Sergei Yesenin’s work “The Black Man” is often called by researchers and literary scholars one of the most mysterious poems of the 20th century in Russian literature. Already from the first lines, it intrigues, bewitches, immerses you in the world of mysterious visions, spiritual quests, ghosts of the past, doubts that torment the author’s soul... This is the path into Yesenin’s inner world, into the world of his life’s quests and aspirations to know the whole tragic essence of existence. The poem is read in one breath, keeps you in suspense until the very end and after reading leaves more questions than answers.
It may seem that this poem, this ecstatic cry of the soul, this powerful force of thought, was born in one night, in one evening, when everything that the poet wanted to express to us suddenly suddenly burst out of his soul and, like a hurricane whirlwind, instantly carried away behind you.
The first reading leaves an almost painful impression: attempts by an inflamed consciousness to analyze itself, a split personality, alcoholic delirium. But in fact, the work on the poem lasted a long time; “The Black Man” is not just a stream of thoughts that poured onto paper overnight. The idea arose during Yesenin’s foreign trips in 1922-1923, where he, who sincerely loved his native land, could not help but feel alien and unnecessary. And the black melancholy, which by those days was increasingly overpowering the poet, intensified this feeling and gave terrible inspiration. In his notes, Yesenin also mentioned that the creation of this work was influenced by Pushkin’s “little tragedy” “Mozart and Salieri”.
Yesenin had a presentiment of his imminent death; anxious doubts did not leave him until his death. Like Mozart, he, Yesenin, also saw a certain ominous black man on the eve of his death. In November 1925, the poet reworked the poem to the end, leaving it as we see it now. How does the bad Black man torment the lyrical hero?
The poem opens with an appeal that the poet will repeat in his dying poem: “My friend, my friend,” the lyrical hero begins to confess, “I am very, very sick...”. We understand that we are talking about mental suffering. The metaphor is expressive: the head is compared to a bird trying to fly away, “It can no longer bear to loom its legs on its neck.” What's going on? During a time of tormenting insomnia, a mystical Black man comes to the hero and sits on his bed: 
Black man,
Black, black,
Black man
He sits on my bed,
Black man
Doesn't let me sleep all night.
Black man
Runs his finger over the disgusting book
And, nasal at me,
Like a monk over the deceased,
Reads my life
Some kind of scoundrel and drunkard,
Causing melancholy and fear into the soul.
Several times, as if in delirium, Yesenin repeats the color designation “black,” thickening the colors even more, reflecting the entire tragedy of the situation. From the above passage one can see a ghostly Black man reading the “vile book” of life, as if scolding the lyrical hero for his sins, calling him a “scoundrel and a bogeyman.” The Bible, in the Revelation of John the Theologian, says that, reading the Book of Life, God judges each person according to his deeds. The letters in the hands of Yesenin’s Black Man demonstrate that the devil also closely monitors the destinies of people.
It should be noted that the Black Man, as a manifestation of a devilish, sinister force, reads only the most negative and gloomy moments from the book, trying to ridicule everything and turn it inside out.
We see the Black Man's story about the life of Yesenin himself, written with deep self-irony, even self-disgust. In the person of the Black Man, the author bitterly ridicules himself for the fact that he could not realize “many wonderful thoughts and plans”, for his simplicity of soul, for openness, honesty, or even childish naivety, for grace... The Black Man did not bypass the way of life in society, the system that Yesenin opposed completely alone, trying to bring light, joy and love in his work:
This person
Lived in the country
The most disgusting
Thugs and charlatans.
And just below follow the lines that have become a famous aphorism, which perfectly reflect the entire survival instructions in the existing “order”:
In thunderstorms, in storms,
Into everyday shame,
In case of bereavement
And when you're sad,
Seem smiling and simple -
The highest art in the world."
The hero tries to drive away the Black man:
“...What do I care about life?
Scandalous poet.
Please others
Read and tell."
