I want to be! Not after, not in the centuries,
Not by heart, not twice and not again,
Not in jokes or diaries -
But only in the fullest sense of the word!
Y. Moritz
When someone hears the name of the poetess Yunna Moritz, then, of course, the first thing they remember is a melody from childhood: “To the sad lowing, to the cheerful growl ...” These are her famous poems “A big secret for a small company”, heard in early childhood, we We will definitely repeat not only to our children, but also to our grandchildren.
The amazing, fabulous world of Yunna Moritz, somewhere even difficult for a child to perceive - with bouquets of cats, a pie composer, a hairstyle carriage, a fog in sour cream - will not leave indifferent either children or adults.
In Yunna's poetry, Moritz is widely represented animal world. Goats, cows, goats, dolphins and, of course, the adorable cats of the poetess: a fat cat, a crimson cat, and even a croaking cat. They are all kind, gentle and sweet. Moritz could not do without charming dogs and puppies, in which “forget-me-nots bloom in the soul, the clarinet plays in the stomach”, and they themselves “sniff the flowers and sing serenades” and work as postmen.
Illustration for Yunna Moritz's poem "The Crimson Cat"
It is interesting that all the characters in the poems of Yunna Petrovna Moritz, animate and inanimate, behave like children. The heroes exactly copy their behavior: they tumble, throw socks under the closet, feel sad, fantasize, fool around, act up. In each poem, we feel the boundless love of the poetess for her heroes and for children in general. That is why the characters are cute and good-natured, mischievous and funny, unusual and even fantastic. In her poetry, the laws of the game, a funny dream, a cheerful confusion operate, when you can invent anything you like, fantasize, compose unprecedented words, go on fun trips with the characters. The indefatigable thirst to make every day, every second a holiday, to extract all the colors, voices, smells makes Yunna Moritz create more and more new characters.
You will not find edification, teaching from Yunna Moritz: every child has every right to be capricious and fool around. According to Yunna Petrovna, children need to be brought up with love, sometimes pampered, “they need to be freed from all prohibitions that do not cause physical harm to them and those around them,” and the child must also know that sooner or later he will have to face the world of evil. With her work, the poetess, perhaps, is trying to protect children from this world, as much as possible in principle.
Moritz's language is always natural, devoid of any false pathos. Moritz's rhythmic and sometimes obviously absurd poems have no age restrictions. The pleasure of reading them and a sea of laughter is guaranteed to everyone.
But do not forget that, in addition to children's poems, she also wrote adult literature. Yunna Moritz published the books Vine, Harsh Thread, In the Light of Life, Third Eye, Favorites, Blue Fire, On This Shore High, In the Lair of the Voice, Face , "Thus", "By law - hello to the postman." All of them included elements of graphics and painting, which, according to the poetess, are not illustrations: these are such poems in a special language.
But, of course, in the hearts of each of us, Yunna Moritz will remain the author of beautiful poems about the "rubber hedgehog" and "a big secret for a small company." Her poetry is a special world that cannot be expressed in words or brought to certain standards. All this would be useless and banal, just as it would be banal to list the topics to which her poems are devoted: life, death, love, creativity. What poet does not write about this? Many write. But each one is different.
Text: Marina Latysheva
Government Prize Russian Federation in the field of culture for creativity for children and youth (2011)
BIG SECRET
FOR A SMALL COMPANY
Under the sad moo
Under a cheerful growl,
Under friendly neighing
Is born into the world
Big secret
For the little one
For such a small company,
For such a modest company
Huge such
Secret:
- Oh, if only with someone ...
Ah, if only with someone ...
Ah, it would only be with someone
Talk!
ROOF GOING HOME
The boy walked, the owl flew,
The roof was going home
This roof did not want
Sleep outside in winter.
Washing saucers two camels
And the firewood meowed
I was waiting for them to return
Roof, boy and owl.
The sofa sleeps with me in an embrace,
Dancing snow overhead
Suddenly I hear - I beckoned to the button
A boy with a roof and an owl!
I'm off that beam bom
Became a song for words
I sing when everyone is at home -
Roof, boy and owl.
The boy walked, the owl flew,
The roof was going home -
That's what it was
Wednesday night in winter!
IT IS VERY INTERESTING
It is very interesting -
From whom does the river run?
It is very interesting -
What is rattling in the tram?
Why does the starling sing?
Why is the bear roaring?
Why is one in the den
Does the other live in the nest?
It is very interesting -
Who planted the trees?
Who invented the crocodile
Is that the name Crocodile?
Who named an elephant an elephant?
It is very interesting -
Who to Sazan and Pheasant
Gave such names?
It is very interesting -
Look at the ant
It is very interesting -
How is his family doing?
Life is not easy for her
'Cause there's less of a cat
Less fly, less midge,
He is the smallest of all, ant!
It is very interesting -
Where does the dragonfly sleep?
It is very interesting -
Why is the goat silent?
It is very interesting -
Does the storm beat on the drum?
It's, it's wonderful
That everyone, all children
And everyone, all people
The eyes are on the face!
DAMN
A funny devil jumped up to us,
He tumbled and danced
He ate ice cream, cake,
He scratched his horns with hooves!
