V. Mayakovsky only managed to write the introduction to the poem “At the top of his voice.” In the center of the introduction is the personality of the poet himself, addressing his descendants, introducing himself to them - a creator, “a sewer man and a water carrier,” “mobilized and called up by the revolution,” “an agitator, a loud-mouthed leader.” The poet rejects chamber creativity, created by various “curly-haired Mithreikas” and “wise-wise Curly-haired women” who “mandolin from under the walls: / “tara-tina, tara-tina, / t-en-n...”. He affirms the significance of the poetry of work, of the laborer, which is the result of exhausting, but noble, labor that overcomes and conquers time.
V. Mayakovsky equates poetry not only with menial hard work, but also with “an old but formidable weapon”; he believes that it should not caress “the ear with words”, please the ears of girls, but serve, like a warrior, “the planet to the proletarian.” To confirm this main thesis, the work uses an extensive metaphorical comparison of artistic creativity with a military review - a parade in which poems, poems, witticisms, and rhymes take part.
The work affirms the importance of poetry serving the working class, draped in a red flag, born in battles and battles (“When / under bullets / the bourgeoisie ran from us, / as we / once / ran from them”).
The second idea of the introduction is about the unselfishness of artistic creativity, which sounds especially active in the final part of the work. V. Mayakovsky expresses himself laconically, emotionally, his words sound like an oath of allegiance to the people and descendants.
And one more idea runs through the work - a polemical, critical attitude towards “poetic grabbers and burners”, towards supporters of lightweight poetry, not programmed for “menial labor”.
In terms of genre, the poem was conceived as lyrical and journalistic, but the introduction to it takes the form of a monologue, written in the best traditions of eloquence and oratory. Hence the numerous appeals (“Dear comrades, descendants!”, “Listen, comrades, descendants”), repetitions (“We discovered...”, “We taught dialectics...”), inversions (“I’m not used to caressing my ear with words.” ). However, in general, the introduction maintains direct word order.
As in his previous works, V. Mayakovsky successfully uses expressive tropes - epithets (“an old but formidable weapon”, “the poems stand leaden-heavy”, “yawning titles”), metaphors (“a swarm of questions”, “tuberculosis spits”, “the throat of our own song”, “line front”), comparisons (“poetry is a capricious woman”, “We opened / Marx / each volume / as in our own house / we open the shutters”).
In the style of V. Mayakovsky, in the introduction to the poem - the use of the author’s original, root, compound rhymes: “descendants - darkness”, “questions swarm - damp”, “water carrier - gardening”, “descendants - volumes”, “provityaz - governments”, “hunt comes”, etc. Many of the poet’s rhymes are innovative, consonant, in which the consonance of consonant sounds is observed. V. Mayakovsky often rhymes different parts of speech. The great master word-maker cannot do without neologisms (“vyzhigi” - burners of life, “consumptive spitting”, “don’t get excited” (from the word “scarlet”), “worked”, “mandolin”).
Mayakovsky's poem "At the top of his voice" was written by the author in poetic form. With great regret, the poem was not published, so readers were not given the opportunity to familiarize themselves with it. The poem was written back in the 30s, which was exhibited as an exhibit at an exhibition of Mayakovsky’s twenty years of creativity. According to Mayakovsky, the first lines of the poem were written as a reflection of the essence of the poet’s work, which became the start of the author’s creative work. The idea behind writing “At the Top of My Voice” was to look at myself from the future: “Dear comrades and descendants! Studying the darkness of our days.”
From these lines it is immediately clear that the poet writes them for the future generation, and also talks about himself. But Mayakovsky also writes lines, simply indulging in poetry, but joking a little at the woman who planted the garden: “I planted a nice garden, daughter, dacha, water and smooth, I’ll water it myself.”
With his poems, the poet seriously fought for the communist cause, neither fearing the government nor secret organizations. With lines from his poems, he simply pierced the soul of the Soviet people: “The troops unfolded in parade on my pages. The poems stand leaden-heavy.”
