Analysis of the poem "Requiem". "All great women are men"

Marina Tsvetaeva gave birth to two daughters - Ariadna lived until she was 63 years old, Irina died in childhood.

And Tsvetaeva’s only son died in the prime of his life - he was not yet 20.

Georgy Efron fought on the Eastern Front.

In the crossword puzzle you should enter his first name, not his last name - GEORGE.

Marina Tsvetaeva’s son received the name GEORGE at birth, and since he died very young, he did not show himself to be anything remarkable. His biography is known mainly from the personal diaries of the poetess, who doted on her son and lovingly called him Moore.

Beloved and desired son of Tsvetaeva and Sergei Efron. Georgy Efron spent his childhood abroad. After returning to the USSR, the war soon began. He died at the age of 19 near the city of Braslav on the border with Lithuania in Belarus. There is a grave, but there is an opinion that he was reburied in a mass grave. It is impossible to read Tsvetaeva’s poems about her son without tears, especially for women who have sons.

The tragedy of Marina Tsvetaeva’s family is amazing. A talented poetess who wrote poetry so uniquely that there weren’t even any imitators for her. This is a proud, lonely figure in the history of the Silver Age of Russian poetry, who ended his life tragically. Georgy Efron - that was the name of her son, was the third child.

Alya was born first, and she reminded the world of her mother, whom the communists tried to forget.

The second was Irina, she died of hunger in civil war at the age of 3 years.

Moore was born in exile, as George was called by his family. He died in the Great Patriotic War. Of the entire family, only Alya survived in the camps. The children's father, Sergei Efron, was arrested as a spy immediately upon his return to the USSR and shot as an enemy of the people, despite his services to the authorities.

Marina Tsvetaeva had one son, Georgy Efron. He died during the Great Patriotic War, in 1944. George was only 19 years old at the time. The poetess herself never found out about her son’s death; she passed away in 1941.

We all know Marina Tsvetaeva’s wonderful poems well, and somehow we were given less opportunity to learn more about her personal life. But even from that dry one Soviet biography the poetess could be found out about her children. Marina Tsvetaeva has only one and his name is GEORGE, who died at the front when he was nineteen years old.

The Russian poetess, being married to the writer Sergei Efron, was the first to give him a daughter, Ariadne; later, Marina Tsvetaeva had another daughter, Irina, but the child died of starvation in the Kuntsevo orphanage.

Tsvetaeva's son GEORGE Efron did not live to see his twentieth birthday, from a mortal wound (he fought on the Eastern Front).

The Russian poetess Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva and her husband Sergei Yakovlevich Efron had three children - daughters Ariadna and Irina, son Georgy. Only survived repression and war in the family eldest daughter poetess Ariadne, she was arrested in 1941 and rehabilitated in 1955. Son Georgy died in 1944 when he was only 19 years old. The poetess's husband was shot in 1941, her second daughter died when she was young, and Marina Tsvetaeva committed suicide on August 31, 1941.

As we know from the biography of the Russian poetess Marina Tsvetaeva, her marriage to Sergei Efron had three children: Ariadna Sergeevna (died in 1975), Irina Sergeevna (lived very little and died of hunger in 1920, Georgy Sergeevich (died at the front in 1944). Since we are talking about a son, his last name, Efron, is unlikely to suit us, since there are very few letters in it. But his name, Georgy, is just right for us, because this name has exactly seven letters , which is what is required to answer the question presented from the biography of Marina Tsvetaeva.

This means that we choose the answer for our crossword puzzle - Georgiy.

The famous poetess of the Silver Age, Marina Tsvetaeva, had an only son who was not born in marriage with Sergei Efron and died very young - at the age of nineteen. You can learn more about him only from the poetess’s personal memories of her beloved son, who bore the name Georgiy.

Marina Tsvetaeva and Sergei Efron had one son Georgiy, who was born on February 1, 1925 in the Czech Republic. Later the family moved to France. This was a long-awaited child; his family called him Moore. Tsvetaeva doted on him, she even refused to have a nanny, because she was afraid that her son would love the nanny more than her. He grew up in France and could read and write at the age of six. After moving to Russia, her terrible daughter Ariadne and husband Sergei Efron were arrested, on August 31, 1941, Marina Tsvetaeva committed suicide, and Moore ended up in a boarding school. After boarding school in Tashkent, he graduated from school and entered the Literary Institute in Moscow in 1943. In 1944, he was called to the front and, as the son of a repressed father, he ended up in a penal battalion. He was mortally wounded on July 7, 1944 in a battle near the village of Druika.

