was born in Konstantinovo in the Ryazan region of Russian Empire to a peasant family. He spent most of his childhood in his grandparents' home. He began to write poetry at the age of nine. In 1912, he moved to Moscow where he supported himself working as a proofreater in a printing company. The following year he enrolled in Moscow State University as an external student and studied there for a year and a half. His early poetry was inspired by Russian folklore. In 1915, he moved to St.Petersburg, where he became acquainted with fellow-poets Aleksander Blok, Sergei Gorodetsky, Nikolai Klyuev and Andrey Bely. It was in St. Petersburg that he became well known in literature circles.Aleksandr Blok was especially helpful in promoting Yesenin's early career as a poet. Yesenin said that Bely gave him the meaning of form while Blok and Klyuev taught him lyricism.
In 1915, Yesenin published his first book of poems, Radunitsa, soon followed by Ritual for the Dead (1916). Through his collections of poignant poetry about love and the simple life, he became one of the most popular poets of the day.In his poetry Yesenin knew how to express passionate love in his earth, nature, to people, but sensation of anxiety, expectation and disappointment are found there. Not long before his death Yesenin created the tragic poem “Black person”.
In 1915, Yesenin published his first book of poems, Radunitsa, soon followed by Ritual for the Dead (1916). Through his collections of poignant poetry about love and the simple life, he became one of the most popular poets of the day.In his poetry Yesenin knew how to express passionate love in his earth, nature, to people, but sensation of anxiety, expectation and disappointment are found there. Not long before his death Yesenin created the tragic poem “Black person”.
Good morning
Golden stars dozed off
The surface of the backwater became to tremble
Light glimmers on the water of the creek
And the horizon reddens.
Sleepy birches smiled
They rumpled their plaits
Green catkins are rustling
Silver dew is flashing.
Nettle that is close to the wattle-fence
Arrayed itself by the bright mother-of-pearl
And, rocking, whispers playfully
“Good morning”
Golden stars dozed off
The surface of the backwater became to tremble
Light glimmers on the water of the creek
And the horizon reddens.
Sleepy birches smiled
They rumpled their plaits
Green catkins are rustling
Silver dew is flashing.
Nettle that is close to the wattle-fence
Arrayed itself by the bright mother-of-pearl
And, rocking, whispers playfully
“Good morning”
No comments:
Post a Comment