During the revolution, everything changed very quickly. This meant that Mayakovsky must enter this pace, join the people, and together with them rebuild the world in a new, socialist direction. With his poetry he moved forward, and at the same time he set this movement for others. Recognizing this poetry meant making your intentions real, striving step by step towards a bright, wonderful future.
With these lines the poet ended his poem “At the top of his voice”: “I will raise, like a Bolshevik party card, all one hundred volumes of my party books.” His poems made me think about many things. They awakened the people to act, which, according to his plan, the poet strove for.
Mayakovsky’s poem “At the top of his voice,” strictly speaking, is not such a thing: the poet wrote only an introduction, but both critics and literary scholars consider it a full-fledged work. A brief analysis of “At the Top of Your Voice” according to plan will help 11th grade students understand why literary scholars think so, as well as better appreciate the artistic perfection of the work. In a literature lesson, this analysis can be used both as main and additional material.
Brief Analysis
History of creation- the introduction to the poem was written by Vladimir Vladimirovich in the winter of 1929-1930. Thus, the poet embodied his desire to address the modern reader and descendants without intermediaries.
Theme of the poem– the author’s creative credo and the results of twenty years of poetic work.
Composition- one-part, throughout the entire poem the poet develops the same idea.
Genre- lyrical and journalistic poem.
Poetic size– tonic verse.
Epithets – “an old but formidable weapon”, “poems stand leaden-heavy”, “yawning titles”.
Metaphors – “a swarm of questions”, “tuberculosis spitting out”, “the throat of one’s own song”, “a line front”.
Comparisons – “poetry is a capricious woman”, “we opened Marx every volume, like we open the shutters in our own house”.
History of creation
The work was written shortly before the suicide of its author. This was the period when Mayakovsky was preparing for a special exhibition dedicated to the twentieth anniversary of his work. But this seemingly joyful time, in fact, turned out to be gloomy for him - there was a lot of criticism, many colleagues and critics made harsh statements against him.
Apparently, this gave rise to Vladimir Vladimirovich’s desire to talk directly with his reader. He conceived a grandiose work - the poem “At the top of his voice”, but only wrote its introduction. He was unable or did not want to work further on the work: the poem with the subtitle “First Introduction to the Poem” was completed in January 1930, and already in April a tragic suicide occurred.
The work is called a poem only by tradition, but this is quite significant.
Subject
At the end of his life (although it is unknown whether the poet was already planning his suicide then), Mayakovsky once again turned to the important topic of creativity for himself - more precisely, its purpose and its place in the creative process. He chooses a difficult path - to tell only the truth about himself and the time in which he lives. And he speaks - harshly and without excessive politeness.
Composition
In his work, Vladimir Vladimirovich acts both as an author and as a lyrical hero. He promotes a rejection of art as an aesthetic approach, talks about the social component of poetry, and even calls himself a “sewage man-water carrier,” that is, on the one hand, he gives people what they need, on the other hand, he often deals with the most unsightly side of reality .
The main idea of the poem is to accurately express Mayakovsky’s creative credo: poetry is work, it should motivate people, there is no place for prettiness, it is part of life, everyday life.
The poet says that there is poetry that is closed in its philistinism, like flowers in a master's garden. It is created simply for the sake of beautiful words and has neither a social burden nor the right to tell people how to live and what to do. But his poetry is not like that, it is a weapon. And the poet is her servant-commander, who brings out the words at the solemn military parade.
At the same time, he does not seek rewards or recognition; his army may even die completely. The main thing is victory, namely, a harmonious, healthy and fair society.
Genre
Although “At the Top of Your Voice” belongs somewhat conventionally to the genre of poem, the work still turned out to be quite epic. In this case, the main thing is the scale of the thought, which, although embodied in a small poem in comparison with the poem, does not lose its strength and grandeur.
Using the tonic system of versification, Mayakovsky, as usual, emphasizes rhythm and verbal stress. He singles out those words that, in his opinion, best express the thought and allow him to express the rebellious moods and vivid emotions that overwhelm the poet.
Means of expression
In addition to the neologisms characteristic of his poetic word, Vladimir Vladimirovich also uses familiar artistic tropes, making them bright and harsh. So, the work uses:
- Epithets- “an old but formidable weapon”, “the poems stand leaden-heavy”, “yawning titles”.
