My friends, ours is beautiful. Analysis of the poem by Alexander Pushkin “My friends, our union is wonderful
On October 19, 1811, the Tsarskoye Selo Lyceum opened its doors for the first time. Alexander Pushkin was among its first graduates. This course of only 29 people turned out to be rich in individuals who left their mark on the history of Russia. Together with Pushkin, the poet Küchelbecker, publisher Delvig, Minister of Foreign Affairs and Vice-Chancellor Gorchakov, Admiral and polar explorer Matyushkin, Decembrist Pushchin, composer Yakovlev. At the end of the Lyceum, the graduates decided: every year on October 19 to get together.
These annual meetings have become a good tradition. In the fall of 1825, Pushkin was in exile in Mikhailovsky and could not come to the next meeting of the lyceum students. But wrote a poem "October 19", which was solemnly read out among the assembled friends.
The work is a friendly message, but it contains fragments that can be compared with an ode and elegy. Compositionally, "October 19" consists of two parts: minor and major.
In many of Pushkin's poems, human feelings are harmoniously associated with the seasons. October 19 is no exception. It begins with a sad autumn landscape that emphasizes the author's sadness and loneliness. On a cold autumn day, Pushkin with a glass of wine tries to transfer himself to a cheerful circle of friends with the power of his imagination.
The poet's sadness intensifies, as he realizes that not only he himself could not come to the meeting. Pushkin recalls Korsakov, who died in Italy, as well as Matyushkin, who at that time was on an expedition around the world. Following these reflections, the poet sings the friendship that forever united the lyceum students in "Sacred union", which no one is able to destroy.
Pushkin reports that new friends turned out to be "False"... Only lyceum classmates ventured to visit him in exile: Delvig, Pushchin and Gorchakov. The author would like to see also Küchelbecker in order to talk with him on interesting topics.
Then Pushkin's mood changes. He predicts that in a year he will definitely come to a meeting with friends and offers some toasts for a future party. The poet calls on to rejoice that "While we are still here", and regrets the bitter fate of the last lyceum student, who will celebrate this day alone. The ending of the poem is completely opposite to its beginning. The author says he spent this day "Without grief and worries".
"October 19" is written in iambic pentameter with mixed rhyme. The poet used quite complex sentences with numerous homogeneous members... This is due to a large number of epithets and comparisons. "He, like a soul, is inseparable and eternal - unshakable, free and carefree", - such a beautiful characteristic is given by Pushkin to the union of lyceum students. Alexander Sergeevich, according to the genre of the poem, often uses the following addresses: "my friends", "Unhappy friend", "My brother is dear to the muse, according to fate", "My belated friend" and others.
The emotionality of the work is emphasized by numerous exclamations. There are also many questions in the poem, especially in the third stanza: “Who hasn’t come? Who is not between you? ", "Who else have you missed?" This structure of the work brings it closer to colloquial speech.
October 19 has become a hymn to true friendship. Friends played an important role in Pushkin's life. Even the poet died not surrounded by relatives, but in the arms of friends. This friendship was born and strengthened precisely within the walls of the Lyceum. The years of study there were special. The young man's talent manifested itself in the Lyceum, here the foundations of free-thinking were laid, to which Pushkin remained faithful all his life. It can be said without exaggeration that the poet's personality was formed in the Lyceum. From here, all the graduates endured a sense of honor and dignity, learned to love the fatherland. Therefore, along with "Lyceum brotherhood" the poem praises the educational institution itself. The poet respectfully recalls the mentors who kept "Our youth", and even the king for the fact that he founded the Lyceum.
Many lines from this wonderful poem became winged: "My friends, our union is wonderful!", "The ministry of muses does not tolerate fuss", "Feast while we are still here!"
The richness of thoughts and feelings, the musicality of the construction, special warmth and at the same time philosophical depth put "October 19" among the real masterpieces of Russian literature.
- "The Captain's Daughter", a summary of the chapters of Pushkin's story
- "Boris Godunov", analysis of the tragedy of Alexander Pushkin
We are all the same: the whole world is a foreign land for us;
Fatherland to us Tsarskoe Selo.