It became known that Larisa Vasilyeva died on February 27. This is a famous poetess who inspired many with her example. They spoke of her as a wonderful and kind person. The cause of death has not yet been announced, but she was 83 years old.

They also don’t talk about the time and place of burial. As you know, the poetess has a husband, Oleg. Most likely, her relatives and friends will bury her. She was a person with an interesting destiny, which was always expressed in her books.

Just take the fact that she grew up in the family of the inventor of the legendary T-34 tank. This played a huge role in her fate. And she herself is from Kharkov. In her childhood there was a terrible war and its consequences.

The future poetess was born on November 23, 1935. The only joy was that the head of the family was not taken to the front, since his talent was needed elsewhere. He, along with other engineers, worked to create new weapons for the Soviet troops. By the way, they did it well - Larisa Vasilyeva’s father helped design the T-34 tank.

Later she will describe in detail the entire process of creating this powerful weapon in one of her books.

After the end of the war, life gradually returned to normal. After graduating from school, Larisa Vasilyeva entered the Moscow state institute them. Lomonosov, to the Faculty of Philology. It was here that she met her future husband Oleg Vasiliev.

Their relationship developed rapidly. As the poetess herself admitted, she fell in love with the slender young man at first sight.

She was well aware that she wanted to live the rest of her days only with this man. Therefore, in January 1957, right on Epiphany, the young couple got married. A year later they received their diplomas and began a long journey to the walks of fame.

When did Larisa Vasilyeva create her first work? She began writing poetry back in early childhood, which greatly pleased her parents. As for the first memory associated with poetry, it dates back to the age of six. Then, while still a very little girl, she wrote a poem that became an adornment for one of the pages of the Pionerskaya Pravda newspaper.

Later, the parents decided to send their daughter’s works to the poetess Anna Akhmatova, so that she would give them a fair assessment. Alas, the woman’s criticism was very harsh, but, as the writer herself assures, very motivating. And indeed, despite the failure, the girl continued to work on improving her writing talent.

But the accomplished poetess Larisa Vasilyeva became famous only at the beginning of 1957. Perhaps the impetus for this was her marriage, which brought a flurry of new emotions into the girl’s life and forced her to take a fresh look at the world. At the same time, the writer’s poems instantly spread across the pages of publications known at that time. For example, her works were published in the magazines “Yunost”, “Moscow”, “Young Guard” and so on.

If we talk about the nature of her works, then first of all they are focused on the inner world of a person: his experiences, aspirations and struggles. In addition, Larisa Vasilyeva often writes about her love for Russia, its nature and the people who live on its wonderful lands. In total, more than 20 collections of poems came out of her hand, which were published both in Russian and in English.

The writer's first book was published in 1985. It was a collection of stories about English history called Albion and the Mystery of Time. Her next work was the autobiographical story “The Book about Father. Novel-memory." It was she who brought fame to Vasilyeva, as she found a response in the hearts of thousands of people.

However, Larisa Vasilyeva herself believes that the turning point in her career was the era of perestroika. Exactly at
During this period, she retrained from a poetess to a historical writer. Her main bestseller was the book “The Kremlin Wives,” which was published in 1994. The success was so overwhelming that the writer was soon inundated with letters from fans urging her to continue this series.

Vasilyeva listened to the request of her readers and soon released several more similar books: “Tales of Love” (1995) and “Children of the Kremlin” (1996), writes the Rosregistr portal. The latter has been translated into many languages ​​and is in demand not only in Europe, but also in Asia. After such a furor, Larisa Vasilyeva finally switched to journalism, leaving poetry to young talents.

At the end of September, the Internet exploded with terrible news: a woman threw herself from the bell tower of the St. Sophia Cathedral in Vologda from a height of 65 meters. In almost half a millennium of the cathedral’s existence since its construction by Ivan the Terrible, this is the only case. A short information line about this was even broadcast on NTV. And rumors began to spread. Debts... Crazy... Only very few knew the truth, but you will not find it on the Internet among these idle speculations.

