Yunna Moritz evenings with the Queen. Forever young heroes of Yunna Moritz

One of the outstanding poets of our time can rightfully be called Yunna Moritz, whose work was and continues to be the very embodiment of sensitivity. Poems full of genuine perception of reality have been translated into many languages ​​of the world. The biography of the poetess is saturated with troubles brought by her very year of birth. However, none of the hardships of fate could break Yunna’s spirit. Having overcome everything that was destined for her by chance, Moritz found her true destiny and for many decades she has been delighting not only Russian audiences with her poems, but also foreign admirers. The years of ban on the publication of her work were compensated for at a time when people gained freedom of speech and creativity.

Themes of Yunna Moritz's poems:

The directions in Moritz's work once again prove her undoubted talent. During the years of oppression, she develops as a children's poetess. Her poems, filled with instructions that are easy to understand for the younger generation, also surprise older individuals, many of whom leave their favorite lines in their memory and happily re-read them later. Moritz's lyrical works are performed in the best traditions of classical performance. Her poetic style does not allow pathos, giving preference to precise rhymes and allegories.

My constellation is Gemini,
My element is air.
Mercury, carnelian, Wednesday
They bring me good luck.
And, as the sages believe,
This is the alignment of the stars -
It's Wednesday or never
I mean something.

Mercury floats in the darkness
And carnelian is in Taurida,
And on earth is my environment
Brings me luck.
And on Wednesday - I'm tipsy,
I'm at my best on Wednesday
Ah, it's Wednesday or never
I mean something!

And if anyone rejected
My collection is in publishing,
When I was young
And I led a dog’s life, -
So it was on Thursday
On Thursday or Tuesday, -
After all, it's Wednesday or never
I mean something.

When on one of the other days
I will become a light light
Where in the horn of the Milky Way
The spirit of the constellations burns, -
Then I will write more clearly
About this, about this, -
Open, third eye, read
My good news!

The painter has a brush and paints,
The violinist has a bow and a violin,
But the poet has nothing.
For the artist - a play and tips,
Intrigue, tears and smile.
But the poet has nothing.

The football player has a goal
He throws something at them.
But the poet has nothing.
The astronaut has a rocket,
A moving portrait of a poet.
But the poet has nothing.

No one will say: "This critic is
An inveterate pessimist and whiner,
And his views are gloomy,
Prudence and cold shine,
No soil, no people's fate..."
The critic has the soul of a poet.
But the poet has nothing.

Oh, even nothing like that?!
Anyone has the soul of a poet,
And what? What? So what?
Many have three souls of a poet,
And five, and seven! And the poet -
Poems... and nothing more!

PORTRAIT OF SOUND

When a vague image is suggested to me,
I draw it with a pencil
And I listen to the flexible line...
Until the light of recognition flashes
And with him - from the darkness a rapturous portrait
Living sound with a merciful smile.
Then, opening my blouse at my throat,
I take the subtle, like a glass blower,
And I breathe living sound into this film -
And all my life goes into it
In a transparent form, like a stream of air...
And sound's beloved face
So iridescent and, God, so loud!

Yunna Moritz

Yunna Petrovna (Pinkhusovna Moritz was born into a Jewish family. As Moritz says, “in the year of my birth, my father was arrested on a slanderous denunciation, after several tortured months he was considered innocent, he returned, but quickly began to go blind. My father’s blindness had an extraordinary impact on the development of my inner vision"

In 1954 she graduated from school in Kyiv and entered the philological faculty of Kyiv University. By this time, the first publications in periodicals appeared.

In 1955 she entered the full-time poetry department of the Literary Institute. A. M. Gorky in Moscow and graduated in 1961, despite the fact that in 1957 she was expelled from there along with Gennady Aigi for “unhealthy moods in creativity.”

