Lev Kvitko. Kvitko, Lev Moiseevich When I grow up

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

Lev Moiseevich Kvitko was born in the village of Goloskovo, Podolsk province. The family was in poverty, hunger, poverty. All children in early age dispersed to work. Including from the age of 10, Lev began to work. He taught himself to read and write. Poetry began to compose even before he learned to write. Later he moved to Kyiv, where he began to publish. In 1921, on a ticket from the Kyiv publishing house, he went with a group of other Yiddish writers to Germany to study. In Berlin, Kvitko barely survived, but two of his collections of poems were published there. In search of work, he moved to Hamburg, where he began working as a worker in the port.

Returning to Ukraine, he continued to write poetry. On Ukrainian language he was translated by Pavlo Tychina, Maxim Rylsky, Vladimir Sosyura. In Russian, Kvitko's poems are known in translations by Akhmatova, Marshak, Chukovsky, Helemsky, Svetlov, Slutsky, Mikhalkov, Naydenova, Blaginina, Ushakov. These translations themselves became a phenomenon in Russian poetry. With the outbreak of the war, Kvitko was not taken into the active army due to age. He was called to Kuibyshev to work in the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee (JAC). It was a tragic accident, because Kvitko was far from politics. The JAC, which had collected colossal funds from wealthy American Jews for arming the Red Army, turned out to be unnecessary to Stalin after the war and was declared a reactionary Zionist body.

However, in 1946 Kvitko left the JAC and devoted himself entirely to poetic creativity. But his work in the JAC was remembered during his arrest. He was charged that in 1946 he had established a personal connection with the American resident Goldberg, whom he informed about the state of affairs in the Union of Soviet Writers. He was also accused of leaving in his youth to study in Germany in order to leave the USSR forever, and in the port in Hamburg he sent weapons for Chai Kang Shi under the guise of dishes. Arrested January 22, 1949. He spent 2.5 years in solitary confinement. At the trial, Kvitko was forced to admit his mistake in writing poetry in the Hebrew language Yiddish, and this was a brake on the path of Jewish assimilation. Say, he used the Yiddish language, which has outlived its time and which separates the Jews from the friendly family of the peoples of the USSR. And in general, Yiddish is a manifestation of bourgeois nationalism. After going through interrogations and torture, he was shot on August 12, 1952.

Soon Stalin died, and after his death, the first group of Soviet writers went on a trip to the United States. Among them was Boris Polevoy - the author of "The Tale of a Real Man", the future editor of the magazine "Youth". In America, the communist writer Howard Fast asked him: what happened to Lev Kvitko, with whom I became friends in Moscow and then corresponded? Why did he stop responding to emails? Evil rumors are spreading here. “Don't believe the rumors, Howard,” Polevoy said. - Lev Kvitko is alive and well. I live in the same area with him in the writer's house and saw him last week.”

Place of residence: Moscow, st. Maroseyka, 13, apt. 9.

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Lev Moiseevich Kvitko
Yiddish ‏לייב קוויטקאָ ‏‎

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a lion (Leib) Moiseevich Kvitko(Yiddish לייב קוויטקאָ‎ ‏‎; October 15 - August 12) - Soviet Jewish (Yiddish) poet.

Biography

Born in the town of Goloskov, Podolsk province (now the village of Goloskov, Khmelnytsky region of Ukraine), according to documents - November 11, 1890, but did not know the exact date of his birth and presumably called 1893 or 1895. Orphaned at an early age, brought up by his grandmother, studied for some time in a cheder, and was forced to work from childhood. He began writing poetry at the age of 12 (or, perhaps, earlier - due to confusion with the date of his birth). The first publication - in May 1917 in the socialist newspaper "Dos Frie Worth" (" free speech"). The first collection is "Lidelekh" ("Songs", Kyiv, 1917).

From the middle of 1921 he lived and published in Berlin, then in Hamburg, where he worked in the Soviet trade mission, published in both Soviet and Western periodicals. Here he joined the Communist Party, led communist agitation among the workers. In 1925, fearing arrest, he moved to the USSR. He published many books for children (17 books were published in 1928 alone).