It is noteworthy that even in moments of torment of the soul of the Black Man, the poet is able to notice what is happening outside the window. This is “the wind that whistles over an empty and deserted field”, this is “horses are trees”, this is “the cry of an ominous night bird”. When reading the poem, one involuntarily recalls Pushkin’s lines from the poem “Demons”, depicting a similar tense situation for us: restless nature, blizzard, frost, gloomy and blurry outlines. Subtle landscape sketches also convey the psychological state of the lyrical hero: loneliness - the cry of a bird (by the way, according to popular superstitions and beliefs, this has always been an unkind sign); anxiety - blizzard; anxiety, excitement - “the hoofbeat of wooden horsemen.” Even in his beloved Russian nature, the poet cannot find consolation for himself; it seems to be a reflection of his mental torment.
The image of a night crossroads is reminiscent of the Christian symbolism of the cross, connecting all directions of space and time, and contains the pagan idea of the crossroads as a place of unclean conspiracies and enchantments. The word “window” is etymologically connected in Russian with the word “oko”. This is the eye of the hut through which light pours into it. The night window resembles a mirror where everyone sees their own reflection. So in the poem there is a hint of who this Black man really is. Now the mockery of the night guest takes on a more specific connotation: we are talking about a poet who was born “maybe in Ryazan” (Yesenin was born there), about a fair-haired peasant boy “with blue eyes.”
The composition of the work is similar to circles in a closed ring. The lyrical hero, whose soul is squeezed by the ring of despair, wanders inside him in the circles of torture of the Black man. What are these circles? Twice he mentions “some woman of forty-odd years”, twice the stanza beginning with the words “my friend, my friend….I am very, very sick...” is repeated twice, the Black man “mumbles, listen, listen...” twice. Thus, the hero rushes about, unable to find a way out not only from the circles of internal contradictions, but also from the outer ring of reality, he is also unable to escape.
The final answer to who the black man is is revealed to the reader only at the end of the poem, when the “furious and enraged” hero throws his cane at the devil who was tormenting him and is left alone with himself and the broken mirror. A broken mirror is not only a symbol of misfortune and imminent death. This is a rather multifaceted image, reflecting both one’s own face and internal contradictions, it is a magical object that takes a person to another world, through the looking glass, but where there is witchcraft, there is also devilry.
Practicing literary criticism in our time is not at all safe: you need to have nerves of steel.
What a surprise it was when, after the first paragraphs, it became clear that this was some kind of nonsense, an empty, incoherent text.
After I recovered from the stress and my head stopped waving my ears on my neck and legs, I decided to return again to the poem by the brilliant poet Sergei Yesenin “The Black Man” in order to write a review.
I remembered one of Dmitry Bykov’s video lessons on this poem. Once again I really enjoyed the lecture. I consider this writer to be a talented person. That is why many mediocrities and mediocrities envy him. This conclusion does not apply to objective critics of his multifaceted work.
However, I blindly cannot accept completely some of D. Bykov’s conclusions. Although he speaks not entirely flatteringly about Soviet literary scholars, he himself partly admits their mistake. The strength of Bykov's speech lies in the facts indirectly related to the poem. For example, about the relationship between Yesenin and Mayakovsky. About the fact that the “black man” is not so rare among celebrities: Mozart, Nekrasov, Vysotsky had it...
Until now, I have not found full reviews of the famous poem by S. Yesenin, with the exception of crafts similar to the one I found in the Literary Russia newspaper. The critics haven’t said a word about the poem itself, its essence. Marvelous.
It is known that Yesenin began writing “The Black Man” at the end of 1923, and the final version is dated November 14, 1925. On December 28 of the same year, the poet passed away. According to the official version, he committed suicide.
I would like to point out right away that it is stupid to make absentee diagnoses. Bykov does this, pinning the poet in his last years of life with dementia. Also, a certain “theme of duality” in Russian poetry does not interest me. Only the text of the poem and related information.
The wild, cheerful life of Sergei Yesenin is known. But not everything was smooth sailing. The poet’s emotional personality was constantly exposed to the aggressive influence of the environment and... alcohol. It is clear that by 1923 he felt the need for revelation. This is how the idea of “The Black Man” appeared. Ultimately, after the reduction, there were three parts left: two main parts and one short final one, revealing the author’s main technique. Not a single critic whose work I found paid attention to this.