Member of the Union of Writers of Russia Oleg Larionov, on the pages of the newspaper Pravda
2013-10-25 14:45

A talented poetess, the author of three poetry collections, a brilliant and witty polemicist, a person with a philological, economic and pharmaceutical education, simply beautiful woman— Svetlana Stanevich. The regional radio presenters knew her well from her well-aimed impromptu live discussions. Last year she ran for deputy in regional elections. Henchmen from the “party in power” were afraid of her popularity and spoiled many in the election commission at the registration stage. subscription lists, dragged in their outright swindler businessman. But she didn’t make a copy in a hurry, and there was no point in proving she was right... “I have nothing to do with this, Svetlana Gennadievna,” one of these petty court servants, batting his tin eyes, hastened to justify himself to her, indirectly admitting that he was in aware of the unclean deeds of their colleagues.

In life, she is an extremely sympathetic, attentive, sensitive friend; she rushed to help complete strangers as if she were her own family. And not because the work of a pharmacist obliged me to do this, but at the call of my heart. I couldn't do it any other way. People often went to her pharmacy not for medicine, but just to talk and get advice. He was highly respected for his kindness and openness.

But Svetlana’s main quality was a heightened sense of justice, which originated in childhood. In her matriculation certificate she had only one “B”, funny as it may seem, in literature. The school director begged: “Svetochka, what is it worth to you, apologize to Galina Pavlovna, and you will get an “A” and a gold medal!..” - “I told the truth and I won’t apologize!” - she answered. And Svetlana said the following to her literature teacher: “You humiliate your students, but you teach the most humane subject. You have no right to be a teacher!..”

And she said these words, standing up for her friend. That's the kind of person she was. Many years later, when her son went to the same school, the teacher, as if trying to make amends, always gave him “A’s”, even when it seemed that he did not deserve it. “Your mother has always been our leader,” the old woman recalled the past. “So principled...”

Svetlana did not grab free shares for herself when she worked as an economist in an oil company, although she could have, like those who now live on the expense of hired workers and at the same time despise them. This contradicted her life credo - to live for people. During the crisis of the 90s, being a multi-talented person, she said goodbye to the past and quickly mastered a new specialty - pharmacist. This profession is always in demand. And also very close to people.

By the end of the 90s, one of the most profitable markets - medicines - was already strictly divided. The sharks of nascent capitalism hung on to a business that brought hundreds of percent of profits without requiring large investments. In our city, more than half, if not two-thirds, of this market belongs to one local oligarch. So Svetlana worked for him as a manager in a large pharmacy.

The owner of life, trying to squeeze out profit in everything, punished the workers with fines, cut wages, and then began accusing them of shortages, that is, of theft. As an experienced and persistent person, Svetlana quickly figured out what was what: “But you steal from yourself, and then blame it on the girls (she was on a first-name basis with him). They already have nothing to live on, and you are taking away the last crumbs. They will not pay for your “shortfalls” - neither they nor I. You need to go to Jamaica less often, you need to visit Vologda sometimes and see what people breathe.”

The girls were afraid of losing their jobs and continued to make deductions from their salaries. Well, Svetlana had to leave. Who needs such an insightful and principled employee! And she saw people immediately and through, giving them laconic and succinct characteristics. She quickly sensed the lie or those who, as the Americans put it, “wanted to use it.” Since then, wandering around in search of work has been like vicious circle. No matter what company Svetlana contacted, it turned out that it also belonged to the ubiquitous oligarch, which means entry was prohibited. She herself was surprised, saying with a grin: “Even I underestimated its scope... That’s where we get medicines at exorbitant prices. Monopolist! Everything is captured. And the most annoying thing is that we can’t do anything about it now.”

She eventually found a job, although not as fast, but in the state system, dispensing subsidized prescription drugs. The son, who brilliantly graduated from college, worked for pennies as a loader in a grocery store... Typical story for the Russian province.

One day Svetlana drew my attention to the fact that her classmate was standing outside a store in the neighborhood with his hand outstretched. He was cheated out of his apartment and lost his job. Spends the night in the entrance. "Lovely guy, once ordinary soviet man, - she exclaimed. “What fate does to people!.. I always give him...” After some time, she clenched her fingers until they were white and said: “He is no more, he died. Oh God, how many, how many of them!..” “Sveta,” I told her then, “everyone is given reason, a sense of self-preservation, after all, we are designed to fight for ourselves. Stop taking everything so personally, think about yourself one day, understand that you are not enough for everyone!..”