Translations

Lev Kvitko is the author of a number of Yiddish translations from Ukrainian, Belarusian and other languages. The poems of Kvitko himself were translated into Russian by A. Akhmatova, S. Marshak, S. Mikhalkov, E. Blaginina, M. Svetlov and others.

On the text of the poem by L. Kvitko "Violin" (translated by M. Svetlov), the second part of the Sixth Symphony by Moses Weinberg was written.

Editions in Russian

On a visit. M.-L., Detizdat, 1937
When I grow up. M., Detizdat, 1937
In the forest. M., Detizdat, 1937
Letter to Voroshilov. M., 1937 Fig. V. Konashevich
Letter to Voroshilov. M., 1937. Fig. M. Rodionova
Poetry. M.-L., Detizdat, 1937
Swing. M., Detizdat, 1938
Red Army. M., Detizdat, 1938
Horse. M., Detizdat, 1938
Lyam and Petrik. M.-L., Detizdat, 1938
Poetry. M.-L., Detizdat, 1938
Poetry. M., Pravda, 1938
On a visit. M., Detizdat, 1939
Lullaby. M., 1939. Fig. M. Gorshman
Lullaby. M., 1939. Fig. V. Konashevich
Letter to Voroshilov. Pyatigorsk, 1939
Letter to Voroshilov. Voroshilovsk, 1939
Letter to Voroshilov. M., 1939
Mihasik. M., Detizdat, 1939
Talk. M.-L., Detizdat, 1940
Ahahah. M., Detizdat, 1940
Conversations with loved ones. M., Goslitizdat, 1940
Red Army. M.-L., Detizdat, 1941
Hello. M., 1941
War game. Alma-Ata, 1942
Letter to Voroshilov. Chelyabinsk, 1942
On a visit. M., Detgiz, 1944
Horse. M., Detgiz, 1944
Sledging. Chelyabinsk, 1944
Spring. M.-L., Detgiz, 1946
Lullaby. M., 1946
Horse. M., Detgiz, 1947
A story about a horse and about me. L., 1948
Horse. Stavropol, 1948
Violin. M.-L., Detgiz, 1948
To the sun. M., Der Emes, 1948
To my friends. M., Detgiz, 1948
Poetry. M., Soviet writer, 1948.

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An excerpt characterizing Kvitko, Lev Moiseevich

