Where was Tsvetaeva born? Unknown facts about famous writers. Marina Tsvetaeva

Personal life of Marina Tsvetaeva was filled with whirlwind romances, but with only one man - Sergei Efron, she tied her fate in legal marriage. They met in 1911 in a romantic place - Koktebel, where eighteen-year-old Marina was visiting her close friend Maximilian Voloshin, and Sergei came to receive treatment for consumption. Early next year they got married, and in the same year their first daughter, Ariadne, was born.

Tsvetaeva was a very passionate woman, and despite the fact that she sincerely loved her husband, there was room in her biography for other hobbies. Two years after Ariadne was born, Marina Ivanovna became seriously interested in the poetess Sofia Parnok. Efron knew about this affair and was very worried, but found the strength to forgive his wife.

In the photo - Marina Tsvetaeva and Sergei Efron

After a series of high-profile scandals, she returned to the family, and Parnok was erased from Marina Tsvetaeva’s personal life. A year later, the second daughter of the poetess, Irina, was born, but with her birth the baby disappointed her mother, who with all her heart wanted to give birth to a son. This happened in 1917, and from that moment a dark streak began in the life of the poetess and her family. Sergei Efron went to the front to fight on the side of the White Army, and after its final defeat by the Bolsheviks, he emigrated, and Marina Ivanovna and her children remained in Moscow. They lived in extreme poverty, the poetess sold personal belongings to feed the children, but there was still not enough money, and Tsvetaeva gave her daughters to an orphanage, but this did not save the youngest Irina - she died of starvation in the orphanage.

While the poetess's husband lived in exile, Marina Ivanovna had several novels in her life, the most romantic of which was an affair with Boris Pasternak, which lasted ten years. It was a romance in letters that continued after Tsvetaeva left for her husband in Berlin in 1922. When the poetess's family moved to the Czech Republic, a new love came into Marina Tsvetaeva's personal life - for Konstantin Rodzevich. A joyful event also happened there - Marina Ivanovna gave birth to her husband’s son, George.

In the photo - Marina Ivanovna with her son Georgy

Almost before the war, Marina Tsvetaeva and Efron returned to Russia, where later the daughter of the poetess Ariadne and then her husband Sergei Efron were arrested. These events crippled Marina Ivanovna, and besides, she had a difficult relationship with her son, which also did not add to her optimism. In 1941, she and Georgy were evacuated to Elabuga, where she committed suicide by hanging herself in the entryway of the house she and her son had allocated for settlement.

Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva was born in Moscow on September 26, 1892, from Saturday to Sunday, at midnight, on St. John the Theologian. She always attached semantic and almost prophetic significance to such biographical details, where one feels a border, a border, a break: “from Saturday to Sunday,” “midnight,” “on St. John the Evangelist...”

Tsvetaeva's father, Ivan Vladimirovich Tsvetaev, came from a poor rural priesthood. Thanks to his extraordinary talent and hard work, he became a professor of art and an expert on antiquity. Mother, Maria Alexandrovna Mein, who came from a Russified Polish-German family, was a gifted pianist. Therefore, the musical principle turned out to be exceptionally strong in Tsvetaeva’s work. Marina Tsvetaeva perceived the world, first of all, by ear, trying to find for the sound she caught the identical verbal and semantic form as possible.

Tsvetaeva’s poetic originality developed quickly, but not immediately. However, from her first books, “Evening Album” (1910) and “Magic Lantern” (1912), composed of almost half-children’s poems, her work attracts complete, spontaneous, not “squeezed” sincerity. Even then she was completely herself. Do not borrow anything from anyone, do not imitate - this is how Tsvetaeva emerged from childhood and this is how she will remain forever.

Immediately after her first collections, Tsvetaeva wrote many poems and almost fully formed as an artist. Russia, the Motherland, imperiously entered her soul like a wide field and a high sky. In poems 1916 - 1917 there are many echoing spaces, endless roads, quickly running clouds, the cries of midnight birds, crimson sunsets foreshadowing a storm, and purple restless dawns. Her verse itself is constantly spinning, splashing, sparkling, shimmering and alarmingly festively ringing with a tightly stretched string.

