And I'll say good evening miss. Sergei Yesenin - You don't love me, you don't regret me: Verse
You do not love me, do not regret,
Am I a little handsome?
Without looking in the face, you are thrilled with passion,
Putting my hands on my shoulders.
Young, with a sensual grin,
I am not gentle with you and not rude.
Tell me how many have you caressed?
How many hands do you remember? How many lips?
I know they passed like shadows
Without touching your fire
To many you sat on your knees,
And now you're sitting here with me.
May your eyes be half closed
And you think of someone else
I myself do not love you very much,
Drowning in a distant road.
Don't call this ardor fate
Frivolous quick-tempered connection, -
How by chance I met you
I smile and calmly disperse.
Yes, and you will go your own way
Spread the gloomy days
Just don't touch the unkissed
Only unburned do not mani.
And when with another down the lane
You will pass, talking about love,
Maybe I'll go for a walk
And we will meet with you again.
Turning your shoulders closer to the other
And leaning down a little
You will tell me quietly: "Good evening ..."
I will answer: "Good evening, miss."
And nothing will disturb the soul
And nothing will make her shiver, -
Who loved, he cannot love,
Who is burned, you will not set fire to.
Love is a bath, you must either dive headlong or not go into the water at all. If you wander along the shore knee-deep in water, then you will only be splashed with spray and you will freeze and get angry.
Do not grieve, dear, and do not gasp,
Hold life like a horse by the bridle,
Send everyone and everyone to x. th!,
So that they don’t send you to f ... du!
You don't love me, don't pity me
Am I a little handsome?
Without looking in the face, you are thrilled with passion,
Putting my hands on my shoulders.
Young, with a sensual grin,
I am not gentle with you and not rude.
Tell me how many have you caressed?
How many hands do you remember? How many lips?
I know they passed like shadows
Without touching your fire
To many you sat on your knees,
And now you're sitting here with me.
May your eyes be half closed
And you think of someone else
I myself do not love you very much,
Drowning in a distant road.
Don't call this ardor fate
Frivolous quick-tempered connection, -
How by chance I met you
I smile and calmly disperse.
Yes, and you will go your own way
Spread the gloomy days
Just don't touch the unkissed
Only unburned do not mani.
And when with another down the lane
You will pass, talking about love,
Maybe I'll go for a walk
And we will meet with you again.
Turning your shoulders closer to the other
And leaning down a little
You say to me quietly: "Good evening!"
I will answer: "Good evening, miss."
And nothing will disturb the soul
And nothing will make her shiver, -
Who loved, he cannot love,
Who is burned, you will not set fire to.
In thunderstorms, in storms, in the coldness of life, with heavy losses and when you are sad, seeming smiling and simple is the highest art in the world.
Face to face, no face to be seen: the big is seen from a distance
Just please don't go missing
Leave at least some threads, addresses.
I will search for you endlessly
While I will dream of our spring.
What can I tell you about this most terrible realm of philistinism, which borders on idiocy? In addition to the foxtrot, there is almost nothing here, they eat and drink here, and again the foxtrot. I have not yet met a man and I do not know where he smells. In a terrible fashion, Mr. Dollar, and the art of sneeze - the highest music hall. I didn't even want to publish books here, despite the cheapness of paper and translations. No one here needs this... Even if we are beggars, even if we have hunger, cold... but we have a soul that was rented here as unnecessary for smerdyakovism.
I would forever forget taverns, and I would give up writing poetry, if only to thinly touch my hand, and your hair is the color in autumn ...
Living with an open soul is the same as walking with an open fly.
"Russia. Which beautiful word! And dew, and strength, and something blue ... "
“You don’t love me, you don’t regret ...” Sergei Yesenin
You don't love me, don't pity me
Am I a little handsome?
Without looking in the face, you are thrilled with passion,
Putting my hands on my shoulders.Young, with a sensual grin,
I am not gentle with you and not rude.
Tell me how many have you caressed?
How many hands do you remember? How many lips?I know they passed like shadows
Without touching your fire
To many you sat on your knees,
And now you're sitting here with me.Empty your half-closed eyes
And you think of someone else
I myself do not love you very much,
Drowning in a distant road.Don't call this ardor fate
Frivolous quick-tempered connection, -
How by chance I met you
I smile and calmly disperse.Yes, and you will go your own way
Spread the gloomy days
Just don't touch the unkissed
Only unburned do not mani.And when with another down the lane
You go talking about love
Maybe I'll go for a walk
And we will meet with you again.Turning your shoulders closer to the other
And leaning down a little
You will tell me quietly: "Good evening ..."
I will answer: "Good evening, miss."And nothing will disturb the soul
And nothing will make her shudder, -
Who loved, he cannot love,
Who is burned, you will not set fire to.
Analysis of Yesenin's poem "You don't love me, don't feel sorry for me..."
The personal life of Sergei Yesenin still hides many secrets. It is known that the poet was officially married three times, but few of his bibliographers would dare to name the exact number of lovers. It is for this reason that the addressee of the poem “You don’t love me, don’t feel sorry for me ...”, written in 1925, a few weeks before the tragic death of the poet, has not been established.
