Fairy tales      03/27/2020

By right of memory, the article is structured with. Other retellings and reviews for the reader's diary

The work of A.T. Tvardovsky "By the Right of Memory" is an autobiography in which the poet describes not only his tragic life but also the lives of all people affected by the repression of a cruel tyrant.

Tvardovsky's poem is divided into three parts: in the first chapter there is a description of youthful urges, dreams young man, striving for the prosperity of his homeland, for the sake of which he is ready for anything. The young man strives for knowledge that will give him the opportunity to benefit the Motherland and the people.

The pure thoughts of the young man were shattered by the cruel reality of what was happening. Having come into contact with rough reality, the poet feels deep disappointment in his bright dreams, which the reader learns about from the second part of the writer's work. Tvardovsky had to experience firsthand the contempt and condemnation of society, which blames him for what he was not guilty of. He did not have the opportunity to provide any assistance to his family, who was unfairly serving a life sentence in Siberia, for which he received the impartial nickname of a traitor who renounced the people closest and dearest to him. At this moment, the poet's values ​​are being reassessed, he looks at life differently, expressing his pain and bitterness in poetic lines that are close to the understanding of virtually most people.

With irony, the writer refers to the fact that the great leader gives permission not to be responsible for the actions of his father. A sane person understands the essence of the biased and unnatural actions of the head of the country. It does not fit in my head, how the son of a dispossessed peasant cannot defend justice, stand up for his parent, an honest worker, why should he refuse him.

In the third part of his work, the author urges you to always remember your loved ones. No matter how hard and terrible the history of their people is, the youth must accept it, such as it is. The past cannot be changed. Some citizens hide their country's ugly past, preventing posterity from seeing accurate picture the formation of the state. According to the author, this is wrong. The youth must know their history in order to remember. Tvardovsky does not regret that everything did not go the way he dreamed. He rethought the events that had happened and accepted them. According to him, to some extent, the people themselves are to blame for allowing this, and now they have to pay the bills.

At the end of the story, Tvardovsky says that memory is the greatest ability of every person, and we have no right not to recognize it. As long as people remember the exploits of their parents, they are alive, and if we do not remember, they will die forever.

This work became, in a sense, the cry of Tvardovsky's soul. Thanks to his talent as a writer, we learned for certain about the life of our fellow citizens during Stalinist repressions. About all the hardships and hardships that they had to endure. This difficult time was the beginning new history of our state, and we, the living generation, do not have the right to forget our past, from a human point of view, this will be vile and wrong.

Picture or drawing By right of memory

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Abstract

In the poem "By the Right of Memory" (1967-1969, published in 1987) tragic fate Father Tvardovsky.

Tvardovsky Alexander Trifonovich

By right of memory

1. BEFORE DEPARTURE

2. SON IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR FATHER

3. ABOUT MEMORY

Tvardovsky Alexander Trifonovich

By right of memory

By right of memory

Closing age lessons

The thought comes by itself:

To everyone with whom it was on the road,

Alive and fallen, treat.

It's not the first time she comes

So that the word has double control:

Where, perhaps, the living will be silent,

So they will interrupt me: "Let me!

In the face of the past

You have no right to prevaricate,

After all, these were paid

We pay the biggest ... "

And let that outpost be to me,

That strict guard sign

The key to speech is cunning

By right of memory alive.

1. BEFORE DEPARTURE

Do you remember, at night before autumn,

For decades now,

We smoked with you in the hay,

Despising the fearful ban.

And they did not close their eyes to the light,

Although the smell of hay was not the same

That in the nights of stuffy July

Doesn't sleep for a long time...

That aloud reading someone's lines,

Then suddenly losing the connection of speeches,

We were going on a long journey

From my first youth.

We didn't feel sad

Friends: thinker and poet,

Throwing our outback

In exchange for a whole wide world.

We lived with a cherished plan

Break suddenly

Before all sciences

With all their countless stock

And don't let go of your hands.

The spirit of doubt was unknown to us;

We'll do well with that

And for their fathers and grandfathers

We'll add more.

We repeated that misfortune

We don't care

But they themselves were waiting only for happiness,

That was age taught.