He beat the drum with his tail,
Then he made a knight's move,
Then he ran across the couch,
Until I fell asleep on it.
We took off the devil's clothes,
Removed hooves, tail and horns
And they saw that the devil -
Our adorable child!
YESTERDAY AT THE QUEEN
Yesterday at the Queen's
It was a holiday for elephants
who danced
No skirts or pants.
Without skirts and pants?!
Yes, yes, the elephants danced
Without skirts and pants
Without shoes and boots
Without jackets and blouses
Without wigs and hats
No bows or beads!
But all the other guests
At the festival of elephants
They danced without taking off
No skirts, no pants
No shoes, no boots
No jackets, no blouses
No wigs, no hats
No bows, no beads.
I also danced there.
Titmouse on an elephant
And there were only feathers
And wings on me.
And there were only feathers?!
And wings on me?!
Yes, there were only feathers
And wings on me!
And whistled songs
I'm twirling my tail.
And twirled her tail
I, whistling songs!
And in the morning the elephant is happy
He took me home
Walking along Sretenka
In the Christmas frost -
Without a coat and boots
No hat and pants
Covering my ears
For the sweetest dreams!
Under these ears
I slept so sweetly
that I danced in my sleep
Titmouse on an elephant.
Who?.. I?.. Danced in a dream?..
Titmouse on an elephant?..
Yes, I danced in my sleep
Titmouse on an elephant!
And whistled songs
I'm twirling my tail.
And twirled her tail
I, whistling songs!
FUNNY FROG
Merry Frog
Lived in the same river
Upside down her hut
Stood, bre-ke-ke!
The hut did not stand
And floated upside down
But it didn't change
Frog business!
The hut tumbled
The frog was having fun
In a green dress
Danced, couple-pam!
She has two hands
Played the accordion
She has two legs
Banging on the drum!
sad frogs
They languished and suffered
In green pillows
Kwa-kva, they sobbed.
And happiness is not seen
Sad frogs!
From them they got
Sad old ladies.
They mutter sadly
And moan in the distance:
- Kwa-kva, it ached for the rain
In the back, in the leg, in the arm...
A cheerful old woman
funny frog,
When he remembers what happened to her, -
Laughs, bre-ke-ke!
She has two hands
Played the accordion
She has two legs
Banging on the drum!
The hut tumbled
The frog was having fun
In a green dress
Danced, couple-pam!
News, reviews and testimonials:
Blog "Monkey Books and Toys" about Yunna Moritz's book "The roof was going home"
Irina Alpatova, ihappymama.ru: To be honest, these are very wonderful books! Incredible Poems
Moritz Yunna Petrovna. [Russia Moscow]
(born 06/02/1937)
Yunna Moritz was born on June 2, 1937 in Kyiv (Ukraine) in a family of employees. My father had two higher educations - an engineer and a lawyer, worked as an engineer on transport lines. Mother before the revolution graduated from the gymnasium, gave lessons French, mathematician, worked in art crafts, as a nurse in a hospital.
In 1954, Moritz graduated from high school in Kyiv and entered the extramural Faculty of Philology, Kyiv University.
In 1955, she entered the full-time department of poetry at the Literary Institute in Moscow, graduating in 1961.
In 1961, the first book of the poetess was published in Moscow, "Cape of Desire" (after the name of the cape on Novaya Zemlya), based on the impressions of a trip to the Arctic, which she undertook in the fall of 1956 on the icebreaker "Sedov".
For the poems "Fist Fight" and "In Memory of Titian Tabidze" (1962), Yunna Moritz was blacklisted for publishers and censorship, so her next book of poems "Vine" was released only nine years later - in 1970. In 1963, in the magazine "Youth" under the heading "For younger brothers and sisters" she managed to print a series of poems for children.
From 1970 to 1990, Moritz published lyric books "A Harsh Thread", "In the Light of Life", "Third Eye", "Favorites", "Blue Fire", "On This Shore High", "In the Lair of the Voice".
From 1990 to 2000, her poems were not published. In the 2000s, poetry collections "Face" (2000), "Thus" (2000, 2001), " By law - hello to the postman"(2005, 2006). The books included graphics and paintings of the poetess, which Moritz herself considers not illustrations, but poems in the language of painting.
Since 1985, Moritz has been holding author's evenings at international poetry festivals in London, Cambridge, Rotterdam, Torronto, Philadelphia. Her poems have been translated into all European languages, as well as into Japanese, Turkish and Chinese.
In addition to poetry, Moritz writes stories and translates. Her cycle of short prose "Stories about the miraculous", published in the magazine "October", "Literaturnaya gazeta" and abroad, was published in 2008 as a separate book.
In the 1990s, Yunna Moritz took part in political life Russia, was a member of radical democratic movements, spoke with political comments on the radio station "Freedom".
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 Prize of the Government of Russia in the field of culture.
"AND IN THE BLACK LISTS I WAS LIGHT..."
(very short biography- by popular demand)
Bare numbers of dates, as a rule, board up the main circumstances.