But she was different. For her, my words remained only the opinion of a hopeless egocentric and egoist.

All these details, like leaden clouds, covered the high horizons of her soul. She continued to worry about what happens to people in hometown what's going on in the country. “I can’t look at all this,” she said. — Young people have no prospects. There is ruin all around, camouflaged by facades. The people are begging, and these, with shiny faces, steal and lie that everything is fine... Where are we going?.. We have no more strength. But I don’t like myself like that—powerless. I'm used to being different."

What pushed her to take the fatal step? Probably the exposed nerve that the great Shakespeare spoke about in his verdict on the corruption of the century. Remember: “...I can’t bear to see dignity that begs for alms, a lie mocking simplicity, insignificance in luxurious attire, and a false verdict on perfection, and virginity rudely abused, and shame on inappropriate honor, and power in captivity in toothless weakness, and directness, which is considered stupidity, and stupidity in the mask of a sage, a prophet, and a closed mouth of inspiration, and righteousness in the service of vice...”

A year ago, on a sunny August day, permeated with turquoise, Sveta, who was always physically afraid of even small heights, invited me to visit the observation deck of the bell tower of the St. Sophia Cathedral, the highest in the diocese. She looked for a long time at the beautiful, green ancient city below, and then uttered a strange phrase: “If you leave this life, then you need to leave for sure.” I didn't attach too much of great importance these words. I thought it was just a figure of speech. Poetic game. But nevertheless, an alarming premonition crept into my soul like a heavy aftertaste...

A little earlier, on her initiative, we began filming here with an amateur camera a film dedicated to the streets named after Vologda writers. As you know, the streets named after the poets Konstantin Batyushkov and Sergei Orlov “flow” into Kremlin Square, where the classically austere, stern monument of the St. Sophia Cathedral rises in majestic detachment from the earthly. And further, on the other bank of the Vologda River, Nikolai Rubtsov Street stretches like a spiritual river. As a cameraman, I tried to identify this idea - Svetlana's idea. She came up with the lyrics, I came up with the plot, and we talked about these streets and the poets in turn. They wanted to submit the film to the competition. But the shooting turned out to be a technical defect, and the rain prevented the filming of a new film...

When a Japanese delegation came to us (representatives of the Kobushi Shobo publishing house from Tokyo, I have known them since 1995), Svetlana enthusiastically told them about Vologda poets, the translator barely had time to translate. “You have so many poets and such a reverent attitude towards them... In your Vologda alone there is both the Batyushkov Museum and the Rubtsov Museum. “I don’t remember anything like this in Japan,” said the director of the publishing house, Mrs. Watanabe. “It’s simply amazing what kind of people you are... If a people honors their poets this way, it means they have tremendous strength of spirit...” By the way, Kazuko Watanabe is the daughter of the famous Marxist philosopher Kan’ichi Kuroda in Japan and, seemingly contrary to her multimillion-dollar personal condition, promotes Marxist ideas around the world.

Svetlana Stanevich unselfishly shared many ideas and materials when entrepreneur Mikhail Surov was preparing a biographical volume about Nikolai Rubtsov. True, her last name was not there...

As a person with a naked conscience, with a heightened sense of justice, a poet with a vulnerable soul, she probably no longer saw herself in this world alien to her. She is used to being ahead and always achieving her goal. But through the predatory grin of new realities, she once realized how difficult it was for her to convey the truth to people and alone change anything in the established order of things. Her country remains where people are close and open to each other, where there is no money-grubbing and institutionalized meanness, where there is a sense of the future.

In the tragedy of Svetlana Stanevich, who despaired of establishing and defending her truth, like a drop of water, the essence of cold era, in which we are destined to exist - an era that has crossed out the highest human ideals, such as Russian conciliarity, equality, brotherhood.

On one Sunday in October, the bells of the belfry of St. Sophia Cathedral seemed to sound all day long. I have never heard such a long, alarming ringing. A measured, deep roar permeated the city. The majestic minor scale of the centuries-old bells reminded of a different, higher reality. Sometimes strong gusts of the cold October wind brought him closer, and then the wailing of the bells sounded very close... And I thought: they were crying for her.

Here is one of short poems Svetlana Stanevich of recent years.