Poems, poems - not prose. They should be read separately. “The Black Man” leaves a lasting impression on emotional people. The author skillfully used tonic versification and dolnik (uneven) as a meter. When reading the poem - I read it several times - I noticed the style of V. Mayakovsky that appeared in places. I found a hint in Bykov’s lecture: the poets were competitors and at the same time could not live without each other. That’s why the “black man” – and even the lyrical hero – sometimes speaks through the mouth of Mayakovsky. In general, the poem is strong in form, content, style, means of expression...
Almost every stanza is autonomous, but together they form a single whole. The opinion that the poet has a split consciousness (split personality) is erroneous. The author simply uses a literary device and brings it to perfection. The action of the play actually takes place before us. This is the beginning of it - an appeal to a specific reader (viewer). It should be remembered that poetry in the time of S. Yesenin was to some extent pop. That is, authors or readers performed works from the stage, at evenings in company... This is the most perfect form of communication with the audience. It was not for nothing that during the thaw of the sixties, poets in the Soviet Union attracted thousands, and tens of thousands of listeners in stadiums. That's how it should be. Only then will many readers learn to consume and understand poetry. D. Bykov, as I understand it, had the opportunity to hear recordings of Yesenin’s poems performed by the author. He skillfully demonstrated Yesenin's style and voice by reading an excerpt from the poem. Surprisingly, I read “The Black Man” almost the way Yesenin once did.
My friend, my friend,
I am very, very sick.
I don’t know where this pain came from.
Is the wind whistling
Over an empty and deserted field,
Just like a grove in September,
Alcohol showers your brain.
This is how the poem begins. It is immediately clear that the lyrical hero (in whom the author is easily discerned) is determined to achieve maximum revelation. The hero doesn’t just say that he has a headache from a hangover, but “I’m very, very sick.” This is somewhat broader than a headache.
What can you observe in the first part of the poem?
The lyrical hero suffers from insomnia. But not banal, when different thoughts come into your head. A black man comes to him, sits on his bed and does not let him sleep all night long, which can be taken as both a hallucination and a dream.
There may seem to be an element of delirium in the second stanza. This concerns the head, which flaps its ears. However, it is obvious that the poet chose this form of showing (means of expression) his condition.
Critics argue over the lines “She has legs on her neck // I can’t bear to loom any longer.” Perhaps the editors, when first published in 1926, made a mistake by mistaking the letter “h” for “g” and instead of “night” it turned out to be “legs”. But what is the “neck of the night”? Yes, and it can loom before your eyes or against the background of something. It looks like these lines will remain a mystery. In general, some problematic areas of the poem, including this, can be attributed to Yesenin’s condition in the last years of his life.
It should be noted that it was in 1921–1923 that quite significant events took place in Yesenin’s life: marriage to dancer Isadora Duncan, trips abroad, relatively long stay in the USA. After returning from America in August 1923, his marriage to Duncan broke up a short time later. It seems that this knocked Yesenin down. He could also feel the contrast between life in Russia and the United States.
And in the third stanza, the goal of the uninvited night guest becomes clear: he reads lines as if from the Book of Fates, concerning a certain person very similar to Yesenin.
The author and the lyrical hero should be separated. The latter seems to have nothing in common with the poet: he does not recognize himself in the stranger described by the black man. Perhaps this is done deliberately - the author does not want to admit his unsightly image.
It is interesting that the man from the book “has many wonderful thoughts and plans.” It is boldly said about the country of the Soviets - the country of “the most disgusting thugs and charlatans.” What! 1925
The mention of December in the fifth stanza looks somewhat mystical. The poet just died this month, but... two years after he began working on the poem.
The black man persistently continues to characterize the unknown: “an adventurer, but of the highest and best brand,” “elegant, and also a poet,” small but tenacious strength... He talks about a sweet woman of over forty years old... About “broken and deceitful gestures.” This is precisely the external side of S. Yesenin’s behavior that does not correspond to his internal state. In general, the hero must already identify himself. But... the performance continues, and he reprimands the guest, continuing to distance himself from the man from the book:
"Black man!
Don't you dare do this!
You're not on duty
You live as a diver.
What do I care about life?
Scandalous poet.
Please others
Read and tell."
And here is the last stanza of the first part, before the curtain closes.
Black man
He looks at me point blank.
