blizzard swept over again ?!

Rush him! Above!
Hold! Don't just give it away!
Oh, who will breathe me
What cradle are you in?

Or maybe false
My feat, and for nothing - works.
As laid in the ground
Perhaps you will oversleep until the pipe.

Huge hollowness
Your temples - I see again.
Such fatigue
You can't lift it with a pipe!

Sovereign pasture,
Reliable, rusty silence.
The watchman will show me
What cradle are you in?

How sleepy, how drunk
Surprised, unprepared.
Temporal pits:
Sleepless conscience.

Empty Eyes:
Dead and light.
dreamer, seer
Empty glass.

Are you not
Her rustling mantle
Didn't make it -
The reverse gorge of Hades?

Not this one
Full of silver sound
Along sleepy Gebra
Swimming head?

Yes, Lord! And my obol
Accept for the approval of the temple.
Not your love arbitrariness
I sing - the wound of my homeland.

Not a stingy rusty chest -
Granite worn by the knees.
Everyone is given a hero and a king,
To all - the righteous - the singer - and the dead.

Breaking the ice with the Dnieper,
Coffin, not embarrassed by the tes,
Russia - Easter is sailing to you,
A flood of thousands of voices.

So, heart, cry and glorify!
May your cry be a thousand which? —
Jealous of mortal love.
The other rejoices in the chorus.

Your name is a bird in your hand
Your name is ice on the tongue.
One single movement of the lips.
Your name is five letters.
Ball caught on the fly
Silver bell in the mouth.

A stone thrown into a quiet pond
Sigh like your name is.
In the light clicking of night hooves
Your loud name thunders.
And call him to our temple
A loud clicking trigger.

Your name - oh, you can't! -
Your name is a kiss in the eyes
In the gentle cold of motionless eyelids.
Your name is a kiss in the snow.
Key, icy, blue sip…
With your name - sleep is deep.

Analysis of the poem "Your Name is a Bird in Hand" by Tsvetaeva

M. Tsvetaeva treated the creativity and the personality of A. Blok with great trepidation and respect. Between them there was practically no, even friendly relations. This is partly due to the fact that the poetess idolized the symbolist poet, considering him an unearthly creature who mistakenly visited our world. Tsvetaeva dedicated a whole cycle of poems to Blok, including "Your name is a bird in your hand ..." (1916).

The work, in fact, is a set of epithets with which the poetess endows the name of Blok. All of them emphasize the unreality of the poet, in which Tsvetaeva was sure. These diverse definitions are united by swiftness and ephemerality. A five-letter name (according to pre-revolutionary spelling, the letter “er” was written at the end of Blok’s surname) for the poetess is like “a single movement of the lips.” She compares it with objects (ice, ball, bell) in motion; short-term, jerky sounds (“clicking ... hooves”, “clicking trigger”); symbolic intimate actions (“kiss on the eyes”, “kiss on the snow”). Tsvetaeva deliberately does not pronounce the surname itself (“Oh, you can’t!”), Considering this blasphemy in relation to an incorporeal being.

Block really made a strong impression on nervous girls, who often fell in love with him. He was at the mercy of the symbols and images created in his imagination, which allowed him to exert an inexplicable influence on those around him. Tsvetaeva fell under this influence, but managed to preserve the originality of her own works, which undoubtedly benefited her. The poetess was very subtly versed in poetry and saw real talent in Blok's work. In the poems of the poet, which for an inexperienced reader seemed to be complete nonsense, Tsvetaeva saw a manifestation of cosmic forces.

Of course, in many ways, these two strong creative personalities were similar, especially in the ability to completely renounce real life and exist in the world of their own dreams. Moreover, Blok succeeded in this to an incredible degree. That is why Tsvetaeva respected and secretly envied the symbolist poet to such an extent. The main difference between the poetess and impressionable young ladies was that there was no question of a love feeling. Tsvetaeva could not imagine how one could feel too “earthly” a feeling for an ephemeral being. The only thing the poetess counts on is spiritual intimacy without any physical contact.

The poem ends with the phrase "With your name, sleep is deep," which brings the reader back to reality. Tsvetaeva admitted that she often fell asleep while reading.

In Russian literature of the 20th century, the work of Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva stands apart. Her works are distinguished by special emotional tension and expressiveness. Originality, irrepressibility, constant striving for freedom and truth bring Tsvetaeva closer to another famous Russian poet Alexander Alexandrovich Blok, who to a certain extent influenced the work of the poetess.

Tsvetaeva was not personally acquainted with the poet, but she carried her admiration for him through her whole life. In the poetry of Marina Tsvetaeva, one can single out a whole layer of works dedicated to Alexander Blok and his creativity. The most famous of them is the poem "Your name is a bird in your hand ..."

In it, Blok appears to us not as a symbolist or mystic poet, but as an unattainable ideal, a model. Tsvetaeva literally idolizes the poet, listens to him, admires him. The theme of this work is the theme of the poet and poetry. Marina Tsvetaeva's attitude to the work of Alexander Blok is revealed in awe of the poet's name alone. Practically, the whole work is the name, or rather, the surname, Blok (that's why "your name is five letters"). Tsvetaeva proved to be an unsurpassed artist of the word. The dynamic, instantaneous images created by her create a real sound picture, convey feelings of taste and touch.