Much of what was written in 1916 - 1920 included in her collection “Versts” - Tsvetaeva’s most famous book. Her talent, which she once compared to dancing fire, was here in full force. Tsvetaeva began collecting “Versts” (original name “Mother Versta”) in 1921. And the years from the debut books “Evening Album” and “Magic Lantern” to the appearance of “Verst” (in 1922) were a time of obscurity. Meanwhile, her talent developed with extraordinary, unstoppable and resilient energy.

And the world was at war... There was a world war, then a civil war. Pity and sadness filled Marina’s heart and her poems:

Insomnia pushed me on my way.

– Oh, how beautiful you are, my dim Kremlin! -

Tonight I kiss your chest -

The whole round warring earth!..

(“Tonight I’m alone in the night...”)

The misfortunes of the people are what pierced her soul first of all:

Why did these gray huts anger you, -

God! - and why shoot so many people in the chest?

The train passed, and the soldiers howled, howled,

And the retreating path became dusty and dusty...

(“White sun and low, low clouds...”)

The years of revolution and civil war were difficult and dramatic in Tsvetaeva’s life. A little daughter died after being sent to an orphanage due to hunger. With the eldest, Ariadna (Alya), they experienced not only the most severe need and cold, but also the tragedy of loneliness. Tsvetaeva's husband, Sergei Efron, was in the ranks of the White Volunteer Army, and there was no news from him for the third year. The position of Tsvetaeva, the wife of a white officer, turned out to be ambiguous and alarming in red Moscow, and her character, sharp and direct, made such a situation even dangerous. She defiantly read poems from the “Swan Camp” cycle, dedicated specifically to the White Army, at public evenings. The poem “Perekop” (1929) is also dedicated to the white movement. Tsvetaeva’s lyrics at that time were permeated with frantic anticipation of news from Sergei Efron. “I am all wrapped in sadness,” she wrote. “I live in sadness...” Quite a few poems dedicated to separation from a loved one were written (later they formed a separate cycle). But no one knew them: she wrote into space, as if throwing news into a stormy sea during a shipwreck.

At times it seemed to Marina that, dressed in the armor of poetry, she was indestructible, like the Phoenix bird, that hunger, cold and fire were powerless to break the wings of her verse. And in fact, the years of disaster were perhaps the most creatively intense and fruitful. In a short time, she created many lyrical works, which we now consider to be masterpieces of Russian poetry, as well as several “folklore” poems. Her talent was paradoxically akin to Mayakovsky's gift. But the trouble was that Marina, with rare exceptions, could not “shout out” her verse.

It is unknown how Tsvetaeva’s fate would have turned further, but in the summer of 1921 she finally received the long-awaited news - a letter from Prague from Sergei Efron. And immediately, as she put it, she “rushed” towards him. Tsvetaeva did not emigrate for political reasons, which were later attributed to her and for this reason were not published - love called her.

Emigration turned into poverty, endless ordeals and a burning longing for the homeland. For the first three years (until the end of 1925), Tsvetaeva lived in Prague. And of all the emigrant years, it was Prague, despite the need, that turned out to be the brightest. She fell in love with the Slavic Czech Republic with all her soul and forever. There her son George was born. For the first time, it was possible to publish several books at once: “The Tsar-Maiden”, “Poems to Blok”, “Separation”, “Psyche”, “Craft”. It was a kind of peak, the only one in her life, after which there was a sharp decline - not in creativity, but in publications. The fate of obscurity gave her a respite, but soon after moving to Paris, fate again closed the door to the reader. In 1928, Tsvetaeva’s last lifetime collection, “After Russia,” was published, which included poems from 1922 to 1925.

The late 20s and 30s were darkened in Tsvetaeva’s life not only by the painful feeling of an approaching world war, but also by personal dramas. Sergei Efron, who was passionate about returning to his homeland, joined the Union of Like-Minded People, where he did a lot of organizational work. His daughter Ariadne also helped him. In the end, Tsvetaeva’s husband was forced to flee to the USSR with his daughter. But their fate was deplorable: almost immediately after their arrival they were arrested. S. Efron was shot, and Ariadne was exiled. Tsvetaeva, however, managed to meet them again when she and her son Georgiy arrived in Moscow in 1939.

Returning to her homeland, Marina was soon left alone with her son again - without work, without housing, with rare fees for translations. In her poems 1940 - 1941 the motive of the near end arises:

It's time to remove the amber,

It's time to change the dictionary

It's time to turn off the lamp

Above the door…

(“It’s time to remove the amber...”)

