The idea of ​​the purpose of art in the novel. "Poems by Yuri Zhivago" The meaning of the poetic cycle in the general context of the novel B

The hum is quiet. I went out to the stage.
Leaning against the door frame,
I catch in a distant echo
What will happen in my lifetime.

The twilight of the night is directed at me
A thousand binoculars on an axis.
If possible, Abba Father,
Pass this cup.

I love your stubborn intention
And I agree to play this role.
But now there's another drama going on
And this time, fire me.

But the schedule of actions is thought out,
And the end of the road is inevitable.
I am alone, everything is drowning in hypocrisy.
To live life is not to cross a field.

The sun warms up to the seventh sweat,
And raging, stupefied, a ravine.
Like a hefty cowgirl has a job,
Spring is in full swing.

Snow is withering and sick with anemia
In the twigs of powerlessly blue veins.
But life smokes in a cowshed,
And the teeth of the pitchfork radiate with health.

These nights, these days and nights!
A fraction of drops by the middle of the day,
Roofing icicles thin,
Brooks of sleepless chatter!

All wide open, stable and cowshed.
Pigeons peck oats in the snow
And the animator and culprit of all, -
Manure smells of fresh air.

3. ON PASSIONATE

Still around the darkness of the night.
It's still so early in the world
That there are no stars in the sky
And each, like day, is bright,
And if the earth could
She would sleep through Easter
Under the reading of the Psalter.

Still around the darkness of the night.
Such early in the world
That the area lay down for eternity
From the crossroads to the corner
And before dawn and warmth
Another millennium.

Still the earth is naked-goal,
And she has nothing to do at night
rock the bells
And echo from the will of the singers.

And from Good Thursday
Until Holy Saturday
Water bores the shores
And viet whirlpools.

And the forest is stripped and uncovered,
And on the Passion of Christ,
Like a line of worshipers, it stands
A crowd of pine trunks.

And in the city, on a small
Space, as at a gathering,
The trees stare naked
In church bars.

And their eyes are full of terror.
Their concern is understandable.
Gardens come out of the fences
The way of the earth is shaking:
They bury God.

And they see the light at the royal doors,
And black boards, and a row of candles,
tear-stained faces
And suddenly towards the procession
Coming out with a shroud
And two birches at the gate
Must step aside.

And the procession goes around the yard
Along the edge of the sidewalk
And brings from the street into the porch
Spring, spring talk
And the air with a taste of prosphora
And spring frenzy.

And March scatters snow
On the porch a crowd of cripples,
Like a man came out
And he took out and opened the ark,
And gave everything to the thread.

And the singing lasts until dawn,
And, having sobbed enough,
Reach quieter from within
To wastelands under the lanterns
Psalter or Apostle.

But at midnight the creature and flesh will be silent,
Hearing the rumor of spring,
What is just the weather,
Death can be overcome
Strength of Sunday.

4. WHITE NIGHT

I see a distant time
House on the side of Petersburg.
The daughter of a poor steppe landowner,
You are on courses, you are from Kursk.

You are sweet, you have fans.
This white night we both
perched on your windowsill,
Looking down from your skyscraper.

Lanterns, like gas butterflies,
Morning touched the first shiver.
What I quietly tell you
So it looks like sleeping people.

We are covered by the same
Shrouded in fidelity to the secret,
Like a panorama
Petersburg beyond the boundless Neva.

There, far away, along the dense tracts,
This spring white night,
Nightingales roaring doxology
Announce forest limits.

In those places barefoot wanderer
The night creeps along the fence,
And behind her from the windowsill stretches
A trace of an overheard conversation.

And the trees are white like ghosts
Pour out the crowd on the road,
Precisely making farewell signs
White night, which has seen so much.

5. SPRING THAW

The lights of the sunset burned out.
A mudslide in a deaf forest
To a distant farm in the Urals
A man was on horseback.

Chattered the horse with the spleen,
And the sound of spanking horseshoes
Dear echoed after
Water in funnels of springs.

When he lowered the reins
And a horse rode with a step,
The flood rolled
Near all the rumble and roar of your own.

Someone laughed, someone cried
Stones crumbled on flint,
And fell into whirlpools
Rooted stumps.

And in the conflagration of sunset,
In the distant blackening of the branches,
Like a booming alarm bell
The nightingale raged.

Where willow is your widow's warrior
Klonila, hanging into the ravine,
Like an ancient nightingale-robber
He whistled on seven oaks.

What trouble, what sweetheart
Was this dust intended?
In whom a shotgun shot
Did he launch through the thicket?

It seemed that he would come out with a goblin
From the halt of runaway convicts
Towards horseback or on foot
Outposts of the local partisans.

Earth and sky, forest and field
Catching this rare sound
Measured these shares
Madness, pain, happiness, torment.

6. EXPLANATION

Life returned just as without a reason,
How once strangely interrupted
I'm on the same old street
As then, on that summer day and hour.

Same people, same concerns
And the fire of the sunset has not cooled down,
How is it then to the wall of the Manege
The evening of death hastily nailed.

Women in cheap clothing
Shoes are also trampled at night.
They are then on the roofing iron
Attics are also being crucified.

Here is one tired gait
Slowly coming to the threshold
And, rising from the basement,
Crossing the yard obliquely.

I'm making excuses again
And again, I don't care.
And a neighbor, rounding the backyard,
Leaves us alone.

To cry, do not wrinkle swollen lips,
Don't fold them.
Rip up a dried-up scab
Spring fever.

Take your hand off my chest
We are live wires.
To each other again, look at that
We will be abandoned inadvertently.

Years will pass, you will marry,
Forget your troubles.
Being a woman is a big step
Crazy is heroism.

And I am before the miracle of female hands,
Back and shoulders and neck
And so with the affection of the servants
I'm in awe all the time.

But no matter how the night fetters
me with a sad ring,
Stronger in the world pull away
And beckons passion for breaks.

7. SUMMER IN THE CITY

From under the heavy crest
Watching a woman in a helmet
Throwing back your head
Together with braids all.

And it's hot outside
The night brings bad weather
And disperse, shuffling,
Pedestrians in houses.

A staccato thunder is heard,
giving off sharply,
And sways from the wind
There is a curtain on the window.

Silence comes
But it still floats
And still lightning
They fumble and fumble in the sky.

And when luminous
Hot morning again
Dries boulevard puddles
After the rain of the night

Look frowning for the occasion
Of my lack of sleep
Age-old, odorous,
Unflowered lindens.

I'm done, and you're alive.
And the wind, complaining and crying,
Rocks the forest and the cottage.
Not every pine separately,
And all the trees
With all the boundless distance,
Like sailboats body
On the surface of the ship's bay.
And it's not out of the blue
Or out of aimless rage,
And in anguish to find words
You for a lullaby song.

Under the willow, entwined with ivy.
From bad weather we are looking for protection.
Our shoulders are covered with a cloak.
My arms are wrapped around you.

I was wrong. The bushes of these bowls
Not intertwined with ivy, but with hops
Well, better give this cloak
Spread wide under us.

10. INDIAN SUMMER

The currant leaf is rough and cloth.
There is laughter in the house and glasses are ringing,
They chop in it, and ferment, and pepper,
And put the cloves in the marinade.

The forest throws like a mocker
This noise on the steep slope,
Where is the hazel burnt in the sun
As if scorched by the heat of a fire.

Here the road descends into a beam,
Here and dried up old snags,
And it's a pity for the patchwork of autumn,
All sweeping into this ravine.

And the one that the universe is simpler,
Than another thinks the cunning one,
That a grove is lowered into the water,
That everything comes to an end.

That it's pointless to clap your eyes,
When everything before you is burned
And autumn white soot
Cobweb pulls out the window.

The passage from the garden in the fence is broken
And lost in the birch forest.
In the house there is laughter and economic hubbub,
The same hubbub and laughter in the distance.

11. WEDDING

Crossing the edge of the yard
Guests for a party
To the bride's house until the morning
We went with talyanka.