- Come on! We seem to have different ideas about many things. It's normal, isn't it? - "nobly" reassured his baby. - Can I talk to them?
- Speak if you can hear. - Miard turned to the miracle Savia, who had come down to us, and showed something.
The marvelous creature smiled and came closer to us, while the rest of his (or her? ..) friends still soared easily right above us, sparkling and shimmering in the bright sunlight.
“I am Lilis…fox…is…” an amazing voice whispered. It was very soft, and at the same time very resonant (if such opposite concepts can be combined into one).
Hello beautiful Lilis. Stella greeted the creature joyfully. - I'm Stella. And here she is - Svetlana. We are people. And you, we know, Savia. Where did you fly from? And what is Savya? - questions again rained down like hail, but I didn’t even try to stop her, since it was completely useless ... Stella just “wanted to know everything!”. And it always has remained so.
Lilis came very close to her and began to examine Stella with her bizarre, huge eyes. They were bright crimson, with golden flecks inside, and sparkled like gems. The face of this miracle creature looked surprisingly delicate and fragile, and had the shape of a petal of our earth lily. She “spoke” without opening her mouth, at the same time smiling at us with her small, round lips... But, probably, the most amazing thing was their hair... They were very long, almost reaching the edge of the transparent wing, absolutely weightless and , having no constant color, flashed all the time with the most different and most unexpected brilliant rainbows ... transparent bodies Savy were sexless (like the body of a small earthly child), and from the back they passed into "petals-wings", which really made them look like huge bright flowers...
“We flew in from the mountains-or ...” the strange echo sounded again.
"Could you tell us sooner?" asked Miarda impatient Stella. - Who are they?
- They were brought from another world once. Their world was dying, and we wanted to save them. At first they thought that they could live with everyone, but they could not. They live very high in the mountains, no one can get there. But if you look into their eyes for a long time, they will take it with them... And you will live with them.
Stella shivered and slightly moved away from Lilis, who was standing next to her... - And what do they do when they take you away?
- Nothing. They just live with those who are taken away. Probably they had a different world in the world, but now they do it just out of habit. But for us they are very valuable - they "clean" the planet. Nobody ever got sick after they came.
– So, you saved them not because you felt sorry for them, but because you needed them?!.. Is it good to use them? - I was afraid that Miard would be offended (as they say - do not go into someone else's hut with boots ...) and strongly pushed Stella in the side, but she did not pay any attention to me, and now she turned to Savia. – Do you like living here? Are you sad for your planet?
- No, no ... It's beautiful-wild-willow ... - the same soft voice whispered. - And well, osho ...
Lilis unexpectedly raised one of her glittering "petals" and gently stroked Stella's cheek.
“Baby... Good-shay-ay... Stella-la-a...” and the mist sparkled over Stella’s head for the second time, but this time it was multi-colored...
Lilis smoothly flapped her transparent petal wings and slowly began to rise until she joined her own. The Savii became agitated, and suddenly, flashing very brightly, they disappeared ...
– Where do they go? the little girl was surprised.
- They are gone. Here, look... – and Miard pointed to already very far, in the direction of the mountains, floating smoothly in the pink sky, marvelous creatures lit by the sun. They went home...
Wei suddenly appeared...
“It’s time for you,” the “star” girl said sadly. “You can't stay here that long. It's hard.
“Oh, but we haven’t seen anything yet! Stella was upset. – Can we come back here, dear Veya? Farewell, dear Miard! You're good. I will definitely come back to you! - as always, addressing everyone at once, Stella said goodbye.
Veya waved her hand, and we again whirled in a frenzied whirlpool of sparkling matter, after a short (or maybe it only seemed short?) moment "thrown" us to our usual Mental "floor"...
- Oh, how interesting it is! .. - Stella squeaked in delight.
It seemed that she was ready to endure the heaviest loads, if only to once again return to the colorful Weiying world she had loved so much. Suddenly, I thought that she really must have liked it, since it was very similar to her own, which she liked to create for herself here, on the “floors” ...
My enthusiasm decreased a little, because I had already seen this beautiful planet for myself, and now I wanted something else! .. I felt that dizzying “taste of the unknown”, and I really wanted to repeat it ... I already I knew that this "hunger" would poison my further existence, and that I would miss it all the time. Thus, wishing to remain at least a little happy person in the future, I had to find some way to “open” the door to other worlds for myself ... But then I still hardly understood that opening such a door was not so simply... And that many more winters will pass while I will freely "walk" wherever I want, and that someone else will open this door for me... And this other will be my amazing husband.
“Well, what are we going to do next?” Stella pulled me out of my dreams.
She was upset and sad that she could not see more. But I was very glad that she became herself again and now I was absolutely sure that from that day on she would definitely stop moping and be ready for any new “adventures” again.
“Forgive me, please, but I probably won’t do anything else today ...” I said apologetically. But thank you very much for helping.
Stella beamed. She loved to feel needed, so I always tried to show her how much she meant to me (which was absolutely true).
- OK. Let's go somewhere else, - she agreed complacently.
I think she, like me, was a little haggard, only, as always, she tried not to show it. I waved my hand to her... and ended up at home, on my favorite sofa, with a bunch of impressions that now I had to calmly comprehend, and slowly, without haste to "digest"...

By the time I was ten, I had become very attached to my father.

Kvitko Lev (Leib) Moiseevich

(11.11.1890–1952)

Poet of a great soul...

Fascination with the outside world made him a children's writer; on behalf of a child, under the guise of a child, through the mouths of five-year-olds, six-year-olds, seven-year-olds, it was easier for him to express his love for life, his simple belief that life was created for boundless joy.

He was so friendly, ruddy and white-toothed that the children rejoiced even before he began to read poetry. And Lev Kvitko's poems are very similar to himself - they are just as bright. And what only they don’t have: horses and kitties, pipes, violins, beetles, butterflies, birds, animals and many, many different people- small and adults. And above all this shines the sun of love for everything that lives, breathes, moves, blooms.