They don't go from love to love,

Out of love they go nowhere,

So wait, Charon, on

crossing,

Maybe I'll get there soon.

Love for Svetlana Stanevich is her bright world, lost beyond the threshold of the cruel timelessness in which we live.

Hello, dear guests!
Erudite, difficult!
We value and respect you,
We invite you to the school museum!

The museum in the native village of Russky Ishim preserves the memory of the poetess M. P. Smirnova

The talented Russian poetess Matryona Platonovna Smirnova lived a difficult life: after the death of her husband at the front, remaining a widow, she did not marry, but raised sons, then grandchildren.

M. P. Smirnova was born in 1913 in the village of Russky Ishim, Gorodishchensky district, Penza region. She lived to be almost 69 years old. Her education was modest: she managed to complete only three classes primary school and 2-month teacher courses. She became a teacher at age 17 and worked at the school for 3 years. She married the school director A. A. Smirnov, a mathematics teacher.

Matryona Smirnova fell in love with books very much. I read them every free minute. She began writing poetry from a young age. She wrote plays and stories.

The work of Matryona Smirnova is dear to readers for its sincerity of feelings, love for people, native land, its nature. The poetess dedicated her best lines to the unique beauty of the Sursky region. More than 30 poems, including “My Tender Land,” “Star,” “Walk Along the Penza Region,” “Sweet Grove,” became songs.

Matryona Smirnova published more than a dozen books during her lifetime.

Matryona's parents: mother Pelageya Ivanovna Khovrina (1891–1987), father Platon Vasilyevich Khovrin (1891–1975). In the family of Platon Vasilyevich Khovrin, Matryona was the second of four children.

Nature gifted Matryona with the talents of a writer, an artist, and gave her a beautiful appearance. She embroidered and sewed well, she had a beautiful, strong voice, blue-black hair, gray-blue eyes, sable black eyebrows, regular facial features. Matryona Smirnova had two sons: Valentin and Yuri. Their father was taken to the front, where he died.

The war has passed. In 1964, M. P. Smirnova was admitted to the Union of Writers of the USSR. She was invited to both Moscow and the Caucasus for permanent residence, but she did not aspire to Moscow. She loved her village.

The life of a wonderful poetess ended tragically, but we all love her very much for the wonderful poems that she gave us.

Song with lyrics by M.P. Smirnova (1962)

Penza choir, M. Krokhina sings.

Here it is, sweet grove!
The wind is rustling above me,
The branches of birch trees are rinsed,
Evoking a forest dream.
How many trunks are whitened,
How many of them rose up!
All this is familiar from childhood,
Fused with the heart forever.
It's like you're beardless again
You're standing next to a girl,
Beads instead of corals
You give bunches of rowan berries.
It's as if her laughter is ringing
In the thicket of the forest there was a sound...
Only from the ex-girlfriend
There are already daughters-in-law and sons-in-law.
My land, the only one in the world,
Where I can breathe so freely.
The field has expanded wider
I hurry to my beloved grove.
I want white birch trees
Give a low bow,
To block the path,
The one that leads downhill.
The text for this song was written by Smirnova Matryona Platonovna, music by Oktyabr Vasilievich Grishin
A SWEET grove is not an invention, but a specific corner of Penza land with an area of ​​19 hectares on the banks of the Ishimka River. After she was glorified by the rural poetess, the leadership of the Penza region designated the forest curtain as a protected area and awarded the title “Russian-Ishim birch grove named after M. P. Smirnova.”

Photos by M. P. Smirnova

Poems by M. P. Smirnova

The world is beautiful and wide,
But for the heart still,
Dear Russian corner,
There is no one more precious than you.

1. “I love my native fields”

I love my native fields,
A stream of light flows from the river.
The centuries-old oaks are glorified
Your Russian land.

In love with the blue sky,
To the petty envy of the bushes
Raise the crowns to the sun
These knights of the forests.

I love my native fields
In the shimmer of yellow rye.
Blue forget-me-nots
They hid at the boundary.

2. “Ishim”

Here I am standing on a hill.
The woods rustle behind me.
In front of me, as if in the palm of my hand,
My whole village lies.
The green huts turn white,
I dressed them up and trimmed them.
Every year it gets newer
You are becoming, Ishim.
Threw away the old straw
From their sloping roofs
And now in a young way
You look from under the slate.
Like cheerful girlfriends
With a smile in his eyes,
The windows look at each other,
In wooden lace.
All of Ishim is covered in construction,
He is in a hurry to live a joyful life.
Sing saws, sing louder,
Update our Ishim!
So that all drivers leave the track
They could admire him
Talking about Ishim
They led all the way to Moscow.