We knew that it was a hundredfold

Should pay for our impulse

Burrow into the wisdom of the world on the move,

Breaking it to the bottom.

We were ready to go

What could be easier:

Don't lie. Don't be afraid.

Be faithful to the people.

Loving mother earth

So that for her into fire and water.

That and life to give.

What's easier! Let's leave it intact

Such a covenant initial days.

Now let's just add:

Which is easier, yes. But what is more difficult?

These were ours,

As it seemed to us without embellishment,

When in a frenzy

We convinced each other

In what we did not have a dispute.

And relish talking about the sciences,

We dreamed together

Oh, and what kind of trousers we are in

Let's go home

Then

Look, father! Cry, dear

What guest did God bring

How will it pass, spreading

Moscow smell of cigarettes.

Moscow, the capital, is not near light,

And you, dear side,

What was, deaf, motionless,

We must be waiting for a visit.

And farm gatherings

And parties in succession

And so that the Zagoryevsk girls

Then they ate us with their eyes,

We awkwardly shoved our hands

Blazing paint to the ears.

And there would be somewhere two girlfriends,

In the walls of the capital's floors,

Expected with gentle reproach

Already at that hour you and I

As we are in our hayloft

Departure pondered his…

And we were unaware like,

What is here, behind our back,

The edge of the native will break away

And spin in a round dance

Following a continuous blizzard ...

You have not forgotten how at dawn

Notified us, friends,

About summer passing into autumn

Songs of young cockerels.

There, behind the straw eaves,

He responded with a child's cry

And together I will remove dashing.

In some stifled sadness,

With his earnest hoarseness

They seemed to be singing

The end of our childish days.

As if by force

They pulled their ritual tale

About something memorable that was

Before us. And it will be after us.

But then we are in the hayloft

They didn't listen to them that well.

We yawned sweetly

Wondering that it's daytime and we don't sleep.

And in our pre-departure hour

There were no warnings about

What gifts do we have in store

Fate had

Then

And where, which of us will have to,

In what year, in what region

Behind the cock that hoarseness

Hear your youth.

Towards our longed-for fate

We rushed on the way not at random,

She is in accordance with our will

Called to taste the bread and salt.

How long ago? Life ago...

2. SON IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR FATHER

The son is not responsible for the father -

Five words in a row, exactly five.

But what do they contain?

You young people will not suddenly understand.

Dropped them in the Kremlin hall

The one who was one for all

Destiny arbiter of the earth,

whom the nations praised

At celebrations by my father.

From another generation

Hardly to comprehend to the depth

Those words of short revelation

For the guilty without guilt.

You will not be embarrassed in any profile

Sinister once count:

Who was before us in the world

Your father, dead or alive.

In the midnight gatherings

That question did not bother you:

After all, you did not choose your father,

The answer is simple today.

But in those years and five years,

Who is unlucky with the graph,

For an indelible mark

Substitute meekly brow.

So that with shame and burning flour

Wearing it is the law.

Always be at hand - in case

shortages class enemies.

Ready to be tortured in public

And sometimes to bitter bitterness,

When your bosom friend

At the same time, he does not raise his eyes ...

Oh, the years of youth are not sweet,

Her cruel troubles.

That was the father, then suddenly he is the enemy.

And the mother? But it says two...

09.10.2017

The forbidden and long considered anti-Soviet poem by A. Tvardovsky "By the Right of Memory" at one time allowed Soviet citizens to take a different look at the personality of I. Stalin and all his reformist activities. It was written in the early sixties, but could only be published in the late eighties, in 1987.

In this poem, Alexander Tvardovsky, in the form of a monologue, expressed all his personal experiences related to the theme of memory. He plunged into memories, relying on the facts of his own biography, looked into the future, tried to answer the question "What will happen if ...". Therefore, the main character, on whose behalf the narration is being conducted, readers can safely identify with the poet himself.