Many of Pushkin's works are devoted to the topic of friendship. The poet was distinguished by his sociability, was always faithful to the feeling of friendship and always highly valued his friends. Especially reliable and loyal friends were his close companions in the Lyceum: Pushchin, Delvig, Kuchelbecker. For the former lyceum students, the day of the foundation of the lyceum - October 19 - was a festive day. Friends met on this day to spend several hours together and remember the days of their youth. Pushkin dedicated this date
Several poems in which he sang the friendship that binds comrades school years... In poems written during his stay in exile in 1825 and dedicated to the anniversary of the founding of the Lyceum, the poet expressed with special force his friendly feelings for his fellow lyceum students:
My friends, our union is wonderful!
He, like a soul, is inseparable and eternal -
Unwavering, free and careless ...
Unbreakable loyalty to the lyceum brotherhood, thinning from year to year, to its bright dreams and hopes is the leitmotif of all poems dedicated to him, and in all of them - reflections on the fate of friends scattered around the world, about those historical events, witnesses of which they happened to be. Here the “memory of the heart” conquers time, space and even death. The poem "October 19, 1827" is an expression of loyalty to the "lyceum spirit", a wish of joy, success in life and love to your friends:
God help you my friends
And in storms, and in everyday grief,
In a strange land, in a deserted sea
And in the dark abysses of the earth!
The poet dedicated several letters to his best friend, a participant in the Decembrist uprising I.Y. Pushchin, one of them was written in 1826 and sent to Siberia:
My first friend, my invaluable friend!
And I blessed fate
When my yard is lonely
Brought in by the sad snow,
Your bell has sounded.
In 1831, Pushkin responded to the lyceum anniversary with one of the darkest poems "The more often the lyceum celebrates."
The reasons for this were: Pushchin and Kuchelbecker were “in the depths Siberian ores”; Delvig and Korsakov died; Pushchin, Kuchelbecker and Delvig are Pushkin's closest friends, each of them is a part of the poet's life. Therefore, the lines of the poem are so sad:
Someone is ailment, someone is sorrow
They brought the damp earth into darkness,
And we sobbed over everyone.
I would like to end my essay with a phrase from Pushkin's letter to PA Osinova: "... Believe me, there is nothing more true and gratifying in the world than friendship and freedom." One can imagine how the poet felt. After all, he lost both!
"My friends, our union is wonderful!" (the theme of friendship in the lyrics of Alexander Pushkin)
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The forest drops its crimson dress,
The fading field will shake off the frost,
The day will pass through as if against one's will
And hide behind the edge of the surrounding mountains.
Blaze, fireplace, in my deserted cell;
And you, wine, friend of the autumn cold,
Pour a gratifying hangover into my chest
Minute oblivion of bitter torment.
I am sad: there is no friend with me,
With whom would I drink for a long parting,
Who could shake hands with my heart?
And wish you many happy years.
I drink alone; vain imagination
He calls his comrades around me;
The familiar approach is not heard
And my soul is not expecting.
I drink alone, and on the banks of the Neva
My friends call me today ...
But do many of you feast there too?
Who else have you missed?
Who changed the captivating habit?
Whom did the cold light carry away from you?
Whose voice fell silent at the brotherly roll call?
Who hasn't come? Who is not between you?
He did not come, our curly-haired singer,
With fire in our eyes, with sweet-voiced guitar:
Under the myrtles of beautiful Italy
He sleeps quietly, and a friendly cutter
I did not draw over the Russian grave
A few words in the native language,
So that once I find a sad hello
The son of the north, wandering in a foreign land.
Are you sitting with your friends
Someone else's heavenly restless lover?
Or again you are passing the sultry tropic
And the eternal ice of the midnight seas?
Happy journey! .. From the lyceum threshold
You stepped onto the ship jokingly
And since then in the seas is your road,
About waves and storms, beloved child!
You kept in a wandering destiny
Beautiful years, the original morals:
Lyceum noise, lyceum fun
In the midst of stormy waves you dreamed;
You stretched out your hand to us from across the sea,
You carried us alone in a young soul
And he repeated: “For a long parting
Secret fate may have condemned us! "
My friends, our union is wonderful!