And the eyes become covered
Blue vomit, -
As if he wants to tell me
That I'm a swindler and a thief,
So shameless and brazen
The final four lines are noteworthy. How does the hero know what the black man wanted to tell him and who the hero (poet) could have robbed? In the future, you can understand - to rob yourself.
Yesenin uses in the poem perhaps the most important and important means of expressiveness - repetition. The second part begins with exactly the same stanza as the first. Repetition usually emphasizes the importance of events or conditions and focuses attention on them.
The first part ended like a dream. It is replaced by something else. Now the hero is at the window, looking at the snow-covered space in front of him. He is lonely: “I’m not expecting a guest or a friend.” The author seems to emphasize his loneliness and the winter of life, the feeling of the end.
The situation is not entirely ordinary. “Somewhere an ominous night bird is crying.” Remember: “somewhere an oriole is crying, hiding in a hollow.” It turns out that this bird can scream at night with the voice of a small lost kitten.
Wooden horsemen appear. In general, the author gradually builds up fear, and for good reason. The black man is right there again, sitting in the hero’s chair. Now you can find out what he looks like: in a frock coat and top hat. This time he is more free and unceremonious: he wheezes, brazenly looks into the hero’s face and leans closer and closer to him.
I will note one point: there is a moon outside the window. I'll come back to it later. In the meantime, the black man simply mocks the lyrical hero, calling him a scoundrel suffering from insomnia, who will read “his dead languid lyrics” to a lady “with thick thighs” if she secretly comes to the hero. Here and earlier we are most likely talking about Isadora Duncan.
Then the insolent guest speaks indecently about the poets. He gives an example with a long-haired freak who talks to a pimply student about the worlds, “sexually exhausted.” Some critics see Sergei Yesenin in the long-haired poet. It’s hard to believe this, since he was good-looking, even handsome. Unless the poet considered himself a moral monster. Among modern Russian poets, some believe that the “long-haired freak” is K. Balmont.
Events are moving towards a denouement. The black man continues to talk about a boy, either from Kaluga or from Ryazan (again distancing himself from Yesenin), yellow-haired, with blue eyes. Once again there is a repeat about a woman “over forty years old”... The hero cannot stand it, breaks down and throws the cane right at the uninvited guest’s face, at the bridge of his nose...
This ends the second part, the second act. A curtain.
And here is the most important thing: a denouement that brings order to a seemingly disordered party.
...The month has died
The dawn is turning blue through the window.
Oh, night!
What have you done, night?
I'm standing in a top hat.
There is no one with me.
I am alone…
And a broken mirror...
Thus ended one of the sleepless nights of the lyrical hero, which distorted the unimaginable.
A natural question arises: where are the signs of the author’s mental disorder? I see a masterful work of the highest standard, created in a sound mind. It wouldn't have happened otherwise. At most, the poet could be under the influence of alcohol. This is really a poem that shows Yesenin’s attitude towards his life, his personality. Tough, uncompromising. Therefore, the poet chose a form of communication with himself. There is a “screen” technique in psychology (NLP), which allows you to look at yourself from the outside. Yesenin went further - he used role-playing game, placing part of his “I” in a black man, or in other words, he delegated part of “I” to him. And you don't need to be crazy for this. Many people use this method in life.
Only at the end of the poem does the author show that the lyrical hero was communicating with himself: the mirror is broken, the black man has disappeared, and the hero is standing in a top hat by the mirror. The black man disappeared here and now, in the morning, after the hero woke up from sleep or nap. But perhaps a new mirror will appear on the wall, and then there is a chance that the unpleasant uninvited guest will visit the hero again. Or maybe those month and a half before the tragedy, the mirror did not appear, and the poet was forced to fight the black man he discovered within himself.
At some point, Yesenin will decide to put an end to this vile entity. It is known how he did this.
My friend, my friend,
I am very, very sick.
Is the wind whistling
Just like a grove in September,
Alcohol showers your brain.
My head is waving my ears,
Like a bird with wings,
Her legs are on her neck
I can't bear to loom any longer.
Black man,
Black, black,
Black man
He sits on my bed,
Black man
Doesn't let me sleep all night.