With the beginning of the Great Patriotic War, Tsvetaeva and her son were forced to evacuate virtually against their will. First - to Chistopol, where there was no work or housing, and then - to the last short refuge, Elabuga, where there was also no income. The NKVD authorities did not take their eyes off her, there is information that they tried to blackmail her...

On August 31, during her favorite rowan season, on the eve of leaf fall, Marina Tsvetaeva committed suicide.

Once upon a time there lived a husband, wife and three children - this phrase can become the beginning of an idylistic family story. Only here... There were almost no such stories in the first half of the twentieth century in Russia. Mostly tragedies. And they are very similar to each other. It does not matter whether they occurred in the family of a peasant or a great poet.

Sergei Efron and Marina Tsvetaeva. 1911

Marina Tsvetaeva and Sergei Efron had just three children. The second daughter, Irina, died very young in hungry and cold Moscow during the Civil War. Sergei Efron was shot by the “organs” in October 1941. The eldest daughter, Ariadne, who was arrested along with her father, was rehabilitated after the camp and exile and was able to return to Moscow only in 1955 - a sick woman.

The youngest son, Georgy Efron, died in 1944 - he was mortally wounded during the battle.

O black mountain,
Eclipsed - the whole world!
It's time - it's time - it's time
Return the ticket to the creator.

These lines were written in the spring of 1939.

But this was creativity, including the poet’s reaction to what began in Europe with the advent of fascism. Tsvetaeva lived - she had to help her loved ones, who could not do without her. She wrote.

There were still two years left before death in the small town of Elabuga...

Before that, there will be a return to their homeland in June 1939. Or rather, to the USSR, to an unfamiliar country with new incomprehensible realities. The Russia in which she was born, in which her father, Ivan Vladimirovich Tsvetaev organized his museum, did not exist. Here are the lines from 1932:

Search with a flashlight
All the sublunar light!
That country - on the map
No, in space - no.
(…)
The one where on the coins -
My youth -
That Russia does not exist.
- Just like that one did me.

Tsvetaeva did not want to return. She followed her husband and daughter. She didn’t want to, apparently anticipating what would happen in the future. The premonitions of poets and writers often come true, but no one listens... And later there was the arrest of her husband, Sergei Efron, and the arrest of her daughter Ariadne, young, sunny, just flying into life.

Then - wandering around apartments with my teenage son, looking for literary income (at least some!). The beginning of the Great Patriotic War, when Tsvetaeva thought it was all over. She literally lost her head with fear.

On August 8, Marina Ivanovna and her son went for evacuation to Yelabuga. To the place of his death.

There are several versions of the reason why Marina Tsvetaeva passed away.

Moore...

The first was expressed by Marina Ivanovna’s sister, Anastasia Ivanovna Tsvetaeva. She considers her son, sixteen-year-old Georgy Efron, whom his family called Moore, to be guilty of her sister’s death.

Tsvetaeva was waiting for a boy, and finally a son was born. She raised him differently than her eldest, Alya. She spoiled me and was less demanding. “Marina loved Moore frantically,” said those who saw her in 1939–1941.

It is clear that after the arrest of her daughter and husband, Tsvetaeva began to care for her son even more and worry about him. But my son, a spoiled sixteen-year-old boy, didn’t like it. Sixteen is a difficult age. Marina Ivanovna and Moore often quarreled (although quarrels between parents and teenage children are the most common thing, I think many parents will agree with this).

Marina Tsvetaeva with her son. 1930s

One can understand that after living abroad and in Moscow, Elabuga with its small wooden houses did not really appeal to the teenager. And he didn't hide it.

According to Anastasia Ivanovna, the last straw was the phrase thrown out by Moore in a fit of irritation: “Some of us will be carried out of here feet first.” Tsvetaeva decides to stand between her son and death, decides to leave, giving him the way.

Is it really that simple? Did Tsvetaeva, who raised her daughter (with whom it was also very difficult in adolescence), not know the difficulties of the “transition period”? How can a sixteen-year-old boy, albeit precocious, be blamed for the death of an adult woman who has already survived so much? And should Moore be blamed for not coming to look at the deceased? “I want to remember her alive,” - does this phrase of his mean that he was not touched by his mother’s death? In general, internal suffering, invisible to others, is more difficult.

