Sergey Yesenin - Everything alive has a special meta. Analysis of Yesenin's poem black then smelling howl

All living things have a special meaning
Celebrated from an early age.
If I weren't a poet,
№4 He was probably a swindler and a thief.

Thin and short,
There is always a hero among boys,
Often, often with a broken nose
№8 I came to my home.

And towards the frightened mother
I muttered through my bloody mouth:
"Nothing! I tripped over a stone
№12 It will all heal by tomorrow.”

And now, when I caught a cold
These days are boiling water,
Restless, defiant force
№16 It spilled over my poems.

Golden, verbal pile,
And above each line without end
The old prowess is reflected
№20 Bullies and tomboys.

As then, I am brave and proud,
Only newness splashes my step...
If earlier they hit me in the face,
№24 Now my soul is covered in blood.

And I’m not already telling my mother,
And into the alien and laughing rabble:
"Nothing! I tripped over a stone
№28 It will all heal by tomorrow!”

All zhivoye osoboy metoy
Otmechayetsya s rannikh por.
Yesli ne byl by ya poetom,
To, naverno, byl moshennik i vor.

Khudoshchavy i nizkorosly,
Sred malchishek vsegda heroy,
Often, often s razbitym nosom
Prikhodil ya k sebe domoy.

I navstrechu ispagannoy mame
Ya tsedil skvoz bloody rot:
“Nothing! Ya spotknulsya o kamen,
Eto k zavtramu vse zazhivet.”

I now vot, when prostyla
Etikh day kipyatkovaya vyaz,
Bespokoynaya, derzkaya sila
Na poemy moi prolilas.

Zolotaya, slovesnaya gruda,
I nad kazhdoy strokoy bez kontsa
Otrazhayetsya prezhnyaya udal
Zabiaki i sorvantsa.

How then, ya otvazhny i ​​gordy,
Tolko novyu moy bryzzhet step...
Yesli ranshe mne bili v mordu,
To now vsya v blood soul.

I uzhe govoryu ya ne mame,
A v chuzhoy i khokhochushchy sbrod:
“Nothing! ya spotknulsya o kamen,
Eto k zavtramu vse zazhivet!”

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