Behind the master's door
In felt upholstery
Quiet from one to seven
Chatter snippets.

And the dawn, in the very dream,
Just sleep and sleep,
The accordion sang again
Leaving the wedding.

And the accordionist scattered
Again on the accordion
The splash of the palms, the shine of the monist,
Noise and din of festivities.

And again, again, again
Ditties
Straight to the sleepers on the bed
Broke in from the party.

And one is as white as snow,
In noise, whistle, din
I swam again with a paw,
Moving the sides.

shaking your head
And with the right hand
In the dance on the pavement,
Pow, pow, pow.

Suddenly the enthusiasm and noise of the game,
The clatter of a round dance,
Falling into tartarara,
They sank like water.

A noisy yard woke up.
business echo
Intervened in conversation
And peals of laughter.

Into the immensity of the sky, up
A whirlwind of gray spots
A flock of doves flew
Taking off from the pigeons.

Exactly after their wedding
Waking up,
Wishing you many years
Sent out in pursuit.

Life is also just a moment
Only dissolution
of ourselves in all others
As if they were a gift.

Only a wedding, deep into the windows
tearing from below,
Only a song, only a dream
Only a gray dove.

I let my family go,
All relatives have long been in disarray,
And constant loneliness
Everything is full in the heart and nature.

And here I am here with you in the gatehouse,
The forest is empty and deserted.
Like in a song, stitches and tracks
Overgrown by half.

Now we are alone with sadness
Looking log walls.
We did not promise to take barriers,
We will die frankly.

We'll sit down at one and get up at three,
I am with a book, you are with embroidery,
And at dawn we won't notice
How to stop kissing.

Even more magnificent and reckless
Make noise, crumble, leaves,
And a cup of yesterday's bitterness
Exceed today's longing.

Attachment, attraction, charm!
Let's dissipate in the September noise!
Bury yourself in the autumn rustle!
Freeze or go crazy!

You also take off your dress
Like a grove sheds its leaves
When you fall into an embrace
In a dressing gown with a silk tassel.

You are the blessing of a disastrous step,
When life is sicker than sickness,
And the root of beauty is courage,
And it draws us to each other.

13. TALE

Get old, at the time it is,
In fairyland
Equestrian made his way
Steppe on turnip.

He hurried to the cut,
And in the steppe dust
Dark forest towards
Growing up away.

zealous,
On the heart scraping:
Be afraid of water
Pull up the seat.

The equestrian did not listen
And at full speed
Flew with acceleration
On a forest mound.

Turned from the barrow
I drove into dry land
passed the clearing,
He crossed the mountain.

And wandered into a hollow
And the forest path
Went out on the animal
Footprint and waterhole.

And deaf to the call
And with no intuition,
Took the horse off the cliff
Drink by the stream.

Cave by the stream
In front of the cave is a ford.
Like a flame of sulfur
Illuminated the entrance.

And in the purple smoke
That veiled the eye,
By a distant call
Bor announced.

And then a ravine
Startled straight ahead
Touched by horse step
To a calling cry.

And I saw a horse
And leaned to the spear,
dragon head,
Tail and scales.

Flame from the mouth
He scattered the light
In three rings around the virgin
I wrapped the spine.

snake body,
Like the end of a scourge
Led neck
At her shoulder.

That country's custom
A captive beauty
Gave it to prey
The monster in the forest.

Territory population
own huts
Redeemed penalties
This one is from a snake.

The snake wrapped around her hand
And braided the larynx,
Getting on flour
To sacrifice this tribute.

Looked pleadingly
Rider in the sky
And a spear to fight
I took it ahead.

Closed eyelids.
Height. Clouds.
Water. Brody. Rivers.
Years and centuries.

Equestrian in a downed helmet,
Knocked down in battle.
Faithful horse, hoof
Stomping on a snake.

Horse and dragon corpse
Next to the sand.
In a swoon, equestrian
Virgo in tetanus.

The noon arch was bright,
The blue is soft.
Who is she? Princess?
Daughter of the earth? Princess?

That in excess of happiness
Tears in three streams
That soul is in power
Sleep and oblivion.

That is the return of health,
That real estate lived
From loss of blood
And loss of strength.

But their hearts are beating.
She then he
Struggling to wake up
And they fall asleep.

Closed eyelids.
Height. Clouds.
Water. Brody. Rivers.
Years and centuries.

As promised, without deceiving,
The sun came up early in the morning
An oblique stripe of saffron
From curtains to sofas.

It covered with hot ocher
Neighboring forest, village houses,
My bed, wet pillow
And the edge of the wall behind the bookshelf.

I remembered for what reason
The pillow is slightly damp.
I dreamed that to see me off
You walked through the forest with each other.

You walked in a crowd, apart and in pairs,
Suddenly someone remembered that today
sixth of august old
Transfiguration.

Ordinarily light without flame
Comes on this day from Tabor,
And autumn, clear as a sign,
It draws the eyes to itself.

And you went through the petty, beggarly,
Naked, trembling alder
In the ginger-red cemetery forest,
Burning like a printed gingerbread.

With its hushed peaks
Neighboring the sky is important
And the voices of cocks
Called to each other for a long time.

In the forest as a government surveyor
There was death among the churchyard,
Looking into the face of my dead,
To dig a hole in my height.

Was physically felt by everyone
A calm voice nearby.
That former voice is my visionary
Sounded, untouched by decay:

"Farewell, azure Preobrazhenskaya
And the gold of the second Savior,
Soften with the last caress of a woman
I am the bitterness of the fateful hour.

Goodbye years of timelessness.
Farewell, abyss of humiliation
A challenging woman!
I am your battlefield.

Farewell, spread wingspan,
Flight of free perseverance,
And the image of the world, revealed in the word,
And creativity, and wonderworking."

15. WINTER NIGHT

Melo, melo all over the earth
To all limits.
The candle burned on the table
The candle was burning.

Like a swarm of midges in summer
Flying into the flame
Flakes flew from the yard
to the window frame.

Snowstorm sculpted on glass
Circles and arrows.
The candle burned on the table
The candle was burning.

On the illuminated ceiling
The shadows lay
Crossed arms, crossed legs,
Crossing fates.

And two shoes fell
With a knock on the floor.
And wax with tears from the night light
Drip on the dress.

And everything was lost in the snow haze
Gray and white.
The candle burned on the table
The candle was burning.

The candle blew from the corner,
And the heat of temptation
Raised like an angel, two wings
Crosswise.

Melo all month in February,
And every now and then
The candle burned on the table
The candle was burning.

16. PARTING

From the threshold a man looks
Not recognizing at home.
Her departure was like an escape
There are signs of destruction everywhere.

Chaos is everywhere in the rooms.
He measures ruin
Doesn't notice because of tears
And a migraine attack.

There is some noise in my ears in the morning.
Is he in memory or dreaming?
And why does he mind
All the thought of the sea climbs?

When through the frost on the window
Can't see the light of God
The hopelessness of longing is doubly
Similar to the desert of the sea.

She was so dear
To him, any trait,
How close are the shores to the sea
The entire surf line.

How it floods the reeds
Excitement after the storm
Gone to the bottom of his soul
Her features and forms.

In the years of ordeals, in times
Unthinkable life
She is a wave of fate from the bottom
She was attached to him.

Among obstacles without number,
Bypassing the dangers
The wave carried her, carried
And drove close.

And now her departure
Violent, perhaps.
Separation will eat them both
Longing with bones will swallow.

And the man looks around:
She is leaving
Turned everything upside down
From dresser drawers.

He wanders, and until dark
Puts in a box
Scattered patches
And sample patterns.

And pinning about sewing
With an unretracted needle,
Suddenly sees all of her
And weep silently.

17. DATE

Snow will fall on the road
Will fill up the slopes of the roofs.
I'm going to stretch my legs:
You are standing behind the door.

One in an autumn coat
No hat, no galoshes
You fight anxiety
And chew wet snow.

Trees and fences
They go into the distance, into the darkness.
Alone in the snow
You are standing on the corner.