The accusatory assessment of the teenager, alas, is also found after Anastasia Ivanovna. For example, Victor Sosnora: “The son, a Parisian sucker, considered himself superior to Tsvetaeva as a poet, hated his mother because they were sent to Yelabuga, and teased her.” It’s strange to hear such words from an adult, a very adult person...

NKVD and “White emigrant”

Another version is that Marina Tsvetaeva was offered to cooperate with the NKVD. It was first expressed by Kirill Khenkin, and later developed by Irma Kudrova, first in a newspaper article, and then, more fully expanded, in the book “The Death of Marina Tsvetaeva.”

Perhaps, immediately after arriving in Yelabuga, she was summoned by the local authorized representative of the “authorities”. The security officer apparently reasoned as follows: “The evacuee lived in Paris, which means she won’t really like it in Yelabuga. This means that a circle of dissatisfied people is organizing around. It will be possible to identify “enemies” and concoct a “case.” Or perhaps the “case” of the Efron family came to Yelabuga with an indication that she was connected with the “organs”.

Elabuga, 1940s

Moore’s diary says that on August 20, Tsvetaeva was in the Yelabuga City Council, looking for work. There was no work for her there, except as a translator from German to the NKVD... An interesting point. Couldn't the NKVD entrust the recruitment of personnel for itself to another institution? Maybe on this day Tsvetaeva was not in the city executive committee, but in the NKVD? I just didn’t tell my son everything...

Why did the “authorities” need Tsvetaeva? What useful things could you say? But were all the affairs of the “organization” conducted strictly from a reasonable point of view? Moreover, Tsvetaeva’s biography is very suitable: she herself is a “white emigrant”, her relatives are “enemies of the people”. A woman in a strange city with her only close person – her son. Fertile ground for blackmail.

A certain Sizov, who showed up years after Tsvetaeva’s death, told an interesting fact. In 1941, he taught physical education at the Elabuga Pedagogical Institute. One day on the street he met Marina Ivanovna and she asked him to help her find a room, explaining that they were “not on good terms” with the owner of the current room. The “hostess” - Brodelshchikova - spoke in the same spirit: “They don’t have rations, and even these people come from the Embankment (NKVD), they look at the papers when she’s not there, and they ask me who comes to see her and what they talk about.”

Then Tsvetaeva went to Chistopol, thinking of staying there. In the end, the issue of registration was resolved positively. But for some reason Marina Ivanovna was not happy about this. She said she couldn't find a room. “And even if I find one, they won’t give me a job, I won’t have anything to live on,” she noted. She could have said, “I won’t find a job,” but she said, “They won’t give me one.” Who won't? This also prompts those who adhere to this version to think that the NKVD could not have happened here without it.

Apparently, in Yelabuga, Tsvetaeva did not share her fears (if there were any) with anyone. And during the trip to Chistopol, I could understand that you cannot hide from the all-seeing security officers. She couldn’t accept the offer or convey it. What happens in cases of refusal - she didn’t know. Dead end.

As nonsense

Another version cannot even be called a version. Because it is perceived as nonsense. But since it exists, you can’t get around it. There were always people who were ready, in order to somehow snatch the glory from the greats, to touch the “fried” side. Even if it doesn't exist. The main thing is to present it catchily.

So, according to this version, the reason for Tsvetaeva’s death is not at all psychological problems, not the poet’s everyday disorder, but her attitude towards her son - like Phaedra - towards Hippolytus.

One of those who has been expounding it for a long time and adhering to it is Boris Paramonov - writer, publicist, author of Radio Liberty.

He “analyzes” the poet’s poems under some of his own eyes, from the height of his worldview and finds in them what other readers and researchers cannot find, no matter how hard they try.

Heroism of the soul - to live

Another version is supported by Maria Belkina, the author of one of the early books about the last years of the poet’s life.

Tsvetaeva went to death all her life. It doesn't matter that it happened on August 31, 1941. It could have been much earlier. It was not for nothing that she wrote after Mayakovsky’s death: “Suicide is not where it is seen, and it does not last until the trigger is pulled.” Just on the 31st, no one was home, and usually the hut is full of people. Suddenly there was an opportunity - she was left alone, so she took advantage of it.