Chapter "Before Departure"

The first chapter is entirely devoted to nostalgia. The poet plunges into his youth - a wonderful time of hopes and dreams. Together with your friend lyrical hero makes plans for the future, sets quite realistic goals: to work for people, to become a worthy citizen of his country. Especially touching was once his attitude to his native land: for her, the young man was ready both in fire and in water, and if necessary, then it’s not scary to part with life. And all problems can be solved by adhering to simple rules: live without deceit, without cowardice and be devoted to your state and your people.

Now, after so much time, the poet recalls this at the same time with warmth and bitterness - in fact, everything turned out to be completely different from what the young cheerful guys imagined. It seems that between carefree youth and the present has passed whole life filled with ordeals.

Chapter "The son is not responsible for the father"

Central chapter in the poem. It fully reveals the tragedy of the life of Tvardovsky himself. He grew up in the family of an "enemy of the people." The father, mother and younger son were exiled to Siberia due to Stalinist repressions, and the native farm where the poet grew up was burned down. Tvardovsky, who had recently moved to Smolensk, managed to avoid this fate. But he could not calm his conscience - it is not so easy to abandon his family.

Separation from relatives, the loss of a father's home - all this translates into the pages of the second chapter of the poem called "The son is not responsible for the father." This famous phrase of Stalin, uttered by him in 1935, is an example of an undisguised political deception. Tvardovsky is trying to understand what the “son of the kulak” is to blame for, why should he suffer? And why is his leader, "the father of the people", chief ideologue country so hates people like him, making their life in Soviet society unbearable?

The poet also seeks to unravel why Stalin was so loved by his people. Many of the repressed believed that he had only to get down to business himself, personally read the letter in the Kremlin, and all injustice would immediately disappear, and the sentences would be canceled. Peasants without land became workers and applauded, although in reality there was nothing to rejoice at. From now on, they were doomed to hard work, wandering and poverty.

The tormented soul of Tvardovsky is already pondering the answer. Isn't the son of a kulak entitled to fight for justice? Is he not able to answer for his father, an honest, conscientious worker? And why should he refuse it?

About memory

The events in this chapter are based on real historical facts. In the second half of the sixties, an active campaign against Stalinism developed in the USSR. Everything that was so carefully hidden was spilled out to the people: information about the most severe repressions, decrees, laws directed against people.

The third chapter lives up to its title. Here comes the topic historical memory. Tvardovsky insists that today's youth must discover the real truth. The story without embellishment is terrible, but everyone must know it. Although people jealously hide the past of their country, the authorities are trying to hide it. Therefore, the new generation, mired in ignorance and forgetting its roots, cannot hope for a cloudless future.

Concluding his monologue, Tvardovsky writes that human memory is a great gift. How can you voluntarily renounce it? As long as we remember the merits of our fathers, they remain alive. They only die when we forget about them.

A summary of Tvardovsky's poem "By the Right of Memory" was provided by Anastasia Trofimova.

Closing age lessons
The thought comes by itself
To everyone with whom it was on the road,
Treat the living and the dead.
It's not the first time she comes.
So that the word has double control:
Where, perhaps, the living will be silent,
So they interrupt me:
- Allow me!
In the face of the past
You have no right to prevaricate, -
After all, these were paid
We pay the biggest ...
And let that outpost be to me,
That strict guard sign
The key to speech is cunning
By right of memory alive.

Before departure

Do you remember, at night before autumn,
For decades now,
We smoked with you in the hay,
Despising the fearful ban.

And they did not close their eyes to the light,
Although the smell of hay was not the same
That in the nights of stuffy July
Doesn't sleep for a long time...

That aloud reading someone's lines,
Then suddenly losing the connection of speeches,
We were going on a long journey
From my first youth.

We didn't feel sad
Friends are a thinker and a poet.
Throwing our outback
In exchange for a whole wide world.

We lived with a cherished plan,
Break suddenly
Before all sciences -
With all their countless stock -
And don't let go of it.

The spirit of doubt was unknown to us;
We'll do well with that
And for their fathers and grandfathers
In addition, we will add…

We repeated that misfortune
We don't care
But they themselves were waiting only for happiness, -
That was age taught.

We knew that it was a hundredfold
Should pay for our impulse
Burrow into the wisdom of the world on the move,
Breaking it to the bottom.