- Metaphors– “a swarm of questions”, “tuberculosis spits out”, “the throat of one’s own song”, “a line front”.
- Comparisons- “poetry is a capricious woman”, “we opened Marx every volume, like we open the shutters in our own house.”
Thanks to them, the poem seems to be carved into eternal granite, preserving the memory of Mayakovsky the poet.
Poem test
Rating analysis
Average rating: 4.4. Total ratings received: 17.
Dear
Comrade descendants!
Swarming
in today's
petrified g.....,
our days studying the darkness,
You,
Maybe,
ask about me too.
And perhaps he will say
your scientist,
cut with erudition
a swarm of questions,
that there once lived such a thing
singer boiled
and an ardent enemy of raw water.
Professor,
take off your bicycle glasses!
I'll tell you myself
about the time
and about myself.
I, the sewer man
and a water carrier,
revolution
mobilized and called up,
went to the front
from lordly gardening
poetry -
women are capricious.
I planted a cute little garden,
daughter,
dacha,
water
and smooth surface -
I planted the kindergarten myself,
I'll water it myself.
Who pours poetry from a watering can,
who sprinkles
putting it in your mouth -
curly Mithreikas,
wise Kudreiki -
who the hell can figure them out!
There is no quarantine to break through -
mandolin playing from under the walls:
“Tara-tina, tara-tina,
t-en-n..."
Unimportant honor
so that from these roses
my statues towered
through the squares,
where tuberculosis spits,
where the hell... with the bully
yes syphilis.
And me
agitprop
stuck in my teeth,
and I would
scribble
romances for you -
it's more profitable
and prettier.
But I
myself
humbled
becoming
on the throat
own song.
Listen,
comrades descendants,
agitator,
loudmouth leader.
Muffled
poetry flows,
I'll step
through lyrical volumes,
as if alive
talking to the living.
I'll come to you
to the communist far
not this way,
like a song-like evityaz.
My verse will reach
across the ridges of centuries
and through the heads
poets and governments.
My verse will reach
but he won’t get there that way, -
not like an arrow
in the cupid-lyre hunt,
not how it comes
worn-out nickel to the numismatist
and not as the light of dead stars reaches.
My verse
labor
the vastness of years will break through
and will appear
weighty,
rough,
visibly
like these days
the water supply came in,
worked out
still slaves of Rome.
In the mounds of books,
buried the verse,
string glands are accidentally discovered,
You
Sincerely
feel them
like old
but a formidable weapon.
I
ear
in a word
not used to caressing;
girl's ear
in curls of hair
with semi-obscenity
don't fall apart, touched.
Unfurling the parade
my pages troops,
I am walking through
along the line front.
Poems are worth
leaden-heavy,
ready for death
and to immortal glory.
The poems froze
pressing the muzzle to the muzzle
targeted
gaping titles.
Weapons
beloved
genus,
ready
rush in the boom,
froze
cavalry of witticisms,
raising the rhymes
sharpened peaks.
And that's it
armed troops over their teeth,
that twenty years of victories
flew by
right up to
last sheet
I give it to you
planet proletarian.
worker
enemy class communities -
he is my enemy and
notorious and long-standing.
They told us
go
under the red flag
years of labor
and days of malnutrition.
We opened
Marx
every volume
like at home
own
we open the shutters,
but without reading
we figured it out
which one to go in,
in which camp to fight.
We
dialectics
They didn’t teach according to Hegel.
The rattling of battles
she burst into verse,
When
under bullets
The bourgeoisie ran away from us,
like us
once upon a time
ran from them.
Let
for geniuses
inconsolable widow
glory trudges along
in the funeral march -
die, my verse,
die like a private
like nameless
Our people died during the assaults!
I do not care
a lot of work on bronze,
I do not care
on marble slime.
Let us be considered glory -
after all, we are our own people, -
let us
will be a common monument
built
in battles
socialism.