Water flows from the scarf
For sleeves in a cuff,
And drops of dew
Shine in your hair.

And a strand of blond
Enlightened: face,
Kerchief and figure
And this is a coat.

The snow on the eyelashes is wet,
Sadness in your eyes
And your whole appearance is harmonious
From one piece.

As if with iron
Soaked in antimony
You were cut
According to my heart.

And it's stuck in it forever
The humility of these traits
And that's why it doesn't matter
That the light is hardhearted.

And that's why it doubles
All this night in the snow
And draw boundaries
Between us I can't.

But who are we and where are we from?
When from all those years
Remaining gossip,
Are we not in the world?

18. CHRISTMAS STAR

It was winter.
The wind blew from the steppe.
And it was cold for the baby in the den
On the hillside.

The breath of an ox warmed him.
Pets
Were standing in a cave
A warm haze floated over the manger.

Doha shaking off the bed dust
And millet grains
Watched from the cliff
Wake up in the midnight distance shepherds.

In the distance there was a field in the snow and a churchyard,
fences, headstones,
Shafts in a snowdrift,
And the sky above the cemetery, full of stars.

And nearby, unknown before,
Shy bowls
At the gatehouse window
A star twinkled on the way to Bethlehem.

She blazed like a haystack to the side
From heaven and God
Like a blaze of arson
Like a farm on fire and a fire in the threshing floor.

She towered like a burning stack
Straw and hay
In the middle of the whole universe
Alarmed by this new star.

A growing glow glowed over her
And it meant something
And three astrologers
They hurried to the call of unprecedented fires.

Behind them were brought gifts on camels.
And donkeys in a harness, one undersized
Another, step by step descended from the mountain.
And a strange vision of the coming time
Everything that came after rose in the distance.
All thoughts of ages, all dreams, all worlds,
The whole future of galleries and museums,
All the pranks of the fairies, all the affairs of sorcerers,
All the Christmas trees in the world, all the dreams of the kids.

All the thrill of warmed candles, all the chains,
All the splendor of colored tinsel...
... The wind blew more and more fiercely from the steppe ...
...All apples, all golden balls.

Part of the pond was hidden by the tops of alders,
But part of it could be seen perfectly from here
Through the nests of rooks and trees, the tops.
As donkeys and camels walked along the dam,
Shepherds could see well.
- Let's go with everyone, bow to a miracle, -
They said as they closed their covers.

The shuffling in the snow made him hot.
Through a bright clearing with sheets of mica
Bare footprints led behind the hut.
On these traces, as on the flame of a cinder,
Sheepdogs grumbled in the light of a star.

Frosty night was like a fairy tale
And someone from the snowy ridge
All the time he invisibly entered their ranks.
The dogs wandered, looking around with fear,
And huddled up to the shepherd, and waited for trouble.

Along the same road, through the same area
There were several angels in the thick of the crowd.
Their incorporeality made them invisible,
But the step left a footprint.

A crowd of people crowded around the stone.
It was getting light. The trunks of cedars appeared.
- And who are you? Maria asked.
- We are a shepherd's tribe and heaven's ambassadors,
We've come to praise you both.
- You can't do it all together. Wait at the entrance.

In the midst of gray as ashes, predawn haze
Drivers and sheep breeders trampled,
Pedestrians quarreled with riders,
At the hollowed out drinking deck
Camels roared, donkeys kicked.

It was getting light. Dawn, like ash dust,
The last stars swept from the sky.
And only the Magi from the myriad rabble
Mary let her into the hole in the rock.

He slept, all radiant, in an oak manger,
Like a ray of moon in the hollow of a hollow.
He was replaced with a sheepskin coat
Donkey lips and ox nostrils.

They stood in the shade, as if in the twilight of a barn,
They whispered, barely choosing the words.
Suddenly someone in the dark, a little to the left
He pushed the sorcerer away from the manger with his hand,
And he looked back: from the threshold at the maiden
As a guest, the star of Christmas watched.

19. DAWN

You meant everything in my destiny.
Then came the war, devastation,
And a long, long time about you
There was no sound, no breath.

I want to people, to the crowd,
In their morning revival.
I'm ready to smash everything to pieces
And put everyone on their knees.

And I'm running up the stairs
It's like I'm going out for the first time
To these streets in the snow
And dead pavements.

Everywhere they get up, lights, comfort,
They drink tea, hurry to the trams.
Within minutes
The view of the city is unrecognizable.

A blizzard knits a net at the gate
From densely falling flakes,
And to be in time,
Everyone rushes under-eaten, under-drinking.

I feel for them all
It's like being in their shoes
I melt myself, as snow melts,
I myself, like morning, frown my eyebrows.

With me are people without names,
Trees, children, stay-at-homes.
I've been defeated by them all
And that alone is my victory.

He went from Bethany to Jerusalem,
We languish in advance with sadness of forebodings.

The thorny bush on the steep was burned out,
Smoke did not move over the neighbor's hut,
The air was hot and the reeds were motionless,
And the Dead Sea peace is immovable.

And in bitterness, arguing with the bitterness of the sea,
He walked with a small crowd of clouds
On a dusty road to someone's yard,
Went to town at a gathering of disciples.

And so he went deep into his thoughts,
That the field in despondency smelled of wormwood.
Everything is quiet. Alone he stood in the middle,
And the area lay in a layer of oblivion.
Everything is mixed up: warm and desert,
And lizards, and keys, and streams.

The fig tree rose in the distance,
No fruits at all, only branches and leaves.
And he said to her: "For what profit are you?
What joy do I have in your tetanus?

I thirst and hunger, and you are an empty flower,
And meeting with you is more dreary than granite.
Oh, how insulting and untalented you are!
Stay like this until the end of your life."

A shiver of condemnation passed through the tree,
Like a lightning spark through a lightning rod.
The fig tree was burned to ashes.

Find at this time a moment of freedom
At the leaves, branches, and roots, and the trunk,
If only the laws of nature could intervene.
But a miracle is a miracle, and a miracle is God.
When we are in confusion, then in the midst of confusion
It overtakes instantly, unawares.

In Moscow mansions
Spring is kicking in.
The moth flies out behind the cupboard
And crawls on summer hats
And hide fur coats in chests.

On wooden mezzanines
Standing flower pots
With levkoy and wallflower,
And the rooms breathe freely,
And the attics smell of dust.

And the familiar street
With a blind window,
And white night and sunset
Don't miss the river.

And you can hear in the hallway
What's going on in the space
What is in casual conversation
April speaks with a drop.
He knows thousands of stories
About human grief
And the dawns freeze over the fences,
And pull this rigmarole.
And the same mixture of fire and horror
At will and in residential comfort,
And everywhere the air itself is not its own.
And the same willows through the bars,
And the same white kidney swelling
And at the window, and at the crossroads,
Outdoors and in the workshop.

Why is the distance crying in the fog,
And humus smells bitter?
That's what my vocation is for,
So that distances do not get bored,
To beyond the city limits
The earth does not grieve alone.

For this early spring
Friends come with me
And our evenings are goodbyes
Our feasts are testaments,
So that the secret stream of suffering
Warmed the cold of being.

22. BAD DAYS

When in the last week
He entered Jerusalem
Hosannas thundered towards
They ran with branches after him.

And the days are getting uglier and harsher,
Love does not touch hearts
Eyebrows contemptuously raised
And here is the afterword, the end.

Lead weight all
The heavens lay down in the courtyards.
The Pharisees were looking for evidence
Julia is in front of him like a fox.

And the dark forces of the temple
He is given to the scum for judgment,
And with the same fervor,
As they praised before, they curse.

Crowd in the neighborhood
Peeking out the gate
Huddled in anticipation of the denouement
And poked back and forth.

And a whisper crawled in the neighborhood,
And rumors from many sides.
And flight to Egypt and childhood
Already remembered as a dream.

I remembered the majestic stingray
In the desert, and that steepness
With which world power
Satan tempted him.