So, Tsvetaeva hears the cherished "Block" in almost everything - it occupies the entire space. It should be noted the gradation of images - from the almost inaudible sound of "a ball caught on the fly" to "your name thunders loudly" and the ringing click of the trigger near the ear. This sequence indicates an increase in emotions, which at the end turn into an intonation explosion:

".. Your name, oh, you can't! -

Your name is a kiss on the eyes .. "

Numerous dashes, an exclamation mark, the interjection "ah" show the fragmentary feelings and thoughts of the poetess. The block for her is something incomprehensible, indescribable, sublime and therefore forbidden.

The last 6 lines of the poem reveal the tragic mood of the work.

Your name - oh, you can't! -
Your name is a kiss in the eyes
In the gentle cold of motionless eyelids.
Your name is a kiss in the snow.
Key, icy, blue sip…
With your name - sleep is deep.

Tsvetaeva introduces the motif of death and loneliness. In my opinion, in these lines one can hear fear, bitterness of loss. Indeed, for the poetess Blok is something elusive, every moment, every sound of his name is important to her. Alliteration (repetition of sounds [l], [l "]) creates an image of something cold, mysterious, it seems as if we looked into the most closed, innermost corners of Tsvetaeva's soul.

The work consists of 3 stanzas, each of which has a special meaning. In the first, a metaphorical, tangible image of Blok is created ("a bird in the hand", "ice on the tongue). In the second, a phonetic image. In the third, a direct relationship to the poet is revealed. Adjacent rhyming makes the poem dynamic and at the same time whole, complete.

The syntax of this work is interesting. The author uses verbless syntactic constructions, which enhances the emotionality of the poem. The dash makes you pause, which also carries a special, semantic load. Anaphora "your name" focuses on the key image of the work, making it sublime, exceptional.

This work dedicated to Blok sounds colorful and figurative. Metaphors ("bird in hand", "ice on the tongue") - they express an emotional attitude towards the poet; epithets ("gentle cold of motionless eyelids"); personification ("will call the trigger"), which makes the image of Blok more vivid, memorable.

Undoubtedly, this poem is an example of suggestive lyrics; Tsvetaeva seems to infect us with a sense of admiration and admiration for Blok and his work.

"Your name is a bird in your hand" is one of the most famous works of Marina Tsvetaeva. The special emotionality, expressiveness, depth and sincerity of emotions cannot but leave in the soul of the readers the feelings that the poetess herself experienced for the writer Blok.

The poem “Your Name is a Bird in Hand” Marina Tsvetaeva, contrary to the opinion of amateurs from the pen, dedicated not to her husband, Sergei Efron, but to her poetic idol, Alexander Blok. He was the only poet before whom Tsvetaeva idolized, he dedicated several poems to him and “Your Name” is one of the brightest.

What attracted Blok so much to the poetess was an aria from another opera, perhaps she was attracted to the great symbolist by something that was lacking in herself - the mystery of the lines and the play with symbols. I must say that symbolism is used in full in this poem, more on this in the analysis below.

Symbolism of Tsvetaeva

Symbolism is actively used in the lines (sorry for the repetition). The bird in hand is the ability to keep your freedom under control, which Marina lacked. An icicle on the tongue is the depth of Blok's lines, when reading which you want to be silent, and a silver bell is a sweet and sour aftertaste after reading Blok's works.

Tsvetaeva finds symbols around her that the poet's name can be compared with. This is the clicking of night hooves, and the sound of a stone thrown into the pond, and even the click of a trigger near the temple.

And call him to our temple

A loud clicking trigger.

Well, not knowing Blok closely, Tsvetaeva tries to get closer to the poet, at least in verse:

Your name is a kiss on the eyes.

Riddle of the poem

There is a riddle in the poem that raises questions from those who do not know the grammar of those years. Why:

Is your name five letters?

A block is 4 letters, where does five come from? It's simple, in the language of that time, at the end of Blok's surname, there was the letter "yat", in a simple way, the solid sign "Blok". Here are five letters for you.

The poem ends with a comparison of the hero's name with a kiss in the snow, but Tsvetaeva puts the final point with the fact that with this name the dream is deep. Sleep is always associated with peace and trust. Concluding the poem, Tsvetaeva is satisfied with her work, pleased that once again she paid tribute to her beloved poet.

From the poems we conclude that Blok evoked a storm of emotions in Tsvetaeva, his work and mystery always attracted the poetess, and in many ways she took an example from him in her work. Whether Marina built an idol from Blok is impossible to say now, but the fact that she put him at the head of Russian poetry is a fact.

Your name is a bird in your hand
Your name is ice on the tongue.
One single movement of the lips.
Your name is five letters.
Ball caught on the fly
Silver bell in the mouth.

A stone thrown into a quiet pond
Sigh like your name is.
In the light clicking of night hooves
Your loud name thunders.
And call him to our temple
A loud clicking trigger.

Your name - oh, you can't! —
Your name is a kiss in the eyes
In the gentle cold of motionless eyelids.
Your name is a kiss in the snow.
Key, icy, blue sip…
With your name - sleep is deep.