Black man
Runs his finger over the disgusting book
And, nasal at me,
Like a monk over the deceased,
Reads my life
Some kind of scoundrel and drunkard,
Causing melancholy and fear into the soul.
Black man,
Black, black...
“Listen, listen,”
He mutters to me, -
There are many beautiful things in the book
Thoughts and plans.
This person
Lived in the country
The most disgusting
Thugs and charlatans.
In December in that country
The snow is pure as hell
And the snowstorms start
Fun spinning wheels.
There was that man who was an adventurer,
But the highest
And the best brand.
He was graceful
Moreover, he is a poet
At least with a small
But with a grasping force,
And some woman
More than forty years old
Called me a bad girl
And with your sweetheart."
“Happiness,” he said, “
There is dexterity of mind and hand.
All the awkward souls
The unfortunate ones are always known.
It's nothing,
What a lot of torment
They bring the broken ones
And deceitful gestures.
In thunderstorms, in storms,
Into everyday shame,
In case of bereavement
And when you're sad,
Seem smiling and simple -
The highest art in the world."
"Black man!
Don't you dare do this!
You're not on duty
You live as a diver.
What do I care about life
Scandalous poet.
Please others
Read and tell."
Black man
He looks at me point blank.
And the eyes become covered
Blue vomit.
As if he wants to tell me
That I'm a swindler and a thief,
So shameless and brazen
Robbed someone.
…………………
…………………
My friend, my friend,
I am very, very sick.
I don’t know where this pain came from.
Is the wind whistling
Over an empty and deserted field,
Just like a grove in September,
Alcohol showers your brain.
Frosty night...
The quiet of the crossroads.
I'm alone at the window
I'm not expecting a guest or a friend.
The whole plain is covered
Loose and soft lime,
And the trees are like horsemen,
We gathered in our garden.
Somewhere she's crying
Night ominous bird,
Wooden riders
They sow hoofbeats.
Here's that black one again
He sits on my chair,
Raising your top hat
And casually throwing off his frock coat.
“Listen, listen! -
He wheezes, looking into my face.
I'm getting closer myself
And he leans closer. -
I haven't seen anyone
Of the scoundrels
So unnecessary and stupid
Suffered from insomnia.
Ah, let's say I was wrong!
After all, today is the moon.
What else is needed?
To the sleepy little world?
Maybe with thick thighs
“She” will come secretly
And you will read
Your dead, languid lyrics?
Oh, I love poets!
Funny people!
I always find in them
A story familiar to my heart,
Like a pimply student
Long haired freak
Speaks of worlds
Sexually exhausted.
I don't know, I don't remember
In one village,
Maybe in Kaluga,
Or maybe in Ryazan,
Once upon a time there lived a boy
In a simple peasant family,
Yellow-haired,
With blue eyes…
And now he became an adult,
Moreover, he is a poet
At least with a small
But with a grasping force,
And some woman
More than forty years old
Called me a bad girl
And with your sweetheart."
"Black man!
You are a terrible guest!
This glory has long been
It's spreading about you."
I'm furious, furious
And my cane flies
Straight to his face
On the bridge of the nose...
………………….
...The month has died
The dawn is turning blue through the window.
Oh, you night!
What have you done, night!
I'm standing in a top hat.
There is no one with me.
I am alone…
And a broken mirror...
Some time after the death of S. Yesenin, his last work was published - the poem “The Black Man”. It's no secret that the poet had a presentiment of his death several years in advance, which he often mentioned in his poems. And this monumental work was no exception: in it the author prophesies death and the spiritual crisis that became its forerunner.
Yesenin began working on this poem back in 1923, but, according to his contemporaries, it turned out to be too big and gloomy. What prompted the author to shorten it remains a mystery, but even in its simplified version the work is shocking with its depressiveness and depth of suffering. The history of the creation of the poem “The Black Man” is closely intertwined with its plot. At that time, the poet already had problems with alcohol, which were also reflected in the text. His loved ones were seriously worried about him, because every day the internal discord became more obvious, the work became darker, and the creator himself behaved more and more nervously and restlessly.