And the wedding feast at Cana,
And a miraculous table,
And the sea, which in the fog
He walked towards the boat as if on dry land.

And a bunch of poor people in a shack
And descend with a candle to the basement,
Where suddenly she went out in fright,
When the resurrected one got up...

23. MAGDALENE I

A little night, my demon is right there,
For the past is my retribution.
They will come and suck my heart
Memories of debauchery
When, a slave of male whims,
I was a crazy fool
And the street was my shelter.

There are a few minutes left
And there will be silence.
But before they go
I am my life, having reached the end,
Like an alabaster vessel
I break before you.

Oh where would I be now
My teacher and my Savior
When at night at the table
I wouldn't wait forever
Like new, online craft
I'm an enticed visitor.

But explain what sin means
And death and hell, and sulfuric fire,
When I'm in front of everyone
With you, like with a tree, escape,
Grown in its immeasurable anguish.

When your feet, Jesus,
Get on your knees
I can learn to hug
Cross square bar
And, losing my senses, I'm torn to the body,
I'm preparing you for burial.

24. MAGDALENE II

People are cleaning before the holiday.
Away from this crowd
I wash the world from a bucket
I am your pure feet.

I rummage around and can't find sandals.
I can't see anything because of my tears.
A veil fell on my eyes
Loose strands of hair.

I put your feet in the hem,
Shed them with tears, Jesus,
I wrapped them with a string of beads from the throat,
I buried it in my hair, like in a burnus.

I see the future in such detail
It's like you stopped him.
I can now predict
The prophetic clairvoyance of the sibyls.

Tomorrow the veil in the temple will fall,
We will gather in a circle to the side,
And the ground will shake under your feet
Maybe out of pity for me.

The ranks of the convoy will be rearranged,
And the riders will start riding.
Like a tornado in a storm, overhead
This cross will be torn to the sky.

I will throw myself on the ground at the feet of the crucifix,
I will die and bite my mouth.
Too many arms to hug
You will spread at the ends of the cross.

For whom there is so much breadth in the world,
So much flour and such power?
Are there so many souls and lives in the world?
So many settlements, rivers and groves?

But these three days will pass
And pushed into such a void
What is this terrible interval
I'll be up by Sunday.

25. GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE

Twinkling distant stars indifferently
The turn of the road was illuminated.
The road went around the Mount of Olives,
Beneath it flowed Kedron.

The lawn was cut off in half.
Behind her was the Milky Way.
Gray silver olives
Tried to step into the distance through the air.

At the end was someone's garden, put on the land.
Leaving students behind the wall,
He told them: "The soul mourns mortally,
Stay here and watch with me."

He refused without a fight
As from things borrowed
From omnipotence and wonderworking,
And he was now as mortal as we are.

The night distance now seemed the edge
Destruction and non-existence.
The expanse of the universe was uninhabited,
And only the garden was a place to live.

And, looking into these black holes,
Empty, without beginning or end
So that this cup of death is over,
In a bloody sweat, he prayed to his father.

Prayer softened the languor of death,
He went over the fence. On the ground
Students, overpowered by slumber,
Were lying in a roadside feather grass.

He woke them up: "The Lord has vouchsafed you
To live in my days, you sprawled like a layer.
The hour of the Son of Man has struck.
He will betray himself into the hands of sinners."

And just said, no one knows where
A crowd of slaves and a crowd of vagabonds,
Lights, swords and ahead - Judas
With a treacherous kiss on his lips.

Peter rebuffed the thugs with a sword
And cut off the ear of one of them.
But he hears: "The dispute cannot be resolved with iron,
Put your sword back in place, man.

Really the darkness of the winged legions
Wouldn't my father have sent me here?
And, without touching a hair on me,
Enemies would scatter without a trace.

But the book of life came to the page
Which is more precious than all holy things.
Now what is written must come true,
Let it come true. Amen.

You see, the course of centuries is like a parable
And it can catch fire on the go.
In the name of her terrible greatness
I will go into the coffin in voluntary torment.

I will go down to the grave and on the third day I will rise,
And, as rafts are rafted down the river,
To me for judgment, like caravan barges,
Centuries will float out of the darkness."

B. Pasternak's novel "Doctor Zhivago" is often called one of the most complex works in the writer's work. This concerns the features of displaying real events (the first and October revolutions, the world and civil wars), understanding his ideas, the characteristics of the characters, the name of the main of which is Doctor Zhivago.

About the role of the Russian intelligentsia in the events of the beginning of the 20th century, however, is as difficult as its fate.

creative history

The first concept of the novel dates back to the 17-18 years, but Pasternak began serious work only after almost two decades. 1955 marks the end of the novel, followed by publication in Italy and the award of the Nobel Prize, which the Soviet authorities forced the disgraced writer to refuse. And only in 1988 - the novel was first published in the homeland.

The name of the novel changed several times: "The candle burned" - the name of one of the poems of the protagonist, "There will be no death", "Innokenty Dudorov". As a reflection of one of the aspects of the author's intention - "Boys and Girls". They appear on the first pages of the novel, grow up, pass through themselves those events, witnesses and participants of which they are. The teenage perception of the world is preserved in adult life, which is proved by the thoughts, actions of the characters and their analysis.

Doctor Zhivago - Pasternak was attentive to the choice of name - that is the name of the main character. First there was Patricius Zhivult. Yuri - most likely, George the victorious. The surname Zhivago is most often associated with the image of Christ: "You are the son of the living God (a form of the genitive case in the Old Russian language)." In this regard, the idea of ​​sacrifice and resurrection arises in the novel, a red thread running through the entire work.

Image of Zhivago

The writer focuses on the historical events of the first and second decades of the 20th century and their analysis. Doctor Zhivago - Pasternak depicts his whole life - in 1903 loses his mother and finds himself under the care of his uncle. While they are going to Moscow, the boy's father, who left his family even earlier, dies. Yura lives next to his uncle in an atmosphere of freedom and the absence of any prejudices. He studies, grows up, marries a girl whom he has known since childhood, receives and begins to do his favorite job. And he also awakens an interest in poetry - he begins to write poetry - and philosophy. And suddenly the usual and well-established life collapses. The year is 1914, and even more terrible events follow it. The reader sees them through the prism of the views of the protagonist and their analysis.

Doctor Zhivago, just like his comrades, reacts vividly to everything that happens. He goes to the front, where much seems to him meaningless and unnecessary. Returning, he becomes a witness of how power passes to the Bolsheviks. At first, the hero perceives everything with delight: in his view, the revolution is a "magnificent surgery", which symbolizes life itself, unpredictable and spontaneous. However, over time comes a rethinking of what happened. It is impossible to make people happy apart from their desire, it is criminal and, at least, absurd - Dr. Zhivago comes to such conclusions. Analysis of the work leads to the idea that a person, whether he wants it or not, is drawn into Pasternak's Hero in this case, he practically goes with the flow, not openly protesting, but not unconditionally accepting the new power. This is what the author most often reproached.

During the civil war, Yuri Zhivago ends up in a partisan detachment, from where he escapes, returns to Moscow, and tries to live under the new government. But he cannot work as before - this would mean adapting to the conditions that have arisen, and this is contrary to his nature. What remains is creativity, in which the main thing is the proclamation of the eternity of life. This will be shown by the hero's poems and their analysis.

Doctor Zhivago, thus, expresses the position of that part of the intelligentsia, which was wary of the coup that took place in 1917 as a way to artificially and establish a new order, initially alien to any humanistic idea.

Death of a hero

Suffocating in new conditions, which his essence does not accept, Zhivago gradually loses interest in life and spiritual strength, in the opinion of many, even degrades. Death overtakes him unexpectedly: in a stuffy tram, there is no way for Yuri, who feels unwell, to get out of it. But the hero does not disappear from the pages of the novel: he continues to live in his poems, as evidenced by their analysis. Doctor Zhivago and his soul become immortal thanks to the great power of art.