He, like a soul, is inseparable and eternal -
Unwavering, free and carefree
He grew together under the shadow of friendly muses.
Wherever fate has thrown us
And happiness wherever it takes
We are all the same: the whole world is a foreign land for us;
Fatherland to us Tsarskoe Selo.
We are chasing from end to end by a thunderstorm,
Entangled in the web of a harsh fate
I tremble in the bosom of a new friendship,
Charter, cuddled by a caressing head ...
With my sad and rebellious plea,
With the trusting hope of the first years,
To other friends he gave himself up to a tender soul;
But their non-brotherly greetings were bitter.
And now here, in this forgotten wilderness,
In the abode of desert blizzards and cold,
Sweet joy was preparing for me:
Three of you, friends of my soul,
Here I hugged. The poet's house is disgraced,
Oh my Pushchin, you were the first to visit;
You have sweetened the exile on a sad day,
You turned his Lyceum into the day.
You, Gorchakov, lucky from the first days,
Praise you - fortune shine cold
I have not changed your free soul:
All the same you are for honor and friends.
For us a different path has been assigned a strict one;
Stepping into life, we quickly parted:
But by chance on a country road
We met and hugged fraternally.
When anger overtook my fate,
For all a stranger, like a homeless orphan,
I am languid under the storm of the head
And I was waiting for you, the prophet of the Permesian virgins,
And you came, son of laziness inspired,
Oh my Delvig: your voice has awakened
The heat of the heart, lulled to sleep for so long
And I cheerfully blessed fate.
From infancy, the spirit of songs burned in us,
And we knew the wondrous excitement;
From infancy, two muses flew to us,
And our destiny was sweet with their caress:
But I already loved the applause,
You, proud, sang for the muses and for the soul;
I spent my gift, like life, without attention,
You brought up your genius in silence.
The ministry of the muses does not tolerate fuss;
Beauty should be majestic:
But youth advises us slyly,
And noisy dreams delight us ...
Let's come to our senses - but it's too late! and sadly
We look back, not seeing any traces there.
Tell me, Wilhelm, was it not the case with us,
Is my brother a relative of a muse, of fate?
It's time, it's time! our mental anguish
The world is not worth it; let's leave the delusions!
Let's hide our life under the shade of solitude!
I'm waiting for you, my belated friend -
Come; by the fire of a fairy tale
Revive the heartfelt traditions;
Let's talk about the stormy days of the Caucasus,
About Schiller, about fame, about love.
It's time for me too ... feast, friends!
I anticipate a gratifying meeting;
Remember the poet's prediction:
A year will pass, and I am with you again,
The covenant of my dreams will come true;
A year will pass, and I will appear to you!
Oh, how many tears and how many exclamations,
And how many bowls raised to heaven!
And the first is fuller, friends, fuller!
And all to the bottom in honor of our union!
Bless, jubilant muse
Bless: long live the Lyceum!
To the mentors who kept our youth,
To all honor, both dead and alive,
Raising a cup of gratitude to his lips,
Not remembering evil, we will reward for the good.
Fuller, fuller! and, burning with my heart,
Again to the bottom, drink to the drop!
But for whom? oh friends, guess ...
Hurray, our king! So! let's drink to the king.
He is a human! it is ruled by the moment.
He is a slave to word of mouth, doubt and passion;
Forgive him the wrong persecution:
He took Paris, he founded the Lyceum.
Feast while we're still here!
Alas, our circle is thinning from hour to hour;
Who sleeps in the grave, who is orphaned far away;
Fate looks, we fade; the days are running;
Invisibly bending over and cold
We are nearing our beginning ...
To whom of us is the Lyceum day in old age?
Will you have to triumph alone?
Unhappy friend! among new generations
An annoying guest and superfluous, and a stranger,
He will remember us and the days of connections,
Closing my eyes with a trembling hand ...
Let him, though sad, with joy
Then this day will spend a bowl,
As I am now, your disgraced recluse,
He spent it without grief and worries.