3. "Rowan"

Winding mountain path
Field, winter, forest.
A thin mountain ash waving
Glowing with my handkerchief.

Quietly the sun pours into the valleys
Its autumn soft light.
We admire the mountain ash -
We love the color red...

4. ***

Walk through Penza region,
When he's all dressed in green,
When the bird cherry bathes
Sura has its own fragrant color.

Gardens in snow-white clothes,
The earth is in green velvet.
No wonder Lermontov is so tender
Loved my native fields...

Take a walk in July
Any dear field worker,
Bread over Moksha and Sura
They stand like a high wall.

The shady cool of the forests,
Streams like a child's tear.
And over the endless expanse
Turquoise of the native sky...

Exhibits

Exhibitions

In 2013, it would have been 100 years since the birth of M.P. Smirnova, who was born and lived all her life in the village of Russky Ishim. She dedicated her most sincere lines to her small homeland, her Ishim. The villagers remember and honor their famous countrywoman. Unfortunately, the house in which the poetess lived has not been preserved, but there was a need to perpetuate her memory in her native village. It is not for nothing that they say that there is a mysticism of space and poems read in the place where the poet lived and worked are perceived in a special way. A museum room for M.P. Smirnova was opened at the school in the village of Russky Ishim. One of the first visitors was the head of the Gorodishchensky district G.A. Berezin. School director M.N. Lukina introduced the plan for the development of the room and talked about what work had already been done. Gennady Alekseevich approved the initiatives of the Russian-Ishim people and promised to give a TV for the 100th anniversary of the poetess so that excursionists could watch a film about the life of the poetess “Matryonina’s Fate” on the spot.

Nika Turbina born in 1974. A poetess whose life was similar to her poems: just as short and full of drama. Nika died young - she was only 27 years old, but during these years she managed to experience so much that most people do not get to experience even in their 90s.

The turbine has become a real phenomenon in literature. She began writing poetry in early childhood, and at the age of 4 she was already dictating them to her mother and grandmother for recording. Moreover, these were not nursery rhymes about green grass and blue sky, and not for her years, adult, mature lyrics.

A gloomy morning with cold rain.
It's bitter for both of us.
The light bulb casts a mischievous light during the day.
You go to the door, I’ll follow you.
Forgot to remove the record of the night -
This is why the path to separation is shorter.

The poetess’s language is difficult to attribute to any direction - her poems stand apart. Their intensity can only be compared with Akhmatova’s - by the way, Akhmatova’s fame was once predicted for the child prodigy. And she lived up to high expectations: she became the second Soviet poetess after , to receive the prestigious Venetian Golden Lion award. Anna Andreevna was over 60 at the time of the award. Nika turned 12.

Nika Turbina. 1984 Photo: Commons.wikimedia.org

"Night Man"

The turbine suffered from birth bronchial asthma and hardly slept. At night, Nikusha (as her mother and grandmother called the girl) sat in her crib, breathing heavily and muttering something. And when she grew up a little, she asked her mother to write down the lines for her - the child said that God himself dictated them to her. Frightened mother and grandmother began taking Nika to doctors. There was only one question: what can be done so that the child stops writing poetry and sleeps normally? The doctors had no answers: the family needed to treat the girl’s asthma, and not think about some poetry.

Nika herself later called herself a night person. In an interview, she said: “Only at night do I feel protected from this world, from this noise, from this crowd, from these problems. I'm becoming myself."

The girl never had a normal childhood: she was always tormented by asthma attacks, insomnia and another illness - poetry.

Nika Turbina at the Moscow International Book Exhibition. 1985 Photo: RIA Novosti / L. Kalinina

From drafts to "Draft"

When Turbina was 7 years old, a writer came to her native Yalta Yulian Semenov- He was building a dacha nearby. Semyonov stayed at a local hotel; Niki’s grandmother also worked there (headed the service department). And when the writer needed a car to the airport, the woman practically forced him to look at her granddaughter’s poems. At first he refused, but after reading just a couple of poems, he said: “Brilliant!”