Descendants,
dictionaries check floats:
from Lethe
will swim out
remnants of such words
like "prostitution"
"tuberculosis",
"blockade".
For you,
which
healthy and agile
poet
licked
consumptive spitting
rough language of the poster.
With a tail of years
I become likeness
monsters
fossil-tailed.
Comrade life,
Let's
let's stomp quickly,
let's trample
according to the five-year plan
days remaining.
To me
and ruble
didn't accumulate lines,
cabinetmakers
They didn’t send furniture to the house.
And besides
freshly washed shirt,
I'll tell you in all honesty,
I need nothing.
Having appeared
in Tse Ka Ka
walking
bright years,
over the gang
poetic
grabbers and burning
I'll lift you up
like a Bolshevik party card,
all one hundred volumes
my
party books.
In a loud voice. First introduction to the poem
Dear comrades and descendants! Rummaging through today's petrified city...... of our days, studying the darkness, you may ask about me. And perhaps your scientist will say, pouring out a swarm of questions with his erudition, that once upon a time there lived such a singer of boiled water and an ardent enemy of raw water. Professor, take off your bicycle glasses. I will tell you about time and myself. I, a sewer man and a water carrier, mobilized and called up by the revolution, went to the front from the lordly gardening of poetry - a capricious woman. I planted a cute little garden, my daughter, my dacha, water and smooth - I planted the garden myself, I will water it myself. Who pours poetry from a watering can, who sprinkles it into their mouth - curly Mithreikas, wise Curls - who the hell can tell them apart! There is no quarantine to break through - mandolin from under the walls: “Tara-tina, tara-tina, t-en-n...” It’s an unimportant honor for my statues to be made of such roses in the squares where tuberculosis spits, where... .with a bully and syphilis. And agitprop has stuck in my teeth, and I’d like to write romances about you - it’s more profitable and more charming. But I humbled myself by standing at the throat of my own song. Listen, comrade descendants, to the agitator, the loud-mouthed leader. Having drowned out the flows of poetry, I will step through the lyrical volumes, as if speaking to the living. I will come to you in the communist world far from being like a song-and-shadowed provityaz. My verse will reach across the ridges of centuries and over the heads of poets and governments. My poem will reach, but it will not reach in the same way - not like an arrow in an amorous lyre hunt, not as a worn-out nickel reaches a numismatist, and not as the light of dead stars reaches. My verse, with the labor of many years, will break through and appear weightily, roughly, visibly, just as in our days a water pipe entered, built by the slaves of Rome. In the mounds of books that buried the poem, when you accidentally discover pieces of iron, you respectfully feel them, like an old but formidable weapon. I’m not used to caressing my ear with words; A girl’s ear in curls of hair from semi-obscenity will not be touched, Having unfurled my troops in a parade, I walk along the line front. The poems stand like lead - heavily, ready for both death and immortal glory. The poems froze, pressing the muzzle of targeted, gaping titles to the muzzle. Weapons of the most beloved kind, ready to rush into the boom, the cavalry of witticisms froze, raising their sharpened peaks in rhymes. And all the armed troops, who flew by in victories for twenty years, until the very last leaf, I give to you, proletarian planet. The working class of the community is an enemy - he is also my enemy, notorious and long-standing. They told us to march under the red flag of years of labor and days of malnutrition. We opened each volume of Marx, just as we open the shutters in our own house, but even without reading we figured out which camp to go in, which camp to fight in. We did not teach dialectics according to Hegel. With the rattle of battles, it burst into verse, when the bourgeoisie ran away from us under bullets, just as we once ran from them. Let the glory of the inconsolable widow trail behind the geniuses in the funeral march - die, my verse, die like a private, like our nameless ones died in the assaults! I don’t give a damn about bronzes, I don’t care about marble slime. Let us be considered glory - after all, we are our own people - let the socialism built in battles be our common monument. Descendants, check the floats in your dictionaries: the remains of words such as “prostitution”, “tuberculosis”, “blockade” will float out of Lethe. For you who are healthy and agile, the poet licked the consumptive spittle with the rough tongue of the poster. With the tail of my years, I become like fossil-tailed monsters. Comrade life, let's quickly stomp, let's stomp through the rest of the five-year period. They didn’t even save up a ruble for me, the cabinet makers didn’t send furniture to my house. And besides a freshly washed shirt, I’ll tell you in all honesty, I don’t need anything. Having appeared in Tse Ka Ka of the coming light years, above the gang of poetic grabbers and burned out, I will raise, like a Bolshevik party card, all one hundred volumes of my party books.Note
It is known that “At the top of my voice” was the introduction to the poem about the five-year plan. This work, which became Mayakovsky’s poetic testament and conceived as “The first introduction to the poem about the Five-Year Plan,” was subsequently assigned the genre definition of a poem. Mayakovsky himself called it a poem, speaking at the Komsomol House of Krasnaya Presnya on March 25, 1930.