Symbols in the novel

The work has a circular composition: it begins with a scene describing the mother's funeral, and ends with his death. Thus, the pages tell about the fate of a whole generation, represented mainly by Yuri Zhivago, and emphasize the uniqueness of human life in general. The appearance of a candle is symbolic (for example, a young hero sees it in the window), personifying life. Or snowstorms and snowfall as a harbinger of adversity and death.

There are symbolic images in the poetic diary of the hero, for example, in the poem "Fairy Tale". Here, the "corpse of a dragon" - a snake injured in a duel with a rider - personifies a fabulous dream that has turned into eternity, as imperishable as the soul of the author himself.

Poetry collection

"Poems of Yuri Zhivago" - 25 in total - were written by Pasternak during the period of work on the novel and form one whole with him. In the center of them is a person who has fallen into the wheel of history and faces a difficult moral choice.

The cycle opens with Hamlet. Doctor Zhivago - analysis shows that the poem is a reflection of his inner world - appeals to the Almighty with a request to alleviate the fate assigned to him. But not because he is afraid - the hero is ready to fight for freedom in the kingdom of cruelty and violence that surrounds him. This work is about the famous hero of Shakespeare, who is facing a difficult one, and about the cruel fate of Jesus. But the main thing is a poem about a person who does not tolerate evil and violence and perceives what is happening around as a tragedy.

The poetic entries in the diary correlate with various stages of life and spiritual experiences of Zhivago. For example, an analysis of Dr. Zhivago's poem "Winter Night". The antithesis on which the work is built helps to show the confusion and mental anguish of the lyrical hero, who is trying to determine what is good and evil. The hostile world in his mind is destroyed thanks to the warmth and light of a burning candle, symbolizing the quivering fire of love and home comfort.

Meaning of the novel

Once "... waking up, we ... will not return the lost memory" - this thought of B. Pasternak, expressed on the pages of the novel, sounds like a warning and a prophecy. The coup, accompanied by bloodshed and cruelty, caused the loss of the commandments of humanism. This is confirmed by subsequent events in the country and their analysis. Doctor Zhivago is different in that Boris Pasternak gives his own understanding of history without imposing it on the reader. As a result, everyone gets the opportunity to see events in their own way and, as it were, becomes its co-author.

The meaning of the epilogue

Description of the death of the protagonist - this is not the end. The action of the novel briefly shifts to the early forties, when half-brother Zhivago meets Tatyana, the daughter of Yuri and Lara, who works as a nurse, in the war. She, unfortunately, does not possess any of those spiritual qualities that were characteristic of her parents, which is shown by the analysis of the episode. "Doctor Zhivago", thus, denotes the problem of the spiritual and moral impoverishment of society as a result of the changes that have taken place in the country, which is opposed by the hero's immortality in his poetic diary - the final part of the work.

Yuri Zhivago repeats the path of Christ not only in suffering. He is involved in the divine nature of Christ and his companion. The poet, with his gift to see the essence of things and being, participates in the work of creating living reality. The idea of ​​the poet as an accomplice in the creative divine work is one of those thoughts that occupied Pasternak all his life and which he formulated in his early youth.

In the fourteenth poem of the August cycle, the idea of ​​the poet's involvement in the creation of a miracle is most clearly expressed. The hero of the poem anticipates his imminent death, says goodbye to work, and in the meantime the leaves are burning, illuminated by the light of the transfigured Lord. The light of the Transfiguration of the Lord, embodied in the word, remains to live forever thanks to the poet: "Farewell, the azure of the Transfiguration // And the gold of the second Savior ... // ... And the image of the world, revealed in the word, // And creativity, and wonderworking" [Pasternak, 2010, p. 310].

The construction of the image of Yuri Zhivago differs from that accepted in classical realism: his character is "given". From the very beginning, he has the ability to clothe his thought in a poetic word, from an early age he takes on the mission of a preacher, or rather, they expect him, ask him to preach. But the messianic in Yuri Zhivago is inseparable from the earthly. Immersion in life, completely devoid of snobbery, this fusion with the flesh of the earth make Yuri Andreevich receptive to the world, make it possible to discern in the rubbish and trifles of everyday life glimpses of the beauty of earthly life, hidden from people. [Leiderman, Lipovetsky, 2003, p. 28].

According to Pasternak, poetic creativity is a divine work. The very process of poetic creativity is depicted in the novel as a divine act, as miracle-working, and the appearance of the poet is perceived as "the phenomenon of Christmas". In their own creations, poets perpetuate life, overcome death, embodying everything that existed in the word.

The novel does not end with the death of Doctor Zhivago. It ends with verses - with the fact that he cannot die. Zhivago is not only a doctor, he is also a poet. Many pages of the novel are autobiographical, especially those devoted to poetry. D.S. Likhachev says in his “Reflections on B.L. Pasternak "Doctor Zhivago": "These poems are written from one person - the poems have one author and one common lyrical hero. Yu.A. Zhivago is the lyrical hero of Pasternak, who remains a lyricist in prose. [Likhachev, 1998, vol. 2, p. 7].

The writer, through the lips of the lyrical hero Yuri Zhivago, speaks about the purpose of art: “It relentlessly reflects on death and relentlessly creates life with it” [Pasternak, 2010, p. 58]. For Zhivago, creativity is life. According to Zhivago, “art has never seemed to be an object or side of form, but rather a mysterious and hidden part of the content” [Pasternak, 2010, p. 165]. The author, being extremely sincere, shows the moment of inspiration when the pen cannot keep up with the thought: “...And he experienced the approach of what is called inspiration...” [Pasternak, 2010, p. 252]. The author also makes the reader a witness and accomplice of the most difficult work on the word: “But he was even more tormented by the expectation of the evening and the desire to cry out this melancholy in such an expression that everyone would cry ...” [Pasternak, 2010, p. 254].

Pasternak exposes the creative process of Zhivago. The lyrical hero is the clearest expression of the poet. According to D.S. Likhachev, “there are no differences between the poetic figurativeness of the speeches and thoughts of the protagonist of the novel. Zhivago is the spokesman for the secret Pasternak. [Likhachev , 1998, v. 2, p. 7]. The life credo of Yu. Zhivago is freedom from dogmas, any parties, in complete freedom from reason, life and creativity by inspiration, and not by compulsion (Sima’s conversation with Lara about the Christian understanding of life): “She wanted at least for a while with his help to break free, into fresh air, from the abyss of suffering that entangled her, to experience, as it used to be, the happiness of liberation" [Pasternak, 2010, p. 288].

The motive of love is conjugated with the motive of poetic creativity in the novel. In Pasternak's system of values, love is equal to poetry, for it is also an insight, also a miracle, also a creation. And at the same time, love becomes the main reward for the poet: Tonya - Lara - Marina - this is, in a certain sense, a single image - the image of a loving, devoted, grateful one. Life manifests itself most vividly and fully in love. Love is shown in everyday, ordinary terms. Love, beauty are depicted by the writer in a purely everyday form, with the help of everyday details, sketches. Here, for example, is an image of Lara's appearance through the eyes of Yuri Andreevich. [Pasternak, 2010, p. 171]. Love for Yuri Zhivago is associated with life at home, family, marriage (both with Tonya and Lara). Tonya personifies a family hearth, a family, a circle of life native to a person. With the advent of Lara, this circle of life moves apart, this includes reflections on the fate of Russia, about the revolution, about nature.

All the years of the tragic life of Yuri supported creativity. "Poems of Yuri Zhivago" constitute the most important part of the novel, performing a variety of functions in it, for example, the transfer of the hero's inner world (the poem "Separation").

Thus, Doctor Zhivago is a novel about creativity. The idea of ​​the human person as a place where time and eternity converge was the subject of intense reflection by Pasternak both at the beginning and at the end of his creative path. The idea that to live means to realize the eternal in the temporal underlies the idea of ​​the poet's mission in the novel Doctor Zhivago: everything in the world is filled with meaning through the poet's word and thus enters human history.