We were ready to go.
What could be easier:
Don't lie.
Don't be afraid.
Be faithful to the people.
Loving mother earth
So that for her into fire and water.
And if -
That and life to give.

What's easier!
Let's leave it intact
Such is the covenant of the early days.
Now let's just add:
Which is easier, yes.
But what is more difficult?

These were ours,
As it seemed to us, without embellishment,
When in a frenzy
We convinced each other
In what we did not have a dispute.

And relish talking about the sciences,
We dreamed together
Oh, and what kind of trousers we are in
We'll go home later.

Marvel, father, cry, dear,
What guest did God inflict,
How will it pass, spreading
Moscow smell of cigarettes.

Moscow, the capital - the light is not near,
And you, dear side,
What was, deaf, motionless,
We must be waiting for a visit.

And farm gatherings
And parties in succession
And so that the Zagoryevsk girls
They ate us with their eyes,
We awkwardly shoved our hands
Blazing paint to the ears ...

And there would be somewhere two girlfriends,
In the walls of the capital's floors,
Expected with gentle reproach
Already at that hour you and I
As we are in our hayloft
Departure pondered his…

And we were unaware like,
What is here, behind our back,
The edge of the native will break away
And spin in a round dance
Following a continuous blizzard ...

You have not forgotten how at dawn
Notified us, friends,
About summer passing into autumn
Songs of young cockerels.

In some stifled sadness,
With his earnest hoarseness
They seemed to be singing
The end of our childish days.

As if by force
They pulled their ritual tale
About something memorable that was
Before us.
And it will be after us.

But then we are in the hayloft
They didn't listen to them that well.
We yawned sweetly
Wondering that it's daytime and we don't sleep.

And in our pre-departure hour
There were no warnings about
What gifts do we have in store
Fate had a sweat.

And where, which of us will have to,
In what year, in what region
Behind the cock that hoarseness
Hear your youth.

Towards our longed-for fate
We rushed on the way not at random, -
She is in accordance with our will
Called to taste the bread and salt.
How long ago?
Life ago...

The son is not responsible for the father

The son is not responsible for the father -
Five words in a row, exactly five.
But what do they contain?
You, young, do not suddenly hug.

Dropped them in the Kremlin hall
The one who was one for all of us
Destiny arbiter of the earth,
whom the nations praised
At celebrations by my father.

To you -
From another generation
Hardly to comprehend to the depth
Those words of short revelation
For the guilty without guilt.

You will not be embarrassed in any profile
Sinister once count:
Who was before you in the world
Your father, dead or alive.

In the midnight gatherings
That question did not bother you:
After all, you did not choose your father, -
The answer is simple today.

But in those years and five years,
Who is unlucky with the count, -
For an indelible mark
Substitute meekly brow.

So that with shame and burning flour
Wearing it is the law.
Always be at hand - in case
Lack of class enemies.
Ready to be tortured in public
And sometimes to bitter bitterness,
When your bosom friend
At the same time, he does not raise his eyes ...

Oh, the years of youth are not sweet,
Her cruel troubles.
That was the father, then suddenly he is the enemy.
And the mother?
But it is said: two worlds,
And nothing about mothers...

And here, where - behind the flood
Those years - you were in a hurry barefoot,
You are called offspring
Not even a son, but a son ...

And how can a boy live with that nickname,
How to serve an unknown term -
Firsthand,
Not from a book
The author of these lines interprets ...

You are here, son, but you are not from here,
What more reason do you have
When your parent is pitch dead,
It's on the same list.

Still you with such leaven
Dreamed of stepping into the forbidden circle.

And shakes your hand with caution
Your bosom friend...
And suddenly:
The son is not responsible for the father.

That sign has now been removed from you.
Happy hundredfold:
Didn't expect, didn't expect
And suddenly - nothing is to blame.

The end of your dashing adversity,
Stay strong, don't hide your face.
Thank the father of nations
That he forgave you father
native -
with unexpected ease
Removed the curse. As if he
He is unknown and strange
He saw and repealed the law.