Meanwhile, from the context of the work it is clear that, most likely, it is dedicated to a woman of easy virtue, with whom fate accidentally brought Yesenin. Driven to despair by the realization of his uselessness, the poet in last years life often sought sympathy from prostitutes. But at the same time, he perfectly understood that one could count on their favor only for money or treats. It is for this reason that the first line of the poem “You don’t love me, don’t feel sorry for me” was probably born.
The poet characterizes his casual acquaintance quite eloquently and unambiguously, noting: "Young, with a sensual grin." But at the same time, Yesenin emphasizes that in her life he is just another episode, a fleeting phenomenon. And the prostitute is unlikely to remember the name of the one with whom she spent that night. “You sat on the knees of many, and now you are sitting here with me,” the author notes. This connection also does not excite him and does not cause lofty feelings. A man who has been in the beds of many women perceives another love adventure without enthusiasm. “As by chance I met you, I will smile, calmly dispersing.” he notes.
Yesenin is well aware that his new girlfriend will also forget about him the very next day. However, less experienced gentlemen will surely fall into her network, who will sincerely believe in false words about love and feigned passion. Therefore, the author warns his counterpart: “Just don’t touch those who haven’t been kissed, just don’t beckon those who haven’t been burned.” He understands that the frivolity of this woman, who is beautiful in her own way, can cause inexperienced young people a deep spiritual wound.
The poet does not exclude that someday fate will again bring him to the insidious temptress, but this does not bother him at all. Indifferent to false words, he admits to himself that he has already ceased to see them in women. best qualities. His soul is devastated, and the culprit is a series of unsuccessful novels, a lack of understanding with the chosen ones. The poet bitterly notes that “whoever loved, he cannot love, whoever burned down cannot be set on fire,” implying that pure and sincere feelings are no longer available to him. And that means life is coming to its logical conclusion.
You don't love me, don't pity me
Am I a little handsome?
Without looking in the face, you are thrilled with passion,
Putting my hands on my shoulders.
Young, with a sensual grin,
I am not gentle with you and not rude.
Tell me how many have you caressed?
How many hands do you remember? How many lips?
I know they passed like shadows
Without touching your fire
To many you sat on your knees,
And now you're sitting here with me.
May your eyes be half closed
And you think of someone else
I myself do not love you very much,
Drowning in a distant road.
Don't call this ardor fate
Frivolous quick-tempered connection, -
How by chance I met you
I smile and calmly disperse.
Yes, and you will go your own way
Spread the gloomy days
Just don't touch the unkissed
Only unburned do not mani.
And when with another down the lane
You go talking about love
Maybe I'll go for a walk
And we will meet with you again.
Turning your shoulders closer to the other
And leaning down a little
You will tell me quietly: "Good evening ..."
I will answer: "Good evening, miss."
And nothing will disturb the soul
And nothing will make her shudder, -
Who loved, he cannot love,
Who is burned, you will not set fire to.
Analysis of the poem "You do not love me, do not regret" Yesenin
Yesenin's love lyrics are represented by a large number of works. The poet had many women, to each of whom he dedicated his poems. In most cases, it is possible to establish a specific addressee, given the circumstances of Yesenin's life. The poem “You don’t love me, don’t feel sorry for me…”, written by the poet shortly before his death (December 1925), does not allow us to speak with certainty about a particular woman. From the content it becomes clear that the poet means a simple "night butterfly".
From the very beginning of the verse, Yesenin shows the unnaturalness and temporary nature of love relationships. The woman does not look lyrical hero in the eyes, he himself is "not gentle and not rude to her." In fact, lovers are deeply indifferent to each other. They were brought together by an animal sensual passion that will not leave the slightest trace in the soul. The author addresses the woman with rhetorical questions about how many men there were in her empty and cold life.
Yesenin does not blame a woman who is forced to earn a living in this way. Her memories of numerous lovers do not cause him feelings of jealousy. He admits that he himself loves her "not very much." Perhaps the poet feels some spiritual kinship with the prostitute. His ardent romances also did not lead to a lasting relationship. Continuing a disorderly life, the author no longer expects a miracle. He is limited to fleeting connections, only in memories "drowning in a distant road."
Sergei Yesenin is infinitely sorry for his past youth. He understands that fame and glory corrupted him, dulled his former lofty feelings, made him feel disappointed in love. Emotional emptiness has led to the fact that the author already feels like a deep old man. He does not want anyone to repeat his fate, so he asks his experienced girlfriend "do not touch the unkissed."
Yesenin never mentions the woman's name. It becomes clear that for him it does not matter. Most likely, it was a one-night stand. The meeting can be repeated only quite by chance on the street, when the "night butterfly" will be carried away by another partner. The poet's ironic appeal "miss" shows the unnaturalness of such "love relationships".
In the finale, the poet declares "whoever burned down, you can't set it on fire." This means that true love can only be experienced in youth. You need to cherish this great feeling and not waste your spiritual strength on fleeting connections.