She was born on June 2, 1937 in Kyiv. My father had a double higher education: engineering and legal, he worked as an engineer on transport branches. Mother graduated from the gymnasium before the revolution, gave French lessons, mathematics, worked in art crafts, as a nurse in a hospital and whoever she had, even as a lumberjack.
In the year of my birth, my father was arrested on a slanderous denunciation, after several months of torture they found him innocent, he returned, but quickly began to go blind. My father's blindness had an extraordinary effect on the development of my inner vision.
In 1941-45, my mother, father, older sister and I lived in Chelyabinsk, my father worked at a military factory.
In 1954 I finished school in Kyiv and entered the correspondence department of the Faculty of Philology.
In 1955 she entered the full-time department of poetry at the Literary Institute in Moscow and graduated in 1961.
In the summer - autumn of 1956, on the icebreaker "Sedov" I sailed in the Arctic and was on many winter quarters, including at Cape Zhelaniya, on Novaya Zemlya, in the area of \u200b\u200bwhich the "non-peaceful atom" was tested. People of the Arctic, winterers, pilots, sailors, their way of life, work (including scientific), the laws of the Arctic community influenced my 19-year-old personality so much that I was very quickly expelled from the Literary Institute for "the growth of unhealthy moods in creativity" and published a huge devastating article in Izvestia signed by V. Zhuravlev, who later became famous for publishing poems by Anna Akhmatova in the same Izvestia, signing them with his own name and making minor corrections to them.
In 1961 my first book was published in Moscow, "Cape of Desire" (no romantic "desires"! .. purely geographical name cape on Novaya Zemlya), - Nikolai Tikhonov put the book into print, when once again I was accused of being not ours, not a Soviet poet, whose talent is especially harmful, since it strongly and vividly affects the reader in the spirit of the West.
My second book "Vine" was published in Moscow 9 years later, in 1970, because I got into the "black lists" for the poems "In Memory of Titian Tabidze", written in 1962. I am convinced that all the "black lists" in the Department of Literature, always and now, are composed by some writers against others, because repression is a very profitable business.
Due to the fact that my poems for children were not yet known to anyone and therefore were not banned, in 1963 I was able to publish a bunch of poems for children in the magazine "Youth", where on this occasion a heading "For younger brothers and sisters" appeared. The reader instantly repaid me with love.
Dealing with the poetics of personality, languages visual arts and the philosophy of the poetic world, I then received great pleasure from the fact that the "black lists" shone so brightly and only expanded the circle of loving readers.
From 1970 to 1990, I published books of lyrics: "Vine", "Severe thread", "In the light of life", "Third eye", "Favorites", "Blue fire", "On this shore high", "In the lair of the voice ". After that, it was not published for 10 years.
"Face" (2000), "In this way" (2000, 2001), "By law - hello to the postman" (2005, 2006) came out with the inclusion in the content of the pages of my graphics and paintings, which are not illustrations, these are such poems, in such a language.
For many years I was not allowed to go abroad, despite hundreds of invitations from international poetry festivals, forums, universities and the media - they were afraid that I would run away and thereby ruin international relations. But still, since 1985, I have had author's evenings at all the famous international poetry festivals in London, Cambridge, Rotterdam, Torronto, Philadelphia. The poems have been translated into all major European languages, also into Japanese, Turkish, and Chinese.
Now those who were afraid that I would run away are afraid that I will not run away, but will write more than one "Star of Serbia". And let them be afraid!
In Izvestia, and then in other ovens, a sloppy note slipped through, where they called me a laureate of the State Prize and did not apologize to readers for this mistake. My prizes are: Golden Rose"(Italy), "Triumph" (Russia), A.D. Sakharov Prize (Russia).
My distant ancestors came to Russia from Spain, on the way they lived in Germany.
I believe in the Creator of the Universes, in beginninglessness and infinity, in the immortality of the soul. I have never been an atheist and have never been a member of any religious community.
Many sites publishing lists of Russian Freemasons have given me the honor of being on these lists. But I am not a Mason.
* * *
And in the black lists it was light for me,
And in loneliness I had many children,
In a black square an angel's wing
I whitened the air in different colors.
Deep old women, old men
I saw not disgusting age,
And that depth, whose depths are deep -
Like secret knowledge, where the light is like spots.
From spots of light falling into spots of darkness,
I covered the air with my eyes,
Reading unforgettable psalms
According to the book of stars, whose eyes are above us.
Waves through me, glowing, flowed
A space of rhythms that is much deeper than windows.
And in the black lists it was light for me,
And crowded in deep loneliness.
A star falls on Mtskheta
A star falls on Mtskheta.
fiery hair crumbling
Screaming in an inhuman voice
A star falls on Mtskheta.
Who allowed her to be executed?
And gave this right to a nerd
Poke a star under the guillotine?
Who allowed her to be executed?
And appointed death for August,
And rounded the signature with a seal?
To execute a star - what meanness!
Who appointed death for August?
War on you, plague on you
The killer who brought to the square
A star to hack like a horse!
War on you, plague on you!
A star falls on Mtskheta.
It no longer hurts her to break,
But Titian Tabidze is crying.
A star falls on Mtskheta.
-=-