Work on the creation of the work began during the American tour, after which a continuous black streak began in the poet’s life. He felt that the new government was alien to him, that Soviet Russia did not need him, that everyone was waiting for the subtle lyricism of his poetry to replace revolutionary marches. In addition, there was a bitter aftertaste from the breakup with Isadora Duncan. All these events and moods formed the basis of the poem. In 1925, “The Black Man” was completed, and was published for the first time in the magazine “New World” for January 1926.
Genre, size and composition
The creation is an appeal, a message from the lyrical hero to a friend, to whom he informs from the very beginning that he is “very sick.” The monologues of the man in black are written in the same form, in which he addresses the author of the letter. Using this method, Yesenin shows the attitude to life of two characters. The composition in the poem “The Black Man” is dialogical, reminiscent of a play - it represents a conversation between two characters, in which the poet’s remarks are interspersed, indicating what should happen on stage during the conversation. There is also a prologue and an epilogue: an introduction (address to a friend) and a conclusion (the disappearance of the guest and the debunking of the mirage). The main part is divided into two actions.
The theatrical composition is not typical for this kind of work, because the genre chosen by Yesenin is the lyric epic poem. It shows not only the internal state of the narrator, but also depicts his story, that is, a very specific plot appears.
The work is written using a tonic versification system based on an equal number of stresses in a line. The size of the poem “Black Man” is dolniks.
Issues
- Disappointment. The main question that the author raises is a critical look from the outside at his own insignificance. A kind of summing up of life. The man in the top hat is not the personification of death; he does not want to harm the lyrical hero. With the help of his image, the poet wants to look at himself from the outside, to realize how he lives. The poem became Yesenin’s full-scale confession before his death. Accordingly, the main problem of “The Black Man” is revealed to us - disappointment in oneself.
- Alcoholism. In the epilogue, the author dispelled dark fantasies; his judge turned out to be a leading man, an alcoholic nightmare. He very self-critically notes that he was at war with the mirror, that is, the black man is his alter ego, which exposed itself. Other considerations come to him under the influence of alcohol, and it is obvious that the effect of hallucination completely took over the narrator for some time. And he himself admits that he is already sick of it.
- Debunking love. “The nasty girl of over forty” is Isadora Duncan, a dancer with whom Yesenin had an affair. It ended, and the poet realized that he was mistaken in his feelings, and, perhaps, in his beloved. In any case, he sarcastically mocks his passion, showing the contrast between who he imagined and who he really was with.
- Disappointment in creativity. The author calls his lyrics “dead and languid,” emphasizing that they only serve to seduce pimply female students.
What's the point?
By introducing a double into the book, who, according to the writer’s idea, says the most terrible things about the lyrical hero, the poet exposes all his vices. A.S. Pushkin once wrote about the difficulty of confessing in public, and I would like to say that Yesenin managed to fully express his sincerity in this matter, despite the difficulty. He spared neither love, nor creativity, nor himself. The meaning of the poem “Black Man” is an attempt to ease the soul before death. The author believed in only one god - art, so he presented his final repentance to him.
His soul was scorched like the field that he wanted to tell Shagana. He takes turns to violate everything that is dear to him and devastates his heart, he does not want to feel pain and disappointment anymore. His creativity dried up, his stormy life burned him out, because he lived for three people - there were so many impressions in his life. But he did not leave without a trace; in the last lines he breathed his entire essence, giving it immortality.
Means of expression
The poet actively uses such means of artistic expression as metaphors: “Alcohol showers the brain.” This is how he depicts the autumn of his own life, the withering and death of body and soul. The suicidal comparison also remains not indifferent, as if the author was already thinking about hanging:
My head is waving my ears,
Like a bird with wings.
She can no longer bear the presence of her legs on her neck.And, nasal at me,
Like a monk over the dead
Epithets evoking melancholy and fear are also presented in abundance in the work: “sinister bird”, “broken and deceitful gestures”. Also, there were personifications that interpret nature in unison with the poet’s gloomy worldview: “wooden horsemen”, “What have you screwed up, night?” In addition, jargon is striking, which adds drama and frankness to the narrative: “crook”, “muzzle”, “scoundrel”, etc.
But the kings of the means of artistic expression in the poem “The Black Man” are repetitions, not only lexical, but also compositional (the first and second parts begin with the words “my friend, my friend...”). For example: “listen, listen”, “black man, black man”, etc.