In 1961, the poetess’s first book, “Cape Zhelaniya” (named after the cape on Novaya Zemlya), was published in Moscow, based on her impressions of traveling around the Arctic on the icebreaking steamer “Sedov” in the summer of 1956. She later recalled about that trip:

“I never forget the people of that Arctic, where I saw a completely different way of life, not the mainland, without any shops, streets, cinemas, where life depended on radio operators, on radiation, navigation, aviation, ice reconnaissance, there space is inside a person. In the mirror of the Arctic you can see who you are and what is the value of your personality, your actions, your mind and talent to be human. The feeling of the Arctic is a gift of fate, especially at 19 years old, it is divine wealth and frost resistance to “public opinions”"

Her books were not published (for the poems “Fist Fight” and “In Memory of Titian Tabidze”) from 1961 to 1970. Despite the ban, “Fist Fight” was published by the head of the poetry department of the Young Guard magazine, Vladimir Tsybin, after which he was fired. It was also not published from 1990 to 2000)

In the book “By the Law - Hello to the Postman,” Yunna Moritz declared the theme of her poetry to be “pure lyricism of resistance.” The poem “The Star of Serbia” (about the bombing of Belgrade), which was published in the book “Face,” as well as the cycle of short prose “Stories about the Miraculous” (published in “October”, in the “Literary Gazette”) are dedicated to the highest values ​​- human life and human dignity. ”, and abroad, and now it has been published as a separate book - “Stories about the Miraculous”).

Yunna Moritz says about her literary teachers and passions: “My contemporary was always Pushkin, my closest companions were Pasternak, Akhmatova, Tsvetaeva, Mandelstam, Zabolotsky, and my teachers were Andrei Platonov and Thomas Mann.” In an interview with RG in 2012, she also mentions Lermontov, Leo Tolstoy, Shakespeare and Ovid. She includes among her poetic circles “Blok, Khlebnikov, Homer, Dante, King Solomon - the alleged author of the Song of Songs - and the poets of Greek antiquity” (from an interview with the Gazeta newspaper, May 31, 2004).

Moritz's language is always natural, devoid of any false pathos. The richness of colors, the use of precise rhymes interspersed with assonances - this is what distinguishes Moritz's poetry. Repetitions often sound like spells, metaphors open up new possibilities for the interpretation of her poems, in which she tries to penetrate into the essence of existence (Wolfgang Kazak)

“An artist can be better than his time, like Chekhov, or maybe worse, like Yunna Moritz, but both types are necessary for our self-knowledge,” Dmitry Bykov wrote about Moritz.

Yunna Moritz is the author of poetry books, including “In the Lair of the Voice” (1990), “Face” (2000), “Thus” (2000), “According to the Law - Hello to the Postman!” (2005), as well as books of poetry for children (“A Big Secret for a Small Company” (1987), “Bouquet of Cats” (1997)). Many songs have been written based on the poems of Yunna Moritz.
Her poems have been translated into European languages, as well as Japanese and Chinese.

I didn’t forgive him anything.
I dedicated poems to him,
so that the glimmer of hope fades.
But when the silvery heron
my sadness is like the last straw,
will overflow on an autumn Thursday,
flying over a beet field...
I somehow have a triangular sense
I drive the saving wedge
into a silvery memory,
so that the hearts have the last knowledge
Don't vulgarize it with a happy ending.
The day is short,
and my path is so long...

I named the flower - and the flower turned red,
The corolla flared up and pollen splashed out.
I named the bird - the bird's voice sang,
The chick fluttered out of the egg into the light.

She named the day and hour - and, as is customary here,
This day has come, this hour.
I named the child and it was born
And will live after us.

I'll also mention some of the things
What is still nameless is dark.
My magic is simpler than steamed turnips,
But it will remain a secret.

JUNNA MORITZ
NEBULARY OF BREATHING AND SINGING

This is the shore that I dream about.
And moon rocks on it.
And I see moonstones
And I know that it is them.
And I see moon rocks.
And a blue bird on them.
And I see a blue bird
And I know it's her.
And I see a blue bird
Heavenly roses above her.
I see heavenly roses
And I know that it is them.
I see heavenly roses
Wreaths of Madonnas' smiles,
Gazelle smile of the universe,
And I know that it is them.

Everything here is iridescent, unsteady,
Wavy and hazy, like life,
Like the shore that I dream about
When the spirit awakens,
And I see moon rocks
And a bluebird on them,
And I see a blue bird -
Heavenly roses above her,
I see heavenly roses
Wreaths of Madonnas' smiles,
Gazelle smile of the universe -
And I know that this is the case with me.