In the novel "Doctor Zhivago" Boris Pasternak "transmits his worldview, his vision of the events that shook our country at the beginning of the 20th century" Gorelov P. Reflections on the novel. // Questions of Literature, 1988, No. 9, p. 58. It is known that Pasternak's attitude to the revolution was contradictory. He accepted the ideas of updating social life, but the writer could not help but see how they turned into their opposite. So the protagonist of the work, Yuri Zhivago, does not find an answer to the question of how he should live on: what to accept and what not in the new life. In describing the spiritual life of his hero, Boris Pasternak expressed the doubts and intense inner struggle of his generation.

In the novel "Doctor Zhivago" Pasternak revives "the idea of ​​the inherent value of the human personality" Manevich G.I. "Doctor Zhivago" as a novel about creativity. // Justifications of creativity, 1990. P. 68. Personal prevails in the narrative. The genre of this novel, which can be conditionally defined as prose of lyrical self-expression, is subject to all artistic means. There are, as it were, two planes in the novel: the outer one, which tells the story of Doctor Zhivago's life, and the inner one, which reflects the hero's spiritual life. It is more important for the author to convey not the events of Yuri Zhivago's life, but his spiritual experience. Therefore, the main semantic load in the novel is transferred from the events and dialogues of the characters to their monologues.

The novel is a kind of autobiography of Boris Pasternak, but not physically (that is, the novel does not reflect the events that happen to the author in real life), but spiritually (the work reflects what happened in the writer's soul). The spiritual path that Yuri Andreevich Zhivago traveled is, as it were, a reflection of Boris Leonidovich Pasternak's own spiritual path.

Being formed under the influence of life is the main feature of Yuri. Throughout the novel, Yuri Andreevich Zhivago is shown as a person who makes almost no decisions. But he does not mind the decisions of other people, especially those dear and close to him. Yuri Andreevich makes other people's decisions like a child who does not argue with his parents, he accepts their gifts along with instructions. Yuri does not object to the wedding with Tonya, when Anna Ivanovna "conspired" them. He does not object to being drafted into the army, to a trip to the Urals. “However, why argue? You have decided to go. I'm joining,"1 says Yuri. Once in a partisan detachment, not sharing the views of the partisans, he still remains there, not trying to object.

Yuri is a weak-willed person, but he has a strong mind and intuition. He sees everything, perceives everything, but does not interfere in anything and does what is required of him. He takes part in the events, but just as limply. The element captures him like a grain of sand, and carries him as and wherever she pleases.

However, his complaisance is neither mental weakness nor cowardice. Yuri Andreevich simply follows, obeys what life requires of him. But "Doctor Zhivago is able to defend his position in the face of danger or in situations where his personal honor or convictions are at stake" Buck D.P. "Doctor Zhivago". B.L. Pasternak: the functioning of the lyrical cycle in the novel as a whole. // Pasternak readings. Perm, 1990., S. 84. Only outwardly Yuri obeys the elements, events, but they are not able to change his deep spiritual essence. He lives in his own world, in the world of thoughts and feelings. Many obeyed the elements and broke down spiritually.

“Friends have strangely faded and discolored. No one has their own world, their own opinion. They were much brighter in his memories. ... How quickly everyone shed, how without regret they parted with an independent thought, which no one seems to have ever had! 2 - this is how Yuriy thinks about his friends. But the hero himself resists everything that tries to destroy his inner world.

Yuri Andreevich against violence. According to his observations, violence leads to nothing but violence. Therefore, being in the camp with the partisans, he does not participate in battles, and even when, due to circumstances, Doctor Zhivago has to take up arms, he tries not to hit people. Unable to endure life in a partisan detachment, the doctor flees from there. Moreover, Yuri Zhivago is burdened not so much by a hard life full of dangers and hardships, but by the sight of a cruel, senseless massacre.

Yuri Andreevich refuses Komarovsky's tempting offer, sacrificing his love for Lara. He can't compromise his beliefs, so he can't ride with her. The hero is ready to give up his happiness for the sake of the salvation and peace of his beloved woman, and for this he even goes to deceit.

From this we can conclude that Yuri Andreevich Zhivago is only a seemingly obedient and weak-willed person, in the face of life's difficulties he is able to make his own decision, defend his convictions, and not break under the onslaught of the elements. Tonya feels his spiritual strength and lack of will. She writes to him: “I love you. Oh how I love you, if you could only imagine. I love everything special in you, everything profitable and unprofitable, all your ordinary sides, dear in their unusual combination, a face ennobled by inner content, which without this, perhaps, would seem ugly, talent and mind, as if taking the place of a completely absent will. . All this is dear to me, and I do not know a person better than you. Antonina Alexandrovna understands that the lack of will is more than covered by the inner strength, spirituality, talent of Yuri Andreevich, and this is much more important for her.

2.2 Personality and history in the novel. The image of the intelligentsia

G. Gachev's view of Pasternak's novel is interesting - he considers the problem and the plot of the novel as the problem of a person in the whirlpool of history “In the 20th century, History revealed itself as an enemy of Life, All-Being. History has declared itself a treasury of meanings and immortalities. Many turn out to be knocked down with a pantalik, believe science and the newspaper and lament. The other is a man of culture and Spirit: from history itself, he knows that such epochs when the whirlpools of historical processes strive to turn a person into a grain of sand have happened more than once (Rome, Napoleon). And he refuses to participate in history, personally begins to create his own space-time, creates an oasis where he lives in true values: in love, nature, freedom of spirit, culture. These are Yuri and Lara.

In the novel "Doctor Zhivago" Boris Pasternak conveys his worldview, his vision of the events that shook our country at the beginning of the 20th century. It is known that Pasternak's attitude to the revolution was contradictory. He accepted the ideas of updating social life, but the writer could not help but see how they turned into their opposite. So the protagonist of the work, Yuri Zhivago, does not find an answer to the question of how he should live on: what to accept and what not in the new life. In describing the spiritual life of his hero, Boris Pasternak expressed the doubts and intense inner struggle of his generation.

The main question around which the narrative of the external and internal life of the heroes moves is their attitude to the revolution, the influence of turning points in the history of the country on their destinies. Yuri Zhivago was not opposed to the revolution. He understood that history has its own course and cannot be broken. But Yuri Zhivago could not help but see the terrible consequences of such a turn of history: “The doctor recalled the recently past autumn, the execution of the rebels, the infanticide and suicide of Palykh, the bloody goloshmatina and slaughter, which had no end in sight. The fanaticisms of the whites and the reds competed in cruelty, alternately increasing one in response to the other, as if they were multiplied. The blood made me sick, it came up to my throat and rushed to my head, my eyes swam with it. Yuri Zhivago did not take the revolution with hostility, but he did not accept it either. He was somewhere between "for" and "against".

History can afford to delay the arrival of truth, happiness. She has infinity in stock, and people have a certain period - life. Amid the confusion, a person is called to orient himself directly to the present, in unconditional values. After all, they are simple: love, meaningful work, the beauty of nature, free thought.

The protagonist of the novel, Yuri Zhivago, is a doctor and a poet, perhaps a poet even more than a doctor. For Pasternak, the poet is "a hostage of time in captivity to eternity." In other words, Yuri Zhivago's view of historical events is a view from the point of view of eternity. He can make mistakes, take the temporary for the eternal. In October 1717, Yuri accepts the revolution with enthusiasm, calling it "magnificent surgery." But after he is arrested at night by the Red Army, mistaking him for a spy, and then interrogated by the military commissar Strelnikov, Yuri says: “I was very revolutionary, and now I think that you can’t take anything by violence.” Yuri Zhivago “leaves the game”, renounces medicine, is silent about the medical specialty, does not take sides with any of the warring camps in order to be a spiritually independent person, in order to remain himself under pressure of any circumstances, “not to give up on his face”. After spending more than a year in captivity with the partisans, Yuri bluntly tells the commander: “When I hear about the remaking of life, I lose power over myself and fall into despair, life always remakes and transforms itself, it itself is much higher than our stupid theories with you.” By this, Yuri shows that life itself must resolve the historical dispute about who is right and who is not.

