Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilyov. "Captains

diets 25.07.2019

diets

Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilyov

On the polar seas and in the south,
Along the bends of the green swells,
Between basalt rocks and pearl
The sails of the ships rustle.

The swift-wings are led by captains,
Discoverers of new lands
Who is not afraid of hurricanes
Who has known maelstroms and stranded,

Whose is not the dust of lost charters -
The chest is soaked with the salt of the sea,
Who is the needle on the torn map
Marks his audacious path

And, having ascended the trembling bridge,
Remembers the abandoned port
Shaking off the blows of the cane
Shreds of foam from high boots,

Or, discovering a riot on board,
From behind the belt tears a gun,
So gold is pouring from lace,
With pinkish Brabant cuffs.

Let the sea rage and lash
The crests of the waves rose into the sky,
Not one trembles before a thunderstorm,
None will turn the sails.

Are these hands given to cowards,
That sharp, confident look
What can on enemy feluccas
Unexpectedly throw a frigate

Marked by a bullet, sharp iron
Chase giant whales
And take in the multi-star night
Protective light beacons?

All of you, paladins of the Green Temple,
Over the cloudy sea, following the rhumb,
Gonzalvo and Cook, La Perouse and de Gama,
Dreamer and king, Genoese Columbus!

Hanno the Carthaginian, prince of Senegambius,
Sinbad the Sailor and mighty Ulysses,
About your victories thunder in praise
Gray ramparts, running into the cape!

And you, royal dogs, filibusters,
Stored gold in a dark port,
Wandering Arabs, seekers of faith
And the first people on the first raft!

And all who dare, who want, who seek,
Who got sick of fathers country,
Who laughs defiantly, whistles mockingly,
Listening to the precepts of the gray-haired sages!

How strange, how sweet to enter your dreams,
Your cherished whisper names,
And suddenly guess what anesthesia
Once the depth gave birth to you!

And it seems that in the world, as before, there are countries
Where no human foot has gone
Where giants live in sunny groves
And pearls shine in clear water.

Fragrant resins flow from the trees,
Patterned leaves murmur: "Hurry,
Here the bees of pure gold soar,
Here the roses are redder than the purple of kings!”

And dwarfs with birds argue for nests,
And the profile of the face of the girls is gentle ...
As if not all the stars were counted,
As if our world is not open to the end!

III

Just look through the cliffs
royal old fort,
Like merry sailors
Hurry to a familiar port.

There, having grabbed cider in the tavern,
Talking grandfather is talking
What to defeat the sea hydra
Maybe a black crossbow.

Black mulattos
And guess, and sing,
And the smell of sweet rushes
From cooking meals.

And in spitting taverns
From dusk to morning
Throwing a number of decks of infidels
Curly sharpie.

Good on the docks of the port
And loiter and lie down
And with the soldiers from the fort
Start fights at night.

Ile with noble foreign women
Boldly beg for two sous,
Sell them monkeys
With a copper hoop in the nose.

And then turn pale with anger
Clamp the amulet in the floor,
You're losing at dice
On the trampled floor.

But the call of dope is silent,
Drunken words incoherent years,
Only the mouthpiece of the captain
He will call them to sail.

But there are other areas in the world
The moon of agonizing languor.
For higher power, supreme prowess
They are forever unattainable.

There are waves with sparkles and splashes
incessant dance,
And there it flies abruptly
The Flying Dutchman's ship.

Neither reef nor shallow will meet him,
But, a sign of sadness and misfortune,
Saint Elmo's lights are shining
Having dotted its board and gear.

The captain himself, gliding over the abyss,
Holding on to a hat,
Bloody, but iron,
It clings to the helm - another.

Like death, his comrades are pale,
Everyone has the same thought.
This is how the corpses look at the conflagration,
Inexpressible and gloomy.

And if at a transparent hour, morning
Swimmers in the seas met him,
They were always tormented by an inner voice
A blind harbinger of sadness.

Vatage violent and warlike
So many stories stacked up
But all the more terrible and all the more mysterious
For the brave sea-foamers -

About the fact that somewhere there is an outskirts -
There, beyond the Tropic of Capricorn! —
Where is the captain with the face of Cain
It was a terrible road.

Nikolai Gumilyov was a romantic at heart and dreamed of distant lands. He managed to carry out his plan and visit several scientific expeditions. But a few years before his travels, he created a small cycle of poems called "Captains", in which notes of nostalgia are clearly traced. Having read books about the life of sailors, the young poet was ready to escape from the gray reality to the ends of the world in order to only feel the taste of salt on his lips and experience an incomparable sense of freedom.

The cycle "Captains" was created in the summer of 1909, when Nikolai Gumilyov was visiting Maximilian Voloshin in Koktebel.