Tsvetaeva made her first suicide attempt at the age of 16. But this is both the tossing and turning of adolescence and the era. Who then, at the beginning of the twentieth century, did not shoot himself? Material problems, poverty (remember Gorky), unhappy love and - a blow to the temple. As scary as it may sound, it is “in the context of the era.” Fortunately, the gun then misfired.

Life, according to Belkina, constantly put pressure on Tsvetaeva, albeit with varying strength. In the fall of 1940, she wrote down: “No one sees or understands that I have been looking for a hook with my eyes for (approximately) a year. I’ve been trying on death for a year.”

But even earlier, back in Paris: “I would like to die, but I have to live for Moore.”

The constant unsettlement of life, the discomfort, slowly but surely did their job: “Life, what have I seen from it other than slops and trash heaps...”

She had no place in emigration, no place in her homeland. In modern times in general.

When the war began, Tsvetaeva said that she would really like to change places with Mayakovsky. And while sailing on the ship to Yelabuga, standing on board the ship, she said: “That’s it - one step, and it’s all over.” That is, she constantly felt on the edge.

Besides, she had to live for something. The most important thing is poetry. But, returning to the USSR, she practically did not write them. No less important is the family, for which she always felt responsible, in which she was always the main “breadwinner”. But there is no family: she cannot do anything for her daughter and husband. Back in 1940, she was needed, but now she can’t even earn a piece of bread for Moore.

Tsvetaeva once said: “The heroism of the soul is to live, the heroism of the body is to die.” The heroism of the soul was exhausted. And what awaited her in the future? Her, a “white emigrant” who does not recognize any politics? Besides, she would have learned about her husband’s death...

Creativity and life

The poet’s statements, and even more so his work, are one thing. A special space. And it literally, directly, primitively does not intersect with life, which is often not favorable to poets. But they still live and create. After all, Tsvetaeva lived (and wrote!) in post-revolutionary Moscow, despite hunger and cold, separation from her husband (not even knowing whether he was alive), despite the death of her youngest daughter and the fear of losing her eldest...

What happens here in our dimension works differently. Yes, everything that was mentioned above in the article (except for the conclusions and versions), all the hardships and pains - it accumulated, accumulated, piled up, trying to crush. Especially the events of the last two years. But this could hardly lead to a calm, what is called a sound mind and strong memory decision - to commit suicide. The hardships exhausted Tsvetaeva’s nervous system (especially poets have a special mental structure).

It is unlikely that she was mentally healthy at the time of her death. And she herself understood this, as can be seen in the suicide note addressed to her son (emphasis mine – Oksana Golovko): “Purlyga! Forgive me, but things could get worse. I am seriously ill, this is no longer me. I love you madly. Understand that I could no longer live. Tell dad and Alya - if you see - that you loved them until the last minute and explain that you are in a dead end.”

Poems by Marina Tsvetaeva

Requiem

So many of them fell into this abyss,
I'll open it up in the distance!
The day will come when I too will disappear
From the surface of the earth.

Everything that sang and fought will freeze,
It shone and burst.
And the green of my eyes and my gentle voice,
And gold hair.

And there will be life with its daily bread,
With the forgetfulness of the day.
And everything will be as if under the sky
And I wasn’t there!

Changeable, like children, in every mine,
And so angry for a short time,
Who loved the hour when there was wood in the fireplace
They become ash.

Cello, and cavalcades in the thicket,
And the bell in the village...
- Me, so alive and real
On the gentle earth!

To all of you - what to me, who knew no limits in anything,
Aliens and our own?!-
I make a demand for faith
And asking for love.

And day and night, and in writing and orally:
For the truth, yes and no,
Because I feel too sad so often
And only twenty years

For the fact that it is a direct inevitability for me -
Forgiveness of grievances
For all my unbridled tenderness
And look too proud

For the speed of rapid events,
For the truth, for the game...
- Listen! - You still love me
Because I'm going to die.

Evening smoke appeared over the city,
Somewhere in the distance the carriages obediently walked,
Suddenly flashed, more transparent than an anemone,
In one of the windows is a half-childish face.

There is a shadow on the eyelids. Like a crown
The curls were lying... I held back a cry:
It became clear to me in that brief moment,
That our groans awaken the dead.

With that girl by the dark window
- A vision of heaven in the bustle of the station -
More than once I met in the valleys of sleep.