The hero strives away from the fight and, in the end, leaves the ranks of the combatants. The author does not condemn him. He regards this act as an attempt to evaluate, to see the events of the revolution and the civil war from a universal point of view.

The fate of Doctor Zhivago and his relatives is the story of people whose lives are unsettled, destroyed by the elements of the revolution. The Zhivago and Gromeko families leave their habitable Moscow home for the Urals to seek refuge "on the ground". Yuri is captured by red partisans, and forced against his will to participate in the armed struggle. His relatives were expelled from Russia by the new authorities. Lara falls into complete dependence on the successive authorities, and at the end of the story she goes missing. Apparently, she was arrested on the street or died "under some nameless number in one of the innumerable general or women's concentration camps in the north."

Doctor Zhivago is a textbook of freedom, starting with style and ending with the individual's ability to assert his independence from the clutches of history, moreover, Zhivago, in his independence, is not an individualist, he has not turned away from people, he is a doctor, he heals people, he is turned to people.

“... No one makes history, you can’t see it, just as you can’t see how the grass grows. Wars, revolutions, tsars, Robespierres are its organic stimulants, its fermenting yeast. Revolutions are produced by efficient, one-sided fanatics, geniuses of self-restraint. They overthrow the old order in a few hours or days. Revolutions last for weeks, many years, and then for decades, centuries, the spirit of limitation that led to the revolution is worshiped as a shrine.” - These reflections of Zhivago are important both for understanding the historical views of Pasternak and his attitude to the revolution, to its events, as some kind of absolute given, the legitimacy of the appearance of which is not subject to discussion.

"Doctor Zhivago" - "a novel about the fate of man in history. The image of the road is central in it” Isupov K.G. "Doctor Zhivago" as a rhetorical epic (on the aesthetic philosophy of B.L. Pasternak). // Isupov K.G. Russian aesthetics of history. SPb., 1992., p. 10. The plot of the novel is laid out like rails are laid... plot lines wind, the fates of the characters aspire into the distance and constantly intersect in unexpected places - like railway tracks. "Doctor Zhivago" is a novel of the era of the scientific, philosophical and aesthetic revolution, the era of religious searches and the pluralization of scientific and artistic thinking; era of the destruction of norms that seemed unshakable and universal until then, this is a novel of social catastrophes.

B. L. Pasternak wrote the novel “Doctor Zhivago” in prose, but he, a talented poet, could not help but pour out his soul on its pages in a way closer to the heart - in verse. The book of poems by Yuri Zhivago, separated into a separate chapter, fits perfectly into the main text of the novel. She is part of it, not a poetic insert. In poetry, Yuri Zhivago talks about his time and about himself - this is his spiritual biography. The book of poems opens with the theme of forthcoming suffering and the awareness of their inevitability, and ends with the theme of their voluntary acceptance and redemptive sacrifice. In the poem “The Garden of Gethsemane” in the words of Jesus Christ addressed to the Apostle Peter: “A dispute cannot be settled with iron. Put your sword back in place, man,” Yuri says that it is impossible to establish the truth with the help of weapons. People like B. L. Pasternak, disgraced, persecuted, “unprintable”, he remained for us a Man with a capital letter.

Boris Pasternak is a whole universe, a galaxy that can be studied endlessly. "Doctor Zhivago" is a planet where the finest combinations of poetry and reality are collected. This book has a special spirit, its own soul. It should be read as slowly as possible, reflecting on each phrase. Only then can one feel the loftiness of the novel and find the poetic sparks that fill each page.

Anna Akhmatova "pushed" Pasternak to the idea of ​​creating a novel in May 1944, when she suggested that he write "Faust" of the 20th century. And Boris Leonidovich agreed. Only he did not write as expected of him, but in his own way. After all, Yuri Zhivago, like Faust, is dissatisfied with himself, his life and seeks to change it. But not by making a deal with the devil, but by painstaking work on your soul and its moral principle.

The moral principle in those difficult years was more necessary than ever. Time dictated its conditions, but not everyone tried to silently accept them. Pasternak was tormented by a feeling of some kind of persecution and impotence. Repressions, arrests, suicides. Unbearable. The insatiable machine devoured everything in its path, leaving no chance for survival. That is why in Doctor Zhivago the whole life of the main characters is literally permeated with suffering, mental anguish, uncertainty and poverty. However, Pasternak sincerely believed that the “red monster” would sooner or later moderate his ardor and change his anger to mercy. But things only got worse. Soon it got to Boris Leonidovich himself. The party leadership began to actively stifle literature. Pasternak was not repressed, but in 1946 he began to receive warnings as a poet who did not recognize "our ideology." He did not fit into semi-official post-war art either as a poet or as a prose writer.

Despite everything that happened, the hard work on the novel continued. The titles changed one after another: "There will be no death", "Boys and Girls", "Innokenty Dudorov". Yuri Andreevich could turn out to be Dr. Zhivult. Interestingly, Pasternak's personal connections were also reflected in the novel. The prototype of Lara is Olga Ivinskaya, for whom the author had tender feelings.

Publicistic fate of the book

"Through hardship to the stars". This phrase can describe the difficult path that the novel has taken to end up in the hands of its many readers. Why? Pasternak was denied permission to publish the book. However, in 1957 it was published in Italy. In the Soviet Union, it was published only in 1988, when the author could no longer find out about it.

The history of the novel "Doctor Zhivago" is special in a sense. In 1958, Boris Leonidovich was nominated for the Nobel Prize, which he refused. In addition, a ban was imposed on the publication of the book, and this further fueled interest in the work. Readers expected something special from the novel. But later they were disappointed. This was not hidden even by close friends of Boris Pasternak, among whom were quite famous writers A. I. Solzhenitsyn and Anna Akhmatova, who threw a remark that sowed alienation between the poets.

Genre of Doctor Zhivago

It is difficult to define the genre of the novel unambiguously. The work can be considered autobiographical, since the main milestones of the writer's life took place in it. We can safely say that the hero of the novel, who finds himself in the whirlpool of ongoing events and subtly feels the world around him in all its changes and vibrations, is the second “I” of Boris Pasternak.

At the same time, the novel is also philosophical, since the questions of being do not occupy the last place in it.

The work is also interesting from a historical point of view. Pasternak correlates his novel with a true picture of life. "Doctor Zhivago" - Russia, shown to us as it really is. From this point of view, the artist's book is a traditional realistic work that reveals the historical era through the fate of individuals.

In terms of its metaphor, figurativeness, symbolism and poetics, Doctor Zhivago is a novel in verse and prose.

For most, this is a “love story” with an entertaining plot.

Thus, we have a multi-genre novel.

Composition "Doctor Zhivago"

As soon as we begin to get acquainted with the book, then from the very first chapter, consciousness puts a tick in front of the item “structural elements of composition”. One of them is the protagonist's notebook, which has become a harmonious continuation of his prosaic beginning. The poems confirm the tragic nature of the perception of reality by the author and Doctor Zhivago, they reveal the overcoming of tragedy in creativity.

An important compositional feature of the novel is a heap of chance meetings, unexpected twists of fate, various coincidences and coincidences. It often seems to the heroes of the novel that such life turns are basically impossible and unbelievable, that this is some kind of dream, a mirage that will disappear as soon as they open their eyes. But no. Everything is real. It is noteworthy that without this, the action of the novel could not have developed at all. The "poetics of coincidences" makes itself known for a reason. It is justified by the artistic originality of the work and the attitude of the author, who strives to convey to the reader his vision of a particular situation as accurately as possible.

In addition, the structure of the novel is based on the principle of cinematographic montage, the selection of independent scenes - shots. The plot of the novel is built not on the acquaintance of the characters and the further development of their relationship, but on the intersection of parallel and independently developing destinies.