Maximilian Voloshin

There is a version that it was written together with a group of poets who discussed every line. However, according to the memoirs of Alexei Tolstoy, the poet locked himself in his room for several days in a row, working on The Captains, and only after that he presented the poems to the court of his friends.

The cycle consists of four works, which are united by the common idea of romance and travel. In the first of his poems, Gumilyov admires how "the sails of ships rustle between basalt and pearl rocks." The image of the "discoverers of new lands" is so sweet to the poet that he mentally travels with them and in own fantasies survives all the trials that his characters go through. Paving the way on the map, putting down a ship riot, meeting with pirates and learning how to survive during a storm - all these components marine life inspire the author and make him dream of exploits. The courage of people who every day fight against the elements of the sea cannot leave Gumilyov indifferent. “Are cowards given these hands, this sharp, confident look?” The poet asks.

The second poem of the cycle is a hymn to the discoverers and pirates who cannot imagine a quiet life on land. They are attracted by danger and the need to constantly take risks in order to achieve their own goals. “How strange, how sweet it is to enter your dreams, whisper your cherished names,” the author notes. It seems to him that "in the world, as before, there are countries where no human foot has set foot." And it is Gumilyov who sees himself as the person who will someday make a new discovery and visit the place where “roses are redder than the purple of kings.”

However, no matter how new countries attract sailors, sooner or later they return to their native port, full of new impressions. And it is the meeting with the motherland that is dedicated to the third poem of the cycle "Captains". The land gives them what they were deprived of in their wanderings. Women, pubs, games of cards and dice, attempts to find out their fate from a fortune-teller ... But when "the call of dope ceases", each sailor remembers his true destiny. And then for him there is nothing more important than the "mouthpiece of the captain", who again calls for sailing.

The final poem of the cycle is dedicated to sea legends and mysteries, one of which is the story of the Flying Dutchman - a ghost ship. It is a symbol of death and portends it to anyone who encounters this ghost in the sea. The author does not have an answer to the question of where this ship came from and what goals it pursues. But one thing is clear - the legend of the Flying Dutchman is the most terrible, and this makes it even more attractive in the eyes of every true sailor. True, Gumilyov nevertheless gives his interpretation of such a myth, noting that the ghost ship shows everyone the way to the edge of the world. There, "where the captain with the face of Cain lay down a terrible road." It leads only in one direction, but those who dare to follow it to the end will be able to learn the secrets of the universe, although they will pay for it. own life. And the poet is convinced that every captain has a moment in his life when he dreams of meeting the Flying Dutchman in the vast expanses.

"Captains" Nikolai Gumilyov

On the polar seas and in the south,
Along the bends of the green swells,
Between basalt rocks and pearl
The sails of the ships rustle.

The swift-wings are led by captains,
Discoverers of new lands
Who is not afraid of hurricanes
Who has known maelstroms and stranded,

Whose is not the dust of lost charters, -
The chest is soaked with the salt of the sea,
Who is the needle on the torn map
Marks his audacious path

And, having ascended the trembling bridge,
Remembers the abandoned port
Shaking off the blows of the cane
Shreds of foam from high boots,

Or, discovering a riot on board,
From behind the belt tears a gun,
So gold is pouring from lace,
With pinkish Brabant cuffs.

Let the sea rage and lash
The crests of the waves rose into the sky,
Not one trembles before a thunderstorm,
None will turn the sails.

Are these hands given to cowards,
That sharp, confident look
What can on enemy feluccas
Unexpectedly throw a frigate

Marked by a bullet, sharp iron
Chase giant whales
And take in the multi-star night
Protective light beacons?

All of you, paladins of the Green Temple,
Over the cloudy sea, following the rhumb,
Gonzalvo and Cook, La Perouse and de Gama,
Dreamer and king, Genoese Columbus!

Hanno the Carthaginian, prince of Senegambius,
Sinbad the Sailor and mighty Ulysses,
About your victories thunder in praise
Gray ramparts, running into the cape!

And you, royal dogs, filibusters,
Stored gold in a dark port,
Wandering Arabs, seekers of faith
And the first people on the first raft!

And all who dare, who want, who seek,
Who are disgusted with the countries of their fathers,
Who laughs defiantly, whistles mockingly,
Listening to the precepts of the gray-haired sages!

How strange, how sweet to enter your dreams,
Your cherished whisper names,
And suddenly guess what anesthesia
Once the depth gave birth to you!

And it seems - in the world, as before, there are countries
Where no human foot has gone
Where giants live in sunny groves
And pearls shine in clear water.

Fragrant resins flow from the trees,
Patterned leaves murmur: "Hurry,
Here the bees of pure gold soar,
Here the roses are redder than the purple of kings!”