But why was she sad?
What was the transparent silhouette looking for?
Perhaps there is no happiness in heaven for her?

You walking past me
To not my and dubious charms, -
If you knew how much fire there is,
How much wasted life

And what heroic ardor
To a random shadow and a rustle...
And how my heart was incinerated
This wasted gunpowder.

Oh, trains flying into the night,
Carrying away sleep at the station...
However, I know that even then
You wouldn't know - if you knew -

Why are my speeches cutting
In the eternal smoke of my cigarette, -
How much dark and menacing melancholy
In my head, blonde.

I like that you are not sick of me,
I like that it's not you that I'm sick of
That the globe is never heavy
It won't float away under our feet.
I like that you can be funny -
Loose - and not play with words,
And do not blush with a suffocating wave,
Sleeves touching slightly.

I also like that you are with me
Calmly hug the other one,
Don't read to me in hellfire
Burn because I don't kiss you.
What is my gentle name, my gentle, not
You mention it day and night - in vain...
That never in church silence
They will not sing over us: Hallelujah!

Thank you with my heart and hand
Because you are me - without knowing yourself! –
So love: for my night's peace,
For the rare meeting at sunset hours,
For our non-walks under the moon,
For the sun, not above our heads, -
Because you are sick - alas! - not by me,
Because I am sick - alas! - not by you!

Under the caress of a plush blanket
I induce yesterday's dream.
What was it? - Whose victory? -
Who is defeated?

I'm changing my mind again
I'm tormented by everyone again.
In something for which I don’t know the word,
Was there love?

Who was the hunter? - Who is the prey?
Everything is devilishly the opposite!
What did I understand, purring for a long time,
Siberian cat?

In that duel self-will

The most subtle and airy Russian poetess of the Silver Age, whose poems evoke in the air the aroma of fallen leaves and the last flowers of autumn. Not as tough as Akhmatova, she created her own unique style in literature. The poetess's personal life is inseparable from her work. She wrote her best poems in a state of love, at the moment of the strongest emotional experiences.

“Moskvichka” made a selection of facts from the personal life of Marina Tsvetaeva.

1. There were many whirlwind romances in Marina’s life, but one love passed through her life - Sergei Efron, who became her husband and father of her children. They met very romantically in 1911, in Crimea, where Marina, at that time already an aspiring poetess, was visiting at the invitation of her close friend, the poet Maximilian Voloshin.

2. Sergei Efron came to Crimea to receive treatment after suffering from consumption and to recover from a family tragedy - his mother committed suicide.

3. They got married already in January 1912, in the same year the couple had a daughter, Ariadne, Alya, as her family called her.

4. Despite the fact that Tsvetaeva sincerely loved her husband, already 2 years after the birth of her daughter, she plunged headlong into a new romance, and with a woman - Sofia Parnok, also a translator and poetess. Tsvetaeva dedicated a series of poems to this woman entitled “Girlfriend” (“Under the caress of a plush blanket ...”, etc.). Tsvetaeva described her relationship with Sofia in the following words: “the first disaster in my life.” Efron experienced his wife’s infatuation very painfully, but forgave him; in 1916, after violent passion, numerous quarrels and reconciliations, Marina finally broke up with Parnok and returned to her husband and daughter.

5. In 1917, after reconciliation with her husband, Marina gave birth to a daughter, Irina, who became a disappointment for her mother, who really wanted a son. Sergei Efron participated in the White movement, fought against the Bolsheviks, so after the Revolution he left Moscow and went south, took part in the defense of Crimea and emigrated after the final defeat of Denikin’s army.

6. Marina Tsvetaeva remained with two children in Moscow; the family was left literally without a livelihood and was forced to sell personal belongings in order to feed themselves. Despite all the efforts of Marina Tsvetaeva, it was not possible to save her youngest daughter - Ira died of hunger in the shelter where her mother had given her, hoping that the child would eat better there than in a cold Moscow apartment.

7. During the separation from her husband, Marina experienced several more stormy romances, but in 1922 she decided to go abroad, to Sergei Efron, who managed to convey the news to his wife.

8. Having already united with her husband, during the Czech period of emigration, Marina met Konstantin Rodzevich, whom some historians are inclined to consider the real father of her long-awaited son George, born in 1925. However, officially his father is Sergei Efron, and Tsvetaeva herself has repeatedly emphasized that she finally gave birth to her husband’s son, partially atoning for the guilt (which she felt all this time) for her daughter who died in post-revolutionary Moscow.