(Yes, he could without reservations,
Suddenly - how it will bake -
Any miscalculations heap
Transfer to someone's account;
On someone's enemy's distortion
That which proclaimed the covenant,
For someone's dizziness
From their predicted victories.)
Son for father? Doesn't answer!
Amen!
And as if unaware:
What if that son (and not son!),
Getting such rights
And could he answer for his father?

Answer - if not from science,
Let not from that end,
But only, maybe, remembering the hands,
What were the father.
In knots of veins and tendons,
In the knots of crooked fingers -
Those that - with a sigh - like strangers,
Sitting down at the table, he laid on the table.
And like a rake, it happened,
clinging
spoon stalk,
So sly and small
He didn't get it right away.
Those hands that by their own will -
Neither unbend nor clench into a fist:
There were no separate corns -
Solid.
Truly a fist!
And not otherwise, with that calculation
Gorbel for years above the ground,
Sprinkled with my free sweat
Closed over her dawn with dawn.
And I'll add on my own
What, maybe, in the hour of trouble itself
His masculine vanity
Oh, how it jumped - my God!

And in those parts where the frost hung
From the barrack walls and ceiling,
He may have been full of pride
That suddenly went for a fist.

Got an error? Don't say -
He suggested to himself,
If so, then - a resident,
The owner, then - because ...

Or maybe in great anguish
He left his house and yard
And rejected the blind and wild,
For a round figure, the verdict.

And in the crowd of the horse carriage,
What was carrying somewhere beyond the Urals,
Held proudly, aloof
From those whose share I shared.

In bulk with them in that car -
In one tied cart,
Stretch the children to their edge
He did not allow, melting a tear ...

(Look how compassionate you are, -
I hear suddenly from afar, -
Again from the kulak bell tower,
Again to the enemy's mill. -
How long, Lord, how long
I hear the echo of ancient years:
Neither those mills nor bell towers
Long, long time ago.)

From their gloating or participation
Hiding behind a humpbacked back,
Among the enemies Soviet power
One that glorified this power;
Her assistant is naked,
Her support and fighter,
What is on the long-awaited land
With her, and finally healed -
He, thrown into death by her,
He did not reproach her with evil:
After all, the essence is not in a small inflection,
When - the Great Break ...

And I believed: everything will fall into place
And the recount will not slow down,
As soon as - only Stalin personally
In the Kremlin, his letter will be read...

(The man did not notice that from now on,
Ask for something or don't ask
Not Lenin, not even Kalinin
Was the addressee of all Rus'.
But the one that for the purposes of communism
Showed a different scope
And in the newspapers
I read entire letters from the republics -
Not only in prose, but in verse.)

Or maybe it's different
The man decided his fate:
If there is no way back to home,
We won't get lost anywhere.

Decided - an attempt without loss,
Let's make our own decree.
And - be kind, Mount Magnitogorsk,
Enroll us in the working class ...

But how and where the father will moor,
It's not about the father, it's about the son:
The son is not responsible for the father, -
Provide a way for him.

Five short words...
But year after year
Those words faded away
And the title of the son of the enemy of the people
Already with them came into law.

And behind one line of law
Fate has already equaled everyone:
The son of a fist or the son of a people's commissar,
The son of a commander or a priest ...

The stigma from birth marked
A baby of enemy blood.
And everything seemed to be missing
Land of branded sons.

No wonder in the days of the bloody war
Another blessed her:
without blaming him,
That bitter soul burned with poison,
War gave the right
To death and even a share of glory
In the ranks of the fighters of the native land.

Granted the title of son
Soldier military unit ...

One was a terrible fate:
In the battle without a trace, the abyss.

And to the end, having experienced alive
That way of the cross, half alive -
From captivity to captivity - under the thunder of victory
Follow with a double mark.

No, you never guessed
In your destiny, motherland,
Gather under the sky of Magadan
Such an army of his sons.

Dont know,
Where it all began
When I was able to bring up
All that she kept behind the wire,
Behind that zone, dear mother ...

Among our holidays and weekdays
Not everyone could even remember
With what charter to mortal people
The visiting god called them.

He said follow me
Leave your father and mother
Everything fleeting, earthly
Leave - and you will be in paradise.