One might say that this is how the fate of the little poetess was decided. A month later, her lyrics were published in the newspaper, and at the age of 9, Nika’s first collection, “Draft,” was published. The book has been translated into 12 languages.

My life is a draft.
All my good luck, bad luck
Stay on it
How torn
Shot scream.

For a child suffering from insomnia, sudden fame became another serious test.

Trial by fame and loneliness

A famous poet helped Turbina release her first collection. He immediately drew attention to the unusual girl: “An eight-year-old child, in a sense, is a rough draft of a person,” the poet wrote. But the poems of this “draft” were mature beyond their age, and fame about Nick quickly spread throughout Soviet Union and beyond. The child prodigy traveled all over the country on tour, but there was no time left for school.

Yevtushenko helped organize Nike’s concerts. The girl grew up without a father and became very attached to the poet. But at one point Evgeniy Aleksandrovich turned away from Turbina. Silently, without explanation. Already an adult, the poetess reasoned in an interview: “He probably got scared, thought: “Stop messing with her, what if she won’t write anymore?” Who needs other people's troubles?

And shortly before that Maya Turbina, the girl’s mother, got married and gave birth to a second child.

Only, do you hear,
Don't leave me alone.
will transform
All my poems are in trouble.

This is what Nika wrote in her prophetic poem “To Mom” at the age of 9. But Maya Turbina tried to build happiness in new family, and at 13 the young poetess left home and began to live on her own. After several years of success and great fame, the girl found herself alone for the first time - without her mother and grandmother, without her patron and mentor Yevtushenko. Even journalists and spectators turned away from her - the miracle child grew up and became no longer so interesting. As Maya Anatolyevna later said, Nika at that time cut her wrists, drank sleeping pills, and threw herself out of the window.

Black line

In 1990, the poetess surprised everyone by getting married. Her husband was the Italian psychologist Signor Giovanni, who owns a clinic in Switzerland. They spent a year together: she was 16, he was 76. But Turbina returns to Russia. Alone again. And he immediately starts drinking.

Nika tried to get higher education: I studied briefly at VGIK and at the Institute of Culture. In her last year she taught Alena Galich- daughter of a famous poet. The women became friends. Nika swore to her friend to stop drinking, but she didn’t keep her word. And I didn’t finish college either. True, she still wrote poems, but she had not read them to anyone for many years.

The turbine grew older, and its problems grew along with it. She could not get settled in life, and the attention of people, to which she had become so accustomed since childhood, was now aroused not by her poems, but by her “immoral” behavior. There was no mother or other loved one nearby - only a dog and two cats. Drugs and alcohol became the artist’s constant companions. And then Nika fell out of the 5th floor window - she later said that she was shaking out the rug and could not resist. She broke her spine, forearms, and pelvic bones. She underwent 12 operations. Turbina laughed off all the questions: “I fell unsuccessfully from the fifth floor. She remained alive."

"Rain, night, broken window"

When the poetess was less than 7 years old, she wrote:

Rain, night, broken window.
And shards of glass
Stuck in the air
Like leaves
Not caught in the wind.
Suddenly - a ringing...
Similar
A person's life is cut short.

And so her life was cut short. 5 years after the first fall, history repeated itself: the turbine fell out of the window. Again in May, again from the fifth floor. But this time she was no longer saved.

The poetess was accompanied on her last journey by her partner, who also had problems with alcohol, and Alena Galich. It was thanks to the efforts of the teacher that Turbin was allowed to be buried at the Vagankovskoye cemetery. And in the column “cause of death” they put a dash - that’s what Alena Alexandrovna asked (otherwise they wouldn’t have been able to perform the funeral service for Nika).

"I want good"

According to the mother and grandmother of the poetess, Nika said: “I will leave at 27, but before that I will die dozens of times.” And in the interview she answered that she would have neither grandchildren nor children. “I’m afraid I won’t live to see the moment when I want to give birth.” After the death of Anna Akhmatova, her son remained. Nika Turbina left behind two cats and a dog.

Wise Nika wrote these lines when she was 8-9 years old (the poem is called “I Want Good”).

How often
I catch sidelong glances.
And caustic words
Like arrows
They dig into me.
I ask you,
Listen, don't
Ruin in me
Minutes of children's dreams.
So small
My day.
And I want good
Everyone!
Even those
Who's aiming at me?