Written during December 1929 - January 1930. The specific reason for writing was the reporting exhibition “20 years of Mayakovsky’s work,” which was supposed to open in December 1929.
Mayakovsky considered the beginning of his creative activity to be a lost notebook of poems written in solitary confinement in the Central Transit Prison Butyrka (Moscow), where he was held during his last arrest from August 18, 1909 to January 9, 1910 for participating in the underground revolutionary struggle. The notebook with poems was taken by the warden when Mayakovsky left prison.
The poet pointed out the direct connection between the “First Introduction to the Poem” and the exhibition “20 Years of Mayakovsky’s Work” when speaking on March 25, 1930 at the Komsomol House of Krasnaya Presnya at an evening dedicated to the twentieth anniversary of his activity: “The last of the things written is about the exhibition, since it completely determines what I do and why I work.
Very often lately those who are irritated by my literary and journalistic work say that I simply forgot how to write poetry and that my descendants will hate me for it. I hold this view. One communist said: “What posterity! You will report to posterity, but for me it’s much worse - to the district committee. This is much more difficult.” I am a decisive person, I want to talk to my descendants myself, and not expect that my critics will tell them in the future. Therefore, I appeal directly to descendants in my poem, which is called “At the top of my voice”... “The exhibition is not an anniversary, but a report on the work. I demand help, and not the exaltation of non-existent merits...” “I exhibited because I wanted to show what I have done,” said Mayakovsky. “I arranged it because, due to my pugnacious nature, so many dogs have been hung on me and I have been accused of so many sins, which I have and which I don’t, that sometimes I think I should leave.” I would like to sit somewhere and sit for two years, just so as not to hear swearing.
But, of course, on the second day, this pessimism again cheers me up and, rolling up my sleeves, I begin to fight, defining my right to exist as a writer of the revolution, for the revolution, not as a renegade. That is, the point of this exhibition is to show that a revolutionary writer is not a renegade whose poems are written down in a book and lie on a shelf collecting dust, but a revolutionary writer is a human participant in the everyday everyday life of building socialism."
The exhibition “20 Years of Mayakovsky’s Work” opened on February 1, 1930 at the House of the Federation of the Association of Soviet Writers (now the Board of the Union of Writers of the USSR, Vorovsky St., 50). The conference hall and two adjacent rooms reserved for the exhibition could hardly accommodate examples of the poet and artist’s work completed over two decades. The exhibition demonstrated all the publications in which the poet was published - books, almanacs, magazines, newspapers. “Mayakovsky’s books - only 1,250,000,” explained the sign above the stands. One from each name represented the magazines and newspapers in which Mayakovsky collaborated. Newspaper stands, revealing the poet’s connection with a multimillion-dollar reader, his work in the peripheral press, went under the polemical slogan “Mayakovsky is not understandable to the masses.” The models of “Mystery-Bouffe” and “Bedbug” represented Mayakovsky’s work at the theater. The “Laboratory” showcased his drafts and white papers, revealing his creative process. At the “Towards an Autobiography” stand, next to documents about studying at the Kutaisi and Moscow gymnasiums, illegal political literature was located - brochures, leaflets, proclamations - characterizing the range of interests of the young man Mayakovsky. The materials of the Moscow Security Department, the Police Department, and the Military Court revealed the history of three arrests of “Vysoky” (Mayakovsky was listed under this name in secret police reports).