And we, boasting of disbelief in God,
In the name of their own shrines
That sacrifice was demanded strictly:
Reject your father and reject your mother.

Forget where you came from
And realize, do not argue:
To the detriment of love for the father of nations -
Any other love.

The task is clear, the matter is holy, -
With that - to the highest goal - straight.
Betray your brother on the way
And a secret best friend.

And the soul with human feelings
Do not burden yourself by sparing yourself.
And bear false witness in the name
And atrocity in the name of the leader.

Thanks to any fate
Say one thing, how great he is,
Even if you were a Crimean Tatar,
Ingush or a Kalmyk friend of the steppes.

Applaud to all judgments
Which are not given.
slander the people with whom
Thrown into exile at the same time.

And in the stuffy crowd of outcomes -
No, not biblical, our days -
Praise the father of nations:
He is above everything.
He sees better.
He announces everything
And all ends, of course.

The son is not responsible for the father -
Law, which also means:
Father for son - head.

But all laws extinguished
For the most good night.
And he is not responsible for his son,
Ah, not for a son, not for a daughter.

There, at the silent wall of the Kremlin,
Fortunately, he does not know
What a dashing father's misfortune
Covered his afterlife dream...

For a long time, children became fathers,
But for the universal father
We were all in the answer
And the judgment lasts for decades
And the end is not yet in sight.

About memory

Forget, forget they say silently
They want to drown in oblivion
Living reality. And so that the waves
Closed over her. Reality - forget!

Forget family and friends
And so many fates the way of the cross -
All that be a long-standing dream,
Bad, wild fiction,
So it - go, forget it.

But it was an obvious reality
For those whose century was torn off,
For those who have become camp dust,
As someone once said.

Forget - oh no, not with those together
Forget that they did not come from the war -
Some that even this honor
Harsh were deprived.

They order to forget and ask for affection
Do not remember - memory for printing,
So that inadvertently that publicity
Don't bother the uninitiated.

Forget about mothers and wives,
His own - who did not know guilt,
About the children separated from them,
And before the war
And without war.
And speaking of the uninitiated:
Where to get them? All are dedicated.

Everyone knows everything; trouble with the people! -
Not by that, so they know it by birth,
Not by marks and scars,
So in passing, in passing,
Not by myself
So through those who themselves ...

And for nothing they think that memory
Don't value yourself
What will drag out the duckweed of time
I love the story
Any pain;

That so and so - the planet flies,
Counting down the years and days
And what is not exacted from the poet,
When behind the ghost of prohibition
Keep silent about what burns the soul ...

No, all the past omissions
Now duty commands to say.
Inquisitive daughter-Komsomol member
Go and agree on your glavlit;

Explain why and whose guardianship
Classified as a closed article
An unnamed century Bad memory of the case;

Which one, not put in order,
Decided for us
Special congress
On this sleepless memory
Just on her
Put up a cross.

And who said that adults
Other pages can not be read?
Or our valor will subside
And honor will fade in the world?

Ile, having told aloud about the past,
We will only please the enemy
What to pay for their victory
Did it happen to us at exorbitant prices?

Is his slander new to us?
Or everything that we are strong in the world,
With all the newness we have grown,
And then watered and blood,
Not worth the price anymore?
And our business is only a dream,
And glory - the noise of empty rumors?

Then the silencers are right
Then everything is dust - poetry and prose,
Everything is just so - from the head.

What is now considered large, what is small -
How to know, but people are not grass:
Don't turn them all in bulk
In some forgetful kinship.

Let the eyewitnesses of the generation
Will go down quietly to the bottom
Prosperous oblivion
Our nature is not given.

Others simply affirmed
What if we are talking about a rainy day
All these were not to the court,
Casting a shadow on us.

But all that was is not forgotten,
Not sewn-covered in the world.
One untruth is at a loss to us,
And only the truth to the court!

And I - not those years already -
I have no right to defer
Give.
The mountain would be from the shoulders -
Still have time without delay
To clothe mute pain in words.

The pain that is hidden at times
And the old crowded our hearts
And what we jammed with thunder
Applause in honor of the father.

With ultimate power in every hall
They thundered because
that we are never alone
That father was applauded.