The Jewish poet Lev, or Leib (in Yiddish - it is "lion"), Kvitko was born in the village of Goloskovo, in Ukraine, in a clay, whitewashed house on the very bank of the Southern Bug River. The exact date of birth is unknown - 1890 or 1893 (October 15 or November 11). wrote in his autobiography: "I was born in 1895."

The family was large, but unhappy: she was in poverty. Yes, my father was a jack of all trades: a carpenter, bookbinder, wood carver, but he was rarely at home, wandered around the villages - taught. All the brothers and sisters of little Leib died of tuberculosis, and the parents also died of the same disease. At the age of ten, the boy was left an orphan. like another famous writer, Maxim Gorky, his contemporary, he went to the "people" - he worked at the oil mill, at the tanner, at the house painter; he wandered around different cities, walked across Ukraine on foot, reached Kherson, Nikolaev, and Odessa on carts. The owners did not keep him for a long time: he was distracted.

And Grandma was waiting for Leib at home - main man his childhood and youth (again similarity with Gorky!). “My grandmother was an extraordinary woman in strength of spirit, in purity and honesty,” the poet recalled. “And her influence on me gave me stamina and perseverance in the fight against the difficult years of my childhood and youth.”

Leib never went to school. I saw it “only from the outside”, I mastered the letter - Jewish, and then Russian - on my own, however, at first I tried to read the Russian alphabet from right to left, as is customary in Jewish writing.

Leo had many friends, he was loved. According to numerous recollections, he was surprisingly endowed with himself: calm, friendly, smiling, never in a hurry, never complained that someone came to him or called at the wrong time - everything was done just right and by the way for him. Perhaps he was ingenuous.

From the age of 12, Leo "spoke poetry", but since he was still not very literate, he could not really write them down. Then, of course, he began to write them down.

Poems were most often obtained for young children. Kvitko showed them in the town of Uman, which is 60 miles from Goloskov, to local writers. The poems were successful, so he entered the circle of Jewish poets. There he met his future wife. A girl from a wealthy family, a pianist, she shocked those around her with her choice: a poor village boy with a notebook of poems. He dedicated poems to her, where he compared his beloved with a wonderful garden, tightly closed. He told her: “A wonderful flower is blooming in my heart, I beg you, do not tear it.” And she quietly brought him bottles of sunflower oil and bags of sugar. In 1917, the young people got married.

At the same time, Lev Kvitko published his first collection of poems. It was called "Lideleh" ("Songs"). This and all other books by Lev Kvitko were written in Yiddish.

The beginning of the 1920s in Ukraine was a hungry, difficult, anxious time. Kvitko has a wife and a little daughter, unpublished poems, a dream to get an education. They live now in Kyiv, now in Uman, and in 1921, at the suggestion of the publishing house, they move to Berlin. Kvitko does not buy into bourgeois temptations: he, "liberated by the revolution", true to himself and his country, joins the German Communist Party, conducts propaganda among the workers in the port of Hamburg. All this leads to the fact that in 1925, fleeing from arrest, he returns to the Soviet Union.

Living in Kharkov, Kvitko sent a book of his children's poems to Korney Ivanovich Chukovsky. Here is how the “children's classic” writes about this: “I did not know a single Hebrew letter. But, realizing that on the title page, at the top, the name of the author should be put and that, therefore, this patterned letter is TO, and these two sticks - IN, but this comma - AND, I began to bravely leaf through the entire book. The captions above the pictures gave me about a dozen more letters. This inspired me so much that I immediately set off to read the headings of individual verses in warehouses, and then the verses themselves!

Elegance, melodiousness, mastery of verse and the sunny, joyful world captured in them captivated Chukovsky. And, having discovered a new poet for himself, he announced his discovery to everyone involved in children's poetry, and convinced them that all the children of the Soviet Union should know Lev Kvitko's poems.

It sounded in 1933 at a conference in Kharkov. Since then, the books of Lev Kvitko began to appear in huge editions in Russian translations. It was translated with great love by the best Russian poets - M. Svetlov, S. Marshak, S. Mikhalkov, N. Naidenova, and most of all - E. Blaginina. They have preserved the sound and imagery, lyricism and humor of the wonderful poems of the poet of a great soul.