The forest drops its crimson dress,
The frost shakes off the withered field,
The day will pass through as if against one's will
And hide behind the edge of the surrounding mountains.
Blaze, fireplace, in my deserted cell;
And you, wine, friend of the autumn cold,
Pour a gratifying hangover into my chest
Minute oblivion of bitter torment.I am sad: there is no friend with me,
With whom would I drink for a long parting,
Who could shake hands with my heart?
And wish you many happy years.
I drink alone; vain imagination
He calls his comrades around me;
The familiar approach is not heard
And my soul is not expecting.I drink alone, and on the banks of the Neva
My friends call me today ...
But do many of you feast there too?
Who else have you missed?
Who changed the captivating habit?
Whom did the cold light carry away from you?
Whose voice fell silent at the brotherly roll call?
Who hasn't come? Who is not between you?He did not come, our curly-haired singer,
With fire in our eyes, with a sweet-voiced guitar:
Under the myrtles of beautiful Italy
He sleeps quietly, and a friendly cutter
I did not draw over the Russian grave
A few words in the native language,
So that once I find a sad hello
The son of the north, wandering in a foreign land.Are you sitting with your friends
Someone else's heavenly restless lover?
Or again you are passing the sultry tropic
And the eternal ice of the midnight seas?
Happy journey! .. From the lyceum threshold
You stepped onto the ship jokingly
And since then in the seas is your road,
About waves and storms, beloved child!You kept in a wandering destiny
Beautiful years, the original morals:
Lyceum noise, lyceum fun
In the midst of stormy waves you dreamed;
You stretched out your hand to us from across the sea,
You carried us alone in a young soul
And he repeated: “For a long parting
Secret fate may have condemned us! "My friends, our union is wonderful!
He, like a soul, is inseparable and eternal -
Unwavering, free and carefree
He grew together under the shadow of friendly muses.
Wherever fate throws us
And happiness wherever it takes
We are all the same: the whole world is a foreign land for us;
Fatherland to us Tsarskoe Selo.We are chasing from end to end by a thunderstorm,
Entangled in the web of a harsh fate
I tremble in the bosom of a new friendship,
Charter, cuddled by a caressing head ...
With my sad and rebellious plea,
With the trusting hope of the first years,
To other friends he gave himself up to a tender soul;
But their non-brotherly greetings were bitter.And now here, in this forgotten wilderness,
In the abode of desert blizzards and cold,
Sweet joy was preparing for me:
Three of you, friends of my soul,
Here I hugged. The poet's house is disgraced,
Oh my Pushchin, you were the first to visit;
You have sweetened the exile on a sad day,
You turned his Lyceum into the day.You, Gorchakov, lucky from the first days,
Praise you - fortune shine cold
I have not changed your free soul:
All the same you are for honor and friends.
For us a different path has been assigned a strict one;
Stepping into life, we quickly parted:
But by chance on a country road
We met and hugged fraternally.When anger overtook my fate,
For all a stranger, like a homeless orphan,
I am languid under the storm of the head
And I was waiting for you, the prophet of the Permesian virgins,
And you came, son of laziness inspired,
Oh my Delvig: your voice has awakened
The heat of the heart, lulled to sleep for so long
And I cheerfully blessed fate.From infancy, the spirit of songs burned in us,
And we knew the wondrous excitement;
From infancy, two muses flew to us,
And our destiny was sweet with their caress:
But I already loved the applause,
You, proud, sang for the muses and for the soul;
I spent my gift, like life, without attention,
You brought up your genius in silence.The ministry of the muses does not tolerate fuss;
Beauty should be majestic:
But youth advises us slyly,
And noisy dreams make us happy ...
Let's come to our senses - but it's too late! and sadly
We look back, not seeing any traces there.
Tell me, Wilhelm, was it not the case with us,
Is my brother a relative of a muse, of fate?It's time, it's time! our mental anguish
The world is not worth it; let's leave the delusions!
Let's hide our life under the shade of solitude!
I'm waiting for you, my belated friend -
Come; by the fire of a fairy tale
Revive the heartfelt traditions;
Let's talk about the stormy days of the Caucasus,
About Schiller, about fame, about love.It's time for me too ... feast, friends!