It always seemed to be there,
Having handed over his earthly shift.
The one who did not like applause,
At least he knew their value.

Whose image is eternal and alive
Saved the world beyond the mortal,
Who is his teacher
Father humbly called ...

And, rudely doubling the names,
We proclaimed them as one
And they put it on the tablets.
As if the essence was the same.

And the fear that everyone is at the head
Dashing time set
We were taught to remain silent
Before the revelry is unkind.

Ordered in our voiceless share
On the idea of ​​​​passing the rights to the special sector,

Since then - like a recall of a long-standing pain
She is for us - just appear.
No, give us the sign of the supreme will
Give the revelation of the deity.

And prepare a special sigh -
Dare our limit:
Now, if Lenin got up from the coffin,
I looked at everything that has become ...

He's behind all the little things
I would see breadth and depth.
Or maybe shrugged
And would drop:
- Well well! -

So, syak guess those and these,
Foreseeing this or that judgment, -
Like children who have played
What from the absence of the elders are waiting.

But everything that has become or will become,
Do not surrender, do not sell us from our hands,
And Lenin will not judge us:
He was not a god and alive.

And what are you doing now
Return the former grace,
So you call Stalin -
He was a god - He can stand up.

And that he is easy on the face
In the sublunar world, God the Father,
This is evidenced now
Its Chinese pattern...

... Well, let it be in the hayloft,
Where we rejected the dream that night
Our distances seemed different, -
We have no reason to complain.

To measure everything with a reliable measure,
To not be apart from the real truth,
multilateral verification
We went - where anyone had to.

And experience is our venerable healer,
Sometimes freakishly cool, -
He brought us by the will of the century
His healing potion.
But in the future, as we were, we will be, -
What a sudden thunderstorm -
people
of those people
that people
Without hiding your eyes
They look into the eyes.

Analysis of the poem "By the Right of Memory" by Tvardovsky

Alexander Tvardovsky was not only a well-known literary writer, but also successfully combined literary activity with journalistic, which, in turn, left an imprint on the style of writing poems and poems, as well as on their subject matter and message to the reader.

At the end of 1970, Foda Tvardovsky wrote the famous poem "By the Right of Memory", which was based on the poet's autobiography. The time of writing an autobiographical poem fell just at that period in history when writers were no longer infringed on in their statements and references to political topics. Alexander Tvardovsky did not miss the opportunity to express his opinion about Stalin's policy, and wrote "By the Right of Memory".

Tvardovsky's poem can be divided into three parts, which are united by one main idea, with the help of which the writer tried to convey to the reader why this particular topic was chosen to write the work.

First part

In it, the writer tells readers about his cherished dreams, says what he aspired to and what goals he set for himself in his youth. During the life of the poet, only the first part of the autobiographical poem was published in circulation.

At the beginning, Tvardovsky introduces readers to two young guys from an ordinary village who have not yet faced the harsh reality of life and problems, and still believe in a cloudless future and the fulfillment of their cherished desires. Their fuse, youthful maximalism and desire to live give them a surge of strength, which they spend for the benefit of the Motherland. In the same part, the author clearly hints that the young men will have to face the cruel reality and descend to earth from their rainbow dreams.

The second part of the autobiographical poem

In the second part of Tvardovsky's poem, any reader can feel in the brightest colors the full severity of the degree of despair and hopelessness of the author. In this part, the poet fully and completely reflected his state of mind. He was depressed and broken because of his family's exile in the cold embrace of icy Siberia, but he could not fix anything. The poet was able to understand how it could happen that the promises of politicians and their words mean nothing at all and never coincide with actions. Belief in ideology was forever undermined and forever left a heartbreaking mark on the soul of the author.

In the late 70s of the 20th century, such a concept as “enemy of the people” was widespread among the people. To receive such a “title”, it was enough not only to break the laws yourself or cross the line in statements addressed to political figures, but also to have parents for whose mistakes their children were responsible and punished. Soon, Stalin announced to the people that this was wrong, and "the son should not be responsible for the father's mistakes." After such words, many people were finally able to breathe freely, but not Tvardovsky. He reacted to such a step of a famous politician as a betrayal in the family circle. It turns out that now children have the right to “reject” their parents, thereby forever breaking the blood connection. He addressed modern readers with a certain amount of irony:

“You will not be embarrassed in any questionnaire
Sinister once count:
Who was before you in the world
Your father, dead or alive."