Lev Kvitko was a man with the soul of a child: the world of his poetry is surprisingly cozy and bright. In the poems “Kisonka”, “Pipes”, “Violin”, everyone has fun and loves each other: the cat dances with mice, the horse, kitten and chicken listen to music and thank the little musician. Some verses ("Swing", "Brook") are written as games. They can be rhymes, they are easy to shout out, dancing and jumping:

Brook - murmur,

Wand twirled -

Stop, stop!

(Blaginina)

For a child, everything in life is new and significant, hence his close attention to simple, everyday things and their bright, visible perception.

“Look - look,” the poet addresses the children and teaches them to see the richness of details and shades in everything:

Dandelion silver,

How wonderfully created it is:

Round-round and fluffy

Filled with warm sunshine.

(Blaginina)

Here is another observation in the garden (the poem "Pilot"): a heavy, horned beetle, "growling" like a motor, falls to the ground. Waking up, he tries to crawl onto a blade of grass - and falls again. Again and again he climbs a thin blade of grass, and the hero watches him with sympathetic excitement: “How is this fat man holding up? In the end, the beetle gets to the green tip and ... takes off.

So that's where the key to excitement,

So that's what the pilot was craving -

High place to start

To spread your wings in flight!

A child was watching the beetle, but the final lines belong, of course, to an adult Poet.

In poetry, Kvitko does not imitate children, does not entertain them, he is a lyricist, he feels like they are, and writes about this. So he learns that little badgers live in a hole, and he is surprised: “How can they grow underground and lead a boring life underground?” He sees small flies on a leaf - and again he is surprised: what are they doing - learning to walk? “Maybe they are looking for food?” So he opened the watch - and froze, delighted with the cloves and springs, admires them without breathing and, knowing that his mother does not order to touch them, he hurries to assure us: “I didn’t touch the watch - no, no! Didn't take them apart, didn't wipe them." I saw neighboring twin babies: well, wow, “such good kids! And how similar they are to each other! ”, And directly groans with delight:“ I adore these guys!

Like any child, he lives in a fairy tale. In this tale, the strawberry dreams of being eaten - otherwise, in three days it will dry up without any use; trees plead: "Children, tear ripe fruits!"; corn and sunflowers will not wait: “If only nimble hands would pick them off soon!” Everything rejoices at the sight of a person, it is good and joyful for everyone to serve him. And a man - a child - also joyfully enters this world, where they are still beautiful: a beetle and a kitty, a boy and the sun, a puddle and a rainbow.

In this world, the wonder of life is constantly being marveled at. “Where are you from, white as snow, unexpected, like a miracle?” - the poet addresses the flower. “Oh miracle! The frog is sitting on his arm…” he greets the swamp beauty, and she answers him with dignity: “Do you want to see how I sit quietly? Well, look. I'm looking too." The hero planted a seed, and from it grew ... a carrot! (The poem is called "Miracle"). Or chicory ("... I don't know whether to believe it or not...")! Or a watermelon (“What is it: a fairy tale, a song or a wonderful dream?”)! After all, this is really a miracle, it’s just that adults have already taken a closer look at these miracles, and Kvitko, like a child, continues to exclaim: “Oh, a blade of grass!”

ordeal for solar world the poet was at war with fascism - in 1945 L. Kvitko writes: “I will never be the same now!” How can one be the same after learning about concentration camps, about the murder of children, raised to the law? .. And yet, referring to little Mirela, who lost her family, childhood, and faith in people in the war, the poet tells her: “How the world was blackened in your eyes, poor thing!” Blackened because, in spite of everything, the world is not what it seems in the long days of war. The poet - a child - an adult, he knows that the world is beautiful, he feels it every minute.

she recalled how she and Kvitko walked in the Crimea, in the Koktebel mountains: “Kvitko suddenly stops and, prayerfully folding his palms and looking at us somehow enthusiastically and amazed, almost whispers: “Could there be anything more beautiful! - And after a pause: - No, I must certainly return to these places ... "

But on January 22, 1949, Lev Kvitko, like other members of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee, was arrested on charges of "underground Zionist activity and cooperation with foreign intelligence services." At the trial, after three years of extracting evidence, none of the accused pleaded guilty either to treason, or to espionage, or to bourgeois nationalism. IN last word Kvitko said: “It seems to me that we switched roles with the investigators, because they are obliged to accuse with facts, and I, a poet, create creative works, but it turned out the other way around.”