9. Marina Tsvetaeva began writing her first poems at the age of six. Moreover, she wrote not only in her native Russian, but also in German and French.

10. She published her first collection of poems, which Marina Ivanovna called “Evening Album,” with her own money in 1910.

11. Once, Marina Tsvetaeva’s mother, Maria Alexandrovna, made the following entry in her diary: “My four-year-old Musya walks around me and keeps putting words into rhymes, perhaps she will be a poet?”

12. Marina Tsvetaeva declared her passion for some names and at the same time completely rejected others. She talked about how men's names ending in "y" take away their masculinity. Although, at the request of her husband, she named her son George, and not Boris (in honor of Pasternak’s friend), as she herself wanted.

13. While staying abroad, Tsvetaeva wrote prose rather than poetry for foreign readers, since prose was more popular.

14. Soon after World War II began, Marina Tsvetaeva was evacuated to the city of Elabuga, located in Tatarstan. She needed to pack her things and Boris Pasternak helped her with this. He brought a rope with him to tie the suitcases, and joked about how strong this rope was: “The rope will withstand anything, even if you hang yourself.” After Tsvetaeva’s death, he was told that it was with this ill-fated rope that she hanged herself in Yelabuga.

15. Marina Tsvetaeva left three suicide notes: in one she asked the Aseevs, friends of Boris Pasternak, to take in her son Moore so that they would raise him as their own, the second note was addressed to the “evacuees”, in which she asked to help him go to Chistopol, to the Aseevs, and also asked to check that she was not buried alive. And the last note was to her son, in which she asked for forgiveness and explained that she had reached a dead end.

16. Despite the fact that funeral services for suicides are prohibited in the Russian Orthodox Church, Patriarch Alexy II in 1990 gave his blessing for the funeral service of the poetess Tsvetaeva. The reason for this was a petition to the patriarch from a group of Orthodox believers, including sister Anastasia Tsvetaeva and deacon Andrei Kuraev.

Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva was born September 26 (October 8), 1892 in Moscow. Daughter of Professor I.V. Tsvetaeva - a professor at Moscow University, a famous philologist and art critic, who later became the director of the Rumyantsev Museum and the founder of the Museum of Fine Arts (now the State Museum of Fine Arts named after A.S. Pushkin). Mother came from a Russified Polish-German family and was a talented pianist. She died in 1906, leaving two daughters in the care of her father.

The family spent the winter season in Moscow, the summer in the city of Tarusa, Kaluga province. The Tsvetaevs also traveled abroad. In 1903 Tsvetaeva studied at a French boarding school in Lausanne (Switzerland), autumn 1904 – spring 1905 studied with her sister at a German boarding school in Freiburg (Germany), summer 1909 alone went to Paris, where she attended a course in ancient French literature at the Sorbonne.

She started writing poetry in childhood. Her first collections “Evening Album” ( 1910 ) and "Magic Lantern" ( 1912 ) met with sympathetic responses from V. Bryusov, M. Voloshin, N. Gumilyov. In 1913 The collection “From Two Books” was published. The book “Youth Poems. 1912-1915" marks the transition to mature romance. In verse 1916 (collection “Versts”, 1921 ) the most important themes of Tsvetaeva’s work are formed - love, Russia, poetry.

Winter 1910-1911 M.A. Voloshin invited Marina Tsvetaeva and her sister Anastasia (Asya) to spend the summer of 1911 in Koktebel, where he lived. There Tsvetaeva met Sergei Yakovlevich Efron. In 1912 Tsvetaeva married S. Efron, who became not only her husband, but also her closest friend.

M. Tsvetaeva did not accept the October Revolution. She idealized the White Guard movement, giving it features of sublimity and holiness. This is partly due to the fact that her husband S.Ya. Efron was an officer in the White Army. At the same time, Tsvetaeva creates a cycle of romantic plays (“Blizzard”, “Fortune”, “Adventure”, “Stone Angel”, “Phoenix”, etc.) and a fairy tale poem “The Tsar Maiden” ( 1922 ).