And evergreen stars,
And waves, and air, and blood
They flow, they double, they triple,
Secretly intertwined with me.
And my cloak won't dry anymore
In the mists swirling here:
Our universe is foggy
Sings foggy songs!..
And I would be in the place of the universe
Shrouded the mystery in fog
And sang foggy songs
About the mystery in your fog!
I would sing foggy songs,
If only there were a universe!..
Such vague songs
So that the wind could not dispel
Nebula where the moon rocks are
And a bluebird on them,
The nebula where the blue bird is
Heavenly roses above her,
Heavenly roses - nebula!-
Wreaths of Madonnas' smiles,
Gazelle smile of the universe,
Nebula of the beginning, the end,
Grapevine Nebula,
Flowing misty life,
The haze of breathing and singing,
Nebula, one nebula!...

JUNNA MORITZ
TAVRIDA

Almond trees were blooming there. The sea was draughty
Between roofs, ledges, railings.
And lives floated in space,
And someone's whisper spoke
About it. It smelled tenderly of summer,
Heavenly moisture, cucumber.
A soul constrained by a skeleton,
I did this with my face
That the appearance became a face
Fates. Sticking out of the carving
Features in a semi-wild fracture:
A brazier is an eye, a cheekbone is a Kalmyk,
And dry your cracked lip. Above the almonds
Bakhchisarai, Where the Scythians fried trout,
Time rushed by, devouring
Aquamarine April,
Me with you, and everyone with everyone,
From all sides, from the inside, from the outside.
All-consuming time
Undying time
The spit was spit on the fire.

But my youth was still shining -
This joy is sweeter than glory,
Twice as large as immortality.
Let anything happen, -
I was happy, free,
Loved, happy, free,
With everyone and alone!
I walked around in something that was so unfashionable,
But sacrificially and nobly
Time has been kind to the spirit within me.

JUNNA MORITZ
GURZUF

There was something from the previous century,
From his crystal, silver
In the cypress tree that was yesterday
Trembling like the soul of a man.
Oranges, jasmine, camphor
They became a smell. And lighting
It gave meaning to everything.
It was July and it was hot,
And the glow of otherworldly life
Bordered with lemon and persimmon,
Yard, fence, Greek gardener,
Eaters and mass in the house,
And the golden stream flows
On a hill in the magnificent Crimea.
And the illumination that descended in us
It gave meaning to everything.
These were the talents of nature,
Those who move their hands
Generating winds and waters,
Rewarding our peoples,
So that the light of love and freedom
Instill radiant peace.
Yes! I saw being like this.
I lived that day and loved it,
I ate apples straight from the branches
And, the notebook, placed on the railing,
She told her something in a whisper,
And my soul hovered above me
And reigned in my notebook.
I lived that day and loved it!

Poet Junna Moritz was born on June 2, 1937.
* * *
You are young and fierce, but know that you will
More tender than sadness, and more affectionate than rye.
And everything that you now mercilessly judge -
You will spare, have mercy, save!

And in this light the world will appear whole,
And you will see him alone,
That he was, is and will be black and white,
Shimmering in every depth.

And in this black and white bubbling,
Where everything is - as the creative spirit wanted,
You will hear swimming and flying
Helpless, animated bodies.

Then in tears you will cling to your earthly homeland
And you will prefer for the rest of your days
The helplessness of animate life
To the soulless immortality of stones.

JUNNA MORITZ
THE ESCAPE

Come on, soul, come on -
Let's get behind the fence
There's a pink tram
Running through the snow

At the coffee shop around the corner
The grains are roasted
And the stairs are broken
Smells like a black drink.

Give it back, give it back, give it back
Star, my luminary,
Those few days
Which were not enough!

To the rustle of mandolins,
Playing on the Christmas tree
Let's peel the tangerine
And let's take the book off the shelf,

In a mysterious speech
Delving until dawn,
Let's throw the jacket off our shoulders
On the lake parquet

And, having excommunicated the face
From reading for a moment,
We'll find it eventually
Peace and enlightenment.

JUNNA MORITZ
* * *
I didn’t drink vodka with geniuses
And she didn’t let them get close to her.
I was not a young poet,
She did not cherish her ears and did not caress her eyes.

On tiptoes without standing in front of anyone,
I didn’t glow, I didn’t breathe darkness
And it didn’t smell fresh at all
On those who trade in praise.

And more than that! Gloomy look
For many captivating things
Pushed me out of all the galaxies,
Out of the ordinary, to say the least.