In August 1952, "spies" and "traitors" were shot. (Lev Kvitko was rehabilitated posthumously.) In the book “The Life and Work of Lev Kvitko”, published in 1976, nothing is said about his death, and only by the tragic tone of the memories of friends one can guess that something terrible happened.

In the memoirs of Agnia Barto, one can read how Kvitko showed her small Christmas trees growing near the fence, and repeated with tenderness: “Look at them ... They survived!” Later, apparently after Kvitko's death, Barto visited Ilyich's Testament, where the poet's dacha was located, “passed by the familiar fence. These Christmas trees did not survive."

Christmas trees have survived in poetry, as music lives forever in a violin from a poem by Lev Kvitko, as a boy and the sun always meet in them every day. This is the only possible victory for the poet over the enemy.

Quiz " poetic world Lev Kvitko from "A" to "Z"

According to these passages, try to determine what is at stake and remember the names of Lev Kvitko's poems.

What is it: a fairy tale, a song

Or a wonderful dream?

... (Watermelon) heavyweight

Born from a seed.

"Watermelon"

Wherever you look - lime,

Sawdust, rubble, dirt.

And then suddenly... birch)

It came from somewhere.

At the goat, between the logs,

Made a living.

How silvery and smooth

How light is its trunk!

"Birch"

Runs among flowers and herbs

Garden path,

And, falling to the yellow sand,

The cat is sneaking quietly.

"Well, - I think anxiously, -

There's something wrong here!"

I look - two nimble ... ( sparrow)

They dine in the garden.

"Bold Sparrows"

... (Gander) got excited:

Hey chickens now

Time to have lunch

One-w-w-w-wake up the door!

He craned his neck

Hissing like a snake...

"Gander"

... (Daughter) carries water

And rattles with a bucket ...

What grows there... daughter),

In your garden?

"Daughter"

Forest dark wall.

In the green thicket - haze,

Just... ( herringbone) one

Moved away from the forest.

It stands, open to all winds,

Trembling quietly in the morning...

"Herringbone"

He is cheerful and happy

From toe to top -

He succeeded

Run away from the frog.

She didn't have time

Grab by the sides

And eat under the bush

Golden... ( beetle).

"Funny beetle"

The berry ripened in the sun -

The blush has become juicy.

Through the shamrock every now and then

She tries to look out.

And the leaves gently move

Above her green shields

And they scare every poor woman:

"Look, the mischief-makers will pluck!"

"Strawberry"

The tail said to the head:

Well, judge for yourself

You are always ahead

I am always behind!

With my beauty

Should I drag myself in the tail? -

And heard in response:

You are beautiful, no doubt

Well, try to lead

I'll go behind.

"Turkey"

Here the children ran away:

You rocked - it's time for us! -

Head straight for the cloud!

The city moved away

Got off the ground...

"Swing"

What does it mean,

I can't understand:

Who is jumping

On a soft meadow?

O miracle! ...( Frog)

Sits on the hand

As if she

On a swamp leaf.

"Who is this?"

It immediately became quiet.

The snow lies like a blanket.

Evening fell to the ground...

And where to ... ( bear) disappeared?

Anxiety is over

Sleeping in his lair.

"Bear in the Forest"

I've got... ( knife)

About the seven blades

About the seven brilliant

Sharp tongues.

Another such

There is no more in the world!

He answers all questions

Gives me an answer.

"Knife"

... (Dandelion) silver,

How wonderfully created it is:

Round-round and fluffy

Filled with warm sunshine.

On your high leg

Rising to the blue

It grows on the path

Both in the hollow and in the grass.

"Dandelion"

The dog only barks

I, ... ( rooster), I sing.

He performs at four

And I'm on two.

I stand on two, I walk all my life.

And a man is running behind me in two.