In the spring of 1922 M. Tsvetaeva and her daughter Ariadna went abroad to join her husband, at that time a student at the University of Prague. She lived in the Czech Republic for more than three years and at the end of 1925 moved to Paris with her family. February 1, 1925 M. Tsvetaeva gave birth to a long-awaited son, named Georgiy (home name - Moore). In the early 20s. she was widely published in White emigrant magazines. Published books: “Poems to Blok”, “Separation” (both 1922 ), "Psyche. Romance", "Craft" (both 1923 ), poem-fairy tale “Well done” ( 1924 ). Soon, Tsvetaeva’s relations with emigrant circles worsened, which was facilitated by her growing attraction to Russia (“Poems to my son,” “Motherland,” “Longing for the Motherland! Long time ago...”, “Chelyuskinites”, etc.). The last lifetime collection of poems is “After Russia. 1922-1925" was published in Paris in 1928. The beginning of World War II was met with tragedy, as evidenced by Tsvetaeva’s last poetic cycle, “Poems for the Czech Republic” ( 1938-1939 ), associated with the occupation of Czechoslovakia and permeated with ardent hatred of fascism.

In 1939 she restored her Soviet citizenship and, following her husband and daughter, returned to the USSR. In their homeland, Tsvetaev and his family first lived at the state dacha of the NKVD in Bolshevo, near Moscow, provided to S. Efron. However, soon both Efron and Ariadne were arrested (S. Efron was later shot). From that time on, she was constantly visited by thoughts of suicide. After this, Tsvetaeva was forced to wander. She was engaged in poetic translations (I. Franko, Vazha Pshavela, C. Baudelaire, F. Garcia Lorca, etc.), and prepared a book of poems.

Soon after the start of the Great Patriotic War, August 8, 1941 Tsvetaeva and her son were evacuated from Moscow and ended up in the small town of Elabuga. August 31, 1941 Marina Tsvetaeva committed suicide.

The world of themes and images in Tsvetaeva’s work is extremely rich. She writes about Casanova, about the burghers, recreates with disgust the details of emigrant life and glorifies her desk, pits love against the prose of life, mocks vulgarity, recreates Russian fairy tales and Greek myths. The inner meaning of her work is tragic - the collision of the poet with the outside world, their incompatibility. Tsvetaeva's poetry, including "Poem of the Mountain" ( 1926 ) and "Poem of the End" ( 1926 ), "lyrical satire" "The Pied Piper" ( 1925 ) and even tragedies based on ancient themes “Ariadne” ( 1924 , published under the title "Theseus" in 1927 ) and "Phaedra" ( 1927 , published in 1928 ), - always a confession, a continuous intense monologue. Tsvetaeva’s poetic style is marked by energy and swiftness. More in 1916-1920. Folklore rhythms burst into her poetry (raeshnik, recitative - patches, spells - “cruel” romance, ditty, song). Each time it is not stylization, but an original, modern mastery of rhythm. After 1921 Marina Tsvetaeva appears solemn, “odic” rhythms and vocabulary (the “Apprentice” cycles, published 1922 ; "The Youth", published 1922 ). By mid-20s These include the most formally complicated poems by Tsvetaeva, often difficult to understand due to the extreme condensation of speech (“Attempt of the Room”, 1928 ; "Poem of the Air" 1930 , and etc.). In the 30s Tsvetaeva returned to simple and strict forms (“Poems to the Czech Republic”). However, such features as the predominance of conversational intonation over melodious intonation, the complex and original instrumentation of the verse remain common to Tsvetaeva’s entire work. Her poetry is built on contrasts, combining seemingly incompatible lexical and stylistic ranges: vernacular with high style, everyday prose with biblical vocabulary. One of the main features of Tsvetaeva’s style is the isolation of a separate word, word formation from one or phonetically similar roots, playing on the root word (“minute - past: minesh ...”). Highlighting this most important word for herself and rhythmically, Tsvetaeva breaks the lines of the phrase, often omits the verb, and achieves special expressiveness with an abundance of questions and exclamations.

Tsvetaeva often turned to prose and created a special genre that combines philosophical reflections, touches of a literary portrait with personal memories. She also owns treatises on art and poetry (“The Poet on Criticism,” 1926 ; "The Poet and Time" 1932 ; "Art in the Light of Conscience" 1932-1933 , and etc.). The works of Marina Tsvetaeva have been translated into all European languages.