A map of the Soviet Union with Mayakovsky's travel itineraries and a diagram "Mayakovsky on the Stage" indicated the names of the cities visited by the poet from 1926 to 1930.
The other two halls of the exhibition showed examples of Mayakovsky’s work at ROSTA, his slogans for propaganda posters and advertisements.
The poem “At the top of my voice” was created during the preparation of the exhibition and was completed by January 26, 1930. Correlating the poem with the exhibition display gives an idea of the process of the birth of images, of the movement of poetic thought, developing from specific facts to broad artistic generalizations.
Having deployed my troops in parade, I walk along the line front
This extended metaphor, which determined the figurative structure of the central part of the poem, has its own specific visual basis, going back to the exhibition. The exhibition “20 years of Mayakovsky’s work” was indeed a kind of “parade”, a review of troops presented by the poet as a “formidable weapon”. Apparently, in the process of designing the stands, during the hours of reflection, associations arose in front of him, concretizing and developing this main image - “parade of troops”, “line front”.
The exposition of the exhibition allows you to see the process of the birth of a generalized winged image that expressed the pathos of Mayakovsky’s entire work: “All one hundred volumes of my party books.” The original version in the autograph of these lines: “all six volumes of my party books” is directly related to the exhibition stand, which demonstrated six books in a light dust jacket - volumes of a ten-volume collected works that began to be published in the State Publishing House. During Mayakovsky's lifetime, six volumes were published.
The first public reading of the poem by Mayakovsky took place on February 1 at the opening of the exhibition “20 Years of Mayakovsky’s Work”; On February 6, he read “At the top of his voice” at the MAPP (Moscow Association of Proletarian Writers) conference, which accepted him as a member of RAPP (Russian Association of Proletarian Writers); February 15 - at the exhibition "20 years of Mayakovsky's work", February 22 - at the closing of the exhibition; February 25 - at the opening of the theater workers' club; March 5 - at the opening of the exhibition "20 years of Mayakovsky's work" in Leningrad at the House of Press; March 25 - at the Komsomol House of Krasnaya Presnya (Moscow); April 9 - at an evening at the G.V. Plekhanov Institute of National Economy (Moscow).
V. Mayakovsky among young people at the exhibition "20 years of Mayakovsky's work." 1930
Planted a cute little garden, daughter, dacha, drive and smooth... - a similar statement by Mayakovsky in relation to the so-called “pure art” took place back in March 1918: “In small shops, pompously called exhibitions, they sell the pure daub of noblemen’s daughters and dachas in the Rococo style and other Louises...” ("Manifesto of the Flying Federation of Futurists").
...I planted the garden myself, I will water it myself... - a couplet from a popular ditty in those years.
...curly-haired Mithreikas, wise-haired Curly-haired women... - young poets K. N. Mitreikin (1905-1934) and A. A. Kudreiko (b. 1907), close in those years to the Literary Center of Constructivists group, which Mayakovsky sharply criticized in a number of speeches in 1929-1930 for aesthetics and passion for technicalism. Having criticized a number of young poets at the MAPP conference on February 8, 1930, Mayakovsky cited a stanza from A. Kudreiko’s collection “The Siege” (1929) as an example of “the shepherd-pastoral setting of a poetic work.”
"Tara-tina, tara-tina, t-en-n..."- Mayakovsky ridicules the poetic tricks of the head of the Constructivist Literary Center, poet Ilya Selvinsky, who wrote in the poem “Gypsy Waltz on Guitar” (1923).
And only moans can be heard? Gittaors: Tara ginna-taratinna-tan...
Provityaz- Mayakovsky’s ironic neologism, formed from the words “seer” and “knight”
...aqueduct built by the slaves of Rome.- This refers to the water supply systems (aqueducts) of Rome and the provinces of the Roman Empire (from the 4th century BC)
Summer- in Greek mythology, the river of oblivion in the underworld.
Tse Ka Ka- Central Control Commission, a party body elected by the Congress of the All-Union Communist Party (Bolsheviks).