And the radio sings behind me.

"Proud Rooster"

... (Brook) - hoverfly,

Wand twirled -

Stop, stop!

Goat with hooves -

Kick-kick!

It would be nice to get drunk -

Jump-jump!

I dipped my muzzle -

Slop-slop!

"Brook"

But someday a daring poet will say

ABOUT... ( plum), which is not more beautiful;

About gentle veins in her blue,

About how she hid in the foliage;

About the sweet pulp, about the smooth cheek,

About the bone sleeping in the chilly chill...

"Plum"

He sank into the wood

Like aspen crumbles noodles,

Pricks a sonorous cleft, -

A miracle is not ... ( axe)!

About this, to tell the truth,

I have been dreaming for a long time.

"Axe"

Sip,

stretch!

Hurry up

wake up!

The day has come

a long time ago,

It makes a knocking noise

to your window.

motley herd

The sun is red

And on the green

Dries large

"Morning"

The moon rose high above the houses.

Leml liked her:

I would buy such a plate for my mother,

Put it on the table by the window!

Oh, the ball - ... ( flashlight),

... (Flashlight) - kubar,

This is a good moon!

"Flashlight Ball"

I really wanted to be here

Where cool days bloom

Among the white birches

Sprouts wait for the little ones -

... (chicory) seething,

thick, real,

With baked goat milk

(Pancakes, kalabushki!),

What in the morning and evening

Cooked grandchildren grandmother!

"Chicory"

... (watch) new

I've got.

Open the lid -

Under the cover fuss:

teeth and circles

Like dots, nails,

And stones like dots.

And it all shines

Shines, trembles,

And only black

One spring -

On a negro

She looks like.

Live, black

Swing, tremble

fairy tale

white circles

Tell!

"Watch"

Why, aspen, are you making noise,

Do you nod to everyone like a river reed?

You bend, change your appearance, posture,

Are you turning the leaves inside out?

I'm making noise

To hear me

To be seen

To be praised

Among other trees distinguished!

"Noise and Silence"

It happened on a sunny day

shining day:

Look... ( power plant)

The boy took us.

We wanted to see

Rather see

How can electricity

Give river water.

"Power station"

Michurinskaya ... ( apple tree)

No need to wrap.

She is undressed

Frost is happy.

Athletes are not afraid

Blizzard howl.

Like these winter ... ( apples)

Fresh fragrance!

"Winter Apples"

Crossword "Legends of flowers"

In the highlighted cells: the poet, whose verses are similar to himself, are just as bright, and his nickname is “the lion-flower”.

a lion (Leib) Moiseevich Kvitko(לייב קוויטקאָ) - Jewish (Yiddish) poet.

Biography

Born in the town of Goloskov, Podolsk province (now the village of Goloskov, Khmelnytsky region of Ukraine), according to documents - November 11, 1890, but did not know the exact date of his birth and presumably called 1893 or 1895. He was orphaned at an early age, was brought up by his grandmother, studied in a cheder for some time, and was forced to work from childhood. He began writing poetry at the age of 12 (or, perhaps, earlier - due to confusion with the date of his birth). The first publication was in May 1917 in the socialist newspaper Dos Frae Worth (Free Word). The first collection is "Lidelekh" ("Songs", Kyiv, 1917).

For caustic satirical verses published in the magazine "Di roite welt" ("Red World"), he was accused of "right deviation" and expelled from the editorial office of the magazine. In 1931 he entered the Kharkov Tractor Plant as a worker. Then he continued his professional literary activity. Lev Kvitko considered the autobiographical novel in verse "Junge Jorn" ("Young Years"), on which he worked for thirteen years (1928-1941, first publication: Kaunas, 1941, in Russian, was published only in 1968) as the life's work.

Since 1936 he lived in Moscow on the street. Maroseyka, 13, apt. 9. In 1939 he joined the CPSU (b).

During the war years, he was a member of the Presidium of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee (JAC) and the editorial board of the JAC newspaper Einikait (Unity), in 1947-1948 - the literary and artistic almanac Heimland (Motherland). In the spring of 1944, on the instructions of the JAC, he was sent to the Crimea.