Black Man - Yesenin's Requiem
The poem became the most merciless self-accusation in Russian literature. Many compare this creation with Mozart's Requiem, the last work of the great composer, in which he expressed the abyss of his despair. Yesenin did the same in “The Black Man,” which is why the book is so attractive to his biographers.
In every line one feels the inevitability of what is happening; from the very beginning he talks about his poor health, and not physical, but mental. At the end, a secret is revealed to us: the man in coal gloves is the lyrical hero. He realizes the bitterness of the situation from which there is no way out. Endless self-deception, hypocrisy in public, designed to demonstrate to everyone that everything is fine - all this led him to a dead end. Pride did not allow me to complain or seek leniency. The narrator carefully hid the drama of his soul, no one helped him cope with it, and now he doesn’t even have the strength to ask for friendly participation, he never finished his message, because phantoms overcome him. “The greatest art in the world” turned into the greatest suffering in the world, which he could only express posthumously.
Interesting? Save it on your wall!My friend, my friend,
I am very, very sick.
Is the wind whistling
Over an empty and deserted field,
Just like a grove in September,
Alcohol showers your brain.
My head is waving my ears,
Like a bird with wings.
Her legs are on her neck
I can't bear to loom any longer.
Black man,
Black, black,
Black man
He sits on my bed,
Black man
Doesn't let me sleep all night.
Black man
Runs his finger over the disgusting book
And, nasal at me,
Like a monk over the deceased,
Reads my life
Some kind of scoundrel and drunkard,
Causing melancholy and fear into the soul.
Black man
Black, black...
"Listen, listen,"
He mutters to me, -
There are many beautiful things in the book
Thoughts and plans.
This person
Lived in the country
The most disgusting
Thugs and charlatans.
In December in that country
The snow is pure as hell
And the snowstorms start
Fun spinning wheels.
There was that man who was an adventurer,
But the highest
And the best brand.
He was graceful
Moreover, he is a poet
At least with a small
But with a grasping force,
And some woman
More than forty years old
Called me a bad girl
And with your sweetheart."
“Happiness,” he said, “
There is dexterity of mind and hand.
All the awkward souls
The unfortunate ones are always known.
It's nothing,
What a lot of torment
They bring the broken ones
And deceitful gestures.
In thunderstorms, in storms,
Into everyday shame,
In case of bereavement
And when you're sad,
Seem smiling and simple -
The highest art in the world."
"Black man!
Don't you dare do this!
You're not on duty
You live as a diver.
What do I care about life
Scandalous poet.
Please others
Read and tell."
Black man
He looks at me point blank.
And the eyes become covered
Blue vomit.
As if he wants to tell me
That I'm a swindler and a thief,
So shameless and brazen
Robbed someone.
. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . .
My friend, my friend,
I am very, very sick.
I don’t know where this pain came from.
Is the wind whistling
Over an empty and deserted field,
Just like a grove in September,
Alcohol showers your brain.
Frosty night...
The quiet of the crossroads.
I'm alone at the window
I'm not expecting a guest or a friend.
The whole plain is covered
Loose and soft lime,
And the trees are like horsemen,
We gathered in our garden.
Somewhere she's crying
Night ominous bird.
Wooden riders
They sow hoofbeats.
Here's that black one again
He sits on my chair,
Raising your top hat
And casually throwing off his frock coat.
"Listen, listen! -
He wheezes, looking into my face,
I'm getting closer myself
And leans closer.-
I haven't seen anyone
Of the scoundrels
So unnecessary and stupid
Suffered from insomnia.
Ah, let's say I was wrong!
After all, today is the moon.
What else is needed?
To the sleepy little world?
Maybe with thick thighs
Your dead, languid lyrics?
Oh, I love poets!
Funny people.
I always find in them
A story familiar to my heart,
Like a pimply student
Long haired freak
Speaks of worlds
Sexually exhausted.
I don't know, I don't remember
In one village,
Maybe in Kaluga,
Or maybe in Ryazan,
Once upon a time there lived a boy
In a simple peasant family,
Yellow-haired,
With blue eyes...