I anticipate a gratifying meeting;
Remember the poet's prediction:
A year will pass, and I am with you again,
The covenant of my dreams will come true;
A year will pass, and I will appear to you!
Oh, how many tears and how many exclamations,
And how many bowls raised to heaven!And the first is fuller, friends, fuller!
And all to the bottom in honor of our union!
Bless, jubilant muse
Bless: long live the Lyceum!
To the mentors who kept our youth,
To all honor, both dead and alive,
Raising a cup of gratitude to his lips,
Not remembering evil, we will reward for the good.Fuller, fuller! and, burning with my heart,
Again to the bottom, drink to the drop!
But for whom? about others, guess ...
Hurray, our king! So! let's drink to the king.
He is a human! it is ruled by the moment.
He is a slave to word of mouth, doubt and passion;
Forgive him the wrong persecution:
He took Paris, he founded the Lyceum.Feast while we're still here!
Alas, our circle is thinning from hour to hour;
Who sleeps in the grave, who is orphaned far away;
Fate looks, we fade; the days are running;
Invisibly bending over and cold
We are nearing our beginning ...
Who among us is the Lyceum day in old age
Will you have to triumph alone?Unhappy friend! among new generations
An annoying guest and superfluous, and a stranger,
He will remember us and the days of connections,
Closing his eyes with a trembling hand ...
Let him, though sad, with joy
Then this day will spend a bowl,
As I am now, your disgraced recluse,
He spent it without grief and worries.
Analysis of Pushkin's poem "October 19, 1825"
In 1817, Alexander Pushkin brilliantly graduated from the Tsarskoye Selo Lyceum. During the farewell ball, friends-lyceum students decided that every year on October 19, on the opening day of this educational institution, they will come together to remember their carefree youth.
It should be noted that this tradition has been strictly observed for many years. However, life scattered yesterday's lyceum students all over the world. In 1825, Pushkin, exiled to the Mikhailovskoye family estate for disrespect for the tsar and free-thinking, could not attend the meeting of graduates, but sent his friends a poetic letter, which was solemnly read out to those present. By this time, Alexander Pushkin had already gained fame as one of the most talented and daring poets of our time. Nevertheless, this did not prevent him from deeply respecting his friends, who, although they did not become outstanding poets, undoubtedly had brilliant literary abilities. Recalling those with whom for six years he had to share all the joys and sorrows, the poet in his poem "October 19, 1825" notes with regret that many of his faithful comrades are no longer alive. Others, for various reasons, could not join those who feast on this day “on the banks of the Neva”. But there are good excuses for this, since fate often presents its minions with surprises that need to be perceived, if not with gratitude, then at least with understanding.
The poet notes that this evening he drinks alone, paying tribute to his friends, whom he still loves and remembers, and who pay him in return. “My friends, our union is wonderful!” - exclaims the author, claiming that no twists of fate are capable of destroying the spiritual closeness that once arose between the students and remained for many years. At the same time, Pushkin thank his friends, who, contrary to common sense and to the detriment of their own reputation, nevertheless neglected public opinion and visited the poet in exile. “Three of you, friends of my soul, I hugged here,” the poet writes. It was these meetings with Pushchin, Gorchakov and Delvig that made the poet take the blows of fate more philosophically and not give up his vocation. And endless conversations with friends prompted Pushkin to think that "the ministry of muses does not tolerate fuss." Therefore, the poet began to treat his forced imprisonment with a certain degree of irony and gratitude, since he received an excellent opportunity to devote all his time to creativity and rethinking life. It was in Mikhailovsky Pushkin that many magnificent works were created, which today are rightfully considered classics of Russian literature.
Addressing his friends-lyceum students, the poet predicts that exactly one year later he will again raise a glass of wine with them to celebrate such memorable date... This prophecy is indeed coming true. As well as the phrases that the next time much fewer graduates will gather at the same table, become prophetic. Literally two months after the writing of the poem "October 19, 1825" the Decembrist uprising will take place, which will drastically change the lives of many of the poet's friends. As if anticipating this, Pushkin appeals to those who are destined to go into exile and hard labor, with parting words to recall "us and the days of connections, covering his eyes with a trembling hand." According to the poet, this "sad joy" will allow those who will not be around to mentally raise their glasses and proclaim a traditional toast to unshakable male friendship. And at least one day to spend in harmony and harmony with this cruel world "as now I, your disgraced recluse, spent it without grief and worries."