Arrested among the leading figures of the JAC on January 23, 1949. On July 18, 1952, he was accused by the Military Collegium of the Supreme Court of the USSR of treason, sentenced to the highest measure of social protection, and on August 12, 1952 he was shot. Place of burial - Moscow, Donskoy cemetery. He was posthumously rehabilitated by the VKVS of the USSR on November 22, 1955.

1893, the village of Goloskovo, Khmelnitsky region, Ukraine - 8/12/1952, Moscow), Jewish poet. He wrote in Yiddish. He did not receive a formal education. Orphaned at the age of 10, he began to work, changed many professions. Kvitko was greatly influenced by his acquaintance with D. Bergelson (1915). He made his debut as a poet in 1917 with a newspaper publication; in the same year, the first collection of children's poems "Songs" ("Lidelekh", 1917) was published. From 1918 he lived in Kiev, published in the collections Eigns (Own, 1918, 1920), Baginen (At Dawn, 1919), the newspaper Kommunistishe Fon (Communist Banner). He entered the triad (along with P. Markish and D. Gofshtein) of the leading poets of the so-called Kyiv group. The poem "In the Red Storm" ("In Reutn Sturem", 1918) is the first work in Jewish literature about October revolution 1917. Symbolic imagery and biblical motifs in a number of poems from the collections Steps (Trit, 1919) and Lyrics. Spirit” (“Lyric. Geist”, 1921) testify to the contradictory perception of the era. In 1921 he left for Kovno, then to Berlin, where he published collections of poems "Green Grass" ("Green Thunderstorms", 1922) and "1919" (1923; about Jewish pogroms in Ukraine), published in foreign magazines "Milgroym", " Tsukunft", in the Soviet magazine "Shtrom". From 1923 he lived in Hamburg, in 1925 he returned to the USSR. In 1926-36 in Kharkov; worked in the magazine "Di roite welt" ("Red World"), in which he published stories about life in Hamburg, an autobiographical historical and revolutionary story "Lyam and Petrik" (1928-29; separate edition - 1930; Russian translation 1938, fully published in 1990) and satirical poems [included in the collection "Fight" ("Gerangl", 1929)], for which he was accused by the proletarians of "right deviation" and excluded from the editorial board. In 1931 he worked as a turner at the Kharkov Tractor Plant, published the collection "In the Tractor Shop" ("In Tractor Shop", 1931). The collection "The Attack on the Desert" ("Ongriff af vistes", 1932) reflects the impressions of the trip to the opening of Turksib.

In the mid-1930s, thanks to the support of K. I. Chukovsky, S. Ya. Marshak and A. L. Barto, he became one of the leading Jewish children's writers. The author of over 60 collections of children's poems, marked by the immediacy and freshness of the worldview, the brightness of the images, the richness of the language. Kvitko's children's poems were published in the USSR in millions of copies, they were translated by Marshak, M. A. Svetlov, S. V. Mikhalkov, E. A. Blaginina and others. "(" Junge Jorn ", 1928-1940, Russian translation 1968) about the events of 1918, which he considered his main work. He translated poems of Ukrainian poets I. Franko, P. Tychyna and others into Yiddish; together with D. Feldman published “An Anthology of Ukrainian Prose. 1921-1928" (1930). During the years of the Great Patriotic War He was a member of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee (JAC). Published a collection of poems "Fire on enemies!" ("Fier af di sonim", 1941). Together with I. Nusinov and I. Katsnelson, he prepared the collection “Blood Calls for Revenge. Stories of victims of fascist atrocities in occupied Poland” (1941); poems 1941-46 were included in the collection Song of My Soul (Gezang fun mein gemit, 1947, Russian translation 1956). Arrested in the JAC case on January 22, 1949, shot. Rehabilitated posthumously (1954).

Cit.: Selected. M., 1978; Favorites. Poetry. Tale. M., 1990.

Lit .: Remenik G. Poetry of revolutionary intensity (L. Kvitko) // Remenik G. Essays and portraits. M., 1975; Life and work of L. Kvitko. [Collection]. M., 1976; Estraikh G. In harness: Yiddish writers’ romance with communism. N.Y., 2005.