Themes of Pasternak's novel

The theme of the path is another of the leading ones in the novel. One strays from this path and goes aside, and in an arc gains spiritual maturity here, dooming himself to difficult thoughts in solitude. To which of them does Zhivago belong? To the second. The flight of the doctor from half-frozen hungry Moscow to the Urals is a forced step. Going on a journey, Yuri does not feel like a victim. He feels that he will find the truth and reveal the hidden truth about himself. And so it happens. A creative gift, true love and a philosophy of life - this is what a person gets who has broken out of his consciousness, left the "safe haven", not being afraid to go into the unknown.

The author brings us back to another side of reality - to a person, raising love as one of the most beautiful phenomena of life. The theme of love is another theme of the novel. It is literally permeated with love: for children, for family, for each other and for the Motherland.

The themes stated in the novel cannot be divided. They look like skillful weaving, which will immediately collapse if even one thread is removed. Nature, love, fate and the way seem to be spinning in a graceful dance that gives us an understanding of the genius of this novel.

Problems in the novel

One of the main problems in the novel is the fate of the creative person in the revolution.

The pursuit of truth entailed a clash of ideals with reality. Creativity collided with revolutionary reality and was desperately defended. People were forced to defend their right to individuality. However, their desire for creative originality was brutally suppressed and took away any hope of liberation.

It is noteworthy that the text speaks of physical work as a real creative work. The problem of beauty, the philosophy of femininity and even the “royalty” of a person engaged in simple labor is primarily associated with the image of Lara. In everyday chores - at the stove or trough - it strikes "the spirit with its breathtaking appeal." Pasternak peers with admiration at the "beautiful healthy faces" of "people from the people" who have worked on the earth all their lives. The writer managed to show the national character of the heroes. They do not just love, think, act - their deep national rootedness is manifested in all their actions. They even talk "like only Russian people talk in Russia."

The problem of love is connected with the main characters in the work. This love is fateful, destined for heroes from above, but faced with obstacles in the form of chaos and disorder of the surrounding world.

Intelligentsia in the novel "Doctor Zhivago"

In the souls of the Russian intelligentsia of that time lived a readiness for asceticism. The intelligentsia expected the revolution, presenting it rather abstractly, without realizing what consequences it could lead to.

Thanks to spiritual thirst and the desire to comprehend the world around him, Yuri Andreevich Zhivago becomes a thinker and poet. The spiritual ideals of the hero are based on a miracle: throughout his life he never lost the ability to perceive the world, human life and nature as a miracle! Everything is in life, and everything is life, only it was, is and will be. In this philosophy, two points draw attention to themselves and explain the reasons for the tragic state of affairs of the hero in his contemporary society: the uncertain position of Yuri and the rejection of "violence". The conviction that "one must be attracted by kindness" did not allow Zhivago to cling to either of the two warring parties, because violence lay at the heart of their programs of activity.

Strelnikov is bred in the novel as the antipode of Zhivago. He is a ruthless, indispensable reasoner, ready to confirm with his weighty proletarian word any, the most cruel sentence. His inhumanity was presented as a miracle of class consciousness, which eventually led him to suicide.

The intelligentsia played an important role in shaping revolutionary reality. The desire for novelty, change and a change in the ruling stratum wiped off the face of the earth that thin layer of the real intelligentsia, which consisted of scientists, creative figures, engineers and doctors. New "individuals" began to come to replace them. Pasternak noticed how, in the putrid atmosphere of the NEP, a new privileged stratum began to take shape with a claim to an intellectual monopoly and to continuity in relation to the old Russian intelligentsia. Returning to Moscow, Yuri Zhivago made a living sawing firewood from wealthy people. One day he went to check. Yury Andreevich's books lay on the table. Wanting to look like an intellectual, the owner of the house read Zhivago's works, but did not deign the author himself even with a glance.

Revolution and Christian motives

“The grain will not sprout unless it dies,” Pasternak loved this gospel wisdom. Finding himself in the most difficult situation, a person still cherishes the hope of rebirth.

According to many researchers, B. Pasternak's personality model is focused on Christ. Yuri Zhivago is not Christ, but the "age-old prototype" is reflected in his fate.

To understand the novel, it is necessary to understand the author's approach to the gospel and to the revolution. In the Gospel, Boris Pasternak perceived, first of all, love for one's neighbor, the idea of ​​individual freedom and an understanding of life as a sacrifice. It was with these axioms that the revolutionary worldview, which allowed violence, turned out to be incompatible.

In his youth, the revolution seemed like a thunderstorm to Pasternak's hero, it seemed to him "something evangelical" - in scale, in spiritual content. The spontaneous revolutionary summer gave way to the autumn of disintegration. The bloody soldier's revolution frightens Yuri Zhivago. Despite this, admiration for the idea of ​​revolution breaks through with sincere admiration for the first decrees of Soviet power. But he soberly looks at what is happening, becoming more and more convinced that reality is at odds with the proclaimed slogans. If at first Zhivago the doctor seemed justified in surgical intervention for the sake of healing society, then, disappointed, he sees that love and compassion are disappearing from life, and the desire for truth is replaced by concern for the benefit.

The hero rushes between two camps, rejects the violent suppression of the personality. The conflict develops between Christian and new morality based on violence. Yuri turns out to be "neither in those nor in these." He is repulsed by the wrestlers with their fanaticism. It seems to him that outside of the struggle they do not know what to do. War, on the other hand, absorbs their entire essence, and there is no place for creativity in it and no need for truth.

Nature in the work "Doctor Zhivago"

Man is part of nature. The world of nature in the novel is animated and materialized. He does not rise above a person, but, as it were, exists in parallel with him: he is sad and happy, excites and calms, warns of imminent changes.

The tragic scene of Yura's mother's funeral opens the work. Nature, together with people, mourns for a good person. The wind sings a mournful song in unison with the farewell singing of the funeral procession. And, when Yuri Andreevich passes away, some flowers become a substitute for the “missing singing”. The earth takes the “gone” to another world.

The landscape in the novel is also a picturesque picture, giving rise in the human soul to feelings of admiration, enjoyment of beautiful nature. "Don't fall in love!" How can you live and not notice this beauty?

Favorite image - the Sun, which "shyly" illuminates the area, being a special attraction. Or, “setting down behind the houses”, it throws red strokes on objects (flag, traces of blood), as if warning of imminent danger. Another generalizing image of nature is the calm high Sky, conducive to serious philosophical reflection, or, flashing with a “pink fluttering fire”, empathizing with the events taking place in the human community. The landscape is no longer depicted, but acts.

A person is evaluated through nature, a comparison with it allows you to make a more accurate description of the image. So Lara, from the point of view of other characters, is "a birch grove with pure grass and clouds."

Landscape sketches excite. White water lilies on the pond, yellow acacia, fragrant lilies of the valley, pink hyacinths - all this on the pages of the novel exudes a unique aroma that penetrates the soul and fills it with burning fire.

The meaning of symbolism

Boris Pasternak is a writer of fine mental organization, living in harmony with nature and feeling the nuances of life, able to enjoy every day he lives and accepting everything that happens as given from above. A person who opens his BOOK is immersed in a world filled with sounds, colors, symbols. The reader seems to transform into a listener of music masterfully performed by a pianist. No, this is not solemn music, sounding in one key. The major is replaced by the minor, the atmosphere of harmony - the atmosphere of breaking. Yes, such is life, and it is precisely this perception of it that the artist conveys in the novel. How does he do it?

But the night always replaces the day, the cold always replaces the heat. Cold, Wind, Blizzard, Snowfall are an integral part of our life, an important component, a negative side, with which we must also learn to live. These symbols in Pasternak's novel indicate that the world around a person can be cruel. It is mentally necessary to prepare yourself for these difficulties.

Human life is beautiful because it consists not only of opposites, but also includes many different shades. The symbol that personifies the diversity of human types is the Forest, where the most diverse representatives of the animal and plant world coexist in harmony.

Road, Path - symbols of movement, striving forward, symbols of knowledge of the unknown, new discoveries. Each person in life has his own Road, his own destiny. It is important that this is not a path of loneliness, which will certainly lead to a dead end in life. It is important that this be the Path leading a person to Good, Love, Happiness.