And now he became an adult,
Moreover, he is a poet
At least with a small
But with a grasping force,
And some woman
More than forty years old
Called me a bad girl
And with your sweetheart."
"Black man!
You are a terrible guest!
This is fame for a long time
It's spreading about you."
I'm furious, furious
And my cane flies
Straight to his face
On the bridge of the nose...
. . . . . . . . . .
The month has died
The dawn is turning blue through the window.
Oh, night!
What have you done, night?
I'm standing in a top hat.
There is no one with me.
And - a broken mirror...
Analysis of Yesenin's poem "Black Man"
The original version was longer and more tragic. The poet’s wife, Sofya Tolstaya-Yesenina, told how he read the poem immediately after writing: “It seemed like his heart would break.” It is unknown what prompted Yesenin to destroy and leave the abridged version, however, it is also filled with its depressive power.
Attempts by an inflamed consciousness to analyze oneself, split personality, alcoholic delirium. Work on the poem lasted a long time, “Black Man” is not a stream of thoughts that poured onto paper overnight. The idea arose during Yesenin’s foreign trips, where he, who loved his native land to the point of frenzy, felt like a stranger. The black melancholy, which by those days was increasingly overpowering the poet, intensified this feeling and gave terrible inspiration.
The year the poem was completed was 1925, the last year of Yesenin’s life. And only the premonition of the end of life’s journey can give a work such depressing colors.
At the beginning of the poem there is an appeal “My friend, my friend”, the same as in his last poem, created before his death. The reader immediately becomes involved in the action of the poem, as if listening to the confession of a friend. The hero of the poem does not spare himself and from the first lines admits that the cause of mental illness and the arrival of the “black man” may be alcohol, and then he speaks of promiscuity and self-deception. And this recognition makes you sincerely feel sorry for such a person.
The painful metaphor “The head flaps its ears like a bird’s wings,” and “it can no longer bear the looming legs on its neck,” refers to suicidal thoughts, and the next refrain “black man” intensifies the mood to the limit, preparing for its appearance. That's it, he's come! He sits down on the bed... and then - a scattering of unpleasant words that enhance the gloomy mood: “vile”, “nasally”, “deceased”, “longing”, “fear”.
The direct speech of the “black man,” this second “I” of the hero of the poem, is perceived as a revelation, a confession of what the soul is trying to hide. Not only reproach, but also praise: “an adventurer of the best brand”, “a poet with tenacious strength”... and then a caustic mockery - about “a woman of over forty years old, a bad girl, his dear.” The hero listens without interrupting, and the black man explains the poet’s life and reveals self-deception: in melancholy and despondency he tries his best to appear smiling and simple, and tries to pass it off as happiness. Here his speech is interrupted: the lyrical hero refuses to recognize himself in the eerie portrait. And the black man, looking point blank, wants to call him a swindler and a thief, but - pause, the terrible guest disappears.
The second part of the poem begins with a repetition of the initial melancholy stanza. Quiet winter landscape, night, the hero is waiting for no one. And suddenly the horror creeps up again: “an ominous bird”, “wooden horsemen”, and - “again this black one sits on my chair”, now described more clearly, in a top hat and frock coat. The denunciation of the hero is repeated, a scattering of words “scoundrel”, “unnecessary”, “stupid”, “dead languid lyrics”. At the climax of the poem, the black man attacks what is most important, the essence of inspiration and poetry. And so that there is no longer any doubt about who the uninvited guest is referring to, an exact description follows: “a boy in a simple peasant family, yellow-haired, with blue eyes... he has become an adult, and also a poet.” And the hero cannot stand it: enraged, enraged, he throws the cane “straight to his face, into the bridge of his nose.”
Next comes a dramatic denouement, striking in its unexpectedness. “What have you done, night? I'm standing in a top hat. There is no one with me. I am alone... And a broken mirror...” Two details: the top hat that the “black man” was wearing and the mirror undoubtedly indicate that the hero was having a terrible conversation with himself. The picture of exposure and censure becomes more tragic: how, being aware of all this and diligently hiding it from oneself, was it possible not to go crazy and continue to write?
The poem is Yesenin’s frank confession; he himself becomes close and understandable. And even his death appears in a different light after reading “The Black Man” - the poet’s requiem to himself.