And dwarfs with birds argue for nests,
And the profile of the face of the girls is gentle ...
As if not all the stars were counted,
As if our world is not open to the end!

Just look through the cliffs
royal old fort,
Like merry sailors
Hurry to a familiar port.

There, having grabbed cider in the tavern,
Talking grandfather is talking
What to defeat the sea hydra
Maybe a black crossbow.

Black mulattos
And guess, and sing,
And the smell of sweet rushes
From cooking meals.

And in spitting taverns
From dusk to morning
Throwing a number of decks of infidels
Curly sharpie.

Good on the docks of the port
And loiter and lie down
And with the soldiers from the fort
Start fights at night.

Ile with noble foreign women
Boldly beg for two sous,
Sell them monkeys
With a copper hoop in the nose.

And then turn pale with anger
Clamp the amulet in the floor,
You're losing at dice
On the trampled floor.

But the call of dope is silent,
Drunken words incoherent years,
Only the mouthpiece of the captain
He will call them to sail.

But there are other areas in the world
The moon of agonizing languor.
For a higher power, a higher prowess
They are forever unattainable.

There are waves with sparkles and splashes
incessant dance,
And there it flies abruptly
The Flying Dutchman's ship.

Neither reef nor shallow will meet him,
But, a sign of sadness and misfortune,
Saint Elmo's lights are shining
Having dotted its board and gear.

The captain himself, gliding over the abyss,
Holding on to a hat,
Bloody, but iron,
It clings to the helm - another.

Like death, his comrades are pale,
Everyone has the same thought.
This is how the corpses look at the conflagration,
Inexpressible and gloomy.

And if at a transparent hour, morning
Swimmers in the seas met him,
They were always tormented by an inner voice
A blind harbinger of sadness.

Vatage violent and warlike
So many stories stacked up
But all the more terrible and all the more mysterious
For the brave sea-foamers -

About the fact that somewhere there is an outskirts -
There, beyond the Tropic of Capricorn! -
Where is the captain with the face of Cain
It was a terrible road.

Analysis of Gumilyov's poem "Captains"

The cycle "Captains" was created in the summer of 1909, when Nikolai Gumilyov was visiting Maximilian Voloshin in Koktebel. There is a version that it was written together with a group of poets who discussed every line. However, according to the memoirs of Alexei Tolstoy, the poet locked himself in his room for several days in a row, working on The Captains, and only after that he presented the poems to the court of his friends.

The cycle consists of four works, which are united by the common idea of romance and travel. In the first of his poems, Gumilyov admires how "the sails of ships rustle between basalt and pearl rocks." The image of the "discoverers of new lands" is so sweet to the poet that he mentally travels with them and in his own fantasies he experiences all the trials that his heroes go through. Paving the way on the map, suppressing a ship riot, encounters with pirates and a school of survival during a storm - all these components of marine life inspire the author and make him dream of exploits. The courage of people who every day fight against the elements of the sea cannot leave Gumilyov indifferent. “Are cowards given these hands, this sharp, confident look?” The poet asks.

The second poem of the cycle is a hymn to the pioneers and pirates who cannot imagine a calm life on land. They are attracted by danger and the need to constantly take risks in order to achieve their own goals. “How strange, how sweet it is to enter your dreams, whisper your cherished names,” the author notes. It seems to him that "in the world, as before, there are countries where no human foot has set foot." And it is Gumilyov who sees himself as the person who will someday make a new discovery and visit the place where “roses are redder than the purple of kings.”

The final poem of the cycle is dedicated to marine legends and mysteries, one of which is the story of the Flying Dutchman, a ghost ship. It is a symbol of death and portends it to anyone who encounters this ghost in the sea. The author does not have an answer to the question of where this ship came from and what goals it pursues. But one thing is clear - the legend of the Flying Dutchman is the most terrible, and this makes it even more attractive in the eyes of every true sailor. True, Gumilyov nevertheless gives his interpretation of such a myth, noting that the ghost ship shows everyone the way to the edge of the world. There, "where the captain with the face of Cain lay down a terrible road." It leads only in one direction, but those who dare to follow it to the end will be able to learn the secrets of the universe, although they will pay for it with their own lives. And the poet is convinced that every captain has a moment in his life when he dreams of meeting the Flying Dutchman in the vast expanses.

On the polar seas and in the south,
Along the bends of the green swells,
Between basalt rocks and pearl
The sails of the ships rustle.

The swift-wings are led by captains,
Discoverers of new lands
Who is not afraid of hurricanes
Who has known maelstroms and stranded,

Whose is not the dust of lost charters, -
The chest is soaked with the salt of the sea,
Who is the needle on the torn map
Marks his audacious path