And no lace in the world
We were unable to bring in the fog
And envelop my millstones in darkness
And the plans of a seething volcano.

So God helped me not to get into the retinue
To none of the patriarchs of the Muse,
Don't trump him with love to your heart's content,
Do not enter into praising alliances,

Don't fall prey to darkness and emptiness
In a hall filled with fans...
Live on what only you say
And not what they said about you!

JUNNA MORITZ
COUNTRY OF MY LOVE

I am a strange person, I love my country,
I especially love it in tragic times,
When from all sides they blaspheme her alone
And they persecute you with slander - in an epoch-making harem.

Throw wood into the fire, but I won’t hand it over -

I am a strange person, at any time
I love my country, and this is intravenous,
And regardless... when my country
He openly doesn’t love me for lying!

The era is such that vile lies
He has every right to mock us,
But miraculously I’m alive, and I won’t give her up -
The country of my love!.. And I won’t let her give up!

I am a strange person, I am hundreds of thousands of years old,
Where is the Eternal Now and eternal repetitions.
I love my country, both its darkness and its light.
I especially love it - accompanied by the barking of the fascist pack!

Only the light of love
This gift from God
I'll take it with me
I'll call it fate, -
Only the light of love
Only he gave birth
The essence is the winged path
Through any nightmare!

Only the light of love
God's grace
I'll take it with me
I'll call it fate, -
Only this light
Will read us
Where there is no death,
Where you and I are.

Only the light of love
This God's light
I'll call it fate -
Once and for all!
Was life hard?
I will answer - no!
Does pain help?
I will answer - yes!

This light of love -
There's a file on me
Just don't tear it
And don't lose...
And for God there are no dead -
Everyone is alive!
Only the light of love -
The path from hell to heaven.

Moritz Yunna Petrovna. [Russia Moscow]
(born 06/02/1937)

Yunna Moritz was born on June 2, 1937 in Kyiv (Ukraine) into a family of employees. My father had two higher educations - an engineer and a lawyer, and worked as an engineer on transport lines. Before the revolution, my mother graduated from high school, gave lessons in French and mathematics, worked in the arts and crafts, and as a nurse in a hospital.

In 1954, Moritz graduated from school in Kyiv and entered the correspondence department of the Faculty of Philology of Kyiv University.

In 1955, she entered the full-time poetry department of the Literary Institute in Moscow, from which she graduated in 1961.

In 1961, the poetess’s first book, “Cape Zhelaniya” (named after the cape on Novaya Zemlya), was published in Moscow, based on her impressions of a trip to the Arctic, which she undertook in the fall of 1956 on the icebreaker “Sedov”.

For her poems “Fist Fight” and “In Memory of Titian Tabidze” (1962), Yunna Moritz was blacklisted by publishers and censors, so her next book of poems, “The Vine,” was published only nine years later, in 1970. In 1963, in the magazine "Youth" under the heading "For younger brothers and sisters" she managed to publish a series of poems for children.

From 1970 to 1990, Moritz published books of lyrics “A Harsh Thread”, “In the Light of Life”, “The Third Eye”, “Favorites”, “Blue Fire”, “On This High Shore”, “In the Lair of a Voice”.

From 1990 to 2000, her poems were not published. In the 2000s, poetry collections "Face" (2000), "Thus" (2000, 2001), " According to the law - hello to the postman"(2005, 2006). The books included graphics and paintings by the poetess, which Moritz herself considers not illustrations, but poems in the language of painting.

Since 1985, Moritz has conducted author evenings at international poetry festivals in London, Cambridge, Rotterdam, Toronto, Philadelphia. Her poems have been translated into all European languages, as well as Japanese, Turkish and Chinese.

In addition to poetry, Moritz writes stories and does translations. Her cycle of short prose “Stories about the Miraculous,” published in the magazine “October”, “Literary Gazette” and abroad, was published as a separate book in 2008.

In the 1990s, Yunna Moritz took part in the political life of Russia, was a member of radical democratic movements, and made political comments on Radio Liberty.

Yunna Moritz is a laureate of various awards. In 2004, “for the civil courage of the writer,” she was awarded the A.D. Sakharov.

In 2011, the poetess was awarded the Russian Government Prize in the field of culture.