The final part of the work "By the right of memory"

The third and final part of the poem "By the Right of Memory" Tvardovsky dedicated to the reader. The poet wanted to convey that no matter what happens, you cannot abandon your past, your family or its actions. A person has no right to forget about his roots and start all over again.

After reading the poem, the reader's heart cannot remain indifferent. the main idea and the underlying message literary work that you cannot take bold steps into a good future if you do not remember or do not want to know your past.

The poem "By the Right of Memory" by Tvardovsky was written in 1969. The work, in which the author shared his sorrowful reflections, was banned by censorship for a long time, and was first published only in 1987.

For better preparation for the literature lesson, we recommend reading the online summary of “By the Right of Memory”. You can check your knowledge with the test on our website.

Main characters

Alexander Tvardovsky- a narrator, a lyrical hero, whose family was in the meat grinder of Stalin's repressions.

Other characters

Joseph Stalin- politician, leader of the Soviet people.

Tvardovsky's father- a peasant, a strong owner, who was repressed in Siberia.

Chapter 1. Before departure

Remembering his youth, the writer mentally turns to a friend with whom he once dreamed of leaving the "backwoods in exchange for the whole wide world." Two bosom friends - "a thinker and a poet" - set themselves quite feasible goals: to work honestly for the benefit of people, to become worthy citizens of their homeland.

Friends gave each other a vow - “Do not lie. Don't be afraid. Be faithful to the people. Loving mother earth. It would seem, what could be easier? But as the years pass, the lyrical hero bitterly realizes that the reality turned out to be completely different, and carefree youth has sunk into oblivion, as if it had never happened.

Chapter 2

"The son is not responsible for the father" - this famous phrase“dropped in the Kremlin hall” by the arbiter of fate, Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin. Tvardovsky sadly notes that the modern generation will never be able to understand the full significance of these words for those whose parents were "enemies of the people."

"But in those years and five years" those who could not answer for their fathers were forever branded with a shameful mark - "the son of an enemy of the people." Such was the terrible law, and innocent children had to endure the agony of public torture all their lives.

But how can a simple kid live with such a consciousness, who “first had a father, then suddenly he is an enemy”? After all, even close friends turned away from the "children of the enemies of the people", not wanting to stain their reputation with dubious acquaintances.

And suddenly - "The son is not responsible for the father." It seemed that the end of all the torment had come, and one should thank "the father of nations that he forgave you your own father - he lifted the curse with an unexpected ease." Tvardovsky is trying to understand why his father, the so-called "fist", a strong master, had to spend the rest of his life in the barracks, working hard day and night. Why did his wife and children have to bear the shameful cross?

The writer is also trying to understand why Stalin was so loved by the people. Many of those whom he repressed and sent to rot in distant Siberia, depriving them of shelter, families and the right to be called a person, believed that their destinies were distorted through no fault of the great leader. They believed that it was enough to write him a letter, and everything would fall into place - all sentences would be canceled, and justice would prevail.

“Children have long become fathers,” but they still continue to hold the answer “for the universal father,” and this trial will not end soon.

Chapter 3

The writer does not intend to forget the pain that not only he, but hundreds of thousands of other people endured. He despises the "silent" who offered to forget that terrible page in the history of the entire Soviet people.

Tvardovsky insists that today's youth know the whole truth about the past of their country, no matter how impartial it may be. After all, a generation that has forgotten its origins cannot hope for a brighter future.

The author is sure that “experience is our venerable healer”, capable of healing and giving hope for an honest, just life. In spite of everything, it is very important to be one of those people who, without hiding their eyes, look into the eyes.

Conclusion

In his work, Alexander Tvardovsky insists that the people should not abandon historical memory. Only this will be considered repentance and atonement.

After reading the retelling of "By the Right of Memory", we recommend reading the poem in its full version.

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