This poem by Pushkin is dedicated to friends in the lyceum, and, of course, even the title reflects the festive date of the opening of that very lyceum. It is still the day of the lyceum student in Russia.
The eminent (and first) graduates of this institution were bound by a strong friendship. In the poem, Alexander Sergeevich speaks about everyone in an interesting and pleasant way.
The poem begins with a description autumn nature: the first frost, a dull day, a crimson sunset ... a mood of melancholy and melancholy. The hero drinks wine to numb his heartache, recalls his youth. Now he lives as if in a cell, although it is a richly decorated room (with a fireplace even), but Pushkin is cold and lonely in it. He admits that he drinks alone - there is not a single friend nearby. And so I would like to have a heart-to-heart talk with someone, be silent, shake hands with a friend heartily ... But the hero only has memories. His imagination calls out friends from the past. This day is the day of their lyceum. The lone hero asks the emptiness questions. For example, which of your friends is now also celebrating this date, who, in general, remembers about it. Carried away by social life, their worries, they could forget. If only everyone were alive ...
And here the de poet mentally answers himself that, for example, his friend Korsakov did not come. He seems to be still alive for Pushkin: with fire in his eyes, with a guitar. In fact, the friend is already buried in Italy, and there is not even a word in Russian on his grave.
Next, I recall Matyushkin - a navigator in travel around the world... It can be anywhere - in the tropics or in the ice. Pushkin wishes this restless man a happy journey. His friend retained his lyceum fervor, as if he had not forgotten his friends.
Basically, the author does not mention the names of friends. Then they were heard, now you can refer to the comments.
Now a stanza where the author admires their strong friendship, which was united by Tsarskoe Selo. It is admitted that from the hardships of life he wanted to forget himself with new friends who are nearby, but no one will replace those high school friends.
And then Pushkin recalls friends who are even closer to him, because they came to his exile. Pushchin arrived first. The second is Gorchakov, whom the exile met on a country road. And although their fate divorced a long time ago, they were glad to meet. And Delvig appeared when the poet almost fell into despondency, a friend awakened inspiration in him. Delvig is also a poet, but not like Pushkin in temperament. He does not need applause, he creates in silence and for himself. The poet also remembers others ... both teachers and founders.
The poem ends optimistically, with exclamations in praise of the lyceum.
Analysis of the poem October 19 by Pushkin
Famous and famous poem The "19th October" of the great Russian writer Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin has received its recognition and national fame for a very long time. It is worth noting that this poem is stanzaic, and this author does not have many such works. In its creation, eight lines are used, which are complemented by the well-known writing technique of the rhyme formula.
The main theme of the poem becomes the theme of friendship, and it is revealed with particular completeness and thoroughness by the author in his truly poetically created masterpiece "October Nineteenth". This work was written in one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five.
It is also worth noting that this work has a dedication, it is dedicated to the opening of the lyceum. It should be noted that his very first lines, which can be called the initial ones, are entangled in sadness, longing, sadness. All these feelings are caused by the way of life, and the circumstances that precede it.
During creation of this work Pushkin is in exile, and does not have the slightest opportunity to meet with his friends, on the most significant day for them. But, despite this, the author tries to do everything possible to be close to them with his soul, and try to convey his feelings to them, even at a distance.
First of all, in those days, in friends, their faith in friendship, the similarity of almost all directions, the decision to come to the rescue in the most difficult and difficult moment was especially appreciated. Alexander Sergeyevich also protects this in his loved ones, who is sincerely grateful to his friends for a real and indestructible friendship.
It should also be noted that the poem mentions several people who, like the author, were in exile at that time. Thanks to his thoughts about family and friends, as well as thanks to these people, Alexander Sergeevich did not feel sad and lonely.
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